Day 79: How do you like to spend eternity hazing?

And so it comes to pass that our law students are going through the old and barbaric system of hazing again to initiate a member into fraternities. Hazing is an eternal recurrence — nobody knows who invented it, for what reason, and why people engage in it. It is probably as old and as returning as an army of soldiers assembled to defend a king. 

With the recurrence of this foolish practice, I am reminded of the Doctrine of Eternal Return. It is said that what you do on earth, you will do in eternity. It is the phenomenon that follows from the cyclical nature of time. Thus, every event in the universe, in all its details and in its whole cosmic context, will recur an infinite number of times in exactly the same way that it has already occurred an infinite number of times in the past. 

 I’ve often used the Doctrine of Eternal Return as a tool for discerning my actions.  Before doing something, I simply ask myself — is this action something that I can do in all eternity? In the Philippines, I’ve heard declarations that mirror this Doctrine as, for example, the saying “Ang nabuhay sa baril, sa baril din mamatay.” (Live with the gun, die with the gun.) On a lighter note, I’ve heard men professing their love to maidens and say, “Pakakasalan kita sa lahat ng simbahan.” (I will marry you in all the churches.) 

But to go back to hazing, I ask each prospective neophyte and senior frat members to think about this before they find themselves in a hazing incident again. Is hazing something you are happy to do forever?  There is no escaping the curse of eternal return — it is as certain as the sunrise and the sunset — you will be the hazer or the hazed for all eternity. And each death that occurs in a hazing has and will be occuring in an infinite number of times. If you even try hazing with a promise that you will never do it again, you will be engaging in wishful thinking  — for like the others before and after you, hazing will forever be in your fate. It will haunt your dreams. The vision of this madness will be on endless repeat mode in the Youtube playlist in your minds. 

We are all on this earth only for finite number of years.  And whatever we do in these years we will do infinitely. Is hazing really worth doing forever?

Day 78: Hope

"Master, why do we repeat our mistakes?"

asked the pupil to the Master.

The Master shook his head.

"We're no different from a dog with a piano.

There is a chance

it can play Moonlight Sonata

even as it keeps pounding 

the same keys."

Day 77: Purpose

“Master,” the pupil asked,

”does anything happen by chance?”

And the Master made a frown,

“When the universe speaks to you,

it is never superfluous;

everything,

like the dirt in your dog’s paw,

is the message.”

Day 76. The Wisdom of a Rat

Asked the pupil to the Master,

"Master, why is life so difficult?"

The Master looked at him and smiled.

"Try asking that to a rat," the Master said.

"It would probably say it doesn't mind, 

but you with your big brain,

you pester yourself with silly questions."

Bar Boys is a topnotcher

The danger in having a lawyer watch a film about law school is he might see things in the movie that aren’t there. Going through the maze of more than a  hundred years of law and jurisprudence while honing the legal 4Rs — reading, recitation, (w)riting, and (a)rithmetic, and being constantly subjected to an ultimatum, law or videogame cohorts, law or your girlfriend, law or your sick parent,  is an experience a lawyer is not inclined to repeat. There is a possibility that a film about law school will generate ghostly apparitions in the lawyer who went through the hard years and came out scarred but alive.

But I’d like to think I managed well, as I sat through Bar Boys, a film supposedly premised on the ultimate horror experience of law school, letting images and scenes trigger memories from the period in my 47 years on earth which I often describe as  being “on leave” from everything else. I was both laughing and teary-eyed at the shock of recognition upon being shown images of bundles of photocopied cases, markers, heavy volumes of law books, and the law school characters: the arrogant professor with a twisted-tounge, the violence of the frats, and the esoteric but crucial difference between the curve and the cut-off grading system. Indeed, Bar Boys delivers the authentic law school life. I have to check myself now — yes, all of those things were in the film.

Bar Boys is a story well told. It got an “A” rating from the Film Ratings Board, because  it is not a strung up gag show about law students, but a solid and coherent film about four young adults going through law school hell. 

