Masakit para sa akin to

Masakit man sa aking isulat ang artikulong ito tungkol sa mga kasing katawan at mga kamaganak ko

(figuratively and literally, kung bakit literal? tingnan nyo na lang po ang family tree namin at maging ako ay nagulat na kasama si DIOSDADO MACAPAGAL doon, Jacinto na, Macapagal pa. isa talaga akong bayani)

pero wala na akong maisip na mas angkop na hayop para ilarawan ang aking "pinsan".

Maraming nagiging sakit ang hayop na baboy.

Inaasahang dadami pa ang mauusong sakit nila. Tanda n’yo pa kaya ang Foot-and-Mouth Disease? Eh ‘yung hindi pa nalulumang scare ng Ebola virus? Syempre, kilala natin ang Swine flu, at bagong flu strains gaya ng Influenza C at Influenza A (at virus subtypes na H1N1, H1N2, H3N1, H3N2, at H2N3).

Bukod sa pagiging inutil ng patabaing baboy ay ang katotohanang easy channel s’ya ng maraming sakit. Maraming risk ang pagkain ng hilaw at hindi-gaanong nalutong karne ng baboy. Ang pork ay binabahayan din ng maraming bulate gaya ng roundworm, pinworm, hookworm, atbp. Ganito ang isa sa mga paliwanag ni Rashid Shamsi sa kanyang artikulong Why Islam Forbids Pork? :

“Amongst all animal flesh, pork is the favoured cradle of harmful germs. Pork also serves as a carrier of diseases to mankind. It is for this reason that its flesh is not suitable for consumption.”

Bakit sa tingin mo sunod sunod ang problemang dala ng baboy? Kasaysayan ang isa sa mga makakasagot nito. Kasi naman, napaka-kulit ng tao. Sa una pa lang, marami nang pagbabawal ang ginawa. Ang ilan sa mga pagbabawal na ito ay ang mga sumusunod:

1. BAWAL SA KRISTYANO ANG BABOY

Kung ang Lumang Testamento ang ating pagbabatayan, ipinagbabawal na noon pa ang pagkain ng baboy. ‘Yan ang sabi sa ‘kin ng isang Sabadistang chickboy na kaklase ko noon (at sa kamalas-malasan eh baka maging bayaw ko pa).

Ang pagbabawal daw ng pagkain ng baboy ay nasusulat sa Leviticus 11:7-8 atDeuteronomy 14-8. Maraming variations ang passage na ito. Ang sabi sa World English Bible:

“The pig/sow/swine, because he has a split hoof, and is cloven-footed, but doesn’t chew the cud, he is unclean to you.”

"Sa tingin ko hindi naman biyak ang kuko ni Mike Arroyo".

2. BAWAL DIN SA MGA ISRAELI ANG PAGKAIN NG BABOY

Ganito ang sinasabi sa Jamieson-Fausset-Brown Bible Commentary:

“…the swine is a filthy, foul-feeding animal, and it lacks one of the natural provisions for purifying the system… indulgence in swine’s flesh is particularly liable to produce leprosy, scurvy, and various cutaneous eruptions…”

"Talaga ngang walang kakayahan ang mga BABOY para linisin ang sistema. Kaya pala marumi ang Pamahalaan ay dahil tinitirahan ito ng baboy. Tsk tsk."

3. BAWAL SA MUSLIM ANG PAGKAIN NG BABOY

Nasusulat sa Qur’an 16:115 at Qur’an 2:173 ang mga dahilan kung bakit ipinagbabawal ng ISLAM sa mga Muslim ang pagkonsumo ng baboy.

Sabi din sa napakaraming references sa Internet:

“Qur’an has prohibited the swine-flesh, hence the Muslims would not dare touch it. The Bible has also forbidden swine-flesh, but Christians disregarded this order… to practise hygiene and to attain purity of soul.”

Sa isang pinaka-simpleng pananalita, kung bakit ayaw ng Muslim sa baboy ay dahil sa prinsipyong: You are what you eat.

“The pig is naturally lazy and indulgent in sex, it is dirty, greedy and gluttonous. It dislikes sunlight and lacks the spirit and will to fight. It eats almost anything, be it human excreta or anything foul and unwholesome.”

"Hindi tayo nagkakamali. Baboy nga ang mga nakaupo sa Kongreso at Senado."

