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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Wednesday, November 20, 2024

entry arrow7:00 AM | Poetry Wednesday, No. 214.



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Tuesday, November 19, 2024

entry arrow9:24 PM | Copycat by Idwardo



Often, when I go and see exhibitions in town, I turn off the pesky part of my brain that allows voices uttering art theory, and art history, and art techniques, and just feel around the gallery and be drawn to the one object that I cannot shake. In the Arté Café Gallery [ IG: @artegalleryph ] exhibit, PREKARYATSII, now showing at the Arts and Design Collective Dumaguete [ IG: @adcdumaguete ], this happens to be “Copycat,” a work in acrylic by Cebu artist Idwardo. There’s something vaguely cinematic about it, like a piece of color film stripped to its basic Technicolor separations, which render the subject — a young man in an Asian squat staring straight at the viewer — both mysterious and compelling, rendered as he is in rainbow basics. That his “copies” in the other colors show different facets of himself — one faceless and the other grotesquely masked — also lend to this mystery, signifying some subtext of horror. There’s an interactive quality to the art as well: when you take the invitation to scan the QR code beside it, your cellphone screen immediately becomes a camera that has settings making each figure pop out more prominently. It’s quite a nice addendum to the exercise, but I like the tripartite nature of the painting itself: our selves in three iterations, guises of who we are, staring straight at life [or the viewer] with a somber, even steely gaze. I wonder what he thinks of me, this young man in a squat in three colors. I wonder why he stares so.

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Sunday, November 17, 2024

entry arrow9:00 AM | The Dumaguete Inato as Life



This is, admittedly, a generalization—and many exceptions abound! But the following are things non-Dumagueteños—especially poor Manila people who come to our city bound by the rules of engagement they have been doing in the metropolis for years and who think their praxis is universal—should learn about doing events in our beloved city of infinite mysteries:

[1] No one will answer your emails. The best way to get in touch with anyone in Dumaguete with a high degree of responsiveness, is through Messenger. [Not even Viber!] It helps, of course, that you have a well-connected point-person who can gather everyone else in your group chat.

[2] Dumagueteños live dangerously by doing everything last minute. Because if we plan too much ahead, things will not usually happen.

[3] Dumaguete is such a small city, but we rarely see each other. This has to be noted, especially if you expect us to always be under each other’s beck and call, because everyone is “five minutes away.”

[4] Don’t fret about only having three people register for your events through your officials channels, and you’re scared about nobody showing up. A good audience, always seemingly out of nowhere, will arrive on the very day itself. Same with ticket sales. Everyone buys tickets to events on the day itself.

And finally: [5] The event will almost always go well, nonetheless.

This is just how things go in Dumaguete.

I’ve come to this conclusion because it has happened twice, at least for me, this year. We will not mention the events very specifically, just to protect the identifies of all involved, but the first one—a matter of national importance—occurred sometime midyear. The person in charge who hailed from a major national office in the capital was emailing everyone concerned in Dumaguete for at least two months. They had questions, they needed to coordinate. We were supposed to meet earlier, but our schedules did not coincide—and it took some time for both of us to finally “meet” online. They continued emailing everyone in the interim—except me—but no one was answering back, except for one or two. [I do get the need the need to email. It’s official, especially if you are using the office-assigned email address. It’s also for paper trail. I get that, and I get why they were continuing to do so.] They would also try to call people—but no one was answering. Three weeks before the event, I finally messaged them in Messenger [I got their account from someone else involved in the project]. We connected. I told them I knew everyone they needed in the team and that Messenger would be faster for everyone to contribute their share of the work—and I promised to gather them all via the app. And then we all finally converged, and everyone started replying, and the project started. And the event was a resounding success.

A few months later, another national event was to take place in Dumaguete. The same deal: the people from the national office tried to email everyone. Tried to even email the hotels they intended to stay in, and the restaurants they intended to hold officials banquets in. Again, no responses via email. They finally chose a different venue for the event—because the first venue was not answering back, via email. I met the organizers for the first time in person a day before the event. They told me they were not sure anyone would show up, because nobody was answering their invitation emails. They budgeted for 70 people, but only three registered so far. I told them people would just show on the day itself, and not to worry. I also told them I’d invite people I knew—via Messenger—as soon as I could. The next day, people indeed showed up. And more people showed up on the second day. And the event was a resounding success.

