From 19 Magnetic Poles: Listening to Mag:net
FLASHBACK
[www.henyongdaga.blogspot.com]
from “Sharpening A Porcupine”
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
REMEMBER
And I and my friends only came the night of October 23 2006 [and paid 125?-150?-with one free beer] in support of Easy, Carl and the whole Los Chupacabras. After the hoopla and feeling grateful that I didn’t bring my students to see the Holiday In Circus, it was time for the Chupa Boys to play.
A bristling porcupine, I had said to Easy, “What the fuck was that all about?”
Easy had kissed my cheek, mimicked slashing-spraying-wrist and said, “AIDS!AIDS!AIDS!”
I had laughed.
After the whole circus, I danced with the Cat to boogie and tango while friends looked on and laughed. They were laughing because the Cat and I looked like we were doing Judo: spin (block!) dip me baby (throw!) olé (katcha!)
History, people, history is remembered by yours truly who almost has a Pink-With-Laughter-Elephant’s memory.
I didn’t come back to Mag:net for a while because I wouldn’t subject my love for poetry to what I suspected would be more shit which self-proclaimed poets would profess as poetry.
Besides, I didn’t have the time for shit.
NOW
Ayan, Mr. Google can find me and my stalkers will have a stalking-lightning-festival.
Yari ako!
Now the dilemma is whether I would still do CNF in this blog?
Yari writing ko!
Nga naman kasi malice that thinks it’s not about language& that’s it all about…
Yari ka!
I was just answering the question “Who are you?” eh in the simplest sense.
Ya-Ya!
Hay, all for the love of words…
Yay!
No more entrance fee to poetry readings , thank you.
Some people are still doing variations of the same thing.
Some people are writing new things.
I’m still around to listen and write of the whole thing with a sense of humor.
Because if I don’t laugh about it, I will quote the False Prophetess “… malamang may gripo ka na sa tagiliran. He he.” Baka sabihin na I’m threatening. Corny nga ang Big Bayaw Position and Perception di ba?
Whoever wants to live under Martial Law:
Gawa kayo ng Time Machine and die happily in Martial Law Time.
Pag di magustuhan ni Doña Evita Meldy poem mo: instant Genie disappear ka.
Nana!
And sasabihin ni Adam:
Ayaw talagang pakawalan oh!
I would say:
“Eh kung ikaw diniktahan kung ano dapat isulat sa blog-mo-that-is-a-‘wife-altering-experience’?”
Adam would say:
I would say ‘Fuck off!’ and I’ll fucking break that finger in three fucking places!
Ay, violence!
Mga kababayan, you can all choose to tie a yellow ribbon round the old old tree and pray the rosary and I will write about it.
Amen.
MOVING ALONG
This is how I would go about listening to readings in a matter of seconds and minutes:
- upon discovery of who would be reading, I would quickly think back on the writing history of the reader, last text read, the reader’s style, trends in the reader’s texts and the reading….among other things.
- use that as framework
- listen to the reading while
- considering good points and bad points
- taking down notes
- remembering to enjoy or at least try
- if failing in trying, begin ordering drinks
- para matawa sa binabasa
- if can’t contain bursting bladder, go to the toilet
- after the reading, gather the comments from those who came with me (if they’re in the mood to think about some crap because it’s a waste of time) to compare their thoughts to mine.
- go over my notes and think
- sleep and think of concept of critical post; make sure it’s not boring
- wake up, remember, and think
- write, remember and think
- a couple of days tweaking what I had written
- if there’s time
- if not, post notes
- after, get a lot of shit from people
- reply depending on what is necessary
- it is necessary to keep track of the readings
- why do I even care?
The pillars won’t be around to write forever, people who love literature know that, and ye poets and ye writers would be the ones writing our literary history.
Well, I don’t want a shitty literary history and perpetuate a shitty literary tradition that is written by OUR generation.
So I care because the Care Bears don’t give a fuck since they’re busy caring for little boys’ (and their little friends’) souls.
I know that listening to the readings develop, train, and inspire my ear in the language but sometimes I still catch myself singing that line Radioheads’ Creep “…What the hell am I doing here?” in my head while I listen to the readings.
But not this time.
ORIGAMI by Marjorie Evasco
had set the reality of sound of poetry for the whole evening.