4. BAWAL SA MGA RASTAFARI ANG PAGKAIN NG BABOY

Ang mga Rastafari ay mga Jamaican, mga tipong hiphop ang porma,nagma-marijuana at mahilig sa reggae music. Sabi sa Wikipedia, ang libro din ni Leviticus ang batayan ng grupong ito sa pagkundena sa pagkain ng baboy.

"Hindi kaya nagmamarijuana ang mga baboy? sabagay alcoholic lang sila, si mikee nga nakita pang namimili ng alak nung kasagsagan ng ondoy diba?"

5. BAWAL SA JUDAISM ANG PAGKAIN NG BABOY

Gaya ng nasusulat sa Leviticus 11:7-8 at Deuteronomy 14-8, ang mga Judio ayhindi rin kumakain ng kahit anong hayop na nasa lupa kung hindi ito nagtataglay ng “kosher signs” (katumbas ng HALAL sa Islam).”

MASARAP ANG BAWAL

Marami nang pagbabawal. Iba’t ibang kultura at relihiyon na ang nagsasabing bawal, pero ayaw sumunod ng makulit na tao. Sabi nga ng sikat at klisyey na kasabihan e “O anong sarap gawin ang bawal.”

Siguro paraan ito ni God (or kung sino mang ponsyo pilatong nagsabi na gusto yan ng "GOD"), ‘yung pagbibigay ng sari-saring sakit sa baboy, para ipaalala sa mga tao na bawal nga ang pork sa katawang mortal. Ito rin malamang ang paraan ni God para ipaalam sa mga tao na may kaakibat na parusa ang pagkonsumo ng “masarap na bawal.”

PERO HINDI. Labas muna tayo sa usaping relihiyon. Magpaka-pragmatic at magpaka-praktikal na lang tayo. Ano ba ang papel ng baboy sa pulitika?

Naniniwala pa rin ako na impluwensya lang ng media ang lahat. Hindi lang ‘yan ang sakit ng baboy, madami pa. At hindi lang baboy ang may problema. Meron ding problema ang manok na kinukuto, ang ibon na may bird flu, ang baka na may mad cow, ang barangay hall na may mga ulol, ang Malakanyang na pugad ng mga gawaing iniquitous, atbp.

Kung bakit ganito tayo, at bakit ganito na lang ang takot ng mga tao sa Swine Flu ay dahil na rin sa sobrang pagse-sensationalize ng media sa mga isyu na kagaya ng H1N1 na ito. At ito naman ang sinasamantala ng mga negosyante para mag-promote ng kanilang mga produkto. Teka, lumalayo na naman ako…

AYAW KO NA NG BABOY

Bakit nga ba ayoko na ng baboy kahit dati pa?

May-kinalaman sa personal na panlasa. Hindi ‘to mahirap ipaliwanag. Masyadong makapal ang adipose tissues ng karneng baboy na s’ya namang labis na inaayawan ng taste buds ko. Kaya hangga’t may pagpipilian ay ibang luto ang hinahanap ko. Hindi rin ako kumakain ng tinusok na baboy, pinaikot sa ibabaw ng apoy, at may kagat-kagat na apple.

Ipinagbabawal ni Doc ang labis na pagkain ng baboy dahil sa dahilang may-kinalaman sa pagtaas ng cholesterol level. Hindi raw maganda ang dulot ng “animal sterol” sa presyon ng tao, sakit sa bato, at pagtaba. Hindi man sapilitang ipinagbawal ng doktor ang pagkonsumo ko ng pork, ipinapayo n’yang ‘wag sosobra sa pagkonsumo nito.

Baboy ang offensive na tawag sa mga taong pwede namang tawaging chubby, plump, o flabby. Ayoko ng salitang baboy para sa mga matataba.

"hindi ko akalaing tatamaan ako sa mga sinusulat ko, hay RJ baboy ka talaga."

Sa Senado at Kongreso, Pork ang ugat ng katiwalian at kurapsyon. Ang Pork na ito ay napagkakamalang tumutukoy sa baboy. Kaya ayoko ng bagay na may kaugnayan sa baboy.

Sa kasalanang panggagahasa, baboy ang tawag sa mga kriminal. Ayoko ng baboy dahil ayoko ng ideya ng rape (meet Romeo Jalosjos).

Kapag dugyot ang isang tao, baboy ang tawag sa kanya. Ayoko ng madumi at ayoko ng dugyot. Kaya ayoko ng bagay na may kaugnayan sa baboy (see my filthy room).

