I Beg Your Pardon?!

Pissed. That's the first thing I felt when I heard that GMA had pardoned Erap today. PISSED.

If she hopes that granting him executive clemency would benefit her somehow, would help move the nation forward (To where? Oblivion?), she's so mistaken. EDSA Dos, Erap's arrest, EDSA Tres, the long-winded trial--all gone to waste. Why bother, after all? Putangina.

Oh I do hope she's prepared to face the consequences, if only for her sake. Whatever they will be, she will not have my sympathy (and truth to tell, she has lost it a loooooong time ago). Unlike Gerald Ford (who pardoned Nixon for his role in the Watergate scandal, resulting in the loss of his re-election bid), history will not look at her so favorably, especially for what she did today.

The way I'm feeling right now, I'm almost tempted to do a Howard Beale (True cinephiles know what I'm taking about). Almost.

From Play to Poem

Talk about crossing genres, so to speak. On the way home from work today, I pleasantly stumbled upon this poem by Darwin Chiong while browsing through the latest issue of the Philippines Free Press. Having no talent at all for writing and analyzing poems, I have the greatest admiration for those who can.

For those who know me and the subject of Chiong's poem below, they (should) understand the reason for this post. My reaction after reading the poem? Cooooool.

If you're reading this, Darwin, hope you don't mind. And thanks. Ü


THOUGHTS AFTER WATCHING FIRST SNOW OF NOVEMBER AT CCP
AFTER BIENVENIDO N. SANTOS

by Darwin Chiong

I imagined sinuous bodies of streets swarmed with snow
Slowly sinking into a life, into slopes of memory, the cold
Crevices. Spaces where fireplace cannot warm
The freezing hands. In my mind the snow was whirling
And whirling around an old house in a shaken snow globe.

Fil Acayan looked out the window filled with snow
And wondered what else it could bring: an afterthought
Of autumn, naked branches, the dancers gliding
In the air like a snowflake when his fingers unfurl,
An open palm in the cold, white ghosts of trees.

He saw how their fingers parted the air. The dancers
Limned sway of bamboo leaves on their hips, slope
Of mountains on their shoulders, flap of bird wings
On their skirts. Each flick of their finger, a step
Into warm memories away from that cold country.

A whiteness spilled on the streets. But before that a sound
Of longing spooled on his tape. Then a growing hole of loneliness
Unravels within. How quickly snow turned to water on his palm,
Slipping through spaces between his fingers. When he walked,
I heard the cadence of footsteps, longing to find another way home.

(Published on page 36 in the October 13, 2007 issue of the Philippines Free Press).

A Playwright's Pet Peeve, Part Two

Almost two years ago, I wrote here about the annoying experience of having a play of mine being mounted not only without my knowledge, but also without my written permission.

Guess what? A while ago I experienced déjà vu when I stumbled onto www.teatrokanto.com. At the bottom of the page, it read: "The beneficiaries of these productions include the ABS-CBN Bantay Bata Foundation, GMA Kapuso Foundation, DZRH Operation Tulong Action Center, OWWA's Tuloy Aral Project, Lobo Batangas Elementary School and Nueva Ejica Operation Catarac. Tickets are 2,000 yen and will also be available at the gates."

I asked myself: Gano'n? At ako hindi? As of this writing, I have already typed a polite but firm letter addressed to the group's theater coordinator. I plan to send it first thing tomorrow.

Incidentally, our most recent Writers Bloc meeting dealt with the issue of demanding and securing royalties: how much for a short play? for a full-length? for how many shows? We also discussed our rights as dramatists: can a playwright actually prevent a theater group from staging his or her play during its run when there's no written permission? (The answer: YES) To paraphrase what the irrepressible Rene Villanueva said that time: "Wala nang hiya-hiya. Huwag na tayong mag-a la Nora Aunor." I totally agree; Filipino playwrights in general tend to reluctantly waive their rights because of hiya. Not only do they fail to get whatever that's due to him or her, they get exploited by some unscrupulous theater groups in the process. Well, no more. Aba, mahirap yata magsulat ng dula, tapos hindi babayaran ang pinaghirapan mo?! It all boils down to respect, really. Respect for the playwright, for the effort s/he had exerted in writing the play. When the meeting ended, all of us resolved to be more firm with our rights, to be more insistent about getting our dues, and to look for each other's welfare, hiya be damned.

And to those theater groups (amateur or professional, school-based and otherwise) thinking that they could get away with staging a play without permission? THINK AGAIN.