LAUGHING

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Fine prints

And lines

Stretched mouths

In absent daffodils

A man on the street

Said to a cross-eyed guy

Beside a firetruck

He has found

A directorial job.

To put out the fire

Who knows.

Strange things happen

On the block

Of dreamers

Firemen included.

IS IT JUST ME?

By: Iris P. Concepcion

I have heard so many comments questioning the ability of the present President to "wear" his position, casting aspersion on his, walking habit for one, and the rest of his wardrobe.

I closed my mouth then since I have not seen nor heard him speak about that time (and I do not care about how he looks: I think he is extremely sassy now. Go to the City Hall and stare at his picture there). I only know about his platforms.

As I am watching his television appearances though, I am quite impressed with the way he delivers his messages done bilingually, both in Filipino and English. He speaks well. Many respected writers who had done one-on-one interviews with him atttest that they are sometimes astounded by his depth.

He explained on how he responded to the flood occurrences. He cited figures like you would talk to an engineer or a plumber. It is that kind of communication that this country requires. Identifying yourself with a leader is a hard knock to throw a punch to but I think his group nailed a pretty neat jab this time: making him sound like an intelligent "pilosopong" Tasyo on the street.

I would credit it not on an instant brush-up imaging. He grew up in a family that encourages that kind of environment. The father is brilliant, and his strength of character came from his mother. I am just saying that his handlers would not have a difficult time worrying about what his mind might look like inside a probing, public microscope. What he is now could not be studied overnight. This man could really deliver because he had lived through that all his life.

I already noticed this when he was maliciously tested during the campaign trail. An anchor blatantly asked him if he is a retard or something to that effect. Without losing his cool, he said a witty reply that shocked the bossy broadcaster and I think he got his point there.

His choices of books, love for music and films are not put-on. There is a kind of natural spontaneity in his interviews (read the 24K Icon special project of Philippine Star) that does not hide. He is not contrived. My apprehension before was: does he have a mind of his own? I am getting my answers clearer everyday. He could invite like-minded people easily because of that. One of his Cabinet secretaries was asked to do something in a time frame and when the interviewer asked him whether or not he followed, the reply was : "I could not say "no" to that order." You can immediately sense that it is conviction that makes them move.

As citizen, I am comfortable with that, of course.

I think this bodes him well. He is as much allergic to falsities of faux and pseudo brilliancy that more often than not, mirror the handlers' thoughts than founded on real, graspable convictions. We have seen these types already breaking out from their cocoons of alleged sanctified and holy grails of truth. We did see that it is their truth, shaped over some brotherhood of myopic cause.

I am just glad this President opened the doors for us to digest all these sides in another angle. I am thankful he is the brother of a media-savvy sister. He does not need tutoring on this. Many officials before might have chosen to close their mouths when blackmails were thrown at them. They might have been crippled by that. Casting away the shroud of silence though, this President is showing another way on how to correctly parry this thing. He even said that he wanted to be criticized to know where he might have committed a mistake.

Don't you get the feeling he is now advised well and the country is the direct recipient to this consensus?

I am thankful that everything just "meshed" in the end.

It simply means one thing. The President does not appear flaky at all, both adept in street lingo and quite understandably, not so smoochy with the shallow embraces of imaging and what not.

He is blessed in that, disparate people of all sizes and shapes, of opposable thumbs and ideological leanings, seem to work together well as they pitch in their shares to make this nation-building truly work. I would like to quote Manny Pangilinan's take on this: the honesty required (to him, both mental and financial honesty must be present i.e., not using company money for other means) is well in place. Based on that anchor, I am not surprised he could talk to people on that level despite the nagging differences.

BEING FIVE AND SMALL IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL
By: Iris P. Concepcion

Twice in a row (two days of walking back the alleys with a human being four rulers tall and binging on siomai), I had realized the importance of bringing a kid to an adult experience and see how the tot would respond to his/her new surroundings.

Nothing compensates for break-out guffaws and smiles that intermittently erupt as this rugrat eats her chocolates voraciously, deletes all my games on the cellphone, calls everyone a farting pig and she only weighs around a kilo I think.

I went to Intramuros with this kid a while ago. Yesterday, I brought her to my college alma mater, UST, and enjoyed the fountains and massive array of its forestry inside.

One of the fun things we do together is walking on square shapes and disregarding other painted things on cobblestones (I am again embellishing; I have not used that word in quite a while). She eats siomai like she owns a Roseanne Barr tummy. I was astonished she found ways to enjoy the wooden artifacts in Intramuros. Others will most certainly get bored by the musty smell--she liked the "old" oddity though and I just went hmmmmmm. I had her pictured with a guardia sibil who looked funny in that Aguinaldo hat. They looked splendid as a pair.

A spine-tingling experience likewise occurred out of my writing stupid things occasionally. Anyhow, the spectacular brochure episode widely laughed about in this page, horror of horrors, landed in a nook there. I smiled totally. I thought I was just part of a staid business group. I did not realize they were doing other stuff for coconut produce in art form. As I said, this guy does not speak much about creativity; I find the little things he does quite enchanting and charming, like boxes of surprises. I always ask: "He could do this?"

He always says he does some things with me in mind. I dismiss it often times as just trying to score a non-existent pizza but when I am too weird-wired, I do believe he does all these things for this writer, solely.

I am just surprised my little form of silliness got quoted, not to mention the swaying, hushed palm leaves in a literary angle, landing itself in a manufacturing brochure. I presented this to a creative god then (I did not know any better he is a crowned, squired person in the creative world) and I always feel a certain shame and embarrassment that I arranged the picture of that coconut in such manner. It surely was tacky but he never commented on it. That is how I got my break in shutting up your mouth when need be.

I always remember Intramuros with fond memory: a friend purchased chopsticks for me in that area. Of course, I realized now, the friend was a stand-in to the wonderful person I fell for after (and the numerous hosannas in this page that sent the world tumbling like blocks). This kid quotes this guy's name a lot and I am left with nothing but line the dots to connect this world of serendipity in multi-color flashbacks. Thanks G (who by the way, looks like a mini-mouse in his suit of happy muscles). It was weird but you had me spooked there. Better than the set-up business meeting at the club.

(G: "Damn, there she goes blurbing about an unblurbabble (not a word) episode."). He hates me for this. Smiley with fangs.

Back to my thread. Simple things do happen that put back balance in my sphere of writing mood.

In spurts of moments, I have heard senior citizens going to a concert (and regaled how a woman in her 80s shouted "I love you!!" to a Cascades member); a one year old Earthling was smelling her pee from her diaper with a huge chinky smile; I saw someone who takes photograph line up in an ATM outlet; people who flew stocks for a living pass and give me a knowing smile and nod; and I have occasional lunchmates who talk like cartoon characters.

Flashy cars may be good but when these things happen, even in a day in your life that could dilute all your sorrows, you could reach the epitome of fulfillment and go on and on and on and on rambling about anything without fear.

It is not that I complain; I may be beset by harangue that totally loses my cool more than ever, but these interactions in the silent wilds of my existence compensate for all that: I am responded to in a manner I appreciate best by people I had met in this world, road travel.

TONG-PATS
By: Iris P. Concepcion

One of the most Filipinized self-identification I had aligned myself with during the President's SONA was his use of my title as a substitute for what could be equivalent to million curses in street talk.

In an otherwise tight and forceful speech, this broke the somber thread. I had to laugh at its mere mention not knowing what exactly it meant. What I know though is that, in my otherwise tight and likewise forceful universal men, this word gets parlayed a lot as a laughing cue and in a not so burgis way.

