QUESTION NO. 5
Last best movie you saw. . . . and why?
Feb 25, 2003
Feb 17, 2003
TONIO AND THE BLUE LIGHT
Last Entry
The young Tonio was dressing up for work when he arrived. He explained that he has no more home to go to and asked if he would take him. His past-self agreed. And so it was settled. He was to live there for the rest of his remaining life.
The young Tonio later quit his job and had his own home built. After a year, he got married, settled down, and introduced the future Tonio as a long lost uncle.
The first year was a bliss. However after a few short years later, he found out that the girl he longed to marry before was not the angel she seemed. Often, he would see his past-self and Sonia arguing about money. The young Tonio, having had no education, could not find a job to maintain their status. They were losing more money than they were earning. He decided it was time to open the second envelope.
One morning, after a heated argument between the couple, he called young Tonio and encouraged him to buy lottery tickets. He said he was sure to win. Inside the envelope were three consecutive winning numbers that he copied from the library from the future. His young-self obliged. True to his words, they won. Now, they were richer than ever. But just like anyone who couldn't understand their own human nature, he did not expect the turn of events that he would forever curse.
The young Tonio first entertained the idea of putting him on a home for the aged as suggested by his wife. He had to admit that he was getting weaker all the time and had needed much more attention than before. They also left him with just a nurse when the family decided to go on a vacation abroad.
Tonio did not anticipate the deep hatred he had for his relatives. When he was a child, he blamed everyone for the death of his parents. He had to swallow that bitter pill called reality on an everyday basis. He could no longer enjoy the money they have since he was bitter; things are't just worth the way he wanted to.
He felt the treatment given to him was unfair. After all, he was the one responsible for the family's wealth. When the young Tonio came back, he decided to tell his past-self the truth.
The young Tonio, probably blinded by wealth or was it the innate greediness in him that he himself did not know, thought of his future-self as crazy, completely nuts.They simply wouldn't believe his story. He reasoned the lottery tickets as proof, young Tonio said it was just luck, a form of repayment for the harm done to his parents. Trying to convince his past-self over and over again, young Tonio got fed up.
Sonia and young Tonio decided to send him to a mental institution.
It was on a cold December morning when it was finalized. Tonio is no longer fit to stay at their home.
And what is the future Tonio to do? No one would believe his story and no one knows the truth. For them, there was no such thing such as a time machine. He was locked in a mental hospital. He himself even started believing that he was crazy. He never expected any of this to happen but it did. He could only explain that fate had played dirty tricks on him.
One night, in his cell, he shouted, "The tragedy of my life is nothing more than just a malicious joke from someone who created my existence."
He cried all night. In order to pacify him, he was permitted to roam the corridors. The next day, he was found dead, electrocuted while touching the bulb of a blue Christmas light.
Last Entry
The young Tonio was dressing up for work when he arrived. He explained that he has no more home to go to and asked if he would take him. His past-self agreed. And so it was settled. He was to live there for the rest of his remaining life.
The young Tonio later quit his job and had his own home built. After a year, he got married, settled down, and introduced the future Tonio as a long lost uncle.
The first year was a bliss. However after a few short years later, he found out that the girl he longed to marry before was not the angel she seemed. Often, he would see his past-self and Sonia arguing about money. The young Tonio, having had no education, could not find a job to maintain their status. They were losing more money than they were earning. He decided it was time to open the second envelope.
One morning, after a heated argument between the couple, he called young Tonio and encouraged him to buy lottery tickets. He said he was sure to win. Inside the envelope were three consecutive winning numbers that he copied from the library from the future. His young-self obliged. True to his words, they won. Now, they were richer than ever. But just like anyone who couldn't understand their own human nature, he did not expect the turn of events that he would forever curse.
The young Tonio first entertained the idea of putting him on a home for the aged as suggested by his wife. He had to admit that he was getting weaker all the time and had needed much more attention than before. They also left him with just a nurse when the family decided to go on a vacation abroad.
Tonio did not anticipate the deep hatred he had for his relatives. When he was a child, he blamed everyone for the death of his parents. He had to swallow that bitter pill called reality on an everyday basis. He could no longer enjoy the money they have since he was bitter; things are't just worth the way he wanted to.
He felt the treatment given to him was unfair. After all, he was the one responsible for the family's wealth. When the young Tonio came back, he decided to tell his past-self the truth.
