I heard it’s graduation everywhere. It’s oblivious to me since I am neither schooling nor am I parent to a school kid. It must be swell to have several weeks of vacation. I miss it. We all do.
And so, our everyday life continues.
Here’s The Happy Mondays by The Innocence Mission:
The happy Mondays, we blow down alleyways in our raincoats, in afternoons.
Exterior of a bakery. Katipunan Ave., Quezon City, 10:22 A.M.
A boy cleaning a car for sale. Katipunan Ave., Quezon City, 10:24 A.M.
The imaginary dogs beside us are old friends, they will speak to you.
Dried leaves filled the sidewalk. Whiteplains Ave., Quezon City, 10:24 A.M.
It is summer time. Whiteplains Ave., Quezon City, 10:24 A.M.
The police waiting for violators. Whiteplains Ave. and Temple Drive, Quezon City, 10:25 A.M.
Happy in the daylight. Breathe out, breathe in the end of school time.
An ice cream vendor reads the news today. Temple Drive, Quezon City,10:25 A.M.
I was riding a taxi going anywhere. Temple Drive, Quezon City, 10:26 A.M.
Happy on the way home. The west side also feels, and they know, everything that I know.
A vendor catering to vehicles during stops. Green Meadows Ave., Quezon City, 10:28 A.M.
A traffic enforcer taking shade under a tree. Ortigas Ave., Quezon City, 10:28 A.M.
Construction workers resting for a while. Ortigas Ave., Quezon City, 10:28 A.M.
The happy Mondays, we are blue-green in the air, we are yellow, too.
A group of friends goofing around. Ortigas Ave., Quezon City, 10:28 A.M.
A delivery truck which seems to be delivering chickens. Ortigas Ave., Quezon City, 10:28 A.M.
The clouds of Pennsylvania break apart, they move away from me and from you.
Sidewalk vendors stationed at the waiting shed. Ortigas Ave., Quezon City, 10:29 A.M.
A sweeper in his morning duty. Ortigas Ave., Quezon City, 10:29 A.M.
Motorists during a traffic stoplight. Ortigas Ave. and Meralco Ave., Pasig City, 10:31 A.M.
Happy in the daylight. Breathe out, breathe in the end of school time.
A painter suspended from a building. Onyx Rd., Ortigas Center, Pasig City, 10:31 A.M.
A security guard striking a pose. Garnet Rd., Ortigas Center, Pasig City, 10:32 A.M.
Happy on the way home. The west side also feels, and they know,
The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent. Stanley Kubrick
Playboy: If life is so purposeless, do you feel that it’s worth living?
Kubrick: Yes, for those of us who manage somehow to cope with our mortality. The very meaninglessness of life forces man to create his own meaning. Children, of course, begin life with an untarnished sense of wonder, a capacity to experience total joy at something as simple as the greenness of a leaf; but as they grow older, the awareness of death and decay begins to impinge on their consciousness and subtly erode their joie de vivre, their idealism – and their assumption of immortality. As a child matures, he sees death and pain everywhere around him, and begins to lose faith in the ultimate goodness of man. But if he’s reasonably strong – and lucky – he can emerge from this twilight of the soul into a rebirth of life’s élan. Both because and in spite of his awareness of the meaninglessness of life, he can forge a fresh sense of purpose and affirmation. He may not recapture the same pure sense of wonder he was born with, but he can shape something far more enduring and sustaining. The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death – however mutable man may be able to make them – our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.
I come home from work being greeted by a dog who magically appears from the dark; a dog whose bark was a little hoarse months before like a prepubescent pimply high school kid; a spitz I’d like to cuddle but really, it would gnarl and bite my arm without those metal railings.
I sleep at night being lulled by a demon-like cat who laughs and cries like a demon-vampire and I wonder why the neighborhood isn’t out there with their pointed bamboo poles to put holes to its furry body.
I open my eyes in the morning being woken up by a rooster with the soul of a dog. Its repeating crows transmute into barks like those of a rabid dog gargling its drool.
