Pigadong Sosyal

Braveheart

fonzick — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 12:19:56 +0000

He held his red canvas bag and swung it across his slender shoulder on the right and bolted like a Dalmatian found a good bone. Reaching the metal handle of the glass door, he strode in a haughty catwalk style. His jaguar stilettos hammered the concrete floor in a resonating sound at every even step he made. Random students in all-white, tucked uniform herded together at the Student Lounge glanced at him as if scrutinizing his stature. He is tall and lean, his hair almost gray, his lashes flutter and his voice shrills. He gazed at the uniformed students sternly.
I rushed to the glass door and called for him before he could cross the pavement to the Techno building. “Kling, come back. Hurry!” he pivoted gracefully and went back, gliding like a punk on his skateboard.
“Imbierna! I have a class at 3:00, it’s a quarter left. You’re keeping me late, you faggot!” he exclaimed. He’s always full of bravado and conceit when he speaks. Sometimes I take time to question myself how much backbone does this guy hold to produce such a scornful voice. He looks so different, almost unpleasant but he behaves like he’s on a platform and I on the ground floor.
I met him last month when I joined the University Student Council. He’s from the legislative and I’m from the executive. Though I’ve been seeing him around since last semester, it never occurred to me that we can be this close like we are now. Those times I treated him like a grotesque thing to behold. His skin looks like that of a long-tailed reptile – coarse and oddly white-spotted. For some time I thought he’s a nauseous thing to stand close by. But recently, my treatment of him has become warmer and more civil. I learned that his skin imperfection is a disease – not a communicable so it’s safe to allow my skin brushes his. He suffered a huge deal of sarcasm and humiliation growing up but it didn’t get the better of him. Instead he stood still and proud, intimidating the boneheads who ridiculed him.
“It’s just a matter of bravery and contempt,” he said once “if you don’t correct them when they upset you, they’ll never learn to treat you with respect.” True that. Sometimes you have to be brave even if it’s just pretended courage if that requires people to treat you their equal. The preamble did not speak of a humane society with savage people living on it. Life is not fair outside but you have to fend it off. Every time I look at Klein I think about strange things; strange but prevailing things. His guts hid his imperfections. It’s amazing how he did even that.
I remember him telling me about his embarrassing tete-a-tete with a college dean last year. “You are so dumb!” She cursed him. That’s what he prized after creating a fiasco as a facilitator in a Quiz Bee during the Intrams. He was shrinking like a balloon belching all its air. I can’t tell whether he told me the real thing that happened between them or not. But during that moment, I lost one strand of respect from the ex-dean. Never before have I thought such a high paid teacher brand a student as dumb. Kling’s condition already decimates his confidence and telling him he’s dumb would crush even more whatever amount of hope he had all his life. She is awful and I’m serious about that conviction. I have my own share of embarrassment once when I consulted her about my overlapping class schedules. She hasn’t driven me bonkers when she told me I’m a nuisance. I didn’t despise her for that but she scared the heck out of me. Klein must have felt the same terror.
“I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit though. Bye girl,” he uttered. His eyes darted across the glass sliding window. He left the office; his stilettos hammered the concrete floor and echoed his steps outside the half-closed glass door.
He is oddly-looking. He flutters pulses when he talks. Certainly, he’s one hell of a daring guy.

Richard Cory: My Analysis

fonzick — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 07:06:52 +0000

RICHARD CORY
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich – yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

“Richard Cory” is a very straightforward poem, almost literal. The three stanzas give the description of Richard Cory’s physical appearance, fame and wealth and the fourth stanza stuns the reader when Cory took his own life. The poem is very simple but despite the simplicity of its form, the mystery in Cory’s act of suicide shocks the readers.
Precisely, the poem speaks a lot about humanity and the basic and elemental things in the society. It tells us that the gleaming chimera projected in appearance by wealth and fame does not always bring permanent happiness because at times it leads us into isolation and emptiness.
The mystery in the poem reflects on the question, “Why did Richard Cory whom the townspeople thought possesses everything kill himself?”