The young Tonio, probably blinded by wealth or was it the innate greediness in him that he himself did not know, thought of his future-self as crazy, completely nuts.They simply wouldn't believe his story. He reasoned the lottery tickets as proof, young Tonio said it was just luck, a form of repayment for the harm done to his parents. Trying to convince his past-self over and over again, young Tonio got fed up.
Sonia and young Tonio decided to send him to a mental institution.
It was on a cold December morning when it was finalized. Tonio is no longer fit to stay at their home.
And what is the future Tonio to do? No one would believe his story and no one knows the truth. For them, there was no such thing such as a time machine. He was locked in a mental hospital. He himself even started believing that he was crazy. He never expected any of this to happen but it did. He could only explain that fate had played dirty tricks on him.
One night, in his cell, he shouted, "The tragedy of my life is nothing more than just a malicious joke from someone who created my existence."
He cried all night. In order to pacify him, he was permitted to roam the corridors. The next day, he was found dead, electrocuted while touching the bulb of a blue Christmas light.
Feb 16, 2003
TONIO AND THE BLUE LIGHT
Entry No. 4
"Right on schedule," he thought. This is the time when his past-self would come scrambling in the office to start his chores. He remembered clearly the lack of sleep he had during those days. After selling newspapers, he would then become a janitor.
"Stupid boy," he thought. "Doesn't he know that all the things he worked so hard for would be gone in an instant?"
"What took him nearly ten years to save would be gone in a matter of seconds," he sighed.
While waiting for his past-self, Tonio begun to imagine the endless possibilities and opportunities that he can offer himself on that instant. Clutching the check inside the suit, he also checked the envelope he brought from the future. It took him a hard time to get what's inside that packet. He had to enter the city library, checking out old archives of newspapers.
Standing outside the door of the building, he couldn't help but reminisce on the moments of his life. Up to now, he still remembers Sonia. He can still recall her small lips, soft eyelashes, and eyes that spoke. Everything about her was beautiful. For the first time in years, he again felt the pain brought about by a love that never transpired.
Tonio managed not to say hi to the guard whom was his friend in the past. "He was such a nice man," he thought.
The guard was about twenty years older then him then. But looking at him right now, it felt funny seeing that he is himself is older than the guard. A few moments later, he saw himself walk in. Would the Tonio of the past recognize him, he thought. Maybe not. His right leg was limping and he had grown accustomed to wearing a beard. The white on his hair was quite evident and the sparkle in his eyes were now gone.
He stared at himself when he was young. He couldn't believe how time changes a man. The energy emanating from his past-self and the eagerness to pursue a dream was what he saw in him. If he did not know what would happen, he might have felt proud.
Tonio watched his young-self enter the building, say hi to the guard, and then run for the stairs. He felt compelled to say to his past-self not to run because someone left a ballpoint at the stairs where he would eventually slip. And the young Tonio did. He now remembered quite clearly that that was where he got his scar on the left side of the cheek.
Yes, he said to himself. This is all true. This is not just a dream. Dr. Gonzalo's time machine works. He was in the past. He could see himself. He could touch his youngTonio if he wanted to. For once in his life, he also felt he had control.
He decided to stroll the city for a few hours. He ate a restaurant he couldn't afford before. Dr. Gonzalo had indeed planned everything. He had stacks of old cash which he would later give to his past-self as well as with the check. He went to the mall and actually bought something. He went to most places he failed to see when he was young because he had no money. He felt free.
When it was almost seven o' clock in the evening, Tonio decided to go to the town plaza to see himself sell cigarettes and stuff. He sat near the waiting shed where he knew he would have a better view of his younger-self. A few minutes later, young Tonio arrived.
It's the same routinely things he did. Looking at himself working like a horse and thinking of the latter past of his life, he felt pity for himself. He almost cried if not for the people around him. The pain of the past kept springing-up and the ache he went through crept like a cold wind covering his body. Again, flashes from the past, his childhood, the orphanage, and up to the day he had an accident flooded him. He got up, went to the nearest hotel and felt his tear drop during the rest of the night.
"Tomorrow would be different," he promised.
After a restless night, Tonio decided that it was time to change his past. Today would be the day where he and his past life would finally reach their dreams. It was time to get the comforts out of life. It was also the time to change history.
Putting on the clothes he bought yesterday, he made his way through the same office building he first visited. He had a plan cooked up. He would tell his past-self that he was a long lost relative and that the purpose of his visit was to make up for the cruelty endowed him by his relatives. He would also give him the check worth a million pesos and do more than that. He would also give him the second envelope if chance would permit.