These days, the roaches are out hiding, maybe in the drainage where they will emerge dead upside-down during the rainy season when it’s flooding. The mouse and rats, I haven’t seen them lately. No creature is crawling over my feet as I twist the key in the gate lock. That old rat who is un-frightened or just plain deaf — it’s gone.
My weird neighborhood people — they are awake at night and asleep in the morning. I hear muffled grungy guitar exhibition in the midnight like a recital for the nocturnal spirits; I sip my coffee while a live acoustic session plays early in the morning — whoo-hoo-hoo, whoo-hoo-hoo, who can ask me for more? — they’ve been practicing The Cardigans in a looped succession.
My weird neighborhood people — I belong to this place; a domicile I choose over pearly white walls and deafening silence.
—
Here’s Shake Yer Head by Eraserheads:
I was born upside-down I felt my grandma put my feet on the ground They put a spoon in my mouth And everyone was shocked to hear me shout
Kalantiaw St., Cubao Quezon City, 8:10 A.M.
Flowering Macopa. It’s the season of Macopa and it showers the ground with flower-dust once again.
Araneta Center, Cubao, Quezon City, 8:23 A.M.
Reverse Painting. The man was painting the asphalt with black paint to contrast the white STOP sign painted on the ground.
EDSA near MRT Cubao Station, 8:36 A.M.
Solid R. Solid ride in this taxi.
Well I knew I couldn’t take all the dog food that they make I’d just as soon as put myself on a stake and burn
EDSA near MRT Cubao Station, 8:36 A.M.
Lala-Mon. Jejemon’s gluttonous cousin.
Somewhere along EDSA, 8:37 A.M.
Express Makeup. I feel pree-tee… Women all around the public make up their faces while they commute.
I saw it comin’ around I saw it comin’ around, yeah I saw it comin’ around So I just, yeah Shook my head and walked away
EDSA near Araneta Center, Cubao, Quezon City, 8:38 A.M.
Red Light. Pedestrians waiting to cross EDSA.
EDSA, Cubao, Quezon City, 8:40 A.M.
J-Biel’s. Have you eaten at Jessica Biel’s Food Express?
EDSA and B. Serrano Ave., Quezon City, 8:44 A.M.
Nice Hat. Mr. Police officer, why smirking?
I grew up in a town Where everybody tried to push me around The girls were alright but the guys were tough They’re always buggin’ me with macho stuff
EDSA and B. Serrano Ave., Quezon City, 8:44 A.M.
Bus is Crossing. Killer buses on the loose – it’s my breakfast news.
EDSA, 8:48 A.M.
Freedom. Ride the Kalayaan taxi and fly like a bird.
Well, I ain’t no stupid fighter I go for flower power I’ve been running every race Just to save my face, yeah
EDSA, 8:48 A.M.
Terno. Sweet ride — arms wrapped around.
EDSA, 8:49 A.M.
Joy & Bebz. Appending a letter z to your name is equivalent to adding a letter h somewhere in the middle of it — only a little classy. Bhoy, Ghirlie, Jhun, Mhonette, Lhinda, Jhessie — you encountered these people at one point in your life.
EDSA, 8:50 A.M.
Chedeng. My grandfather used to own a white Mercedes-Benz 280S (or a related model). Since it was already worn-out from years of usage, we decided to jampack it with ten people to save up fare.
I saw it comin’ around I saw it comin’ around, yeah I saw it comin’ around So I just, yeah Shook my head and walked away
EDSA, 8:50 A.M.
Willy Boy. Everyone in Philippines has his or her Tito Willy and Kuya Willy.
EDSA, 8:50 A.M.
Big Wheel, Small Wheel. An attention-grabber for a Castrol GTX sludge protection oil advertisement.
EDSA, 8:50 A.M.
Learned. Maybe they mean “some lesson learned“.
Well, they try to see if you care It’s just a matter of not begging for more You know, it’s really suicidal to just give in With people you can never really be sure
EDSA, 8:50 A.M.
Jebs. This taxi is always in a hurry. Jebs is the Filipino word for shit.