In fact, I could write a whole book on these underlaying pop indie terms that had, in the past, jostled me from sleep (i.e., araguy, beri gud) that incited a rebellion of guffaws down my larynx. Yes, Ms. Rolling Eyes, Mr. Genius is an old hand on this. In one of my professional dealings with this athlete, he was trying to be offensive as any annoying person could be. Sample:

I: "I love Hilary Clinton."

G"(enius):"I hate her so much. (while doing a business equation on his laptop with one eyebrow raised).

Of course this was before he garnished my spaghetti with something dreadfully sneaky (in color) and returned it placed in a gargantuan, spaceship-like washing basin. It was humongous, wild, freaky, bold, crass, cinematic, horrible, stupid, smart and hilarious. I was devastated: Who are going to eat THIS? But I was also having the most fun part of my life (there was also a lengthy debate on how to cut the protruding mouth of a roasted pig). They seem to thrive on these seemingly philosophical but stupid activities. You should be in his party place.

It fragrantly stinks. Soul-wrenching. I mean, I ended up laughing my way, from mouth to foot.

This group even made someone with great responsibility speak like this, and sternly: "Nakikialam ka kasi sa lovelife ng may lovelife, yan ang problema mo." Cut. Credits.

I said: Wow.

He thrives on the edge like he needs to be pushed. That is the reason his world is always expanding, filled with extreme surprises that you experience by heart (damn the logical mind), instead of shrinking. You do not get seeped into articulate discourses. You get something like this:

GB: "You aspire to be in Sulu."

I: "Yes, and those wire cables really look tawdry."

GB: (nods while chewing).

He is always looking for this Spiderman guy.

We understood. How? Who the freaking knows how? We just did.

And those equations on radars: some people would scuba-dive for that. I would exactly know if people had been brought under his creative custody one time or the other. It is hard to copy him: a sui generis among a genus (I am mixing up my law terms for that very specific purpose).

Back to the SONA: Of course, tunog kalye or salitang kanto like Tong-pats always creates a deeper impact in our own sense of belongness.

About the restoration committee (never mind if I am talking Greek here).

It had been a while since I stalk the words of people I am overtly familiar with by now. They are subsumed in other printing presses sometimes but I would still know the gravity of their bodily mass when imprinted.

Today I had another productive reading, about some writers' icons in their life.

The placements were well-thought of. You get "Oh damn, he is that". I almost cried looking at one picture out of sentimentality. Son knows how to pick his top person even if his coterie of gangsters scare the hell out of wits (I am just telling this to gain sympathy but, nah, some cried over my senseless words sometimes) my otherwise guarded shell.

Yes, that was one powerful, incisive project of affinity. I did think of it as a fragile thing in the past. When everything materialized though, I was so overwhelmed by the outcome that I no longer know if I could still be overwhelmed in the future. I keep verbalizing on my head how these gamut of somehow smiling individuals with eyes, noses, ears and teeth were gathered even in such disparate surroundings, temperance and origin.

One tycoon admitted to have dozed off (snored) during a Twilight screening. Obviously, he got bored. They have reverse psyche that confounds even the most smartest of minds.

There is a common vital nerve on them though: their moral fortitude even amid any competition and this openness to the wonderful, mundane, even dunk things around them. It takes a lot to cultivate this sense of detachment (who takes photography when Monaco is better) even from the upper, middle and underground think tanks. Their purpose is singular though: uprightness in dealings, be it in art, politics or business.

And the capability to do the right thing when the proper time comes.

Even their most boring works could be the best outputs of some groups. They are not truly into mob thinking: there is a silent slice to their cong-coctions, errrr, concoctions. Daughter, what article. You wrote like a nun there. I was forever decoding what my sometime nephew did in his sassy gear. When it hit me: I just burst out a laugh. He had been coached well. Look at those eyes!!! And someone in the fan ring is wrong. I thought who she was mimicking was flaky.

And I do know that my plates there looked artsy, ring friend. Made in Japan. Vintage 1960s. Bought from a town market. You should have seen our teapots. They got lost somewhere. And the knives were spectacular (they were filed like gifts). They were all gone when I returned.

Back to the write-ups: Even our President quoted a line about Travel, behold that is as powerful as my yellow watch in that interview.

Just get a copy of this Philippine Star issue, with a Cory covering on it. Worth the read.

SPEECH-BIG

By: Iris P. Concepcion

It was a midday oasis of heat as everyone anticipates the big Speech coming from the President.

And what a huge one it was.

I do not know: it must have been the unwritten skeleton long kept hushed and for many a times, might have shackled quality, public works in the past.

All the while, I was mustering courage to articulate things as to the whys and hows and sometimes got very impassioned about it that I write as furiously like gongs from heaven are beating on my head.

At one point, I never truly comprehended how much money was being floated until I hear even little tots handled by those concerned, taunting you shamelessly for not having much. It does sadden me that this is a requirement of harassment that needs to be employed, but now that the magnitude had been explained: yes, I sort of understood the why now.

This President memorized that long discourse primarily because (I think), he was as honest about his cause as his mentors there; the words he had spoken was in the national language that we all can connect with.

When I heard it, I readily assumed: this is a byproduct of good and well-meaning people who have had enough of the things thrown around inside the true state of our nation.

It is NOT a safe speech, to say the least. It is neither a pandering speech.

He laid out the problems, their source and what is refreshing, he provided concrete and doable solutions on how to solve them. It is a challenge thrown to everyone with a true nationalist beat for this country: beyond the hurlings and mob use of force, what have you offered to improve the things on how we must be truly run?

The President thus threw the succinct challenge: "What solutions can you provide?"

I was shocked, truly at the 30x manifold excess in perks of some institutions which depend on government support for subsidies.

Also, the circuitous procedures in transactions that had been halved actually in the past, I saw as a deterrent to the viability of public offices in terms of access. It is not that people close their eyes to the perspiring, circuitous transactions. It must have been this numbing idleness to have these things implemented because somehow, a buck can be made out of the slowness.

I think, a huge force finally came out in the open. I consider it a miracle from heaven that each one moved forward this time to do his/her share of enlightenment.

President Aquino would not be that strong if he is not backed-up by people with good intentions that he had.

Now I know the reason for malice, evilness, bitchiness, physical and emotional whackings undergone by people with such an important message to relay.

It is too huge a dam to stop now.

Even without mentioning it, the gripes usually rallied on in the streets brought about by the disgruntled ranks in the labor force, military and business sectors had been squarely addressed.

I am not stopping anyone to gripe.

I do it now with a caveat though: "How can we solve this on our own accord?"

By the way, the Filipino language never sounded more eloquent than the way it was enthused by the President.

Somehow, my identity as a Filipino attained meaning. I chose the right circuit to view this and am glad for the brilliancy of this truly, "shocking" truth.

EDUCATING VIA A CREATIVE SECRETARY

By: Iris P. Concepcion

"Kasalanan ninyo ito Ma'am", (referring to then President Cory Aquino) was the tongue-in-cheek admission of the newly appointed Secretary of Education who has had a vast teaching experience in De La Salle University (DLSU--G's own academic hometown) on accepting a post that is the most vital organ in the government if some Martian were to ask me from a spaceship what the most important Cabinet department is.

He is widely hailed as a man competent to head the department and his interview as published today by a national daily showed very much that he has good smarts between his smiling mouth (and ears). He knows how many classrooms are needed to fill in the backlog in his department and how he aims to fulfill these requirements in a time frame that is, in private parlance, really fast.

I am usually cringy when I talk about the competency and integrity of public officials but this is the first time I had read about a person who had clearly studied what he is entering into. X-men rule the universe in far-reaching brilliant stimuli than one could ever hope for. For once, here is another guy who casually admits (like all public heroes do) to being harangued and harassed by those who had been caught in Greece and Turkey selling I don't know, tofu. He reacts in this grand way and in a specific manner upon entering his new office : "I need to have books in here; shall I change the paint color?"