The first line in the first stanza signifies the conflict that holds throughout the poem. The word downtown suggests of a busy place, probably the center of business where the working people stay. While Cory goes downtown, it is understood that he may come from the uptown – the place where the well-off people reside. For example, if Alabang is the downtown of Muntinlupa, Ayala Alabang is the uptown region. The second line suggests that the persona in the poem belongs to the group of people on the pavement in which case the “pavement” implies a lower class.
The third and fourth line describes Richard Cory’s physical appearance. Again, the two lines suggest the difference between the wealthy and the poor. The word “gentleman” is associated to the person who belongs to a higher socio-economic class. There’s quite a big difference in the word “gentleman” than simply a “man.” The latter signifies the common people.

In the second stanza the persona in the poem already wants to stress out that although Richard Cory is richer and better looking, he behaves like a regular guy. He was not haughty and arrogant. The line “he was always human when he talked” suggests that Cory is really a nice guy. He seemed very friendly and down-to-earth like the common folk in the town. The only difference is that Cory is a lot good looking. But whatever effort Cory tries to exert in becoming easygoing and sociable, he still make the common folks nervous when he speak to them. However, it is quite clear that the persona is a little obsessed with Cory’s personality and physical appearance as strongly suggested by the phrase “he glittered when he walked.”
While the previous stanzas plainly describe Cory’s behavior and appearance, this stanza clearly emphasizes about Cory’s wealth. The persona overstates Cory’s wealth as suggested by the phrase “richer than a king.” It is understood that a king is the richest man in his kingdom but in Cory’s case, he’s richer than any king. Therefore this line gives a clear example of hyperbole. The second line implies that Cory is educated in every style or in the modern notion, a professional in every respect.
The third and fourth lines now imply the assumptions and conclusions of the speaker who is apparently a part of the common folks as suggested by the pronoun “we.” They assume that Cory is a paragon blessed with good looks, fame and wealth – the kind of things they strive for. So they wish they were like Richard Cory.
In the first line of the last stanza, the speaker once more speaks of their poor social status as implied by the phrase “so on we worked.” However, the word “light” suggests of the spiritual guidance or a blessing from heaven. This suggests that the common folks as represented by the “we” are believers.
The second line, again, draws the distinction between the two socio-economic classes mentioned in the poem: the lower class and the elite. While the “meat” suggests the food of the wealthy, “bread” represents the food of the working class.
Then there comes the concluding lines which startle the reader. The caesura in the third line places an important pause that prepares an ironic ending to the reader. The fact that it was a “calm” summer night signifies that the suicide wasn’t something that was done in the spur of the moment but rather it was planned and rationally decided.

The Golf Links: My Analysis

fonzick — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 11:47:14 +0000

A brief poem of a single sentence but too powerful that it speaks a lot of things. The first line mentions the golf links which suggests the luxurious game thus symbolizes wealth. The second line mentions of the mill which may suggest the rice mill that can symbolize food as basic necessity. The first two lines draw the distinction between the two socio-economic classes: the rich and the poor.

The last two lines is an example of irony: the laboring children and the men at play. Shouldn’t it be the men working and the children playing? It speaks of child labor, of course, and injustice. While children work in the mill for food, the lazy and wealthy men are in the golf links playing the game of luxury.

This poem is talking about child labor, injustice and the gap between the rich and the poor.

The Golf Links: Sarah N. Cleghorn
The golf links lie
So near the mill
That each passing day
The laboring children
Can watch the men at play.