EDSA, 8:50 A.M.
Roll Down. Once, I threw a consumed cigarette out of a taxi; it bounced off the half-opened window, fell behind the backseat.
EDSA, 8:52 A.M.
If There is Smoke. Someone’s cooking (or burning dried leaves) under the flyover.
Oh-oh, when it gets down to this they’ll eat you up When the words get in your head they’ll get you up It’s a saving grace to have enough When you find yourself in a compromising spot
EDSA near Ortigas Ave., 8:52 A.M.
MMDA Means. Marangal Matapat Disiplinado Ako (Honorable Honest Disciplined Me).
EDSA near Ortigas Ave., 8:53 A.M.
Towards. Walking while texting has, so far, not caused any casualties.
EDSA near Ortigas Ave., 8:53 A.M.
Bare. Street kid wandering around in his birthday shoes.
You should know, you shouldn’t take all that dog food that they make You’d just as soon as put yourself on a stake and burn
MRT Ortigas Ave. station elevator, 8:56 A.M.
Button. All elevators in MRT stations are moving in turtle-speed.
MRT Ortigas Ave. station bridge, 8:56 A.M.
My Bed in the Middle. This is his territory.
From MRT Ortigas Ave. station, northbound, 8:58 A.M.
Well-groomed Guitar Man. He sings Rey Valera or Freddie Aguilar songs as people pass by.
You’ll see it comin’ around
You’ll see it coming, comin’ around
When you see it coming around
You just, yeah
Shake yer head and walk away
Sumakay ako sa taxi kaninang umaga papasok sa trabaho, medyo bata pa yung drayber; siguro mga bente-singko.
Nagsimula akong kumuha ng litrato sa kanto ng B. Serrano at 20th ave.
Bandang Medical City, tinanong niya ako kung propesyon ko daw ba ang pagkuha, sabi ko hobby lang.
Medyo edukado ang tono ng boses niya.
Sabi niya, sa pag-da-drayb niya raw, marami na siyang nakikitang magandang kuhanan.
Kagaya raw ng:
isang mataas na bakod
may aso sa ibabaw
may poste sa tabi
kulay orange ang ulap
Sabi ko, sa pagda-drayb mo sigurado marami kang aksidente na nadadaanan, yun magandang kuhanan.
Sabi niya, hindi na raw siguro niya kukuhanan yun kung sakali.
Nagtanong siya kung mga magkano ang gamit kong Canon 550D, sabi ko nasa bandang kuwarenta.
Tinanong niya kung may kasama nang lente, sabi ko yung kit lens lang. Iba-iba rin ang gamit ng mga lente.
Binanggit niya na sa may UP daw, may mga estudyanteng nakadapa sa damo, kumukuha raw ng litrato ng bugs. Sabi ko macro yun.
Sabi ko, minsan maganda rin yung maliit lang na kasya sa bulsa para madaling dalhin. Kahit saan kapag may nakita kang magandang kuhanan, madaling kuhanan.
Isa pang nilarawan niya:
matandang lalaki na nasa tumba-tumba
sa likod ay isang lumang bahay
Sa isang larawan lang daw, maiku-kwento mo na ang isang maliit na istorya ng Pilipinas.
Riding the MRT is a tad too stressful already. For a change, I took the bus going home. It’s always a slow motion in these big ruckuses crawling their way past Robinson’s Galleria — a good time to steal some break in the rush.
This was my second time to vote for this country’s president. In 2004, I placed my bet on GMA because she was cute.
I was watching TV before the election day. Not excited to vote at all. Why would I be? At first I was caught between Noy!Noy! and Gibo then between Gibo and Gordon; never saw a single Ja-Ja-Ja-Jamby commercial (thanks, god) but saw a Jinggoy commercial (heads horribly morphing into other heads) in the bus. Only the last minute before I slept did I think of checking my assigned precinct. COMELEC’s Online Precinct Finder was down so I used Google Precinct Finder. I was assigned to the same precinct as before — Ladislao Diwa Elementary School.