It was not that hard to do. He found himself curios and courteous at the same time. His past-self agreed to meet with him during the morning break. They went to a restaurant and told his past-self to order whatever it was that he wanted. He also showed him the check.
They later went to a bank. The disbelief in his young-self turned into deep gratitude. Tonio told young Tonio that he could do anything with the money. He also told him that he might want to get married and this would solve the issue regarding finance. He advised that he must at least learn some trade and encouraged young Tonio to study. In short, he told him everything he dreamt of when he was young.
The young Tonio, somewhat still bewildered by the events that transpired, offered him to stay. He said he'd take care of him and they could both enjoy the luxuries of life. He said he'd think about it and went back to the hotel.
It was another sleepless night. The offer made was a hard one to resist. After thinking that he'd go back to the same state he left in the future, he was really torn between going back where he'll forever remain poor. By the time the sun was setting, he went to the park to witness the blue light. It was his gate back to his own time.
At the park, he stared at the tree beside him while waiting. Then suddenly, a blue light appeared from nowhere. It was time.
As he was about to enter the portal, Tonio saw a bum not that far away. He was dressed in the same clothes that he had only it's too dirty. The bum looked like him. Suddenly, he was afraid. What if what he was seeing was his future? Would this be the same fate he would have? Maybe it was more than the fear of being left out in the streets, or the thought of forever enduring poverty that he stepped back. Tonio ran to the place where young Tonio lived. He forever missed the chance to go back to his own time.
Entry No. 4
"Right on schedule," he thought. This is the time when his past-self would come scrambling in the office to start his chores. He remembered clearly the lack of sleep he had during those days. After selling newspapers, he would then become a janitor.
"Stupid boy," he thought. "Doesn't he know that all the things he worked so hard for would be gone in an instant?"
"What took him nearly ten years to save would be gone in a matter of seconds," he sighed.
While waiting for his past-self, Tonio begun to imagine the endless possibilities and opportunities that he can offer himself on that instant. Clutching the check inside the suit, he also checked the envelope he brought from the future. It took him a hard time to get what's inside that packet. He had to enter the city library, checking out old archives of newspapers.
Standing outside the door of the building, he couldn't help but reminisce on the moments of his life. Up to now, he still remembers Sonia. He can still recall her small lips, soft eyelashes, and eyes that spoke. Everything about her was beautiful. For the first time in years, he again felt the pain brought about by a love that never transpired.
Tonio managed not to say hi to the guard whom was his friend in the past. "He was such a nice man," he thought.
The guard was about twenty years older then him then. But looking at him right now, it felt funny seeing that he is himself is older than the guard. A few moments later, he saw himself walk in. Would the Tonio of the past recognize him, he thought. Maybe not. His right leg was limping and he had grown accustomed to wearing a beard. The white on his hair was quite evident and the sparkle in his eyes were now gone.
He stared at himself when he was young. He couldn't believe how time changes a man. The energy emanating from his past-self and the eagerness to pursue a dream was what he saw in him. If he did not know what would happen, he might have felt proud.
Tonio watched his young-self enter the building, say hi to the guard, and then run for the stairs. He felt compelled to say to his past-self not to run because someone left a ballpoint at the stairs where he would eventually slip. And the young Tonio did. He now remembered quite clearly that that was where he got his scar on the left side of the cheek.
Yes, he said to himself. This is all true. This is not just a dream. Dr. Gonzalo's time machine works. He was in the past. He could see himself. He could touch his youngTonio if he wanted to. For once in his life, he also felt he had control.
He decided to stroll the city for a few hours. He ate a restaurant he couldn't afford before. Dr. Gonzalo had indeed planned everything. He had stacks of old cash which he would later give to his past-self as well as with the check. He went to the mall and actually bought something. He went to most places he failed to see when he was young because he had no money. He felt free.
When it was almost seven o' clock in the evening, Tonio decided to go to the town plaza to see himself sell cigarettes and stuff. He sat near the waiting shed where he knew he would have a better view of his younger-self. A few minutes later, young Tonio arrived.
It's the same routinely things he did. Looking at himself working like a horse and thinking of the latter past of his life, he felt pity for himself. He almost cried if not for the people around him. The pain of the past kept springing-up and the ache he went through crept like a cold wind covering his body. Again, flashes from the past, his childhood, the orphanage, and up to the day he had an accident flooded him. He got up, went to the nearest hotel and felt his tear drop during the rest of the night.
"Tomorrow would be different," he promised.
After a restless night, Tonio decided that it was time to change his past. Today would be the day where he and his past life would finally reach their dreams. It was time to get the comforts out of life. It was also the time to change history.