Kangkong from the Mud Pool

fonzick — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 02:24:14 +0000

I sat on an empty seat facing the small table on a corner near the curtained entrance to the pantry. I twitched the red and white checkered table-cloth as I waited for my order to be served. I examined the patrons sitting across the tables. There was a group of uniformed women chattering against the cold bottles of Coke and soiled china plates. One woman with a pony tailed hair was relishing the smoke she drew from her Marlboro lights. Another woman with a thick lipstick was biting the edge of the straw from her bottled soft drink. The bold SOLTEX print at the back of their green uniforms suggests that they are production workers in the nearby CAMINO Slippers factory. I shifted my eyes to the busy people and the honking cars and jeepneys outside the carinderia. It’s ten on the wall clock and the sun rose on top of the huge HSBC building in the Cyberzone at the west.

My order arrived at exactly ten minutes after a successful haggling with the Mona Lisa resembling counter lady who seemed so strained of persistence by the stingy customers.. As soon as the bowl of dish was set on my table, I smelled the brackish reek of shrimp paste on the sautéed water spinach and frowned at the stench of garlic, vinegar and soy sauce. My stomach felt scathed. I remembered I didn’t eat anything for supper last night except for a two hundred and thirty-seven millilitres of Pepsi. I devoured the cheap meal with a satisfying three cups of NFA rice cooked with pandan leaves without minding the people who might’ve been aware of my indolence for table etiquette. My spoon and fork clanked with the china plate creating a disturbing noise against the chattering voices and roaring jeepneys. I ignored how briny or bland the food was; all I thought of that moment was to satisfy my craving for sustenance.

I swallowed up everything on the china plate in just five minutes. I grabbed an empty water-glass from the tray behind the Coca Cola fridge and went to the nearby drinking fountain. I turned the knob of its faucet in a clockwise motion. A sudden thin push of cold water slowly filled my glass. Its coldness produced a sharp sting upon my gripping fingers that my throat felt dry in an instant. I engulfed a glassful and yearned for another. Suddenly, my stomach tightened. A limp of air clogged somewhere between my throat and esophagus. Without restrain, I let out a loud burp. It was catharsis. I went back to my seat and played the toothpick with my teeth.

I was about to leave when I felt a wrenching pain on my loins. I understood I ate a hefty meal so I had to dispose of some wastes. I rushed to the comfort room behind the pantry and opened the cubicle that hides the toilet bowl. I inhaled the acridness of Muriatic Acid from the tiled floor. A sudden prick of coldness wrapped my abdomen. There were perspiration on my forehead, on my noise and everywhere on my face. My palms were sweating and my stomach shivered in turbulence. My taste buds savored a faint taste of gastric acid coming from my stomach. Before I could hold it back, a rush of putrid fluid with bits of undigested food came out of my mouth flowing at once to the toilet bowl. I saw the overcooked leaves of water spinach still intact with its stems floating on the stagnant water. The regurgitated food appeared blurry and dim to my eyes. A cool wind struck my head painfully like a thick foliage and all of a sudden everything went dark.

Kitchen Twaddle

fonzick — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 01:43:17 +0000

I tore the Business Gazette cover leaf and fanned the embers in the coal stove. The motion disturbed the subtle ashes, scared it away like a swarm of flies whipped by a stiff twig. I added cold coals in the stove and set the rice pot on it. Then I went on a corner of the kitchen and sat on a wood bench beside the kitchen table. I watched the boys intently doing a rough workout with dumbbells. I could see the moist of perspiration running down against their brown skin towards their half naked bodies. It gave me a grave feeling of nausea looking at their bodies wetted by sweat. I couldn’t bear the sight of them so I stood up and approached the stove again to examine the ashes interspersed among the cold coals and crumpled papers.

Jake stirred the noodles in his casserole with a large and elongated spoon, resisting the hot water vapor ascending from the boiling water. In our boarding house or maybe even in other boarding houses here, Lucky Me Pancit Canton is the staple food of the boarding students. You won’t find a room here without seeing a heap of pancit canton in the cupboards. You might also find the bold cans of tuna, corned beef, sardines and beef loaf but pancit canton is the dominant food supply. Apparently, it is because it’s affordable, quick and easy to prepare. I grinned at Jake as he wipes out the moist on his forehead – a mixture of water vapors, perspiration and dead skin cells. I turned halfway around and intended to sit back on the wood bench at a corner when a boy – his name I didn’t care to know – approached me with a handled rectangular box.