There are at least four stories here finely woven into an easy running time of 71 minutes. Christian is the rich Harvard-bound looker with a perfectionist father and a displeased girlfriend. Toran is the fratman who becomes part of a hazing session that shakes his moral compass. Eric is the struggling son of a security guard who experiences the ultimate test of emotions, taking the bar exams while grieving the death of his father. And Joshua is the one that did not make it to law school; he probably ended up us the client.

The film is an adventure to the sub-realm of the legal world. In the process, the characters experience the heartless system that separates the elite group who makes it to the other side of the bar and those who are left to stay in the same side as the masses. The characters hurdle their own tests, often less about the law but more about themselves, and their friendship itself is tested at the climax of the film.  

Joshua, the non-lawyer among the leads, judges his friends, “mga nilamon na ng systema” (those who have been eaten by the system), reflecting the idealist lamentation of our lost hopes that we put on our lawyers and the legal system.  But what is the alternative to the legal system that we often complain about but the reckless and brutal authoritarianism and lawlessness of dictatorship? Hobbes be damned. The legal system centered on due process as an absolute is a great system. Oops, that one did not come from the film. Yet, Bar Boys pulls out Ranier Maria Rilke from the Book of Images  as a professor consoles the bar flunker close to the end of the film,  “The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.” So, fine,  we’ve been eaten by the system, but it is a damn great one.

I hope Bar Boys generates enough interest to break ground on a new film genre about the Filipino experience of the law. It is only through stories like these, well-told and entertaining, that we can reconcile with the alienation that most of us feel with the law and its disciples.

Day 75

Asked the pupil to the Master,

Is it good if the evil man

is killed by evil means?

And the Master replied,

Careful with your words.

To the eagle killing a snake,

the snake is the evil one;

to the snake,

it is the eagle.

Day 74: Tanong

May pilosopo ba

sa langit?

Kung nakita na ang

katotohanan,

at ang diwa ng kataga ay

ngayon at magpakailanman pa man,

kung ang misteryo

ng pag-ibig at pagkasuklam,

ng tapang at takot,

ng meron o wala

ay nasagot na,

ano na ang gawain ng

dating pilosopo sa lupa?

Kung wala,

dito na lang ako.

Mas maligaya ako

sa tanong kaysa

sagot.

Day 73: The Face Bandit

She enters the room

silently as a cat does

and murmurs to me

the accomplice to this task

that she wants

Pares Sais.

In this place,

breakfast is our guise,

covert is our goal.

She finds a spot

in the corner,

her eyes on fire,

hunting her prey;

she unpacks 

the charcoal on the table.

A look to the left and

her victim she finds.

Without  noise 

nor haste, she scalps

the broad outlines

of his nape; in sharp glances 

she catches the meekness

in his eyes, the sparkle of light

that bounces off the 

bones on his cheeks.

As her meal arrives,

she munches a bit

and washes it down with 

tea, but her eyes never

leave him and follow

his every pace.

She worries that he does not sit;

rages when he stooped to pick

a wayward paper that he flicks

to the basket of waste.

Patiently, she watches 

as he finally settles on his desk;

she seizes the moment 

to mark the dots and lines 

on the space.

It seemed the paper 

always bore his face and 

needed only her hand to blacken off 

the excess light. 

Quick strokes here and there,  

then it is time.

I approach him 

like a game master at the conclusion of a show.

Poor guard about to end his shift.

Please come to her table, 

she has something for you.

He scratches his head, 

leaves his bag on his chair, 

and walks to her.

Meet Lecaroz, I say, 

thank you for being here.

The portrait is yours.

In a few years, you might become rich.

Who knows?

And she shakes his hand,

and they take a picture,

the artist, the subject, and her art,

little man in a little joint

caught by the face bandit

until she strikes again.