Putting on the clothes he bought yesterday, he made his way through the same office building he first visited. He had a plan cooked up. He would tell his past-self that he was a long lost relative and that the purpose of his visit was to make up for the cruelty endowed him by his relatives. He would also give him the check worth a million pesos and do more than that. He would also give him the second envelope if chance would permit.
It was not that hard to do. He found himself curios and courteous at the same time. His past-self agreed to meet with him during the morning break. They went to a restaurant and told his past-self to order whatever it was that he wanted. He also showed him the check.
They later went to a bank. The disbelief in his young-self turned into deep gratitude. Tonio told young Tonio that he could do anything with the money. He also told him that he might want to get married and this would solve the issue regarding finance. He advised that he must at least learn some trade and encouraged young Tonio to study. In short, he told him everything he dreamt of when he was young.
The young Tonio, somewhat still bewildered by the events that transpired, offered him to stay. He said he'd take care of him and they could both enjoy the luxuries of life. He said he'd think about it and went back to the hotel.
It was another sleepless night. The offer made was a hard one to resist. After thinking that he'd go back to the same state he left in the future, he was really torn between going back where he'll forever remain poor. By the time the sun was setting, he went to the park to witness the blue light. It was his gate back to his own time.
At the park, he stared at the tree beside him while waiting. Then suddenly, a blue light appeared from nowhere. It was time.
As he was about to enter the portal, Tonio saw a bum not that far away. He was dressed in the same clothes that he had only it's too dirty. The bum looked like him. Suddenly, he was afraid. What if what he was seeing was his future? Would this be the same fate he would have? Maybe it was more than the fear of being left out in the streets, or the thought of forever enduring poverty that he stepped back. Tonio ran to the place where young Tonio lived. He forever missed the chance to go back to his own time.
Feb 15, 2003
TONIO AND THE BLUE LIGHT
Entry No. 3
Because of the incidents, Tonio was more determined than ever to succeed. He took poverty as a curse that he must break free from. He worked doubly hard.
At four, he would have already waken-up to distribute newspapers at stalls. By six, he would walk to the office where he worked as a messenger and as a janitor. He would also sell candies and cigarettes at the basement floor to to augment his income. By 5 pm, he would then be selling aside, from candies, balut, penoy, and other native delicacies. On Saturdays and Sundays, he would take out garbage for the rich, act as a gardener, or take any odd jobs that he might find. By the time he was thirty, he had saved a decent amount of money to start a small sari-sari store that he thought his future wife could manage. Somehow, he felt secure.
However, whether it was fate that played dirty tricks on him or it really was a curse sent out to haunt him, his simple dream was extinguished in an instant. Selling cigarettes and balut and penoy one night, basket at hand, he did not notice a speeding car as he was about to cross a street. It him hard on the right leg. It almost crippled him. It was a beautiful luxury car, one that Tonio dreamt of owning one day. Luckily, someone saw the incident and rushed him to the hospital. It was Dr. Gonzalo, a scientist that would help him change his life forever.
Dr. Gonzalo did more than just save Tonio's life. His right leg was almost crushed. He now needs a splint for support to help him walk. The money he saved wasn't even enough to cover all the hospital bills. He was thirty, finding another job with his condition would prove to be very difficult.
Dr. Gonzalo came to the rescue. He offered Tonio a job doing household chores. He also shouldered the rest of the bills that he needed to pay.
The good doctor lived in a mansion beyond the outskirts of the city. Tonio later found out that Dr. Gonzalo was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He also learned that he was not a medical doctor but a physicist. On his house he has a lab, which he seemed to work on night and day. Inherently an academician, Dr. Gonzalo had devoted his life researching and discovering. Being super rich, he did not have to work at all. Plus, there were grants coming from different institutions that enabled him to work freely. Night and day, Tonio would hear weird noises coming from the lab.
Knowing very well his situation in life, Tonio tried to return the kindness the scientist have shown him. He served him loyally, making sure that his meals were hot, that his home was well kept, and that he was at his disposal if ever he needed him. A friendship found on servant and master was soon formed. Tonio was allowed to live with the doctor and was trusted with some of the secrets of the house.
During midnight, when Tonio would bring food to the lab, they were able to talk mostly about each other's lives. Most of the time, the scientist would tell him about the wonderful machine that he was working on. It was also on one of these talks that the scientist found out about the famished past he had, the way he worked hard to reach his dream, then falling over and over back again to poverty. He also told him about his being a volunteer orphan. When asked by Dr. Gonzalo what his greatest dream was, he said that it was to become rich. No matter what Tonio did, he could not help but entertain the thought of being more than well to do.