“Mayor, do you know cheese?” asked the boy with excitement on his face.
“What? Is that a food?” I replied with intentional sarcasm.
“Hahaha! Are you deaf? Can’t you see I’m holding a cheeseboard?” the boy asked irately.

It took me a moment to decide whether he meant that I’m deaf because I didn’t hear him say cheese or I’m blind because I didn’t see him carrying a cheeseboard.

“Silly boy! You mean to say, chess?” I retort with an evil grin rather showing a sneering response.
“Whatever you call it! Do you know how to play this game?” he asked again with a bit of indignation in his voice.
“I dunno… Sorry.” I answered bashfully.

He twitched his mouth showing an evident implication of frustration. He went to the rooms and looked for a willing playmate. I shook my head and went back to the stove. I lifted the cover of the rice pot to check the temperature of the water. It’s warm and there were tiny bubbles moving in random direction. I returned the cover and then looked at Jake with an expressionless face. He moved his head towards me and threw his arm around my shoulder.

“You are so mean.” he whispered.

I chuckled upon hearing the message because his breath created a ticklish feeling in my ear and butterflies in my stomach. I removed his arm from my shoulder and pinched him on his bare back as I let out a shrill giggle.

I cherish those moments – it happened just an hour ago – and while writing this journal entry, I am wearing a big smile on my face.

The Dreamer

fonzick — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 06:26:56 +0000

The cool breeze diffused into the bamboo-knitted walls of the room, prickled the soles of my feet like frozen water. The clanking of the water pump beneath the window and the small rush of water from its shaft is a wakeup call to the snoring occupants of the room. The boisterous roars of three-wheeled vehicles can be heard against the sound of the window hinges swinging back and forth. Apparently, it’s 6 o’clock but I lingered in my bed with relish for comfort. The wind is unusually cool. I prognosticate that it will rain today. I pulled the covers upward and hid my eyes to hinder the first ray of sunlight that slipped through the window. I heard fast and heavy footsteps on the narrow and rickety staircase. Then I heard three softy knocks on the door. It was Jake, the tall and dark guy I met in the dirty kitchen last week.
“Mayor, may I borrow your broom?” he asked with a hoarse voice, suggesting that he’d just waken up.
I was elected mayor of the boarding house organization and everyone else here had since branded me with that title. I kinda like the authority I am holding now. When I ask them to fetch me water in the bathroom, they instantly do without any trouble. But it’s pathetic to think that they only obey me because I am the eldest boarder in the house.
“Mayor … your broom. Thanks.” Jake drawled out.
“No problem.” I replied. “What time are you gonna hit the school today?”
“Ahm. Later at 9:30 I guess.” He muttered with his lips partly closed.
Those lips – unusually wet all the time – which formed a sinister smile last week had become stirring, provoking and tempting. It lured me to savor its freshness. It kept me slack-jawed, drooling over it. It drove me nuts!
We discussed about random things yesterday under the Indian mango tree at the backyard. We talked about the viciousness of the school, its lapses in following its established protocol, its amenity and the people in it. It gave me a brain fart moment discussing these things with him. He told me insolently about his misdemeanors in the classroom at the Maritime Education department. He would yell at the teacher if he found the latter ridiculously disturbing. I thought this guy has an ego way too big for him. He seriously needed his butt paddled up because it’s obvious that it was never done to him growing up!
We talked about other things like our interests and guilty pleasures. He mentioned that he loves Harry Potter and Narnia movies. He even kept a complete collection at home. His confession vastly surprised me because at the way he behaves, anyone would expect that this guy watches Robin Padilla movies. I like his fashion too. I would always see him wear crumpled faded jeans and shirts with cool appliqués on them. He has piercings on his ears, on his nose and on his private parts. Of course I wouldn’t know that if he hadn’t told me. I just didn’t know what struck me but it gave me goose bumps knowing these flimsy, sleazy things about him.
I hear a lot from my board mates that I’m becoming unusually closer to him. Jake might have heard this too but it seems that he’s way too oblivious of the hearsay. I wish to have more placid moments with him in the future, under the shade of the Indian mango tree at the backyard. The next time it’ll happen again, the moon should be visible on the star-studded sky and the land breeze drifting the weeds on the meadow.