Day 72. From a Legal Memorandum

Respondent can find as a many contradictions as he pleases with the irrevocable special power of attorney and the Memorandum of Agreement, mostly imagined than real. As the philosopher Jacques Derrida said, there is never a moment in language where meaning is definite. Words, especially legal words, are subject to interpretations of subtexts and contexts. Even the meaning of social justice is essentially contested. Yet, Respondent by signing the Memorandum of Agreement is prohibited from exploiting this basic fragility of the legal language. He is in fact duty bound to try to supply these nuances and bridge the spaces where words fail. Yet, by insisting on not drafting the irrevocable special power of attorney himself and choosing to nitpick on why and which provision of the irrevocable power of attorney is inconsistent with the Memorandum of  Agreement, he has hostaged the Project. He has chosen to filibuster, and for that he is in bad faith. That should never be countenanced in any modern justice system. 

Day 71. Karma is a hoax

One of the most fascinating songs of the Beatles is "The End" from their last album Abbey Road. The song is the last in a medley of sorts and is preceded by the Ringo Starr drum solo before the harmonized vocals sing, "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." John Lennon was proud of it as a sort of the group's contribution to philosophy, which he described as a cosmic equation. 

When I was old enough to understand it (which was really old), I realized it was about karma; you reap what you sow as the cliche goes. If you've been bad, bad things happen to you. To put it in a positive sense, if you've been good, good things happen to you. As John Lennon puts it, it is the mathematical equation of the universe. 

But it is not so if you're a Christian. Why -- because we didn't bring anything to the table. It's not equal; it's all God. And even if we've been bad, good things will still happen to us. In the same way that bad things also happen to the good people. God's forgiveness transcends our sense of morality. This helps explain the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which is revolting to the good people. Karma seems to come too late to the bad people, if at all. 

It's Good Friday today, a day when we commemorate the day when men executed the Christ. I put the Jesus Christ Superstar album on repeat in my Spotify playlist. No Beatles paganism today. Come to think of it, the mystery of Good Friday is we got away with it. Two centuries since the killing of Jesus Christ, God's Son, and humanity has not been abolished and continues to flourish. Karma is a hoax. 

Day 70: Animal Talk

Is greed an emotion?

asked the bull to the monkey.

The monkey shook his head, saying

Why do you ask silly questions? 

The bull

munched on grass

and said, my apologies my friend,

I wanted to tame it

like my anger.

Day 69: Fashion Mishaps by Chuang Tzu

Well pressed shirt

with purple tie

dimpled at the

middle where

the knot is —

a perfection taking

years to master, then

your pen blots it all, 

a dark patch of ink

turning your outfit

no different from a rug.

Lesser men will have 

their hearts melted

But greater ones will call it 

unfortunate without stammer 

or hiccups in their voices.

Day 67/68 Nietzsche the Clerk

You should have 

told me a day before

yesterday

if it was due

yesterday.

Power is

you with the bottle

of Scotch as I

miss dinner, tv, and

sleep,

imposing on

my time

what you cannot

impose on

yours.

Day 64/65/66: I missed a poem

yesterday, as I hopped from isle to isle

first stop Bulalacao, darling town of Mindoro; 

a thrilling ride on the hills overlooking the sea 

to be at a nestled resort haven for the peace-hungry;

my father of seventy declared how blessed he was to have lived to see this day, and we feasted on roasted pork crabs, and noodles. I sang John and Paul’s In My Life on the karaoke and rode the ship for Caticlan, gateway to the famous Boracay. At one hour past midnight I waited for dawn for my flight, Visayan chill I savored over ginger tea. My plane left as I looked

at the white and silver sands.  One of these days said I, I’ll be back and do more than see. In Manila, I arrived and joined the clan of hundreds, listened to Great Aristeo speak of Nanay Irene and Mamay Isko with ten children they lived with unsurpassed unity. Misty-eyed all who heard him speak and happy they came to hear and see. And I, who pledged in January to write verse everyday, I failed; all energy spent, no sleep for hours, and worried silly.  No poem can be as good as this day of revelry.  Life happens and we know love matters more, yes love matters more than all the poems, all the poems, that could ever be.

Day 63: Coffee Talk

We entered the cafeteria

unwelcomed by that smell of cow 

innards stewed in ginger.