The poem as a whole would make a sound. A memorable poem for me would make that kind of sound that would invite you into that silence— and what the poem is unraveling in you--- because the words and how they were chosen, crafted, and made into a whole would bring you into discernment, clarity, eternity, and meaning.
I am still feeling ORIGAMI and I can’t even begin to write what it meant because the poem itself had already said it.
That my dear beautiful women, good gentle men, and fabulous gays--- IS WHAT A POEM WAS, IS, WILL BE, SHOULD BE.
Please visit the Poet’s Alcove in Mag:net Katipuan to experience her hand-written poem [and visualised by Sid Hildawa].
And when my Ma had seen Ma’am Marj’s dedication in “Silk” by Alessandro Baricco, she had said, “She has beautiful handwriting.”
I took a picture of the alcove and the poem.
I will never tire of reading the poem out loud and of listening to its sound.
ORIGAMI sung by and to the music of Nityalila
voice, lyrics, notes go through you like wine--- travels through your skin, blood, stunning you into almost crying, sighing, smiling in joy.
I had asked, “May gigs siya and CD di ba? Para mas marinig ko pa boses niya.”
“JOKES ON ME” by El Pinoy Matador
aka Kris Lanot Lacaba
I liked the rhythm but it had distracted me from really listening to the words…I tried to follow but the rhythm was almost hypnotic. Thankfully the breaks and distortions [through pauses, shifting in vocal tone, and clicking/clucking of tongue/lips] would wake me up now and then to the words.
Which one was it that’s reminding me of the distortions in this one? Damn it! Which was it? Garrr! Ah-ha! Stephen Watson’s “The Rain Sorcerer”!
I was thinking: are these the news stories for today or summary of 2007?
Dear El Pinoy Matador, it’s the kind of lyrical rap that I would have to listen to again so that I get the words and the thought/emotion being communicated. Nawindang ako sa synthesis of hypnotic-distortion kasi eh but I like the idea of juxtaposition of sound.
Also, I was still hearing Origami in my mind.
“STAGE FRIGHT” and “STILTED” by Architist&New Pancho Villa
aka Pancho Villanueva
Joel Toledo said, “Ayaw niya magbasa, pinilit ko lang!”
I laughed when Pancho read his poems, appreciative of the courage to choose to read.
ACT 1: [back to the audience] “Stage Fright…”
Notes on Act 1: Redundant but effective! Humor with a bite which is a point. Hahaha. This one among past popped out! Authentic emotion! But, next time would the performance still be authentic?
ACT 2: [face the audience] “Stilted…”
Notes on Act 2: I like the the concept of “stilted”. This one has a tighter and more solid sound BUT some lines need to be cleaned up to make the poem’s narrative flow better. Otherwise on second reading the tone may come out as, er, a whine.
Also, the poem’s thought is a little sketchy shown by the discrepancy in imagery e.g. in the “goat” trampling through “frogs” and “little fish”?
Selena said, “Di ba ang goat takot sa tubig?”
On the literal level, it may sound okay. On the metaphorical level, the weaving of the animals used in the poem’s animal kingdom to show “stilted” is not just stilted but precarious.
Sa akin, puede ko na siguro tanggapin yun goat-gone- suicidal-so-go-amok-to/by-the-water theory. And was the Egret saying “Eat me instead of fish and frog” to the goat?
Lat time I checked, the goat is a herbivore.
Ala lang.
Nag-concentrate ako ha? That’s why I got the points. And I was still hearing Origami in my mind kasi eh.
REMINDER
Adam David told me months ago that National Artist Virgilio Almario aka Rio Alma has coined a term in poetry workshops: ang tulang manananggal, kung saan ang baba ay hiwa sa taas.
Lope Cui Jr. ex-MOA
opened his reading with, “Unemployment, what a way to start the year.”
Joel Toledo said, “Yun na?”
We laughed.
Presentation 1: “This is an unintentional sexist poem…” = Okay, get laid.
Presentation 2: “This poem is about saying…” Okay, get laid.
Closing Remarks: “Eto ang parteng papalakpakan niyo ko…I have been shaving; sh(r ?)edding everything.” [Takes off his cap and shows semi-kalbo]
“You should see my armpits and my crotch.” OHKAY! GET LAID!