The Stranger

fonzick — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 06:25:56 +0000

Scraps of food lay scattered all over the banggerahan in the dirty kitchen. Upon the sink, there stood a small bucket of MY San Assorted Biscuits now serving as a container of the rapid drips of water from the leaking faucet pipe. I stayed on there for a while watching the droplets of water create an evanescent sound in the midst of the blabbing boarders, the squealing pigs in the sty and the splashing of running water in the irrigation canal.
With less effort, I placed the tray of toiletries on the banggerahan ignoring the nauseous leftovers. I tore a sachet of toothpaste and begun brushing my teeth in alternate upward and sideward motion. As a queer habit, I counted every brush strokes I make. It took me thirty quick brush strokes before I noticed the pinkish stains mixed on the foam of toothpaste on the sink. I knew it was blood coming from my gums again, only lighter this time. I stared at the foam unwinkingly and the longer I gaze at it, the more it looks like a cotton candy scant of food color. Suddenly, I saw a silhouette of a man on the corner of my eyes. I quickly rinsed my mouth with clean water and hastily washed away the foam of toothpaste on the sink. When I looked up, a tall and dark guy was standing by my side, looking at me with a sinister smile.
“Are you going to a bloody battle? Why do you sharpen your teeth?” he asked in a swaggering manner.
It was the same funny and silly question I used to hear from my classmates back in high school. His question neither moved my lips to fake a smile nor opened my mouth to utter a word because it really annoyed me. I glared at him with sheer bravado and went on washing my face. I wasn’t sure if he intended to use the faucet after me or whatnot but he stood there motionless watching every movement I make. Aware of his watchful eyes, I fidgeted with the water glass and dropped it lightly in the bucket. I couldn’t stare at his face because I’m defiant to see the sinister smile I saw in him previously. It really scared the heck out me. I shut off the faucet, arranged my toiletries on the tray and hurried upstairs without looking back. I knew he was watching me while I was walking in haste and it’s sick that I can’t look back and glared at him again.
I entered my room and tried to recollect the uncomfortable moments I just spent in front of the sink. It was an awkward encounter with a total stranger. I suspected that he’s a new boarder in the house. I tried to remember the image of his face on my mind and I saw a mole below the right corner of his lower lip. He reminded me of Rocky Salumbides, a paragon blessed with good looks and a hot body. I began to undress him in my thoughts. I started on his plaided shirt, on his cropped pants and his shoes. I took off everything else on him until he’s stark naked before my eyes. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of a huge rat bridging over the plywood partition of the rooms. It stopped creeping on the corner and stared at me, assessing my reaction perhaps. I shifted my eyes and looked at the void of space outside the window. I kept looking but not seeing. That dirty huge rat enabled me to realize that my wandering thoughts are way too far-fetched, impure and perverted. I pulled out a deep sigh, picked up my phone, opened and shut the door and went directly downstairs.

Aling Dionisia vs. Lola Fashionista

fonzick — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 17:34:33 +0000

Dyan C. : Ma’am Diony, ano pong masasabi nyo kay Lola Fashionista?
Dionisia: Hay naku Dyan, isa syang impostura. Ginagaya nya ang pagsusuot ko. Look at me now, ang sosyal ko na debah? Buti pa ako, nakatuntong sa Amireka. Eh sya, walang asenso. Ang masasabi ko lang sa kanya, U’re nothing but a second-rated trying-hard coffeecat!.