You asked —  is there a 

difference in the conversation

over instant coffee vis-a-vis

the kind priced astronomically 

prepared in a French press

and served in pin-lighted 

polished wood interiors 

with tall chairs?

I’ve always thought musings

over brewed coffee are superior, 

you said — they’re better, relaxed,  

if not philosophical, compared to the cheap

fuzz-free sugar, coffee, cream

3-in-1, tit for tat.

As we stood to leave the table

finishing the quick in and out talk

over our cups

getting the business done in 

what is called short term 

give and take

I was ready to agree with you,

save for the fact that we never 

had it this good

in a coffee chain or 

hotel lobby which disproves

everything so far said.

Day 62. Variation on a Prayer #2

Dear Lord,

Let Thou be the ship,

whilst I be the sea. 

Amen

Day 61: Variation on a Prayer

Dear Lord,

Let thou be the train,

whilst I be the tracks. 

Amen

Day 60. Joseng Sisiw sa Manila

Tanong ni Joseng Sisiw 

sa batang eskwela —

May tula bang makikita

pagtayo mo sa kalsada

hawak ang pansahod ng barya,

trabaho’y sumenyas sa rumaratsada

ipahiwatig parating na tren o wala pa?

Sagot naman ng bata —-

Kay hirap ngang humanap 

sa buhay na sinapit.

Maaring umawit, magbilang, sumayaw,

 bago ang tren ay dumating. Ngunit

sa malamang sa hindi

tula ay wala sa kalyeng mainit.

Tumalima ang makata, eskwela ay biniro 

—Ay huwag hamakin, 

gawaing tapat at marangal. 

May galing din namang matatawag

sa hamak na hitsura,

galing sa pagkita

ng mailap na kuwarta. 

Day 59: Usapang Lasing

Walang rebolusyon,

wika ng isang namundok

sa kanyang dating

kasama sa kilusan.

Ang kapangyarihan

ay kakabit ng

katakawan; ang 

bayani noon,

punong malupit ngayon,

sabay lagok ng 

isang basong serbesa. 

Sagot ng kasama,

bakit ka pa umasa sa 

mga pangako ng libro?

Sa ‘king buhay, nakamit

ang pagbabago,

nang maging ama at

nag-alaga ng mag-ina,

tuloy tagay ng baso

at lagay ng yelo.

Tumahimik ang nauna,

Bakit nga ba, isip niya,

mas mahusay makinig

sa kausap na lasing

kaysa sa politiko sa Luneta?

Day 58: The Wrong Thing

Said the Master 

to his pupil,

Superman dying

is not a possibility 

any one likes to imagine.

The glory from saving 

the little child trapped in a fire

or Lois Lane captured by Lex Luthor’s

machine, even the cat stuck

in a tree — they too perish as their 

memories. What foolishness 

to believe that power 

is not fleeting, that order will not lead to 

disorder. Superman’s death is 

no different from that of a seedling;

Only time and space will

tell his bitter end. 

And the pupil replied,

So, what are we to do?

The Master answered,

Disengage your desire

to be like him. 

And the pupil shook his head,

All his life he dreamt 

of the wrong thing.

Day 57: The Man Who Cried Wolf

There is no wolf he cried

when asked about

the dismembered body

of the boy of four

his heart missing

his clawed face

all bloodied.

The villagers said,

the boy must have been 

a thief in his past life,

the witches came for

reckoning and took

his evil heart as offering.

Not long after, they found

a woman pregnant with a child

sprawling naked on the earth

her eyes gouged, the marks

of a beast’s great bites on her chest.

The man declared,

there is no wolf, I say.

It must have been the vultures,

the villagers declared,

this woman of ill-repute, dead like

her bastard child, must accept

her karmic fate.

And months since then,

the man confessed to the villagers

I’ve spent sleepless nights

my soul cries every moment

for the boy, the pregnant woman and her child —

I am the wolf.

But the villagers they said,

why should we believe you

you lying crap?

Leave us alone,

There is no wolf.