PS: Sarcasm included

Baboy ang tawag sa mga kurakot (visit the House of Representatives and the Senate).

Baboy si Jalosjos, sa mata ng tao (dahil sa figure n’ya) at sa batas ng tao (dahil manyakis s’ya)

Baboy ang asawa ni PGMA, literally and figuratively (self-explanatory).

Pero hindi baboy si Gloria, Bakit? Sa liit noon biik lang yun mga tol, BIIK!

Baboy ang itatawag sa ‘yo kapag may nakahuli sa ‘yo na nagbubukas ka ng website gamit ang tag na “Pinay Scandal.”

Baboy kaagad ang tingin sa ‘yo kapag nakita ng ibang tao na may porn site na lumabas sa web browser mo, kahit pa SPAM lang ang dahilan ng pag-pop out ng porn site na ito at hindi naman talaga intentional.

"At alam nila yun kasi baboy din sila"

Gaya ng Idol ko na si Lourd de Veyra ng Radio Active Sago Project, ayoko na rin ng baboy. Kawawang baboy.

Kung bakit sunud-sunod ang problemang dala ng baboy, ay alam ko na ang sagot: ITANONG NATIN SA MGA BABOY.

*BGM:

Habang bata pa. Sa Damuhan maghabulan, Magtampisaw sa ulan. DAHIL MINSAN LANG SILA BATA

Mama Kryz

One of the reason why people get so sentimental it's because memories are the only things that don't change when everything else does.

There are things in life that you can't hold on forever, no matter how hard you fight for it.

Sometimes destiny isn't always good for everybody, It becomes playful.

For example, when you meet someone and you've learned to love him/her, you thought that it was destiny that made your paths cross. But what if making your paths cross is just a part of the game that the playful destiny created? making you realize that the person you've thought destined for you wasn't really meant to stay but only destined to make you feel loved and leave you when you're already fallen.

It's not easy to state a reason when you decide to leave your love.

Some might think it's just an excuse, Some may not believe you, some will blame you, some might even be mad at you.

It hurts you even more to hurt someone, you know, who didn't deserved to be hurt especially when you can't state a reason why you have to leave but it hurts to hold on to something you never had

YOU CAN NEVER OWN SOMETHING THAT NEVER BEEN YOURS

SO LET GO OF THE THINGS YOU EXPECT TO LAST FOREVER.

NOTHING LASTS FOREVER

FOREVER IS A LIE

EVERYTHING IS TRANSITORY

So when you have something in your hand, put in mind that it's just borrowed so that when the time comes that you have to let go of that "thing" it wont take an eternity for you to move on.

When your feelings for someone gets strong and you're thinking you can't control it, STOP and give your heart a time to breath and a time for you to think and balance the situation based on the reason not on emotion

Because the saddest thing that can happen is when one falls in love while the other wants nothing but friendship.

Love is magical but always remember that magic can also be an illusion

There are times when I wish that I was limited to certain emotions so that i'll never have to experience pain, never feel betrayed or even disappointed but the same thing means i wont feel loved and to be love

Just the thought of it scares the hell out of me

So I decided to live, love and take whatever pain this life brings though its hard to wait around for something that i know will never happen because it's harder to stop when i know it's everything i ever wanted.

Last Ride

She died.

She was crossing an empty street when she was hit by a speeding bus. Her body flew in such a slow motion, she seemed to fly. But then the impact with the ground was inevitable. Her body crashed. Blood spilled on the asphalt.

It was a spectacular performance, and I was her only audience. I was the omniscient god that created her world- yes, the empty street, the need to cross it to reach the emptiness on the other side, the empty bus that crashed through her body, the blood. Her world was only these things.

She was lost. She jut saw the street and the fog on the other side. I gave her will. Cross it, I whispered. She didn't know what to do but to follow the only sound she could hear. She took a ginger step forward, and seeing nothing happened, followed it with another. Then another. And soon she was on the middle of the street, eager to reach the other side.

Then the bus came. It was empty of any soul to drive it but it came so fast. There wasn't even time to react. I couldn't stop it. I created the bus so he could ride it when he crossed the street, but something went wrong. Very wrong.

She didn't even see it coming.

I tried to stop the time. I guess that’s why her body reached the ground so slowly. I was master of her world but I couldn't stop is death. Like it was inevitable no matter how much in control I was.