I was very impressed with the way he said he doesn't like fiesta-type of welcoming adornments and banners which always create fake souffle in minds more than real learning (I had been tasked to edit some of these laggards' stupidity before and they could not even correct their own warped books).

I am going to quote him here as a slap against these lazies with baccarat problems who spend public service inside pub houses.

Here's the foil to your filthy-dirty mouths:

"I will go to businessmen and tell them that classrooms are a worthwhile investment. I will tap on other people's goodness, go to congressmen and to other experts. I have no problem with that because I am used to begging anyway."

"You should not have to finish college to be able to work. Basic education should not be about the years spent in school, but what it takes to prepare you for for the life of a productive adult, to have the right values, and to be legally capable of working."

"You can be sure there are things I bring to DepEd and there are things that I cannot leave behind----that is I am still green at heart."

And this is what I am talking about for the longest period of time. He even gave a certain equation on how he aims to institute these improvements.

And thus, I am thankful that these people are in instead of the usual cheap talks one normally experience from lazybugs.

As a parting shot, here is his words on marching:

"I marched in the streets hoping for changes in the country but when I was offered and I was asked to do it and my only response was sorry, my journey ends there, hanggang rally na lang ako? I cannot live with that."

After the whining: quality work is in the offing.

TWIST AND ME IN A SONG (WEIRD)
By: Iris P. Concepcion

I have a new hobby.

I pluck a kid (must not be above 5 years old) from an array of plump and thin kiddos and request them to repeat my words in toto as I read from well-crafted (sneaky), unmainstream dailies which, guffaws tucked-in this time, report about leadership seminars in places I haven't been to or some review on books with horror, suspense and murder themes.

The reports on amazing bonding races that include rock climbing caught my own sense of freedom to embrace nature and there is my pride to don an immediate gazebo to uplift my sagging spirits. Ahhh, the wonders of words when printing presses are not for sale.

Anyway, on to my reading pattern.

It is a hilarious exercise. Like being inside a blimp and you laugh and it blows up at its seams.

I heard my name mentioned as EngStan Kunshepshon. Or in a scene talk, this girl I chose this time around muttered something like "Spiderman....". SHe wants her picture featured here but I have to read first the rights of children on photo publications; I likewise need to ask her mother if that is allowed.

Concoction gets to be mangled into cong-coction and it sounds funny and better than advertised.

I walked with this dwarf beauty and she shrinks everytime she sees street children. She thought everyone knows me by name. It is like dragging someone who is a live accessory instead of say, roller skates, and this roller skate is hilarious as hell.

We walk far to buy candies that she vomits later as it is sour. We see ruddy tots eating off dirty styros who request me if they could have what we are eating. I give them two of that "long" candy thing and my dwarf companion tightens her grip around my waist as she slyly peeks out from my dress if the kids would like the sourness of the street gift.

I need to teach her how not to be afraid of these wanderers. They just need to get scrubbed and they'd look speck and clean after like her milky skin. Or I could devise a more insightful lecture so she would not be so freaked out (about racism, etc.....).

We entered a church earlier and after doing the sign of the cross, she directed me to the kneeling pad as we laugh loudly well........kneeling. We were kneeling inside a darkened House of God like major breakout kids.

And she always says the g word like myself. It is my sword, my breathing avatar, my joke pill.

SEPAK TAKRAW OR DUAL BITS OF MAINSTREAM UNDERGROUND

By: Iris P. Concepcion

You know why I extremely adore the reason (or venom) of deconstructing the hushed sanctity of status quos? (Lame question from myself). It is the sweet truth behind the explosive realities that always prove to be funnier than even the weirdest things I could ever conjure up.

Almost similar to that night when I only had P50 on my wallet; I experienced the best theater bloom-of-bursts that I slept with a huge cheshire smile on my lips when I went home after being served that superb visual meal. I am always very transparent when I am bored. Yelling obscenities at me ain't a steal, it shows off the stagnant hahahahaha of the 50's and above, potbellied and implanting halitosis entities as a wicked rebound. Where is the relevancy even in parody form? They do not even understand THAT so why take the bait. I am going to be so creamed by the eternally smart Egg here.

But on to the meat.

These naive, innocent faces of the celluloid might have thought I would not talk back when they act like falling stars of the hangers-on (I am not impressed, they do not even look like materials for writing----very plain and uniform----my nephew has better aesthetics than your shitty wigs. Sleeping with an executive is NOT talent honey, it is slutty crabbiness--do not even fight me on my level, you are being dictated on; I act on my own. Try to curb your stupid elbow inside your mouth young woman---your paramour could use it for better use. See? That is how you talk trash: do not do it on me, you'll just lose face: do not look at me with those weepy eyes either, it is fake as your hair. You have been doing this for already a protracted period of time, the step on the jeepney ride in Davao City, damn you, kid, do not do that to writers like me) and try to numb you from the great wakeboarding action in a prior-prone flooded street.

I hope the smash talk of an elder woman shut your dirty mouth off. Learn from that.

Yeah, I still see them ratters (my weird mice Beatles) doing stupid stuff and I laugh. Pointed hair, real fat teddies: that's where your money should be going. They are easier to please too. I mean, they could try eating off from golden forks but they do it like it is blase, not worth a paragraph of chat. When they serve you the most luscious sweetened banana in the universe though, that gives more oommpph than anything else and you get an experience. When everyone is getting their excessive smorgasbord of innards and cow's tails, they just bring this small deli container with yoghurt on them without talking and I go : "Sh***, aren't they hungry?"

Anyway: I am into sports right now. Soccer especially.

No. Sepak Takraw.

Two boys got my attention for their uncanny ability to act as if they are not acting at all. Perhaps they had gotten so much bad press before that they could not truly navigate their "live" art into true form. Their bravery is this....how do I put this one out: it is their ability to say, "shit this is scary" but they keep on winning the top jobs nonetheless. Yes, it is this admission of frailty that exactly makes them strong. And thus far: the only ones who stood up (what a lonely job perhaps) against the real goings-on in our little "nice-cup-and-kettle" lives. If they say they want to watch films for the pure love of it, you'd believe them already.

They follow directions thoroughly and that is a welcome attitude given the propensity to just roll in with the punches when walls go stomping down as if we are worthless.

Are we in a better State? Yes, I believe. Because of Sepak Takraw.

Young one better stage singer. Older one, better "live" art habitue.

Sister is however, the best banter carrier. There's that laugh. Like my wicked nephew.

THERE IS A COLOR THAT SAYS "I AM JAMMED"
By: Iris P. Concepcion

To the Favorite Sons Of The Republic,

Have you seen the flying umbrellas caught by a lensman in a forest theater?

Some sectors are fired-up mad I believe and I am throwing a rainbow as a foil to the weepy apologists. They are really decent and mild-mannered and there is a nagging mini-me that craves itchingly that I want to be like them.................

(ER: "Shut up mother!!!!!!").

(Mother: Really now, I want to emulate them).

(ER: laughs horribly ).

I have not seen it for years. XD has done the most splendid, unmaterial opuses of visuals that always grant my brain a knowing, visual respect. You had managed to sneak in marvelous creativity that I could not ask for more: I laugh for ages at five cents' worth whenever I see your live installations: my retina reaches fields where imagination and integrity somewhat (weirdly) coalesced. I had managed to watch the rebuttal also (as balance) and the distortion was terrible that I need to annotate it at every turn of a frame.

Thank you for continuing to go beyond the shallow lowbeats of the streets; it is a bliss seeing your exceptional works; at every turn in a block, a turn of a page; a director saying I am funny while I rolled the recorded kids' voices in a prank I normally do when I am in the mood.