Day 56: Why your Dad is not in EDSA

Imagine if General Tadiar

channeled your Dad,

“Tadjak” they called him

fierce marine, trained to kill,

a sea of people barricading his tank

nuns holding flowers and rosaries

and on the radio -- 

Artemio, this is your Uncle Fred. Your Aunt Florence and I and all your cousins are here in Crame. Now, Boy, please listen to me

Make the right decision on the basis of evidence and intellect. Bear in mind, the future of this generation is at stake.

Ukininam! Your Dad would have said

The tanks roll, and he would 

have flattened them all,

heads, bodies, arms, and legs

the road glistening red

as he enters the gates.

Blood is his water, remember?

But the General knew better,

as he got out of the hatch

and embraced his uncle,

Yeah, he made a lot of uncles,

cousins, brothers, and sisters

that day. And your Dad,

who fondly calls the dictator his idol,

I bet he calls the General

bayot.

Day 55: Fr. Gomez Contemplates Sen. De Lima's Arrest

Dawn in the month of February

I walk uncertain 

what lies ahead

A leaf, I say,

doesn’t move without 

the will of the Creator; 

Zamora’s gone mad, 

Burgos rages.

I smiled to bless 

the children who 

kneel on my path. 

145 years hence 

and people remember 

the man who walks 

calmly to his death. 

The curse of tyrants it is 

to be the heroes of newspapers 

but the evil men of memory. 

Poor victims who suffer

their names be whispered fondly.

So, walk sweet Leila, 

Today, you go to jail;  

Forever, the best seat in history!

Day 54: Wika ng Maestro

Wika ng maestro—

Ang galing ng tagak

kung magtungo siya

sa tabing-dagat

hindi maaring wala

siyang huli

kung sumablay

man sa una

walang kiyemeng

susubok, babalik,

at muling tutuka

parang kinakatam

ang pandama 

sa bawat tuka

at sa ilang sandali

nadali na

ang agahan,

panlaman ng

tiyan.

Bakit ka matatakot,

kaya mo namang

maging tagak?

Day 53: Solved is the Mystery

Ay! Ay! Solved is the mystery!

The Mayor, the Mayor,

Lord and king  of the 

great city

who’s no way a sissy,

became our prexy

because God wants

us to see

you and me

what the Mayor

has done yeah

what the Mayor

has done yeah 

to God’s people

God’s poor people

of His beloved city.

It's God’s trap,

a Divine trap,

you give the Mayor

the country,

yeah crazy country,

so he will leave,

leave the city

Oh wow pearl city

God's precious one

of the parable,

Wow, great wisdom 

The city is free!

The city is free!

Bow down our heads

the great hand of God

the mighty hand of God

of history!

Day 52: Tatay Tatay

Tatay, tatay

huwag papatay

ng lamok

ay, ay, 

ay, away

insekto

Ay dugo 

palit buhay

Why? Why?


Why Tatay?

huwag papatay

ng baboy

Oy, oy, 

oy, gutom

ng tao

Di na lang 

maggulay

Why? Why?


Why Tatay?

huwag papatay

ng tao

O, o, 

o, init

lang ulo

Gago man 

ay tatay

din di ba?

din di ba?

Ha, ha, 

ha Tatay?

huwag papatay

Please. 

Day 51: My Wife, the Painter

My wife, the painter, 

says as she whips the

canvas with her brush — 

In Bhutan they fear the 

empty; evil creeps in &

fills it up the way 

darkness conquers

the sky as the sun

sets in the unsuspecting 

world. 

Entropy it is — I said, 

matter combusts

and scatters, the spaces,

like silence, mark the blasted.

And so, she continues --

to take up the palette

and draw on the wall

a castle on the mountain

the dance of the takins

a weave of colors,

is the act of the

free and righteous.

I bit my lips as I thought,

without speaking,

it is not like

the poet who

shelters the good

in silence.

Day 50: Judas phone

Your android won’t betray you

like the call that never came,

pm that denied your request, or

email that promised millions

from Nigeria. It is what it is.