For almost twenty years, this has been the life of the two. The scientist devoted his life building this mysterious machine while Tonio served him faithfully. They were both past fifty by this time. Then one day, Dr. Gonzalo called Tonio inside the lab. Here, the scientist asked him a very serious question: a question that would change his destiny.
The machine seemed to be finished although there was one final step that was needed to be done. It needs to be tested on a human to see if it works. Being the prototype that it was, there were no guarantees on the consequences posted. There was also no assurance on the safety of the subject. The machine Dr. Gonzalo had spent countless moments with is a time machine. It is now finished with the final step waiting.
Dr. Gonzalo explained all of this to the now ageing Tonio. He asked Tonio what his biggest dream was and how he could make it possible to come true. Tonio had flashbacks of his youth. Thinking that finally he would be able to cheat the miserable life he had, he agreed that he would test the machine with himself if the scientist would help him device a plan that would eventually make him rich.
Tonio reasoned that since they were both old, they could not be held liable to any consequence the disturbance of the time frame might produce. They also reasoned that they were dying and the risk Tonio would take would be little as compared to this amazing discovery.
Both of them then worked on the plan. Tonio was to be transported back to the time when he was still twenty-four. There, he must observe himself for one day to find out if the machine had really transported him back in time. Dr. Gonzalo provided a cash check, written on an old checkbook, worth one million pesos. Tonio was to slip this check to his past-self. Tonio's dream would finally come true.
By the third day, Tonio must go to the park inside the city and sit beside a bench to wait for a blue light. This would be his gate to come back home to his own time. The plan was as simple as that. The bargain included the money that Tonio knew he wouldn't enjoy, but his other self would. And this bothered him. Because of this, he made a plan of his own.
When the day of the plan arrived, Tonio went to the lab dressed in a fine suit Dr. Gonzalo gave him. After wishing each other luck and hugging like old friends do, Tonio went inside the machine. There he sat and waited. A few minutes later, a blue light appeared. He felt strange sensations swimming across his body. He felt he was being deformed.
After what seemed to be like an eternity, Tonio woke-up. He was at the park where Dr. Gonzalo told him where he would be. Scrambling to get-up, he brushed the dirt from his suit and started to walk towards the office he used to work at, exactly twenty-eight years in the past. It was early morning, about six-thirty.
Entry No. 3
Because of the incidents, Tonio was more determined than ever to succeed. He took poverty as a curse that he must break free from. He worked doubly hard.
At four, he would have already waken-up to distribute newspapers at stalls. By six, he would walk to the office where he worked as a messenger and as a janitor. He would also sell candies and cigarettes at the basement floor to to augment his income. By 5 pm, he would then be selling aside, from candies, balut, penoy, and other native delicacies. On Saturdays and Sundays, he would take out garbage for the rich, act as a gardener, or take any odd jobs that he might find. By the time he was thirty, he had saved a decent amount of money to start a small sari-sari store that he thought his future wife could manage. Somehow, he felt secure.
However, whether it was fate that played dirty tricks on him or it really was a curse sent out to haunt him, his simple dream was extinguished in an instant. Selling cigarettes and balut and penoy one night, basket at hand, he did not notice a speeding car as he was about to cross a street. It him hard on the right leg. It almost crippled him. It was a beautiful luxury car, one that Tonio dreamt of owning one day. Luckily, someone saw the incident and rushed him to the hospital. It was Dr. Gonzalo, a scientist that would help him change his life forever.
Dr. Gonzalo did more than just save Tonio's life. His right leg was almost crushed. He now needs a splint for support to help him walk. The money he saved wasn't even enough to cover all the hospital bills. He was thirty, finding another job with his condition would prove to be very difficult.
Dr. Gonzalo came to the rescue. He offered Tonio a job doing household chores. He also shouldered the rest of the bills that he needed to pay.
The good doctor lived in a mansion beyond the outskirts of the city. Tonio later found out that Dr. Gonzalo was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He also learned that he was not a medical doctor but a physicist. On his house he has a lab, which he seemed to work on night and day. Inherently an academician, Dr. Gonzalo had devoted his life researching and discovering. Being super rich, he did not have to work at all. Plus, there were grants coming from different institutions that enabled him to work freely. Night and day, Tonio would hear weird noises coming from the lab.