I think back to one other event that happened in Dumaguete a few years ago. A theatrical company wanted to do a leg of a play they were touring around the country in Dumaguete. Their very efficient creative team came all the way from Manila, doing everything the Manila way. It was very instructional, and some of the things they did were things us locals actually learned from. But I remember one particular demand they wanted to accomplish in Dumaguete: they wanted a press conference in a mall. And we were like: “Umm, no one really does press conferences for cultural shows in Dumaguete, unless it’s a beauty pageant.” The press would probably not show up, except for campus journalists. And even if they did, we were not sure they would even see the show to write about it. True enough, the press conference that eventually happened was a disaster. But the show itself was somewhat well-received by the locals. It ran for about a week.

The lesson I guess is that every place has its own culture with which to do things, and it pays to be aware of these specificities—or at least have someone local and knowledgeable who can guide you through the intricacies. Best practices in Manila are not necessarily best practices in Dumaguete. Seasoned businessmen know this. The way you make a deal in New York is not the way you make a deal in Tokyo, or Shanghai, or Kuala Lumpur. There are cultural barriers at play—and one tiny mistake in misreading will lead to disappointment, and no deal.

I posted a short version of this essay on Facebook and the response has been tremendous. I thought there would be people who would negate everything I said—“Dumaguete Pride,” and all that—but to my astonishment, most of the responses only underlined what I said as something true of the community. Gaba-an Youth Lead’s Dennis Caballero said: “Tinuod gud ni!” DTI’s Anton Gabila said: “True! Especially the second one. On the last hour of the previous day, mapuno ra gyud mga sign-up forms.” Bun Yeng Ngan, who runs a successful events company in Manila but is from Dumaguete, said: “You’re telling me! After 31 years as an organizer of corporate events, sa Dumaguete ra jud ko bilib! Ikatawa na lang para dili ka ma-pikon. Nothing personal. It is what it is! I love Dumaguete.” The National Book Development Board’s Bethel Samson Delatado said: “I experienced the [no email response] one, hehehe.” Travel diva Angelo Villanueva said: “Trulalooooo!” Lawyer Golda Benjamin said: “No one answers emails. OMG. So true!” Playwright Lendz Barinque said: “The first and the second used to frustrate me so much, until I just gave in. And que sera, sera.” Back Pack Solutions’ Ernest Acar said: “I had to let go of the usual conventions of what event preparation should be when I moved back here. Makapasmo, pero lingaw. Haha.”

But why don’t we answer emails? I have a feeling this has something to do with the formality we have come to associate with this kind of correspondence. And Dumaguete as a place is far from a bastion of the formal. We are relentlessly informal. I sometimes teach wearing tsinelas and shorts, and no one will bat an eyelash. Messenger is very informal, like the Sunday tabo-an we love in Valencia. [The best way to do emails in Dumaguete? Email the secretaries. And then call them to tell them that you sent an email.]

Why do we do everything last minute? I think this is a remnant of the way Dumaguete used to be: the smallness of the place allowed us to do so many things in a given day. Unlike Manila, where life is so hectic and the region so huge and the traffic so relentless, you are trained to do only one thing a day, and two if you have superpowers. In Dumaguete, we can do five, seven, ten things in succession in a day—and so it is easier to put things together in less time. And we forget the immediacy of events if we plan it ahead with too much time to plan and execute. Dumaguete loves immediacy. Which is why it is easier to do “instant fairs,” “pop-up events,” and the like here. Plan things too much and people will dilly-dally more. Plan it one minute before, and people will show up. I remember someone telling me that fifteen years or so ago, many Dumagueteños would only begin to proceed to the airport to catch the flight they are scheduled on when they can already hear the airplane landing. That is the heart of the Dumaguete “last-minute.”