There was no sound when she hit the road. Her body didn't even rebound. She just lay there in the middle of a pool of red. But- wait, she wasn't dead yet. She was alive!

I descended from the clouds and flew to his frail body. I ran as fast as I could. When I reached her I put her head on my lap and caressed her face. My dress was filled with his blood. I couldn't care less.

She opened her eyes and looked at me. She had such wonderful eyes. So playful, like she had the mind to suddenly jump up and shout "Just joking!", and then she would run from me and of course I would chase her, giggling and laughing until our bliss brings us on the other side of the street. Then we would ride the bus- that’s what it was supposed to be for- to heaven while making passionate love.

But she never did jump up.

She just looked at me. And then her eyes filled with tears. But...the tears never did fall. Because she closed her eyes before they had the chance.

She died.

And I woke up.

In tears- because now I know even if I was god, she still wouldn't be mine.

Mush at the time of cholera

I am jaded.

Not long ago, I found my true north. My existence suddenly gained essence. I was finally living not just for myself but for someone elses as well. Each day was total bliss. The world surprisingly changed its hue. There was peace… even just for a moment.

I was jaded.

We were star-crossed lovers one time or the other. My life used to revolve around my paramour. Used to.

Two months and still counting…

Parting is such sweet sorrow. So true. It’s like having a major hangover after the intoxication wears off from last night’s party. You feel nauseous, dehydrated, wasted, and dry. Mush suddenly loses meaning. Sweet-nothings translate into one word—crap. And like crap, you simply flush it down the drain. You are left with nothing but disillusionment. The world ain’t that great after all. Everything becomes gray.

Fast cars and rubber duckies…

I have mastered the art of watching cars go by, without rational goal or purpose of course. I just love to let my mind wander. Every car carries my thoughts with it. All memory of my long lost paramour. Wishful thinking. No matter how much I try to wash off the pain and misery, I am faced with the fact that baths are now to be shared with rubber duckies. Lifeless rubber duckies.

Ramblings of a jilted lover.

You promised me the stars… it seems that the clouds have hidden them from sight. You said forever… all you gave is just a moment. I guess forever is too long. You said you would stay. Stay with whom? You said, “I love you.” I love you for now? Well, screw love.

Mush at its finest

I have done everything to cope with my loss—from watching cars to bathing alone, from downing alcohol to gazing at an overcast sky, from wishing to hoping, from rambling to writing… At the end of the day, all I have is mush, and no one to share it with.

A line from a popular song says, “You bleed just to know you’re alive…” I feel so alive right now. It must have been death when I was with my paramour for I didn’t know pain. To see the world through the eyes of the jaded was the biggest illusion of all. To love and to be loved for a while was the sweetest thing, even for a cynic.

One express ticket to hell

Do you have a minute or two? I know you’re probably busy with your heavenly and religious affairs, over pricing, maybe even Survivor: Palau, but I really think we should talk.

I, a dot in the cosmos, and you, the so-called creator of whatever was, is, and will be. That is, of course, assuming you exist... Nah, forget my asking for permission. I’d say what I have to say, whether you listen or not. Blame four years of high school Christian Living; it taught me that you gave every human being free will -- a gift I’d be more than happy to exercise now.

How would you like to start a religion business with me? Don’t worry, ownership is entirely yours. All I want is to be CEO.

Our company will sell products designed to meet every Catholic’s needs: The Complete Dummy’s Guides to Salvation, watches that recite one commandment every hour (which means you have to make two new commandments for 11 and 12 o’clock), God-approved contraceptives, cell phones with speed dialing features to heaven (press 1 for the Virgin Mother, press 2 for your favorite saint, press 3 for angelic assistance), Jesus-Mary-Joseph Christmas albums (first 1000 buyers get signed CDs), and a portable gadget that beeps every time a capital sin is committed by its owner’s special someone. Our product listing will have limitless possibilities; our market will include every living Catholic.

Since we can’t risk losing to piracy and we need to maximize profit, all merchandise will bear your official tamper-proof seal, a religion facts table (Recommended Daily Allowance, Moral Value per Serving) and a sticker that says “Hurry! Buy more products to accumulate more points! Every point you earn takes you one step closer to heaven!”

It is a religion company but it’s not religion per se that we’d be selling -- salvation is what your people are crazy about these days; it will thus be the focus of our marketing strategy. In the end, I’d be filthy rich, while you’d get all the good Catholic people from earth!