And the last time he also read in Café Isla in Serendra last October and I was there, he had relayed to everyone that what he wrote was inspired when he was in the toilet and saw a little boy urinating… I had laughed so much then.
Dude, get laid. Fast.
Reaching now for Origami-vibe…
Andrea Terran
had opted to read her CNF piece Dr. Dre’s “When it rains, it pours” once more. She dedicated the reading to me to which I said “Thanks!” with a surprised laugh.
I was expecting her to read something new though.
BUT I appreciated the opportunity it gave Selena to hear the piece and she was laughing, so: patok! And I was able to find out that on second reading, it still is funny for me and I was drinking only mango juice ha?
May I suggest though that for CNF readings, write/read pieces that are only about 1.25 pages max double-spaced? Think of it as reading Flash-CNF. That way, the whole reading is a whallop, given time the constraint. Suggestion lang naman.
I’m looking forward to more CNF pieces from Dr. Dre!
But you know [just an aside] every time I hear “Dr. Dre” it’s always followed by “--motherfucker! Nanananana…” That’s all Tuesday Vargas’ fault when she kidnapped me and Selena in 192001 (or was it 192002?) from Xaymaca to take us to Dreams in Timog.
That night, Selena was wearing a very dainty blue dress looking like a sleeveless Maria Clara while in Dreams the girls on the bar tops were all dancing to various states of thong-action to “Dr. Dre Motherfucker! Nanananana! It’s the motherfucking D-R-E!”
I had laughingly said to Selena after the reading, “Volunteers raw for the experiment!”
Selena laughed, “Puede!”
POCHOLO GOITIA
said, “Pangit mag-apologize before reading something.” But he was apologizing for not reading something he had written because he had “not written so far” so he opted to read George Saunders’ “nonfic na medyo fic” Political Manifesto.
Nothing wrong in reading something you have not written.
Pocholo has a good reading voice: bilog ang boses. But the piece was too long and it was:
somber, somber, somber, oh my god I want to blow up the world with a supernova nuclear bomb while shouting “THE WORLD IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE TO BE BORN INTO…IF YOU DON’T MUCH MIND A FEW DEAD MINDS IN THE HIGHER PLACES OR A BOMB OR TWO!”
And just before I press the deadly button: “JOIN US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.” [Evil laugh and end of the world.]
*Bow*
LEVIATHAN by Joel Toledo
There! The reality of SOUND is perpetuated and validated once more! The energy from ORIGAMI reading is sustained by the energy from LEVIATHAN reading.
Joel Toledo’s “Leviathan” SOUND: reminds me to remember and to remember is to write.
KHAVN DE LA CRUZ’S PIANO PIECE:
The SOUND of a macabre orgasm: the “little death” translated in music as a tragic-comical-tragic death. Galing!
And which I think what Angelo Suarez was trying to impart in his performance but----
Khavn’s foreshadowing: “Bago pala kami magkalat…”
Notes on THE SOUND OF CONSTIPATION performed by Angelo Suarez
“Ching-Tang-Tu the arabong-intsik” according to laughing Joel Toledo.
- A reading of three poems in Ophelia Dimalanta’s “Love, Woman” without the vowels.
- I find the look of constipation on his face funny because he is finding it funny; how he looks funny. [At least natatawa siya sa sarili niya!]
- Okay, this is long. Not funny.
- He’s perspiring already: he finds what he’s doing tedious. If he just reads the poems, maybe he won’t be so constipated.
- Well, he didn’t scream---
- But he was trying to take a dump in public and failing to crap out the leviathan turd up his ass. [No offense meant to Joel Toledo but that was the first word that came to my mind instead of “giant” while I was taking down notes.]
- Naku, mabigyan nga ito na papapurga ng bulate sa tiyan o pampapatae. Malunggay? Kawawa naman oh. Pawis na pawis.
Stefania [arrived then and I whispered to her “Gusto mo mga performance niya di ba?]:
“I like kasi sporadic bursts of emotion.”
Selena [to me and Stefania]:
“I guess it’s ok, ala lang, but it was just too long. And I’m not into performance art. Shock factor lang kasi most of the time eh.”
I said:
It was just too contrived.
Stefania, I and Selena-- given our different perspectives-- bared our claws and started pulling each other’s hair the way corny people do: NOT.