Why don’t we see each other often, even if Dumaguete is so small? I have no idea.

Why do we just show up for things, and why do we buy tickets last minute? Because that’s just us. Because we are doing so many things in a typical Dumaguete day, the only commitment we can make to events is not to register—there’s no time for registration!—but to just show up. I once organized a screening for Lav Diaz’s five-hour film, Norte: The End of History, at Robinsons Movieworld in 2013. You would think a five-hour film would be daunting for an ordinary Dumagueteño. Nope. You would think the slow ticket sales at the start concerned me. Nope. By the morning of screening day, we sold out every ticket. And there were clamors for more.

Like some of the responses above, this way of doing things is not for everyone, not even some Dumagueteños themselves. Vida Tusoy commented: “As an inveterate planner, this will trigger my anxiety.” The truth is, even the “culprits” themselves know this anxiety first hand, and after every successful event, a lot would commiserate among themselves: “Let’s plan better next time”—which means: “Let’s email each other and answer back,” “Let’s not do things last minute,” “Let’s make sure we have proper audience development,” etc. Honorable wishful thinking really, because the next year, the same things still happen.

There’s a whiff of “unprofessionalism” that we can be accused of concerning all these, of course. Bun Yeng Ngan and theatre artist Belen Calingacion did not mince words and called the attitude “inato gihapon diay”—in other words, a “small town” attitude to life. But I think “inato”—which is really best translated as “doing things our own way”—is not really about having a “small town” attitude; it is about steadfastly doing it “our own way,” because time and again, these ways have really proven more effective than the textbook-prescribed “professional way.”

I think that’s really the heart of the Dumagueteño: we have always stubbornly done things our way all throughout our history, and the best things about Dumaguete living have really been the product of that stubbornness. Like the “inasal,” as demonstrated by our Occidental Negrense siblings; it’s chicken grilled in a very particular way that makes it “inasal” in Bacolod, but did we do the same thing in Dumaguete? Nope. We grilled chicken marinated in milk, and the taste was, and is, remarkably different. We called it “inato.” Thus Jo’s Chicken Inato—the epitome of Dumaguete grilled chicken fare—was born.

This “inato” attitude was what made our elites of yore build their mansions along the old Marina—no other elites in major towns in the Philippines did that, having their mansions face the sea. The result? The Rizal Boulevard.

This “inato” attitude keeps us from being too outlandish and preening with our accomplishments—but take a look at all the accomplished Dumagueteños who have ever lived. We have two National Artists [three if you count one heavily identified with Cebu]. And two National Scientists. Since 2017, I have featured weekly on the Dumaguete City Tourism Facebook page at least one prominent Dumagueteño or Oriental Negrense who have done much for their profession or for their community, and a lot of them are actually world-renowned. It is already 2024, and my list has not been exhausted yet.

This “inato” attitude is what keeps everything we do distinctly Dumagueteño. At the first Dumaguete Literary Festival we did last April, we made the “inato” our motif. We had vans to ferry guests, but our official transport was the tricycle. Most literary festivals in the country are held in malls; we purposely held ours in an old heritage house. Most literary festivals in the country would also quietly proscribe a formality in dress by participants; we advised our guests and participants to come in wearing tsinelas and shorts. And it worked!

So I’m not exactly sure I’d call everything we do as “inato” the way it’s connoted—a shaming negative. We’re just “chill” this way. Every place has a rhythm which works for it. This is the Dumaguete rhythm for the most part, and it works.

[Photo by Alan Kirit Jr.]

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Friday, November 15, 2024

entry arrow10:00 PM | La Boheme at Silliman



I love the fact that in Dumaguete, I can tell myself: “I want to end this busy week by watching opera.” And watch I did, straight from my last class of the day.


In the photo, that’s Rodolfo and Mimi in this barebones production of Puccini’s La Boheme at Silliman University’s Claire Isabel McGill Luce Auditorium, presented by the Cultural Center of the Philippines and featuring the performers from Viva Voce Voice Lab. The entire opera was staged, but it was not a full-fledged production — there was no orchestra [only a piano] and there were no elaborate costumes — but all there was were performance, gusto, and the beauty of the human voice. Often, that’s enough.