Now, before you send me straight to hell, relax. I was just kidding! Calm down, man. (Aww, sorry, for a second I forgot you’re a god!) Just trying to get your attention there.

Seriously though, I wouldn’t be shocked if one day I find myself walking into the religion (or should I say salvation?) section of a supermarket. I think my religion has today become too commercialized and too fanaticized to be believable.

For instance, I saw an almost full-page ad in the newspaper last month for Vatican ring tones, picture messages and logos. Since when did you endorse such pay-per-download services?

A church I pass by every weekend was demolished a couple of years ago to construct -- as the billboard says -- the “Church of the Millennium.” For some reason, the project was never finished and the church, in its present state, resembles a dilapidated marketplace. Tell me, what difference does it make if we pray to you in bahay-kubo chapels instead of in ornate basilicas?

Then there’s my high school teacher who reprimanded me for making the sign of the cross with my left hand, the same way my mother scolded me for removing the altar hanging on my bedroom wall. I cannot understand why. Perhaps they’re worried you might throw me into Satan’s den because of my heretical acts. Whoa! I’m scared.

Well, maybe I should be scared, unlike, say, the parishioners who spend thousands of pesos to dress-up their life-size Mama Mary images for the annual fiesta celebration; or the owners of the black Sto. Niño, of the doctor Sto. Niño, of the policeman Sto. Niño, of the sleeping Sto. Niño, of the beggar Sto. Niño and of the hamburger-addict Sto. Niño (Asereje Sto. Niño, anyone?); or the devout follower of the TV evangelist whose donation boxes are almost as tall as he is.

Things like these leave me with the question “What for?” Is it not enough that I believe in you? Frankly, I begin to doubt whether you really did create man or man created you so he could do whatever he wishes in life and yet be assured of a happy ending when he dies.

I realize I have no right to castigate others on how they worship you. After all, there’s no way of deciding whose right or wrong, is there? I’m just telling you these things because I want you to know that I’d like my salvation to ensue. If I would be praying, respecting my parents, abstaining from pre-marital sex, doing charity work or helping a stranger, it wouldn’t be because at the end of the day, I want my “good deeds” list to exceed my “bad deeds” list or because I want to get sure seats in heaven. It would simply be because I want to do these things.

Also, don’t be surprised if you see me skipping communion, if you find me confessing directly to you, or if you hear me omitting lines from the Apostle’s Creed. I’m getting tired of organized religion.

Your preachers taught me how to pray but you've showed me how to lie, can you blame me for not believing anymore?

If by living this way I’m buying myself an express ticket to hell, then so be it. Maybe hell isn’t such a bad place at all. Maybe they need me there.

I guess that’s all I have to say. Thanks for your time, God. You’d better get back to work.

Ah, wait a minute, there’s one last thing: on the day I die, give St. Peter and his rooster a day off. I wouldn’t want to meet him at the gates; I want to see you there. Before you send me to my final destination -- wherever that is -- I’d like to hear what you have to say. That should be interesting.

Langit, Lupa, Impyerno

Mga boses na sintinis ng sirena ng pulis ang gumising sa kanya. “Langit! Lupa! Impiyerno!” Paulit-ulit ang pagkanta. “Im-im-impiyerno! Saksak puso! Tulo ang dugo!” Palakas nang palakas. “Patay! Buhay! Aaaa-lis!” Tumagilid siya at nagtakip ng unan sa tenga para muling makatulog, pero saka napili ng mga naglalaro ang taya; lalo lamang nagsigawan ang mga bata nang magsimula na silang maghabulan.

Punyeta. Sa dami ng kalye kung saan pwedeng maglaro, sa tapat pa ng bintana ng kwarto niya. Bumalikwas siya ng higa. Itinapon ang unan sa paanan. Kumapit sa magkabilang gilid ng kutson at itinulak ang sarili para makabangon. Umupo sa kama. Nilamukos ng kanang kamay ang mga mata habang kinakapa ng mga paa ang tsinelas sa sahig. Hindi pala siya nakapagpalit ng damit; naka-itim na polo at pantalong maong pa rin siya.

Alas-otso y medya, sabi ng alarm clock sa computer table sa kabilang dulo ng kwarto. Alas-dos siya dumating, anong oras ba siya nakatulog? Hindi niya alam. Hindi nga siya makapaniwalang nakatulog siya. Ang mahalaga, nagising pa rin siya sa sariling kama.

