Sublimating

Lowest in my ladder of priorities right now is blogging. Or having a semblance of uninjured online life (which I am sure annoys a few people, most notably, the villainous panda who mindfucked an unsuspecting chatter in a wicked effort to extradite me into the Limbo of Pure Horror). So why am I posting this entry?

Putting it into perspective, I'm nuts. It won't take three clones of Jessica Simpson to figure this out.

No, not really.

You see I arrived home exhausted from a day of running around covering two widely adjacent districts of the metro. Add to this the distressing thought that I haven't bought anything for anyone and as far as gift giving is concerned I might as well go around with a tattoo in my forehead that blinks “SANTA IS DEAD.”

Don't give me THAT look now. I figured I'll do my gift shopping AFTER the holiday rush when it is safer to hit the malls, which, by then, will be castrated of crazed shoppers. I have also given a thought on bribing some morally bankrupt medical practitioner to issue me a certificate that says “terminal stage of transient amnesia” and give the miserly shame a really snazzy medical spin. LOL.

Anyway, not to wander off farther from the first paragraph's mind-boggler: why am I posting this entry when it's almost five in the morning and later today the priorities are threatening to cancel each other out of commission?

Because the fatigue has advanced into such a malaise that prevented me from slipping into sleep. I have already devoured four different magazines, three episodes of a favorite TV show on DVD, sped read through several pages of the most delicious hypnotic novel I have read lately and flipped through a trade book on information architecture.

And I'm still awake.

I know what you and your soiled little minds are thinking. And your soiled little mind winks its nasty leer as it mouths off: “Ever thought of doing the thing most guys do when they, ahem, can't sleep?”

Now look at me. Do I came off like an idiot to you? Frankly I am insulted that you have asked me such a question! Of course I have given it a thought! A copious amount of thoughts, as a matter of fact.

But I didn't.

Instead I blogged.

Sublimating is the word.

Blogging, in itself, is a form of public masturbation.

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The Home Theater Idiot Stole Our Christmas Cheer

Imbeciles populate every corner of the universe, this we know. We do not deny their right to inhale our communal supply of (polluted) oxygen but hey, can they at least do everyone a favor by self-detonating at my mere will?

(The Holiday Grouch, is that you? LOL.)

Excuse the outburst/rant in the previous paragraph. I do not intend to dampen your holiday cheer by coming off as a sour bunch of grated nerves hell-bent on swallowing the city whole.

I just can't help but get annoyed at a couple of dolts this afternoon and let me register (again) my pure disgust over people whose idiocy unquestionably qualify them for The Gas Chambers in the event there will be another massive genetic cleansing aimed exclusively at retards.

(Wow, I'm breathless. LOL.)

Here's what happened. After attending church services I hurtled towards the Bestseller's level of Galleria to scour for stuff to buy. Then I heard an unusual melange of instruments producing a very interesting/distinctive symphony. I froze on my tracks and casually peeked down towards the FoodCourt level where the cheerful music was leaking from and beheld a rapt orchestra on full swing.

The ensemble was The Poltytechnic University of the Philippine's (PUP) Banda Kawayan (An Orchestra using Bamboos as instruments.) I haven't attended any of the gig of the famous Las Piñas Bamboo Organ but this PUP troupe was sensational that I discarded the idea of thumbing through racks of books and went to the FoodCourt Level for a closer viewing/listening.

I have repeatedly said in the past that I have dorky tendencies to poke fun on all things cheesy, and the thought of listening to bamboo tubes farting off ballads would obviously qualify for warped hilarity in my book. But I was enraptured instead. The group, clad in in fantastic tribal weavings (but cut/designed in contemporary silhouette) played on with the same rhapsodic enthusiasm of majorettes on caffeine overdose and a toothpaste endorsement.

Did I say the PUP Bamboo Orchestra was sensational? I Did? Yeah, it's worth mentioning twice. They rendered forgotten Kundimans (Filipino traditional ballads/folk/love songs) peppered with exotic/ethnic takes on contemporary musical pieces and Christmas tunes and carols.

The jaded urban crowd who have heard endless loops of say, Jessica Simpson and Paris Hilton, shocked with the newness of of the jubilant sounds, responded with great appreciation.The young toddlers danced at the almost-heathen rendition of Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer while the older member of the gathered onlookers went bananas when Obladi-Oblada and Historia de Un Amor were played.

Heritage sounds like this, and the mere fact that they are brilliant but regrettably consigned to growing obscurity, only casts a glaring light of ineptitude on the Department of Culture's lack of commitment and foresight to preserve and promote ancestral forms of musical expressions.

Anyway before I digress further, let me relate that the whole performance was bordering towards the neighborhood of harmonious awesomeness. Then it happened!

The idiots manning the adjacent LG Collins/Samsung Display Booths cranked the mediocre home theater system's volume all the way up, playing clips from Spiderman, immediately drowning the jovial delights of the Bamboo Ensemble!

Many of us in the crowd of kibitzers turned towards the jerk's direction and glowered at him. Thanks to his impenetrable brains consisting of gravel and ignorance, our collective disgust slid off him like undercooked pasta on Teflon.

I was so aggravated and appalled by the deficiency of courtesy, the absence of sensible manners and the hideous lack of appreciation for good material. I wanted to drop kick his gums in but instead struggle to ignore his mighty insensitivity.

It's sad that those idiots manning the LG Collins/Samsung booths embody the foul realities of this fucked world:

If you can't win throught talent and reason, go for volume!

What total assholes. Heaven help them if I were the one in charged of afterlife dormitory accommodations.

They will be automatically given passports to the limbo with their ears perpetually clamped with humongous (but mediocre-sounding) LG Collins home theater speakers looping the ghoulish Celine Dion caterwauling the equally-hellish Titanic Theme until their brains ooze out of their nostrils.

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Serial Killers At Green Papaya

SERIAL
KILLERS

e x h i b i t

featuring serial/repetitive works by
BeaCAMACHO MarianoCHING LenaCOBANGBANG
LouieCORDERO GastonDAMAG JedESCUETA LyraGARCELLANO
NonaGARCIA DavidGRIGGS GeraldineJAVIER
RomeoLEE PowMARTINEZ DonnaMIRANDA
JonathanOLAZO GaryPASTRANA AngeloSUAREZ
GerardoTAN MariaTANIGUCHI WireTUAZON
GREEN PAPAYA Art Projects. Opens Dec6, closes Dec20.

GREEN PAPAYA ART PROJECTS
Unit 304 Sterten Place Condominium, 116 Maginhawa St., Teacher's Village East, Diliman, Quezon City, Philippines
phone/fax - [63 2] 927 3187
allery hours
9 AM to 5 PM Tuesday to Thursday
10 AM to 6 PM Friday and Saturday
Monday and Sunday by appointment only

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