The show was packaged as an educational outreach program, to teach contemporary Filipino audiences about what opera is all about, and to make a traditionally daunting art form be accessible to those who have only heard about what opera is like and are too intimidated to watch any. Hence, the helpful introduction by artistic director Camille Lopez Molina before the show began [she was very funny]. Hence, the simplicity of the staging. Hence, the supertitles projected on screen that directly translated the Italian lyrics the performers were singing.

Truth to tell, this was my first opera, and although it was done in this format, I was grateful for what it was — because everyone in the audience truly enjoyed the musical spectacle onstage: an audience of mostly students awww’d at the lighting quick romance between the two leads, arrrgh’d at the seeming red-flagness of Rodolfo when he wanted to break up with Mimi, and ohhhh’d at Mimi’s final demise.

[Molina also explained that the company specifically sought out a performance at the Luce because this was Viva Voce’s experiment with raw voice projection, no amplification, in a suitable theater: the Luce remains the only theater in the country with the best acoustics.]

I can readily tell when a Luce audience is appreciative [and Dumaguete is notoriously hard to please], and tonight was one for the books.

At the end, I also realized that this show signaled the end of the pandemic for me. At least culturally speaking. The last show I watched at the Luce before lockdown started in 2020 was Rent, the Jonathan Larson musical that borrows heavily from La Boheme. Four year later, I am watching the OG material on the same stage. My pandemic has been properly bookended.


P.S. It’s now funny to me that when I listened to opera before, the Italian lyrics and the melodic voice made me think they were singing of very important pronouncements. Now I know that they’re just singing of the most mundane things, like: “I left a pink bonnet underneath your pillow. Please pack it for me.”

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Wednesday, November 13, 2024

entry arrow9:08 PM | The Dumaguete Chill

Things non-Dumagueteños should learn about doing events in the city:

[1] No one will answer your emails. The best way to get in touch with anyone is through Messenger. [Not even Viber!]

[2] We live by doing everything last minute. If we plan too much ahead, things will not happen.

[3] It’s a small city but we rarely see each other.

[4] Don’t fret about only having three people register through your officials channels, and you’re scared about nobody showing up. A good audience, seemingly out of nowhere, will arrive on the very day itself. Same with ticket sales. Everyone buys tickets on the day itself.

[5] The event will almost always go well, nonetheless.

This is just how things go in Dumaguete.

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entry arrow7:00 AM | Poetry Wednesday, No. 213.



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Monday, November 11, 2024

entry arrow5:48 PM | Things Take Time

Things take time. Just came from my fiction workshop, where we tackled the second draft of their first short story required in class. Call me satisfied! Admittedly, my rhythm for teaching workshop was kinda off when I came back to teaching last year, because I had to relearn everything again, especially the process, after three pandemic years of not doing it. But it does come back, slowly. Today I’m satisfied.

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entry arrow11:29 AM | Two Worlds in My Head

My brain off Ritalin and on Ritalin is so different. It’s like living two existences. One is vaguely foggy, but it has always been the existence you know. Your normal. The other is clarity, and it’s like someone putting on glasses for the first time and seeing the world that’s sharp and colorful you had no idea.

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entry arrow10:59 AM | Gym Goddesses of Music

I maintain a playlist on Spotify that I totally love. And which I constantly play, especially if I want to feel energetic for the day’s slate of work. It’s called “Gym Goddesses of Music,” because this was my cardio soundtrack. I don’t go to gym anymore, but I still listen to this playlist religiously. It has Madonna in it, and Robyn, and Sia, Icona Pop and Charlie XCX, Sophie Ellis Bextor, etc. [And also Beck, for some reason, hahaha.] My fave: Sandra Bernhard’s cover of “You Make Me Feel” by Sylvester.

