Gwen / Garci
I just turned off the television, turned on my laptop, and connected to this virtual landscape. After hearing Lito Camo perform -- as an introductory song to Yes Yes Show! Lakas! -- his new song "Hello! Garci!," I smiled, awed and despaired. Why? Because he did it, again. Lito Camo did it, again.
Last year, I think, I wanted to make a song out of the street song "Bulaklak," but Lito Camo paced faster, and made that song for the Viva Hot Babes. Now, this "Hello! Garci!" song where he used the Gloriagate tape conversation of PGMA and Garci, punning, of course, and referring to Viva Hot Babes hottie Gwen Garci. Such a brilliant, brilliant man. I intended to make a poem using Gwen Garci as pun to the Garci tapes. But, hey, hey, hey, Lito Camo did it, again.
I am not surprised though. I shouldn't be. I shouldn't even be sour here, but he did it, again. So, that's for starters. Now, let me go to another Gwen -- Stefani this time. Last Sunday, I went to Quiapo to fish out from a sea of pirated DVDs some artsy-fartsy and Korean films. But the rain stopped me. So I turned my head to pirated audio CDs. I bought four titles: The Hotdog's "Greatest Hits," Rey Valera's "Maging Sino Ka Man," Green Day's "Warning + Greatest Hits," and Gwen Stefani's "Love Angel Music Baby."
Among the 13 tracks of Stefani's solo album, I like best the song "Rich Girl," not because I would want to be one, but I like the intro part which goes "Nananananana, nananana, nananana, nanana, nanana, nana..." It reminds me of blister and sores -- NANA -- that creamy fluid like condensed milk or condensada.
Anyway, I stayed inside our apartment in Tandang Sora the whole fucking day. I tried to go out but my flesh was / is so weak. My throat was dry and aching, and my temperature rose, just like when I watch porn movies, and just like when I have sex, of course. So much about this stingy stuff.
Back to Garci. The Congress motioned to subpoena Garci. The atmosphere in the said congressional hearing is so painstakingly long and absurd, with all those tight solons selfishly deciding on the faith of the Filipino people. At the forefront of this strenuous occasion, PGMA revels in the lie that everything's fine, even if her morality and political leadership are tarnished, so to speak. I watched, with the large head of guilt rearing, how people from various sectors and political sides amassed in Ayala. I envy them, and I am guilt-stricken, because I wasn't able to participate in the said mass mobilization because of this trangkaso.
But of course, there will be more mass mobilizations, especially that PGMA badly clings to her position and perennially annoys me and others by her sheer Tupperware-ness (read: plastic!). And how I so want to throw my ashtray at Mike Defensor speaking on national television, defending her beloved but begrudged Arroyo. To puke on him would not be a crime. And to kill him, of course, would be ridding the world of an evil henchman. Mike Defensor is one of the crudest and most nihilistic trapos (traditional politican) in the Philippine political arena.
CONTEND will be coming up with a publikasyong-iglap of poetry on the PGMA ouster. Submit your poems to manlabusaw@yahoo.com and/or mjbarrio@pldt.dsl.net. Deadline is on July 18. 2005, of course.
Last year, I think, I wanted to make a song out of the street song "Bulaklak," but Lito Camo paced faster, and made that song for the Viva Hot Babes. Now, this "Hello! Garci!" song where he used the Gloriagate tape conversation of PGMA and Garci, punning, of course, and referring to Viva Hot Babes hottie Gwen Garci. Such a brilliant, brilliant man. I intended to make a poem using Gwen Garci as pun to the Garci tapes. But, hey, hey, hey, Lito Camo did it, again.
I am not surprised though. I shouldn't be. I shouldn't even be sour here, but he did it, again. So, that's for starters. Now, let me go to another Gwen -- Stefani this time. Last Sunday, I went to Quiapo to fish out from a sea of pirated DVDs some artsy-fartsy and Korean films. But the rain stopped me. So I turned my head to pirated audio CDs. I bought four titles: The Hotdog's "Greatest Hits," Rey Valera's "Maging Sino Ka Man," Green Day's "Warning + Greatest Hits," and Gwen Stefani's "Love Angel Music Baby."
Among the 13 tracks of Stefani's solo album, I like best the song "Rich Girl," not because I would want to be one, but I like the intro part which goes "Nananananana, nananana, nananana, nanana, nanana, nana..." It reminds me of blister and sores -- NANA -- that creamy fluid like condensed milk or condensada.
Anyway, I stayed inside our apartment in Tandang Sora the whole fucking day. I tried to go out but my flesh was / is so weak. My throat was dry and aching, and my temperature rose, just like when I watch porn movies, and just like when I have sex, of course. So much about this stingy stuff.
Back to Garci. The Congress motioned to subpoena Garci. The atmosphere in the said congressional hearing is so painstakingly long and absurd, with all those tight solons selfishly deciding on the faith of the Filipino people. At the forefront of this strenuous occasion, PGMA revels in the lie that everything's fine, even if her morality and political leadership are tarnished, so to speak. I watched, with the large head of guilt rearing, how people from various sectors and political sides amassed in Ayala. I envy them, and I am guilt-stricken, because I wasn't able to participate in the said mass mobilization because of this trangkaso.
But of course, there will be more mass mobilizations, especially that PGMA badly clings to her position and perennially annoys me and others by her sheer Tupperware-ness (read: plastic!). And how I so want to throw my ashtray at Mike Defensor speaking on national television, defending her beloved but begrudged Arroyo. To puke on him would not be a crime. And to kill him, of course, would be ridding the world of an evil henchman. Mike Defensor is one of the crudest and most nihilistic trapos (traditional politican) in the Philippine political arena.
CONTEND will be coming up with a publikasyong-iglap of poetry on the PGMA ouster. Submit your poems to manlabusaw@yahoo.com and/or mjbarrio@pldt.dsl.net. Deadline is on July 18. 2005, of course.
posted by mykel andrada @ 11:33 PM
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