Ladislao Diwa Elementary School has some fine greeneries and old-style classrooms.
The rooms were segregated by barangay. The line towards our room was fairly normal even if we already got there at around 8 A.M. The heat was scorching, as usual, so the line created a gap — other people chose to stay in the shade rather than get roasted alive. There was an instance where an adult couple or magulang pretended to be looking for their names on the list tacked to the door — they stayed on the line as if they were ahead of a dozen fall-in-liners. The style.
Under the heat, voters waited for their turn to vote; others checked to see if they were registered.
A near-senior citizen man amused himself by reading a tabloid. (bottom) An article read, “Palace Has Plea.
I and my parents were behind the man reading a tabloid; he was approached by his companion and joked that he might as well go ahead and vote since he was already a senior citizen. The old man silently laughed as he was short of several years to senior citizenship.
The line wasn’t moving for fifteen minutes. People were already doing all sorts of things — hands in their pockets; fingers in their booger holes; imaginary drawings by their tiptoes; I, on the other hand, strolled around with my camera hanging by my shoulder. I peeked through the wooden jalousies of a classroom to see the voters keenly choosing which candidates to vote or maybe they were just keenly shading those tiny circles.
Outside Looking In” width=”660″ height=”506″> (Top left) Voters who already cast their votes gathered outside for some chit-chat. (Right) The young woman was one of the first people to vote.
Cavite City Voters
Cavite City belongs to Region IV-A which is also known as CALABARZON (provinces of Cavite, Laguna, Batangas, Rizal, and Quezon). There are close to 64,000 registered voters in Cavite City according to Google Precinct Finder. Two of them were not on the list; we bumped into my uncle and his wife who were walking out of the precinct looking disappointed. They were upset that their names were not on the list even if they voted in 2004 National Election. There might have been mix-ups of voters and their assigned precincts.
Casting Their Votes
This was the first automated election in the country. Before, you had to cast your vote by writing the name of your chosen candidate and drop the ballot into the golden yellow ballot box. Now, all the names of the candidates were printed out — you just had to shade the circle beside the candicate of your choice. Some people might put a check on the circle and some might jot a dot so the government and several news networks launched campaigns to educate the public on the correct way of casting votes.
An advert informed the public on how to correctly shade the egg-shaped circle.
It was a good thing for the senior citizens to have fast lanes. Most of them who voted were accompanied by adults or children — anyone who could assist them in walking through crowds to reading the names of candidates.
A senior citizen sought for his name on the list with the help of his companion.
The elderly employed the help of her grandchild in reading the list of candidates.
(Left) The former barangay captain of Barangay 35 arrived in her wheelchair to cast her vote. (Top right) BEI chairperson, Arlene Carpio, examined a document. (Bottom right) My mother fed the ballot into the self-aware Smartmatic PCOS machine.
The official ballot looked like the sample ballot that was distributed weeks prior to the election day. Below, an indelible ink was applied to the right forefinger to mark the person as “voted”.
It was my turn after an hour and a half. The ballot was a long paper which awkwardly drooped to my lap as I awkwardly sat in a little kid’s classroom chair. Up to this point, I was pointing my marker to Gibo and Gordon, to and fro. As I shaded my choice, I noticed how easy it was to fill the circle with ink. The Smartmatic marker had a jagged-tip; with just three short strokes, there was no turning back.
I repeatedly counted if I already had twelve senators in my lineup; having more than twelve would invalidate my other votes in that category. For the local candidates, I was only here in Cavite City during weekends; I missed all the fuss of candidates campaigning, riding their vehicles and waving while their jingly-jangly campaign jingles were playing in the foreground — I mostly guessed my bets for city councilors.
Kids played ball as they waited for their parents to finish voting. (Bottom left) The bulk of trash came from print materials of candidates.
We were done voting in two hours. The area near the exit was peppered with flyers. Voters done with their businesses were still hanging out — maybe excited and waiting for the results. As I walked out, I left the immediate memory of the election and hoped that tomorrow would be a new day.