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Sunday, November 10, 2024

entry arrow9:00 AM | A Walk to Taclobo



Calle San Jose Extension in Taclobo in the early evening of Friday surprisingly buzzes with the lightest traffic, and somehow I find it easy to walk, with my usual pace, the street’s length [until Bag-ong Dalan, that is, which is really an old road that has been officially named Ciriaco Espina Street—and yet for some reason is still being called by locals everywhere with that unofficial, and terribly untrue, moniker]. I like my pace, like someone in a hurry to get somewhere. But it’s a loose kind of hurry, and I’ve always walked fast especially when alone. Perhaps I like the feel of the breeze that I conjure with my speed. And I like the feel of the little sweat I accumulate in the effort—and then I quickly realize that it has been a while since I’ve really walked. Because I’m breathless, and walking is effort for someone out-of-shape a year out of the pandemic.

I’m here in Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick.

I opted to walk all the way to Taclobo from The Bricks Hotel along the Rizal Boulevard, where I had been all afternoon doing an assortment of work [and one informal workshop]. I did not plan to walk, but traffic in the major thoroughfares of Dumaguere was, as usual, horrendous. And while I bid my time by the sidewalk hoping to be able to flag down a tricycle, I instantly knew while I did a good bit of waiting that I would not be able to get a ride.

But I had to get to Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick. I know environmental factors are at play in his surging fever and a terrible bout of coughing—other people in his household are sick as well—but I knew this illness is stressed-induced as well. He’s been battling stress and anxiety at work for a few weeks now. It’s all very sad, to be honest.

“You’re walking all the way from the Boulevard to Taclobo?” the significant other texts me.

“I think I need the exercise,” I reply.

But, really, it is the traffic that has prompted the need to walk. Traffic has been terrible in Dumaguete lately. Once, after work, I mused briefly about going to CityMall to catch a movie. But a thought suddenly came to me: “Nah, the traffic along the National Highway will be terrible.” And I realized then that that was the first time ever in my life as a Dumagueteño that this notion of “traffic” has prevented me from going elsewhere in the city. We used to make this jokey claim: “Everywhere in Dumaguete is just ten minutes away.” Is that still true today? Not too long ago, I once had an engagement at 58 EJ Blanco Drive, where the Arts and Design Collective of Dumaguete is headquartered, and I had started off from my apartment in Tubod, which is really just five minute ride away. With the significant other driving me in his car, we soon found ourselves caught in Hibbard Avenue traffic—and it actually took us 45 minutes to finally arrive at our destination. By then, the event was practically over. [I’m sorry, Geraldine Solon, for missing the bulk of your book launch! I blame traffic.]

I have casually asked around for the reasons of this sudden surge in Dumaguete traffic. The usual answer I get is the “broken, and old, traffic infrastructure”—which is really just how people describe the narrow city streets and the forbidding lack of parking. But I counter that with this observation: that old infrastructure has always been there, and we’ve had bad traffic before—but why only now does bad traffic in Dumaguete really underscore an unequalled badness? What is different today? The tricycles? The number of tricycles in the city has remained constant over the years. The cars? Perhaps the cars. Maybe many people bought cars during the pandemic—prices were slashed so low then—but quarantine somehow mitigated their presence on city streets. Only now, in our “post”-pandemic world, with quarantines now a fading memory, have all these cars suddenly converged on Dumaguete’s roads, choking them for hours on end. I’ve asked around: “How many car dealerships are there in Dumaguete?” Nobody could give me the exact answer, but someone said ten. Is that true? Why do we have so many car sellers in our city? And can these car sellers give me some statistics about how many cars they sold during the pandemic?

I’m told: “I don’t think they’ll give you their sales numbers.”

“But I can try,” I’d reply.

“Nah.”

“Do you think LTO can help?”

We broke into laughter with the ridiculous idea of LTO helping.

But I have to get to Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick. He’s worried about being sick, and being away from work. He’s under pressure enough to fret. He has a raging fever, and godawful coughing—and I seethe that he is being reduced to this ball of pity and sadness and illness. Really seethe.