Oso [who also arrived late and witnessed Angelo’s performance]:
“Tae!”
and
“May vowel na sa mga last part ‘no!”
Dear Jello, there are more than 5 vowels. In English there are 11 recognizable vowel sounds and in the International Phonetic Alphabet there are 16 people use. “Uh” is a vowel like how you use it in “urge” or “burn”. “Ih” is also a vowel like how you use it in “if” or “big”. You used both.
Pero di nga, yun last part meron ng mga “ooo” which refutes your premise of taking out the just-5-vowels-in-Filipino.
Parang yun performance mo sa Café Isla last October na “This is a two-minute poem because I say so!” or something na ang isang premise ay Gertrude Stein’s “Five words in a line” pero sobra ka sa 5 words sa line mo. Dun sa isang quote-premise mo [about perception], puede pumasok yun performance.
Pero sa constraints from Stein’s constraints, ala eh.
Pero I guess that’s your fuck-you to the two premises di ba?
And then?
Uy, parang binabasa niya naman ‘tong blog and friends na kami.
REMINDER
Deconstruction is not Destruction. That’s why the two are spelled differently. To deconstruct a poem, you make use of words and maybe in the struggle you are able to write a poem or something really good.
To destroy a poem, for example, is to take out its vowels.
Language refuses to be simply destroyed because it’s a very tricky opponent and it’s like pain that we try to drown when we drink: it knows how to swim.
ART IS TO CREATE. Now, Check how many –ism and ---ics out there would validate this. It must be true.
“The Vow” by Krip Yuson
Sir Krip said, “…The curse of the senior citizen: tough act to follow” and I had laughed.
He also said in his introduction, “…Poems as wounds…”
The poem is the SOUND of the vow or as one of his lines stated:
“Your shrine or rather mine for you”
I had once wanted to ask him to tell me a story of love but I didn’t.
He told me that night in this three-page-poem and I didn’t even have to ask.
Thank you, Sir. Thank you.
And so that some people wouldn’t think that I’m being all scared-of-pillars-subjective I asked Oso what he thought of the poem.
Oso quietly said, “And lalim nun Vow niya. Yun ang vow.”
3 Haikus and “Tricycle” recited by Gemino H. Abad
Sir Jimmy had recited each of the three haikus in Nihonggo and then translated them in English.
The haikus sounded beautiful, reflective, resonating Origami SOUND. I’ve always thought that the Japanese language sounded too angry, too harsh but not tonight, not from Sir Jimmy Abad. It changed my perspective on the language and I’m looking for recorded haikus in Japanese (with English translations) so that I could to listen to more.
Now, “Tricycle” made me just want to listen and be silent…
The sound, the sound…And this is why Poetry among other literary forms has always been different because it has always been meant to be read out loud.
Pahabol: 6 poems from “Imago” collection of Joseph Legaspi
He said (in admiration) in his introduction in reference to Angelo Suarez Performance: “Crazy experimental shit! It’s awesome! Shit! We don’t have that in New York City!”
I laughed at his usage of “Shit” given that I thought Jello was performing constipation and thinking, I rest my case.
But…oh di ba? Walang Jello sa States! Makapunta nga sa New York and double-check if [to the tune of “American Tale” song] there are no Jellos in America…
Reading 1: (Imagined) Love Poem For My mother From My Father
I winced, finding the trace of eroticism Oedipal.
Reading 2: Ode To My Mother’s Hair
Same intonation of Reading 1
Reading 3: Departure
It’s almost like a short story. I liked the unfolding of the narrative because I always like stories. It must be from the short fiction discipline.
Reading 4: Immigrant’s Son
Shows the trend of his poems--- they’re long.
Reading 5: [Didn’t get the title]
This one’s even longer. The 30-second attention-span of human beings cannot be sustained. [This scientific fact is used by the advertising industry that’s why all commercials are 30-60 seconds only.]
I had wondered: how would this poem look on paper?
Reading 6: Imago
Well, now I know how circumcision feels.
True, true, circumcised would wear sisters’ skirts after.
This one was the best among the 6.
And after, we left and I joked, “THE CRITIC HAS LEFT THE BUILDING!” to laughter.
SOUND on
SOUND off
WRITE on
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