By: Iris P. Concepcion
I was so inspired by the Pinoy word "tong-pats" that I sometimes use it in lieu of the more offending cuss word in situations of conflict.
I take steps to immerse myself in verbal brawls as observer (I am already a connoisseur of this kind) : I love it when the low-maintenance, german frankfurster person is engaged in stories about bruised elbows and knees "dahil nasubasob pag curve" and finds the one he is telling stories to, quite flushed on the cheeks.
Silently my brain claps like a silly bird, cheering on the man of the truly delighted street: "More, more, more!" Sooner or later, there shall be a flight, bruised ego, a teardrop, a torn dress, a shrilling voice, a missing article.
The flight usually takes in form of taking a fake phone call with the words "I shall be back!"Never have words been sharper than Spartacus' arrows (Kirk Douglas looks like David Spade: do not ask me why). They can silence even the loudest of the decibled clique.
I am quite stupid in that I enjoy this kind of conflict handling.
Another favorite word now is "tingok". I still have to ask the wordsmith what it means.
I am presently engaged in a writing cleaning up. Of course, the usual suspects had laready mastered this in such a short span of time. Trust me, they are truly good on this.
No, son, you can never forget. You might have limited your attention span to a little over point 2, but being an archivist is your option to quell whatever mocks your creative bent.
I am no longer worried sick over the Norwegian travails of the red blue and white stripes. Yes, 2teeeeee is a word that defies motion itself. I do not know what the hell it means though.
I passed by grubby kids with no slippers nor shoes on their feet drawing a "patintero"-like piece on the sidewalk. It looked like a happy house. When they saw me, they yelled: "Ate, ate, tingnan mo bahay namin, ang ganda!" They wore happy smiles on their dreamy faces: the structures are stuck on the drawing board though.
I controlled my tears. It would be an insult to myself to be crying when the object of this emotional stirrings are wearing such happy, fulfilled faces even in the absence of material freedom. I was on my way then to a multi-media center that aims to create innovativeness, creativity and pursuit of well, visual excellence. The widened chaff is a mind struggle. It is difficult to digest at first but upon returning to base, I exactly knew what it meant.
Somehow, the lustre of bars for videoke-singing dropped to the floating garbages on the water, a crushing sight but a reality to grapple with in these times of stupid excess.
I am enjoying the current reads since I personally think, they could contribute something to infusing fun to a traditionally perceived "|stale" subject.
I know Rizal could create lavishly seminal words of inspiration but I did not strike any of these words, redounding to the valleys of earth and important in these times:
"A dry leaf hesitantly flies
And snatched by hurricanes away,
Thus lives on earth the traveler
Without aim, without soul, without love for country
Happiness everywhere he anxiously seeks
And from him happiness flies away:
Empty shadows that mocks his eagerness
For it rushes the traveler to the sea
Impelled by an invisible hand
Away he'll roam from shore to shore;
The memories will keep him compay
Of loved ones, of a happy day of yore.
I failed to get its title but I would gladly name this, a "nationalistic flight."
There is Benigno Aquino who fled to fight for freedom and there are those who fly to lose their sense of freedom.
Look me in the eye and tell me you have not sold out on this one.
I grieve too for a country stolen of its decency to discern what is enough and what is excessive.