When everything is shrinking, that is when I feel most fulfilled. When there is so much bad vibe around, a frame of sick cables covering the clouds and walking shopping bags always melt the divide of unwanted cynicism (I too am a cynic that is why I had pushed for Supertramp's Breakfast In America to relevant radio). It pays a lot that I never understand them.

(Grammatically wrong: "Go Back". Say "Return". Stupid, says my English teacher in high school since you could not "go" while saying "back" on the same breath. I am a poorly managed tutoree.)

Perhaps, they have misjudged the affinity that had been carved over the years, not in a tree, but the on-site interactions. We have seen the same veins of hilarity thrown at us squirming like worms. And they have kickass commentaries about everything that 'posses' try and try and try and get.....picked on. This is just a manner of getting some cloud seeding and thunderbolts and good graces. How efficient shall I rate their own parody(mimics still)? Halatadong retoke. It is comedy actually and I know the main participants to the carnage already. I am puzzled why some faces are even there in the first place but that is simply, just business.

I look like shit but I do not eat chicken legs off from a government agency's budget. That ain't class. It is crass. I'd eat dirt for that I suppose.

Right now, I am missing my Yamaha organ and this is just my way of saying, I can likewise eat off my back without the unnecessary backlash and yes, I do it as I do without any mean spiritedness.

I really want to share the works of my people and see if you like their perspective and works.

It is my own p.r. working for the talented.

QUESTIONS ON EFFICIENCY OR ON WHY BLUE MAGIC OFFERS SOMETHING MORE THAN LIP SERVICE

By: Iris P. Concepcion

I watched a program on Channel 5 last night (when it was not jammed by perverts) about water distribution and how in some areas (barangay levels), water supply had not been adequately provided over the years.

Water is charged per gallon (in black containers no less by "I Love The Poor" enterprising Filipinos) as people line up to avail of their daily rations.

Back in Mindanao, I had suffered over 40 years of rough roads. In a year, the politicians there started building them.

Which also reminds me of the very efficient then mayor of Davao City, Rodrigo Duterte to literally tongue-lash at the provider when his city suffered water shortage in some areas (with his colorful f--peppered language that I watch his one-hour public affairs television show like I would an Oscar's---LGU's must learn from this dynamo leader how it is to handle dissemination of policy information using only three people instead of multi-talking, baggage-carrying, overpriced socialites who need to go to Venice to "visualize" a "vision").

He explained that the matter is beyond his scope of governing power since water supply had been privatized.

Nonetheless, he took the issue at hand and sent trucks of water to the areas affected (for free) with the necessary caveat: he got the funds from his office's savings. National interest rose over and above the malfunction of an otherwise corporate elite structurism that is sometimes long on talk but short on bite in terms of its touted, excellent service. Innovations to improve had been lacking and when the public sector leads the way for these doors to open, of course, it is a welcome respite.

From law school I had likewise learned that public service utilities (water, electricity, telecommunications) need to be watchguarded (my term for regulation) since the existence of State is dependent on their adequacy to provide these essential "life and property" supports. It is the very backbone of a sovereign exercising their freedom to live under a just, humane, progressive environment.

Better put, they could not be messed around with at whim by people with egos. Same criterion that national interest be placed over and above profit applies to both public and private sectors when it comes to these utilities.

I was lucky to have a microcosm of this vision in my town where water supply is abundant and cheap. Nonetheless, it did not stop some concerned agencies to provide an alternative supply much cheaper than the already cheap, current rates. My point being: when monopoly is broken down for a free market set-up, every stakeholder is compelled to match or even surpass the existing service.

Question for the present economic handlers of this administration: Has the privatization of these utilities resulted to effectivity in the long run? Can the government look into the distributions of these concessions when necessary? Or had they controlled these to up profits more at the expense of quality service?

Some signs were already leaking for years but it takes corporate savvy to control these public relations disasters that may have piqued these providers. Who is their watchdog?

There was excellence in communications but innovations seem to be haywired. What novel alternatives had been explored?

I am with former Mayor Duterte on this one. He might have castigated the lapses of the water provider in his area when crunch time came but he had provided another route to source out saying: "Look, the government can come in if you fail, and we are giving this straight to the people."

Credit it to his sense of civic responsibility and perhaps astute business sense, his office had enough savings to provide for that.

This is the same questioning pondered on which made headway in congressional hearings over power electricity supply problems (which program got cut off unnecessarily--a bitter pill to swallow but they did it anyway).

I completely believe the present administration has capable, intelligent, sane, ungreedy economic advisers to advise it on these primary issues. They are being bombarded with the same onslaught of black propaganda but they must not allow these hindrances to cripple them. They are on top of the matter, they have all the power to fix this. They must pursue the exploration of these alternatives instead of getting stuck in monolithic services that sometimes breed inefficiency and creates imbalance in a State's political and economic well-being.

My town had adopted this by allowing competitors to come in. Prices of rates eventually scaled down. The benefit of choice is spread evenly then: consumers provided with alternatives for better prices and the concessionaires getting a deal to improve their structure (downsize, chop excess fats in the organization, wiki-administration, less headaches) for a more cost-effective organization.

Case in point: the airline industry improved when a competing airline came in.I used to pay close to P10,000.00 roundtrip ticket in going to Mindanao in the 80's; now I can go there for half the price or even lesser as the companies slug it out on promos and discounts.

This could likewise happen to public utilities.

Say: do we really beed to ENDURE the ghastly sights of cable/electrical wires in their overlapping state of zigzagging state of unprettiness or do we have the guts to EXPLORE and invest in alternative sources (have them buried on the ground for Pete's sake) like every major city in the world?

What have we actually done to make the consumers feel rewarded by efficient wires, or even pretty cables on the roads? The countryside had it better: look at its massive infusion of infra electrical projects there: very worldwide in context and real look. But they do not land major in front pages.

Remember the Erron debacle. Everyone must learn from it. When you accuse politicians to stop being greedy, this also goes to their counterparts when it comes to providing these facilities.

My God sons and daughters, Mommy is just on a roll.

SOMEONE IS VERY MAD AT ME AND SPINNING ME OUT OF HAND
(Reply: Hahahahahaha, Your Shopping Bags In Paris Are Not Spin-Offs)
By: Iris P. Concepcion

First, they told me I am weird.

I kept silent. I love the tag.

Next, they told me my friends are not good for me.

I just laughed.

Third, they told me I shall have a wretched journey.

Thus far, I see nothing but creative overflow.

They told me I am ugly.

I said, yeah.

Not content still, they whine.

(And heard their cries).

I wonder how on Earth we have inherited our world with people with acceptance problems but we continue to trod, along the highways of informed path.

They are so mad they wake up daily to check this blog, comment on it and berate it.

I wonder what they are doing?

Emergency exit said: "We do not care."

The Leaving says it all and no, they shall not be watching something that could make them "stained". They are too proper for that.

Old hags, wake up and stop the lame strikes. It shows your doctorate degrees, offhand. If you want respect, start acting respectable.

See your world in bad roads: that's your life. I saw mine differently: do not castigate those who are unlike you, finally seeing a cemented trip to progress.

GETTING IT DONE
By: Iris P. Concepcion

I thought I'd never live the day when alleged intellectual anchors would actually grumble about lesser taxes for old people. I almost barfed at the faint harangue on what is otherwise a sound social welfare policy of the government. Their defense is laughable: the government will not get revenues through this cut. I can only write: Hihihihihihihihihihi. The tax policy of this administration was well laid out already and we all know where it is heading. It was brilliant for its communications group to take the information to the Internet. Or, people can even Tweet the President for small gripes. About time.

The book I reviewed here, in a Nostradamus prediction, wrote about some gatekeepers discrediting some good works because they might prove to be too popular and will lessen their relevancy in the process.