May dilaw na post-it sa monitor ng computer. Maski nagmumuta pa siya, basang-basa niya ang kanyang pangalan (RJ, itim na pentel pen at kalahati agad ng papel). Galing iyon sa tatay niya; ugali na nitong mag-iwan ng post-it kapag may kailangang sabihin at hindi sila magkikita. “Tumawag si Lucy, tulog ka na. Magkita na lang daw kayo bukas.” " Maglinis ka ng kwarto.” “Sa labas ka na kumain mamaya, gagabihin ako ng uwi.” Ganoon ang mga mensahe. Walang I lo-I love you anak; hindi sila mahilig sa kasentihan. Na OK lang naman. Nangilabot nga siya nang minsang makakita ng “Ingat” sa text nito sa kanya.

Tinatamad pa siyang lumapit para basahin ang nakasulat sa post-it. Kaliwang gilid na lang nito ang nakalapat sa monitor, halatang nagmamadali ang nagdikit. Baka iniwan bago pumasok sa opisina kanina.

Shit. Pumasok ang tatay niya sa kwarto kanina.

Hinagilap ng mga mata niya ang susi ng kotse. Sa mesa sa gilid ng kama. Sa harap ng CPU. Sa ashtray na katabi ng radyo. Sa sabitan ng belt sa likod ng pinto. Sa takip ng basket ng labahang damit. Wala.

Bakit nga ba iniwan pa niya sa glove compartment ang trapong ipinanlinis niya ng kotse?

Katangahan. Tanga kasi siya.

Iyon lang ang naiisip niyang dahilan. Ayaw na niyang mag-isip pa ng iba; daragdag lang sa sakit ng ulo niya. Kulang siya sa tulog, nakaririndi pa ang mga bata sa labas. “Taya! Taya!” sigaw ng isang bata. “Hindi ah! Ang dugas-dugas mo kasi!” agad na sagot ng nataya. “Anong madaya? Neknek mo!”

Hindi minamartilyo sa sakit ang nararamdaman niya sa ulo. Mas malala. Parang may isang nilalang na nakakulong sa kanyang bungo, nagpupumiglas at gustong lumabas.

Isang batang babae. Lampayatot, hanggang balikat ang buhok, nakasuot ng PE t-shirt at puting shorts. Nagdadabog. Naghuhuramentada sa kanyang utak. Dumadagundong ang mga yabag. Pilit itinutulak ang kanyang mga mata paalis mula sa kanilang mga butas. Handang wasakin ang bungo niya kung kinakailangan. Gusto nitong maglaro. Sa kalye.

Tumayo siya mula sa kama. Pinulot ang rubber shoes na nakakalat sa sahig, saka naalalang itinago niya ang susi sa loob ng kahon ng sapatos sa ilalim ng kanyang higaan.

Tama, doon, kasama ng puting panyong napuno ng pinaghalong pawis at dugo.

Isa pang katangahan. Makahihinga na sana siya nang maluwag.

Sinigurado muna niyang nasa kahon pa rin ang susi at panyo (kulay lupa na ang mga mantsa ng dugo), saka siya lumapit sa bintana. Natanaw agad niya ang mga naglalaro: limang batang nakapaikot sa isang naka-ponytail. Umiiyak ang batang nasa gitna. Malamang iyon ang nataya. Wala pang isang minuto, tatahan din iyon sa tantiya niya. Magso-sorry ang nandayang taya. Pagkatapos, laro na naman.

May mga bata pa palang naglalaro sa kalye.

Akala niya, lahat ng bata ngayon, kung hindi nakababad sa TV, nasa tapat ng computer. Akala niya, extinct na ang taguan, monkey-monkey at Pepsi/7-Up. Walong taon siguro siya nang huling maglaro ng mataya-taya sa tapat ng bahay nila. Third year college na siya.

Expert siya sa dayaan noong bata. Kapag langit lupa ang laro, kaya niyang pahabain ang kanta huwag lang siya ang mapiling taya (“…Patay! Buhay! A-lis ka na di-yan sa pu-wes-to mo!”). Kahit kapirasong patpat ay nagiging langit kapag siya ang nakatuntong. At maliban sa isang nakipagsuntukan, lahat ng naging kalarong babae ay napaiyak niya. Siya ang hari ng kalye.