Lola Fashionista: Eh ano ngayun? Mas maganda naman ako sayo. Hindi bagay sayo ang sosyal. Mahiya ka naman sa sarili mo. Gusto mo suntukan tayo?

Dionesia: Ay, hindi kita aatrasan. Kahit sa dance floor pa tayo mag-shoodown. O, kaya mo to?!

reblogged from Ming Meows

Wag Mong Basahin, Walang Kwenta Toh

fonzick — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 04:22:06 +0000

Napakadaling sabihin na, “Sige, tapos na sa atin ang lahat.” kasi buong akala mo ay kakayanin mong mag-isa, akala mo keri lang kahit wala na sha.

Buong akala ko magiging okay lang ang lahat. kasi naisip ko wala naman syang ginawa kundi magpazaway, gumawa ng kalokohan, at manggulo. Kaya sabi ko, ayoko na nga. Pagod na me.

Kaya ayun. Naghiwalay nga kami.
Akala ko yun na yun. Naku hindi pa pala.
Na-praning ako sa sobrang lungkot.
Kasi na-realize ko indi pala ako sanay mag-isa.
Hindi ko pala kayang lunukin yun kanin mag-isa . Takot pala ako matulog mag-isa. Di pala ako pwedeng tumawa mag-isa.

Iyak ako ng iyak. Ang korni. Pero infairness, ang sakit nun ha. Lagi sumasakit ulo ko sa kaiisip sa kanya. Tapos sumasakit din sikmura ko, wala ako gana kumain. kaasar. Tapos gusto kong matulog ng matulog para makalimot. Indi naman ako makatulog.
Namaos lang ako sa kakaiyak.

– — – — – — –

Tapos….
Nagmuni-muni ako.
Pwede bang mag-back out?
I mean, pwede ko bang bawiin yon sinabi ko?
Pwede bang kami na ulet?

Pwede!

Eh, ang nangari…
hulaan nyo. pagod ang utak ko ngayon.
Tamad na ko magpatuloy, pasensya na..

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

fonzick — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 01:49:53 +0000

Look, i know damn right that you know what i’m talking about. Well, long-distance relationship. Do you feel those lonely nights when you are tossing and turning in bed thinking that “how i wish i could feel his warm embrace?” Waaaah! And when you go out, go to the mall and see couples hold hands, you suddenly miss him cuz he never takes his hands off you when you’re walking around? Darn! The moments when you talk on the chatroom and you see him on his webcam and you’re wishing you could just grab him and take him to your side. Huhuhu.
Indeed, absence makes the heart grow fonder, in other way it makes my heart aches sooo much like never before. Being away from the person that you love is sooo odd. You know, you have been together like every minute of everyday and suddenly he’s sooo away. That is sooo wrong. Demmet! And all you gotta do is try to keep yourself busy just to divert your thoughts of him, and so that you can forget the ache that you feel in your heart. emo

I did a lot of things to eventually help me forget that im longing for him. I go to the bars and talk to other men out there. I tried to drink beer with the gays and try to laugh out e’rything. I get drunk and throw up after. Then there goes again, his face haunts me. It feels like im in a huge empty space and no one is around to grasp and i feel like im floating and will be falling out of nowhere. It is so vague but its the emptiness that engulfs me.
Ang uber akting kooo. As if im not goin to see him for a lifetime ahaha! It just felt so odd cuz we’ve been together, you know, everyday then suddenly he disappears. That’s what’s up. I cant eat my meals, cant go to bed on time and i cry and cry each night.

Yes, absence makes the heart grow fonder and makes the most incredible mind-blowing sex. Arrrrrrr!
After writing this, im already thinking of kinky things. guess you already know what im gonna do to him when we see each other again LOL

amishooo. bibi