I guess they really wanted pestilence to hit the country when that typhoon went miserably pfffftttt; no catastrophic deconstruction can erase the fact that the few good, naively traveled, able men in the government had come prepared for this.

More than gazillions of mouthpieces found themselves on the pressure cooker this time: ball is on them as the challenge is upped: give the country the service you are touting to be excellent as private entities and perhaps, the government can follow the lead. Do not give us crappy shows. That could be a start. Perhaps, by then, I shall not giggle whenever I see some men and women gliding down the electric cables while a news on power shortage is flashed. It really made me go: what was that?

You can't bully me this time around. We are giving it to you with our sweetest grins and kindness. Just deal with that.

To the journalists who had come forward to share their worthwhile inputs on how to plug in those loopholes, you are doing your nation proud. I had been reticent lately on how they had parried superbly the onslaught of witty creativity. I guess, everyone is on the prowl to hit these good people with undisciplined bitchiness (bruised egos is all), but it is out there for the taking. Take it as is: we mirror the things we have done in the past. It is not a disaster, it is counselling via reel. Think of the Calgary, errrr, Calvary as a cross worth the burden to carry.

If you have a chance, go to Manila Zoo also. They have a new side there with X-marked fences, M-designs that are spacious. Zebras and horses can frolic more leisurely in these new installations. Splendid grounds. You can compare the disparity there in terms of quality work. Children are pups? Yes, cute too, since they are not afraid to renovate malfunctioning cages (dirty, dilapidated, missing animals).

When they take on the job like a walk in the park, who wouldn't want to visit the park?

You know how a pyramid looks like? Always, the thinnest portion is on top---but it is THE top. These people are just using that spot wisely now.

Thank you for the fresh creativity and for embracing the new blood with open arms.

SOMETIME A BUS DRIVER

By: Iris P. Concepcion

I just watched Chito Roño's "Emir" and it is exactly as what the critics had said it will be.

I had experienced a whole gamut of emotions watching the Cinemalaya films that I contemplated camping outside its venue one time (Where shall I get my tent? Where will I take my bath there?) so that I could brag that I am squatting beside Ms. Reel (film had to be a female vixen always). I like its wide space---like big.

I am happy in that: I have seen the normally labeled staid people enjoying themselves over watching what I likewise enjoy. This is beyond politics nor divide nor ideological conflict. It is communicating beyond the core of thug-hood; elevate the eros and essence of debates into this kind of conscientious, highly creative opulence.

I once posed the premise that perhaps, it will lessen the greediness of people if they could discover the joys of say, photography, film or a good kwek-kwek on the street. Someone told me it takes discipline to attain this kind of jaded comfort to settle in but I am glad I had found it.

My nephew was there ahead of me in this realization.

My thrill is always this: I do not know what shall happen inside the film venue. I always come out differently after though.

I am glad for Roño's existence in the medium. I expected a Lawrence of Arabia-type of reel but was greeted instead by sung dialogue. Like Bollywood.

I was impishly trying to hold back my tears but they always fall whenever I understand things in a non-combative manner (like the answers to: why are people acting that way?) in epical proportions. The men who took care of my welfare are finally bouncing back with piercing works of their own. I think when some scenes connect with you with familiarity, you'd feel like you own the motion picture's texture.

Watch it for yourself and feel it owned.

Also:

I like the venue's superb food (especially the fish and chips with tartar sauce) and the feel of the environment. Mouthy tussles are kept to a minimum.

The area invites for that kind of attitude.

Thank you Chito Roño for stringing like guitar a film that ought to be a trombone. You had put class in such a delicate subject matter.

If you are wondering what my title means: the intended knows it for a reason. Affinity works in wondrous, mysterious ways.

PROJECT HQUARTER POUNDER

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Finally, the drainage system here is working!

The dreaded typhoon yesterday did not create havoc of biblical proportions only because of this fact: the system was plowed before the elections. People worked overtime (green people, read my entry about the taxi driver who gave me a lecture on the symbiosis between roads and drainage systems) to fix these while everyone was hyper: griping about everything, from eyebrows to prices.

The water subsided fast; I saw disaster centers near the place where I am staying currently and despite the rains, I saw students braved it and went to school anyway. I am dismayed though that the bulk of garbage was courtesy of some brands which might have been promoted at the expense of the "fix the drainage" job. I was walking and it was not lost on me.

Cynics were hollering: too much water (none), wind (I have experienced worse when I was a student), catastrophe (I've had the best night of my life previously and it could not dampen me, even when I only have 50 bucks on my wallet).

About the night:

That has got to be one of the most magical twists of my cryptic life. Everything was in total reverse.

Drizzles tapped the pavements and had my furry hood cover my head once again. My own uplifting parka-------air is nothing, air shivers through it like inefficient windmill, air passes through it, begrudgingly astounded.

Anyway, I walked my usual strides like a chick hopping away from mud...plak, plak, plak my feet soundboarded.

Anyway, there is this film--I shall leave out everything for the time being because it is too pure to get commercialized---that is a kicker. What do I mean by this? It means being eureka-d only at the end. It started out so bad that I am reminded of my Southern viewing of a t.v. show. that I cursed endlessly---editing, sound, everything a wham. Bored somewhere in the middle (I tried sleeping but I must tread on), I started looking at my left, then right, and this is where the REAL film kicked super butts.

I was sitting beside an "aswang", (small guy with some of his dorky friends saying rakenrol), his teeth did not dig deep into his gums, it was like protruding like the falling tower of enamel, and he was really into the movie.

His face: he seemed to totally like it and I do not know for what reason. Bad dialogue, ghosts coming out like huh, and he was clapping and enjoying it like he is watching a porn quickie. It was cool. And he is an "aswang."

Smack in the middle of this tremendously beautiful theater is a guy who always turned his head whenever there is a ghost coming out as if he would have liked the camera to tilt further. It was really funny. He donned these heaviest shoulder pads like mothership.

By the time the third story was rolling (it is a trilogy of super B-film), I could no longer contain my laughter (it was so bad that I had to bite my tongue least the audience shall wonder why I am giggling in the middle of a crying scene) that I texted away my confusion.

Miracle of miracles, everyone in the theater started to laugh, like a clown wave or a flower power was flowing and I said: my God, they felt me.

What started out as a horror/drama/thriller film became the hugest satire comedy that nakakahawang chortles dragged, right inside the comfort rooms, the lobby, and I was still grinning when I arrived at my destination.

Someone was picking his toenails at the beautiful lobby and you wonder if the Oscar's just leaped out from the screen. It is ALIVE!! And an esteemed director was slicing through this madness like heaven. Perfect.

It was a bad, bad, bad freaking blast and so gauche and ugly and ewww that it is sooooo good.

Rohmer and his ilk strike again.

Thank you for making me feel alright even when I only had 50 bucks on me that night. I even gave 5 bucks (he was asking for piso only) to a kid who bathed in the night rain and was singing away with ini mini mini mo lover.

I mean, THIS is happiness.

THE BEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING EERIE

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Tendrils on face picked by a pretty tot named Louise. Confused and dazed, she began chewing it until reprimanded by the tendrils' owner.

Me.

She looks like Suri (daughter of Tom and Kate) when her eyes are not widely open. She looks good in cotton dresses, especially the long ones. She is currently sporting an accessory on her nose. A snot. Too much popsicles.

She knows how to eat French Fries and how to put catsup on them. She feeds these on my mouth whenever she finds herself burped and fed.

If adults were to be outlawed, I would not mind getting stuck with kids like these: messy, rowdy, rule-defying. Everything is freefall, including the chips loosely scattered on the ground that she picks to put in her mouth and you just need to yell: " THAT'S DIRTY!!!!"

And she gives you a killer grin, munching it anyway.