Pero hindi na siya bata; wala na siyang karapatang mandaya.

Matagal din siyang nakatitig sa kisame kaninang madaling-araw, nag-isip habang nakahilata sa kama. Gaya ng ginagawa niya ngayon habang pinagmamasdan ang mga batang sumira ng umaga niya.

Matanda na siya; may isip na dapat siya.

Sa ayaw niya’t sa gusto, meron pang mga batang mahilig maglaro sa kalye, maski mag-aalas-dose na ng gabi at nagkalat ang mga gagong nagmamaneho ng kotse. Sa ayaw niya’t sa gusto, lasing siya nang umuwi galing sa isang birthday party kagabi, at hindi kanya ang kalye.

“Langit! Lupa! Impiyerno…”

Napupunta kaya sa langit ang lahat ng batang namamatay? Sana. E siya? Asa pa. Alam niyang wala siyang lugar sa langit. Ang problema, ayaw niyang mabulok sa isang kulungan sa lupa.

“Im-im-impiyerno…”

May pagpipilian pa ba siya? Kung nagkataong walang nakakita sa kanya kagabi, hindi siguro siya namumroblema ngayon. Pero bangag sa alkohol ang kukote niya. Bumaba pa siya ng kotse para tingnan kung ano ang kumalabog nang bigla siyang lumiko sa isang shortcut. Kung nagdire-diretso lang siya sa pagmamaneho, siguradong walang nakatanda sa kotse niya.

“Saksak puso! Tulo ang dugo…”

Tumili ang mga kalaro ng batang babae. Tatlo o apat na matitining na boses na sinabayan ng magkakasunod na pagtatahulan ng mga aso sa kalye. Isa-isang nagbukasan ang mga ilaw at may ilang naglabasan ng kanilang mga bahay. Saka lang siya natauhan.

Kitang-kita niya ang duguang batang napailalim sa unahang gulong ng kotse niya. Kumaripas siya pabalik sa driver's seat. Muntik pa siyang masubsob sa aspalto sa pagmamadali; mabuti na lamang at nakakapit siya sa pinto bago tuluyang madapa. Pinaharurot niya ang sasakyan (kung nakaladkad ang bata, hindi na niya napansin) at dalawang oras siyang nagmaneho sa kung saan-saan para matiyak na walang sumunod sa kanya.

“Patay! Buhay! Aaaa-lis!”

Agad niyang nilinis ang bumper, headlight at gulong pagkagarahe sa bahay. Sa katarantahan, panyo pa ang una niyang ginamit na pamunas bago naisip humanap ng basahan. Ngayon, gusto niyang tawanan ang sarili. Wala naman kasing silbi ang ginawa niyang paglilinis ng kotse kaninang madaling-araw.

Iniumpog niya ang kanyang ulo sa bakal ng bintana. Paulit-ulit ("Tanga, tanga, tanga..."), saka tumalikod at naglakad patungo sa pintuan.

Hindi na kailangang idikta ng utak kung saan siya pupunta: sa CR. Nandoon ang medicine cabinet. Kay Satanas din naman ang bagsak niya, uunahan na niya si Kamatayan; kesa sa lupa pa niya unang matikman ang impiyerno. Mga imahe pa lang ng posas, rehas na bakal, barberong kalbo at tatong agila, sinusunog na ang pakiramdam niya. Maswerte na siya dahil wala pang mga pulis na kumakatok sa kanila.

Dahan-dahan siyang dinala palabas ng kanyang mga paa, habang ang muling pagsisigawan ng mga naglalaro ay nilunod ng mga hiyaw ng batang nagwawala sa kanyang ulo.

Lost Generation

Im a part of a Lost generation

and i refuse to believe

that i can save the world

I realize this may be a shock but

"happiness comes from within"

is a lie and

"money will make me happy"

so in 30 years i will tell my children

they are not the most important thing in my life

my employer will know that

I have priorities straight because

work

is more important than

family

i tell you this,

Once upon a time

families stayed together

but this is not true in my era

This is a quick fix society.

Experts tell me

30 years from now i will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce

i do not concede that

i will live in a country of my own making

in the future,

environmental destruction will be the norm

no longer can it be said

that my peers and i care about the earth

it will be evident that

my generation is apathetic and lethargic

it is foolish to presume that

there is hope.


AND IT WILL HAPPEN IF WE DIDN'T REVERSE IT.