I seethe sometimes, too, when I go home to Tubod after my classes at Silliman, and find the way to be the ultimate pedestrian maze. I usually take a short tricycle ride to get to and from work, but these days, the constantly terrible traffic along Hibbard Avenue has made me walk more often. It’s a short distance anyway. And I’ve come to like stopping by Kohi to grab a cup of cappuccino or latte. That stretch of Hibbard Avenue until the crossing of Gothong Avenue [popularly called the Lo-oc Bypass Road] and Venancio Aldecoa Jr. Drive [popularly called Laguna] is traffic hell, an unrelenting carmaggedon. And it’s not just the cars on the road, it’s also the cars usurping the sidewalks for parking. There are no sidewalks anymore along the Silliman University stretch of Hibbard Avenue. So pedestrians like me actually walk on the actual street itself, because that’s the only available space to move forward. Sometimes I pray I do not get sideswept by a reckless vehicle from walking down the actual street. Then again, hahaha, all the vehicles on the road are moving like molasses.

I like walking anyway, especially as much-needed exercise to my very sedentary lifestyle. To be honest, I’d probably walk a lot more if Dumaguete wasn’t hot and humid.

But now, it is the early evening of Friday, and it is cool, and I have a sick beloved to visit in Taclobo.

Along the way, I am able to visit some of my favorite shops, like Dudley’s, and I buy some foodstuff—the Japanese muffin is to die for, and the Hokkaido bread is a staple—which I’m usually not able to when I’m riding a car. That only underlines what urban studies have been saying: foot traffic, not motor traffic, is what brings people to shops. Let’s encourage more people to walk for the economy’s sake!

But I wish Dumaguete was more walkable.

I wish there were more trees to shade sidewalks so that we can walk even under the hot Dumaguete sun.

I wish there were more suitable parking in Dumaguete.

I wish Dumaguete drivers were not lunatics. [A lot of them are.]

I wish we didn’t know that when traffic enforces are on hand, traffic actually gets worse.

I wish some workable system of public transport can be devised, so that people with cars do not have to use their cars anymore. [I can’t blame people from buying cars, especially if they live in the outskirts of the city—or live in the neighboring towns. But do they really have to buy humongous cars? If I were a powerful entity with convincing powers, I’d force everyone to buy small cars, like a Picanto, which is perfect for Dumaguete’s roads. My significant other drives a Picanto. He’s smart that way.]

I arrive at the significant other’s home in Taclobo and the feel of his skin is like touching lava. He moans a “hello.” I commiserate, I baby, I watch over him. I also tell him he should go to the ER to get a medical certificate. For the folks at work. He nods. His mom makes me eat dinner they’ve Grab-ed over from Don Roberto’s. I eat and we talk about the latest episode of Survivor. We all hate Andy. Alas he’s half-Filipino, but he’s so stupid.

Later, his mom drives me home.

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Thursday, November 07, 2024

entry arrow2:08 AM | In Hindsight

In 2017, while working on a project for a grant, the external HD which contained ALL my research materials disappeared. Like a year of research lost, just like that. That led me to a spiral, and some terrible complications later, which I've never divulged until now. And until now, I have no idea where that HD went. Sayang talaga, all the materials I gathered. They were irreplaceable. I survived that spiral and the complications that came with it, but that event taught me a lot about myself, and what I can do. [This memory is courtesy of Luna Griño-Inocian, who just asked me to send her some of my archival material for a project. I managed to send her some, but a lot of what I had are simply gone.]

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Wednesday, November 06, 2024

entry arrow7:00 AM | Poetry Wednesday, No. 212.



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Monday, November 04, 2024

entry arrow7:00 AM | So Heaven



I finally received my copy of Isagani R. Cruz's new novel, So Heaven! Thank you, Milflores Publishing [ IG: @milfloresbooks ]! I was asked to give this a blurb, and I don't know how I found the time to read this, but I did, if not because going over the first novel by an acclaimed Filipino writer was such a privilege. And this is such an unusual novel, too! Congratulations, Sir Gani!

You can order this book on the Milflores website.