I love the pictures posted in this entry. The first one is from a short film I had semi-reviewed in my previous entry, about an Ifugao boy who wanted to have a wooden scooter to give to his "crush" and in the process, learned more about his father and adult logic in general.

This was taken from the program synopses. This particular scene was shot when he (named cutely as Gum-o) was sneakily eyeing the object of his affection: it spoke more than any nuanced and studied kilometric dialogue. I repeat, there is a Nabokovian-Colette tenderness to it, the eyes, his giddiness, his sly peek, it is a slice of honesty hooking you by the gut and I actually muttered inside the film venue : "good job guys, good job." This is what motion picture is all about. A visual foray into your senses.

Second picture is a new, brave work of what one can do with indigenous materials. I do not know from what material this was created from (I did not bother to ask---the people milling there wore skimpy skinny jeans and perhaps could not give me an answer either) but I presume, shell is one of its components. It is pretty upclose, striking than the usual weaving normally associated with indigenous art. A new take, and more pleasing. Like taking on a global notch of grip saying : "Look At Me, I Am Absolutely, Globally Stunning!".

I took the third one while I lined up for my tickets; it looked enthralling even from its back view, following my backstreet thread of creativity for the recently discovered thespians who are kind of old but are taking inspiring new steps to while away their time: seizing photos that complete them.

I took the next picture from a small newspaper and liked its sketch. I simply snapped it. Besides, I love the extra zing in Japanese burgers . Weird but they are ultra tasty. Charcoal-grilled. My best impromptu date (cringe, corny) is via a Japanese bowl food also.

The last one is from the lobby of the film venue. There is so much going on around here that you could get lost in its almost Dutch film maker subtlety of presentation.

Even when you are silent, you can get loud telepathy-wise, in here.

While I am on this, the City Hall of Manila did a bold step in putting the picture of Cory Aquino and the presidential picture of his son right in front of its main building. I guess this encourages affection for leaders who had led us rightly. I thought they only do this to nobled stock in mideastern countries. Long time coming, long time coming.

BRAVE, NEW FILMS

By: Iris P. Concepcion

The Cultural Center of the Philippines is currently showing the present works of a new breed of Filipino film makers. Whereas before, the tone of the festival is to allow the best of world cinema to be shown in our shores, this time around, everything is Filipino-made.

The program synopses were given to me rather late but a kindly security guard provided me one while I was lining up for my tickets. I saw mute people handing out signals in pure animation and perhaps usurping some foreign artist's cameo, I felt zoned in. I was not paying attention for the true creative riot is in the lights outside. A mini kid of mine told me "that's Vegas, where some dots spend their service". I saw the intended people almost shut down---their red faces caught totally off guard. I have seen this in Boracay before: their faces never seem to change.

The slightest parodies of the now, silent majority are doing what they do best: human grotesque transgressions in hypocritical walks. I have seen this done over and over again and it never fails to amuse my tickled-happy self whenever I see these executions of trippy parades in full-blown ramp.

I haven't decided on which film to watch but I decided that the best course will be to relish on some shorts, capsulized film-minis if you may. Too bad, the seller said, the ticket is sold out for that day.

I purchased the ticket for Raymond Red's "Himpapawid" instead which proved to be an intelligent choice. This movie essays an in-your-face anger not so much against an institution but against a system that promotes crabby treatment of workers. The flying curses got thrown around easily on the faces of people who seem to preserve this kind of sordid, turf-y clique at the expense of progress and novelty in doing things. These are the types who breed uniform thoughts and attitude who might have lost their nerves to question, scrutinize and uniquely create (sans bitterness, mind you). My premise is, you see one and you have seen them all. You do not notice them but they shall insist by being gruff. That is plain desperation; a false sense of greatness that I find having much difficulty in processing.

"Himpapawid" is eerie in that it squirms with truths so difficult to grasp unless you had been in a peripheral situation. You may want to throw imaginary grenades at these stunters (they shall derail everything that you are already clueless what it is they are fighting for). It is mind-provoking in that that those who are tasked to protect dismiss it as incorrigibly flat: "nothing personal, this is just work" when they could have changed that whole flow of thinking right on the ground where their feet are implanted.

I had fun watching the short films though. I especially like the "May Pinhod,Oh Yah Scooter" episode. The lead kid there is super natural. In so short a span of viewing, the essential elements of puppy love (I immediately recall Nabokov's own admiration for Colette), fatherhood, owning a bike, even hemp planting in Ifugao was touched funnily. The visuals were exceptional. It was brilliant of the director to carry the caveat that it was megged using a simple Canon equipment (less budget) and I almost hurrah-ed to my heart's content for the bold declaration. Also, it did not cringe over the fact that it copied some methods of a previously shown Filipino film. I laughed and glossed voraciously over this tongue-in-cheek admission. The whack is in the simple budget that produced the best grain of film. You need to superimpose these with the grants given to other talented individuals who may require stupendous amounts of money but are delivering not so enriching nor thought-provoking reels and you exactly get my drift.

The nearest shorts that could come at par with this film is "P". It could have been very functional as a sartorial comedy until you feel that the maker seems to be mad at something. It lacked an expansive societal critique unlike the bicycle story. This is a vengeance film of the hurt, exposed and the relevantly caught. Even from a kid's perspective where depth may be lacking, I was expecting a deeper rancor but found it somewhat nil.

Somehow, it loses its focus on the much more important film treatises and functional meanings of symbols. It does borrow the Tarantino-type of vusial tricks but the comparison ends there. It does not transcend into a communal visual essay, i.e: Why were the bullies acting that way? Why was the aunt obssessive-compulsive? Why was the child still living with the aunt? In "May Pinhod...." a couple of nicely filmed shots established these, pronto. I felt like I was actually watching a French film, or a Norwegian opus. And from a kid's point of view, this film was more precise with its thread purpose.

"P" is plainly a film meant to exploit Pinoy lingos. I believe this was the labor of love of some musicians as I had seen in the closing credits. It lacked the substance of "May Pinhod..." in that, while the former knows exactly why the kid is acting, even "erecting" funnily that way, you know it is for puppy love. Even his questioning manners come from a sense of abject loss. "P" is simply a visual defense in this manner: the child seems to have a hidden irk at this aunt who is taking care of him (an orphan? a scavenger? the film missed on this clue bigtime).

Both films dealt with the irrelevancy and stupidity of adult actions and logic sometimes but the first one delved it in a more probing manner that is truer to the heart and gut.

Over all, these made me laugh out loud and made me prouder to be at the helm of ingenius megmen, we need visual kicks like these to jumpstart the culural side of our country into one romp of visual passions.

I also liked the animated "Lola". Very Hollywoodish and Burton-like in content and texture. This is about a woman-director who wears this obscurely tagged shirt "Inutel". She was directing a witch how to be gross and bloody. The audience hooped up to the remarks she had uttered in directorial advice: "we need gore in biblical proportions" or something to that effect. The animation is remarkably exceptional; even better than Pixar. Of course, we are a country that is heavily pirated offshore by the comic-drawing community. This is the best exhibit why we are number one in this craft.

Watch these films if you can and be proud you are living in these islands.

While you are there, check out the outlet of books : pages are on the middle shelf, lower side: look for boys with angels there, stunning. Someone got a Manila map that is somewhat overpriced. I said to this guy next to me: that is not quite a buy. This could be improved on to make it real groovy. They likewise did something to indigenous materials and they are perked up. They are arranged under the "Brave New Works" signage.

THE THINGS I FOUND FUNNY ON THE TELEPHONE LINE

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Twice since the elections, I received two samples of voices I knowingly keep as members of my quilt. I find it funny to be connecting by gut these people that I only see via far lenses, back grilled by sunlight, baked to perfection.