Like the boyfriend you thought

was your boyfriend, turns out to be

a playmate who sends you a text that

you should separate just like that,

and the dream is over; 

so you turn to Instagram, 

a picture of you sprawling naked,

no scars from that episode. No lies. 

How can you accuse your 

android of such a thing? 

The palm-size gadget with no heart, 

but a traitor it is not.

Day 49: Ang Mananayaw ng Harlem

(Salin ng The Harlem Dancer ni Claude Mackay)

Tumawa ang nagpalakpakang kabataan kasama ang mga batang puta

At pinanood ang kanyang perpektong

katawan, may kalahating saplot sa pag-indak

Kanyang tinig ay parang tunog ng timpladong mga plauta

Hinihipan ng mga itim na manunugtog sa araw ng piknik

Umawit siya at sumayaw ng kaaya-aya at kalma

Sukbit ang kanyang magaang na gasa ng kanyang hugis

Sa aking tingin wari siya ay mayabang na umiindak na puno ng pawid

Na lalong gumanda sa paglisan ng unos

At sa kanyang malakayumanggi, 

abot-leeg, itim, at makintab na kulot

Ang marangya ay nahulog, naghagis ng barya bilang papuri

Ang mga namula na sa alak at laki-matang mga binata at kahit mga dalaga

Nilamon ang kanyang hugis sa sabik, madamdaming pagtitig;

Ngunit sa pagtingin sa kanyang mukhang may huwad na ngiti

Batid kong ang kanyang sarili ay wala sa kakaibang lugar na iyon. 

Day 48: Starts with the letter "G"

I am concerned about

the mangoes, I said

as my daughter 

lunged a spoon 

on its yellow flesh for lunch, 

why do we have them 

all year? We used to

have them from March to May

and they start to vanish

in June. How come 

they are sweeter than

before, not that I complain,

but are we allowed to 

do this - mess with the

fruit because we want

them more often or sweeter

than they can ever be?

Should somebody think

of turning them into blue,

do we still eat them,

call them mangoes?

She said, “Oh Tatay, 

It’s called technological

innovation. The great modern

work of genetic engineering.”

I smiled at her answer as she

left the table, and proud how

smart she’s been to reply to

my question. But I knew 

Chuang Tzu has a word for it, 

she would not like to hear.

DAY 47: How do you solve a problem like Regina

who walks the talk, and

talks and walks some more

a privileged life she left

to do her yoga

and teach poor children

in the slums of Kenya

where the toilet was awful

and water was scarce;

But she saved some

to clean her undies

You can’t fake 

that kind of life.

No you can’t.

No you can’t.

And then she came

to task big media

— protect the

planet where we live,

a losing cause for government

traded money for the mountain

and more money to let miners 

take what they can, do as they please.

But Regina she told miners

you’re going to die soon,

what are you going to do with your money?
Yeah, what are you going to do with 
your money when you’re dead,

so 

very 

dead?

You can’t fake 

that kind of life.

No you can’t.

No you can’t.

Then Duterte put her on the spot

in the office where they steward

this part of the planet, and she

asked them to clap as she came

to shoo away the bad vibrations.

They tried to bribe her like the

ones before her — How do you bribe

the one who volunteered for life 

in Africa instead of Forbes? How do you

bribe a yogi? Ha ha, Duterte gave you a puzzle you can’t solve. 
She’ll close the mines. She’ll cancel the contracts to protect our water, 

oh so very precious water getting scarce, 

leave some for your undies like Regina.

You can’t fake 

that kind of life.

No you can’t.

No you can’t.

How do you solve a problem like Regina?

”How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?”

 

Day 46: My Headache

with no name,

comes with

chilling sweat on the forehead,

thudding on the left temple

comes and goes, with

the rhythm of heartbeat,

sends a ripple

near the skin a few 

inches from the spine;

An amazement how

one part is connected,

like a boat

on a river on a holiday

with stations and stops.

The Greeks blamed Algea

for all their headaches

The Romans called them Dolores

But these folks surely missed,

only the living feel pain.