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Sunday, November 03, 2024

entry arrow9:00 PM | Dessa at 60

Tonight, we celebrated Dessa Quesada-Palm's 60th birthday, in a lovely dinner and program with her friends of a lifetime at Essencia — and it was, to be honest, one of the most meaningful birthday celebrations I have ever come to witness. By the end of it, I was teary-eyed [and I never usually get teary-eyed at birthdays]. In occasions such as this, it's usual to have birthday greetings and speeches dedicated to the celebrator, but in the hands of a consummate theater artist like Dessa, each speech came at suitable intervals in a perfectly directed biographical narrative [with a good Powerpoint show to guide everyone]. And each speech was given by a perfectly handpicked friend or family representing an aspect or a major episode in Dessa's fruitful life — from her days as a member of the Quesada household [speech by sister Mae Quesada-Medina], from her life with PETA [speech by film director Avic Ilagan], from her days studying in New York [speech by composer Lerrick Santos], from early days in Dumaguete doing theatre workshops with the Divinity School [speech by Jean Cuanan-Nalam], from her almost two decades of mentoring YATTA [speech by Mellard Chiong Manogura], and from her love life [speech by her husband Colby Palm], interspersed with a monologue from Dessa's play Rape Buzz performed by Mayumi Maghuyop, improv comedy from the YATTA OGs Hope Tinambacan, Junsly Kitay, and Nikki Cimafranca, and music with the Quiz Family Singers, and the trio of Sharon Dadang-Rafols, Jean Nalam, and Dessa herself. At the end, she considered everyone in attendance and how each one has come to mean something significant in her life [it is at this point that I would finally break down and cry], and ended the evening with a song that she uses as her answer to the question: “What makes a meaningful life?”

Mother, you make 60 look fabulous. You have touched so many lives, and thank you for making Dumaguete your home, and the base of your theatrical gifts.

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Thursday, October 31, 2024

entry arrow10:06 PM | I Hate Gay Halloween...





... what do you mean you’re Patrick and Art in the churros scene from Challengers?

This is our annual Halloween tradition, Renz Torres and I, dressing up as iconic queer characters of every year. This is me as Patrick Zweig [Josh O’Connor] and Renz as Art Donaldson [Mike Faist] in the infamous churros scene from Luca Guadagnino's Challengers (2024). Many churros were eaten in this attempt.

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Wednesday, October 30, 2024

entry arrow7:00 AM | Poetry Wednesday, No. 211.



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Tuesday, October 29, 2024

entry arrow11:22 PM | Gratitude and Validation

Who says we don’t need occasional validation? I don many hats, and have two jobs, although one is really just a “side gig” that I treat like a major thing. Today I realize that I’m so lucky to be doing all these work with me largely just doing “my own thing,” with my immediate supervisors just letting me be. To quote one boss, who told me this just now: “No one could do it better than you.” [Aww. Makahilak put ta ani uy.] I thrive, I think, with that level of trust, and with that level of creativity. I’m far from perfect, and I’m still a work in progress, but I really am good at what I do. This is a note of gratitude. And validation.

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entry arrow3:54 PM | More Playtime with Clay!



Made an effort to attend Kevin Cornelia's clay hand-building workshop at the National Museum of the Philippines Dumaguete [ IG: @nmpdumaguete ] today, again between classes and other to-do's today, because we need to support local culture. Next time, I'll really participate instead of just document the event, and really get my hands [and feet!] dirty. We're at the tail-end of National Museums and Galleries Month this October! Have you visited your local museums and galleries yet?

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Monday, October 28, 2024

entry arrow3:00 PM | Playing with Clay!



I had to catch this between classes and other to-do's today, because we need to support local culture. This was postponed because of Typhoon Katrina, but here we are! Dumaguete clay artist Hemrod Duran currently doing a workshop on clay extraction at the National Museum of the Philippines Dumaguete [ IG: @nmpdumaguete ]! Tomorrow, also at 2 PM, a workshop on clay hand-building by Kevin Cornelia.

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Wednesday, October 23, 2024

entry arrow7:00 AM | Poetry Wednesday, No. 210.



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