I am weird this way: these mundane things make me stay in an ozone of calm. I truly enjoy the forced inaccessibility of my people. They have become underground prized items. They are like those classic trophies you long since they do not multiply like sheep in singular faces. I do not see them everywhere. I had to break some limb to unearth their new opuses.

I laughed at the cut; looks like I have to post the beautiful magazine I have discovered in one of the mall nookies: it had chains and Guerros Moerticia type of writings that I do not often see on the Net.

Thanks babies. Cheeks and all. Those little notes are tons of fun.

I am trying to reach a newspaper and I could not because a voice from the neanderthal world skipped good manners and decided to garble it. Usual place: going platform shoes and lighted.

Thank you kids. Affection to the youngest whom silent mum adores like hell. Still.

G-FLY!

KIDS

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Once upon a time, there were adults who talked about balance of power, environmental protection, fiscal budgets and corporate returns.

In a flicker of hand, imprinting everything on the wall with dotted familiarity, rugrats (they are cute homo sapiens who could not reach the cupboard unless they use 15" high chairs) invaded these discussion forums and shook the logical fundamentals of grown-up men.

They juggled the Earth and uttered the latently difficult "KISS ME PUBLIC" and you wonder how an adult had shaped it via mouth direction, but coming from the babe's mouth, I could not decode even the easiest line to crack. I certainly asked, "What park?" and the curly-haired cheeky lady mentioned a name that is totally lost on me.

These are real snippets and experiences I had with these perfunctory, ambulatory and agile people.

1. Someone took out scissors and Johnson-talked me for a hair cut.

2. Same little kid took out a blanket while I was sleeping and covered me with it with the word: "Sleep."

3. Gave blow by blow account on how to kiss. It could be very embarrassing but when he goes shouting: "Get out if you can't do that!", you see him as an 80 year-old circus freak.

4. Another wanted me to enter a huge mouth, travel inside a body's anatomy in a museum (she had cold hands when she saw it: it was like Rocky Horror Show).

5. Insists on looking at a foreign map as a Philippine province.

6. I allow them to talk to inanimate objects, say, the electric fan or television set. Following my lead, one beautiful soul (long hair, blinking eyes) placed eyelashes on a bench and made it male.

You just need to be functionally volatile creatively when you are around these little craniums. I asked one what she wanted to have inside a classroom and she said: "blackboard". I wanted her to think out of box, thus, I offered an outlandish but exciting alternative:

"How about putting a boat, a truck, an airplane inside the classroom where you can read your books from?"

Her eyes widened; her curly hair seemed to braid by itself.

I asked her, which is better, yours or mine.

She said "Yours". I developed goosebumps of course; I think I have done my job already.

The pictures here are solidly vivid. The uppermost picture was taken during the inaugural street party celebration at QC. Look at the way how a heart was formed out of haze in that pinkish tower (alternates between green and pink from afar). The monument looks fabulous at night; just across its massive structure is a beautiful fountain.

The second one is a huge X signage. Look at the traffic enforcer in the middle. Great man.

Another church front that I just need to photograph whenever I have spiritual dates with God.

The third one is a Clinique print ad. It spoke to me because of the short story I did about turtles. Brilliant minds took it from there and glamorized this crawling creature as facial accessory. I love the connection. This has an Eisenhower note. Who would have thought it could touch something about decelerating aging?

GETTING ON TRACK

By: Iris P. Concepcion

"Look at me. I am super chubby but I am super confident."---from an unsung hero

I have seen a new facet of writing that has somehow warmed even the hottest of the heat-----this is the wave of the writing future.

I have read this via alternative information highway over the years; it had grained grounds in an almost telepathic printing. Despite the limitations and novelty and newness of the deliverance, they still landed on mainstream.

This is the battle of "real" work leaping out from print.

Not even a week into this new beginning, our senior citizens had been granted tax exemptions as health care support for them. They just need to avail them. Soon to follow are the utilities requirements of these often marginalized sectors of our society.

This had been foreseen by the book I had reviewed here: when these things prove to be very useful, this necessarily creates panic among those who prefer mess (it creates a fodder for money) than order.The illegal use of sirens even by civilian motorists had been reigned in and other welfare services are gaining headway.

This is truly an entrance into a wave of crucial social and political reforms that could give this country more leeway to institute things often laid stale in the backburner over the years.

Normally, we simply shut off the traditional gatekeepers to bullhorn what is actually being felt from down the line. Bringing it on top is tough but we had digitalized this information drive so well that it could capsize the status quo, albeit, positively.

What the heck, mainstream media is catching up finally. I experience goosebumps whenever I read words from the old geezers scribbling like idealist neophytes. Here is the novel twist: they are actually sharing their inputs on how to make things work instead of endlessly whining, bumping, shouting and fidgeting and picking on.

Of course, when there is a mistake, they too must bring it to the fore. I, nonetheless, welcome this group of skeptics figuring out how to process the information designs to more productive use, how to implement them, and how in the long run, see its practicality for what it truly is: it could be the better nation-building alternative for our country.

The potential of media as a force is often seen on the other side. Imagine then if the resource of this vast reservoir of knowledge is being funneled inside. It could create ripples of truly reinvigorating formulations of policies that keep pace with the speedy world of technology. This is the face of the new revolution. Something carved out from Jose Rizal's own transformative ways of being radical : while writing all those progressive ideas---he had likewise built and enforced his visions clearly, in that exiled place of his, Dapitan. He founded the best of what a country could achieve when what you are griping about is matched superior-wise, by workable social services.

That, in a nutshell, as pointed out succinctly in the book, is civic courage. No longer is valor confined to pointing out the wrong; true bravery also includes doing something concrete to correct the wrong.

I hope everyone catches up on this fever as started by those whose sense of freedom had been altered by a universe that could not be stopped from evolving and revolving to newer and grander heights.

THE (not so) SUBLIME WAY OF OWNING WHAT IS ACTUALLY A DIFFERENT STORY

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Still on the inauguration rites.

I just read some of the reviews about the inauguration ceremony as written by people who, upfront, chose to sleep in their houses pretending to cook enormous buffet, feign unexcitement that there is nothing huge going on, or heckle people on their way to the inauguration rites as a foil to their own demise in the public service field (it is not the only way to help---as they all repeatedly pound).

Since the event was gratifyingly a triumph of the understated (I have seen that particular bowl in the field where the silent satire is going on that could thaw even the grittiest of fortitude--this is where my silent troops camped in) and the working, namelesss herd, the temptation to subdue them as historical outcasts is more inviting to those who might have been insultingly stumped along the way.

Imagine, then, my aghast, when these quite famous but now apologetic pack of musicians and their panderers of buffalos and traditionally (vehicle) gifted children (they actually threatened to snub the affair; the same people who jeered the efficacy of full automation) photoshopped themselves to faux holograms and horror of horrors did the unthinkable: they now fraudulently claim that they were there to support a nation into a carousel of reform-building citizenry.

Do not mistake drunkeness for valor and patriotism folks.

This is my story then, of the usurped heroes on the field and their beautiful music for internal change.

I hope the female host's cajoling of the bonused lot did not fall into deaf ears. I had been stepped on on the same event by these recipients. It is not a cause of rudeness if you had sulked in tears for what is inevitable: the event was really for the people, not a particular group's grand posturing. If you were left out, it is because you had stubbornly refused to heed the call of an internal change that is about erupting right at your very noses.

I particularly singled out Mr. Noel Cabangon's ultra heroism in defying the not so subtle elbowing to barbarize the proceedings via forced ruckus (when Pres. Aquino was about to deliver his speech, they yelled nonsensical sentences like unleashed bonus recipents on the prowl)----even right within his platform of performance.

The people had felt the pulse though. He received the most thunderous claps and as I looked around, tears fell silently for this chosen, brave few. There were several attempts to clog access to his lyrics; but someone must write about how this man singlehandedly shushed the crowd of interlopers and dampeners by his MABUTING PILIPINO number.

That is President Noynoy's true blood; his voice peeking out as his true line of reform.

Even in the aftermath of his inauguration rites, this wiki, travelling, almost reluctant but ferocious musicians (trained on the road for vocalization by the best offbeat teachers) surged through with their heavenly music. "Impossible Dream" was a world-class act; not even a catastrophe can stop it from bursting onto that vast, QC, aural field.

Where there is no noise, there is transcendental union with the movement of free spirits. Compact, small, well-disciplined, unfazed, they tore off the walls of indifference and sloth, even the skeletal excesses of selves in the field of entertainment. I feel strongly about this because I have felt, vein for vein, their unheralded contributions, failing throats be damned.

(As I am writing this down, the harmony of Cabangon's beautiful pipes, glided down in my aural periphery of listening, unimpressed by the gangs of forfeit---that raspy voice during chorus, that lone guitar, the expansive, happy smile for the listening crowd, the universal sincerity that dwarfed myself into some guilty reaffirmation of my beliefs).

On hindsight, I am not imagining things like this one as cornily rosy. I have been with this musician in the past. I just need to write this as an experience to let everyone know that this was not built overnight. If we had been musically allied in thoughts then, these were founded on journeys, from Mindanao to Visayas to Luzon. Over gatherings of people and sharing of thoughts and inputs. He did not sing in that cavehole though; he actually dozed off, over pop tunes of love bug songs in one obscure birthday party.

I exactly knew then that I was not really left out cold for a Korean car in this fight.

We are not outflanked. We outsmarted the election flunkers this time around.

Why do I insist on writing this? They say that truth is relative. I have read experts defend their turf that they might have missed entirely on other stories but their elegance of writing had not been amiss---I have no beef with that kind of defense mechanism. Absolutely a free writing world. Fine argument.

The moment you forcefully twist truth for expediency though, report on something that is not there, you are falling into the trap of Stephen Glass (remember the New Republic debacle) and could be perceived as hellbent on professionalizing a writing mendicancy.

As I said, you do not have a right to call my name when you had repudiated the essence of your true reformist spirit for a trade, a stock listing, a vile remark, a push.

Somehow, you'd know, the new warriors of the mainstream underground will bite everything for order. Sure, they may be fat, but they could be thin for reform.

YELLOW HOOD

By: Iris P. Concepcion

I was among the phalanx of women who joined the line reserved for my gender during the presidential inauguration ceremony. It was orderly and surprisingly, the crowd was managed very well, like some clockwork efficacy. The instructions were given clearly by authorities and we just followed the directions. When everyone towed the process for entering, it leaves less room for elbowing and any possibility of unnecessary stampede.

I was walking briskly when I chanced upon this beautiful tot hand-held by her mother. She just begged to be taken a picture, an early stage to expose her to history. I just wished she had seen the mascot of the new President at the QC circle area.

Moving on to a new thread, I would like to quote again from the book I had previously commented on here. An articulation of words kept safe for policy formulations:

"We are experiencing what it is like to fall into the hands of a mob calling for the blood of those who praise government service and wage their expansion. It was that they lend their voices in favor of government programs that could prove so popular it could help the______'s brand with the voters. If they let _______ deliver on their agenda, people might end up liking it too much. As such, (some panicking quarters see the need) to destroy (this promise)."

Stalling of any implementation of good service via noise is caving in to the cabals of inefficiency.

The present dispensation may heed well to its vision of internal change. It could start by cleaning up a gaggle of interferences on the communication highway. This is the next step of interlopers to sabotage the laying down of groundwork for good governance.

There is a pointblank mark of dealing with this: fight as bitingly. In my personal dealings with some of these hecklers, I had found out the exact way to rise above their latent pettiness. I simply state the truth. No circuitous evasive topics; no highstrung, eager beaver manner to please the listener; no blurring of motives, nor of faith.

Those who are plain negligent of the senses, I simply ear-off. I simply dream of Keatsian phrasings instead.

It does not pay to employ the saliency of democratic words when dealing with them. That is the reason why I had recently upped my admiration for the conscience converts who can directly spank, word for word, those who had transgressed the boundaries of positively creative interactions.

I have long held the premise that the age of noise and prattle is no longer a viable way to institute changes within the system. Finding the right people as deliverers of these changes is the most novel key to progress this time around. Much had already been explained by the saner side of information bearers, often blocked by these beerhouse habitues/barren field type of vision creators.

Where there is transgression, face the consequences by the proper law application. Gladly, headways to change along this thinking is starting off quite well.

The inauguration rites is spectacular in that it allowed people who had publicly announced to help reveal their real motives under an environment of informed, conscientious will, to participate. I hope they do their words and not use it as another conflict-ridden sharing of inputs.

It worked during the inauguration, I do not know why it should fail along these communication lines.

When the colors of motives nonetheless spring from down under, I hold my mouth to challenge:

"Why are you IN it?"

I earnestly hope you think of our country, truly this time, with complete faith.

Offbeat Things Seen At The Inauguration

By: Iris P. Concepcion

"You are the boss so I cannot ignore your orders. We will design and implement an interaction and feedback mechanism that can effectively respond to your needs and aspirations."

"I had a simple goal in life: to be true to my parents and our country as an honorable son, a caring brother, and a good citizen."

"I do not believe that all of those who serve in our government are corrupt. In truth, the majority of them are honest. They joined government to serve and do good. Starting today, they will have the opportunity to show that they have what it takes. I am counting on them to help fight corruption within the bureaucracy."

These lines are part of President-elect Noynoy Aquino's inaugural speech.

I was looking at the numerous faces around while these were uttered.

The Atlas picture nonetheless directed me to a creative frame of mind: a countdown to the oath taking was flashing atop where the Earth should have been. It is a striking structure: imposing, huge, uniquely visible. The frame of the prexy's body mass is present upclose.

Somehow I know that this shall be a leader who can not only tolerate and approve but one who can actually encourage with passion the nourishment of innovative minds.

I likewise attended the street party held at the Quezon Memorial Circle as an extension of the inaugural celebration. Its recently constructed underpass (fronting its city hall) is comely like a pretty lass: you pass by the passage with the city's historical milestones photographed in a montage of well-taken antique pictures.

I saw a shirt that explained it: God's action is working. I have truly envisioned pathways like this one in the past. I certainly love walking and I find it idling sometimes, not missing out on the possibility of opportunity that I could actually be "educated" on history, science or what not while I do my footwork. The historical underpinnings gracing this QC walkway could be best visually grabbed by people instead of the usual commercial pitchings one normally sees in similar structures.

Moreover, it is airy, spacious and gives strength to any pair of sturdy legs. We really have beautiful cities; it is only giving the free hand to those who have the eye to see these designs implemented in a new, excitable and mind-challenging manners to jumpstart the visual vibe.

Its park inside is also a breather. It is still being constructed. There is a luxurious fountain and it delighted me that kids actually enjoyed them : this alternative to "paid" amusement parks is now made "public". You make a satisfied citizenry like this without having to profit from the taxpayers and chances are, they shall be armed with more understanding, lessening their gripe and whine. The new president articulated this well: "you combat discontentment by good governance." That is the only way.

The first picture is a Noynoy mascot that just popped out from nowhere in the Quezon City Memorial Park. It is, for lack of better word to use, cute. A lot of people had their pictures taken with Noynoy's prototype like a fastfood image carrier: he is made accessible to the young ones. That is offbeat connectivity. Again, more than puff, the traditional means of being visibly there is getting another facelift, and all for the better.

I precisely sought out these pictures rather than the throngs of people yesterday because they deliver promises that do not cling on to what is already stale, boring and ineffective. It is proper communication and functional management of fund at a maximized cost.