Knowing very well his situation in life, Tonio tried to return the kindness the scientist have shown him. He served him loyally, making sure that his meals were hot, that his home was well kept, and that he was at his disposal if ever he needed him. A friendship found on servant and master was soon formed. Tonio was allowed to live with the doctor and was trusted with some of the secrets of the house.
During midnight, when Tonio would bring food to the lab, they were able to talk mostly about each other's lives. Most of the time, the scientist would tell him about the wonderful machine that he was working on. It was also on one of these talks that the scientist found out about the famished past he had, the way he worked hard to reach his dream, then falling over and over back again to poverty. He also told him about his being a volunteer orphan. When asked by Dr. Gonzalo what his greatest dream was, he said that it was to become rich. No matter what Tonio did, he could not help but entertain the thought of being more than well to do.
For almost twenty years, this has been the life of the two. The scientist devoted his life building this mysterious machine while Tonio served him faithfully. They were both past fifty by this time. Then one day, Dr. Gonzalo called Tonio inside the lab. Here, the scientist asked him a very serious question: a question that would change his destiny.
The machine seemed to be finished although there was one final step that was needed to be done. It needs to be tested on a human to see if it works. Being the prototype that it was, there were no guarantees on the consequences posted. There was also no assurance on the safety of the subject. The machine Dr. Gonzalo had spent countless moments with is a time machine. It is now finished with the final step waiting.
Dr. Gonzalo explained all of this to the now ageing Tonio. He asked Tonio what his biggest dream was and how he could make it possible to come true. Tonio had flashbacks of his youth. Thinking that finally he would be able to cheat the miserable life he had, he agreed that he would test the machine with himself if the scientist would help him device a plan that would eventually make him rich.
Tonio reasoned that since they were both old, they could not be held liable to any consequence the disturbance of the time frame might produce. They also reasoned that they were dying and the risk Tonio would take would be little as compared to this amazing discovery.
Both of them then worked on the plan. Tonio was to be transported back to the time when he was still twenty-four. There, he must observe himself for one day to find out if the machine had really transported him back in time. Dr. Gonzalo provided a cash check, written on an old checkbook, worth one million pesos. Tonio was to slip this check to his past-self. Tonio's dream would finally come true.
By the third day, Tonio must go to the park inside the city and sit beside a bench to wait for a blue light. This would be his gate to come back home to his own time. The plan was as simple as that. The bargain included the money that Tonio knew he wouldn't enjoy, but his other self would. And this bothered him. Because of this, he made a plan of his own.
When the day of the plan arrived, Tonio went to the lab dressed in a fine suit Dr. Gonzalo gave him. After wishing each other luck and hugging like old friends do, Tonio went inside the machine. There he sat and waited. A few minutes later, a blue light appeared. He felt strange sensations swimming across his body. He felt he was being deformed.
After what seemed to be like an eternity, Tonio woke-up. He was at the park where Dr. Gonzalo told him where he would be. Scrambling to get-up, he brushed the dirt from his suit and started to walk towards the office he used to work at, exactly twenty-eight years in the past. It was early morning, about six-thirty.
Feb 14, 2003
SONNET ATTEMPT
(para sa 'yo. kilala mo kung sino ka)
Ask not my heart for I would not forgot
The light in your eyes, the world you let me see
When the day sleeps remember me not
Where on the road have lead you to me.
Who can say what the heart does speak
As we count the moments of our everyday
For life is a mystery we seek
One can pray and yet run away.
Like the wind passing by my window
Or the ceiling I stare at before I sleep
Not all that is left would be my shadow
And the memories I would forever keep.
Weep not for you should know
On each passing time, how much I love you so.
(para sa 'yo. kilala mo kung sino ka)
Ask not my heart for I would not forgot
The light in your eyes, the world you let me see
When the day sleeps remember me not
Where on the road have lead you to me.
Who can say what the heart does speak
As we count the moments of our everyday
For life is a mystery we seek
One can pray and yet run away.
Like the wind passing by my window
Or the ceiling I stare at before I sleep
Not all that is left would be my shadow
And the memories I would forever keep.
Weep not for you should know
On each passing time, how much I love you so.
TONIO AND THE BLUE LIGHT
Entry No. 2
When he was around 16-years old, he decided to step outside the orphanage. Being used to the hardships of life, Tonio entered odd jobs from being a janitor to messenger to a newspaper vendor. Being taught the religious ways, he did not engage in any illegal activities though he gambled a little. He was desperate. He wanted a better life when he discovered the lottery.
Playing the lottery provided him more than just a chance to win. For him, it also gave him a sense of freedom to dream. Like what would he do if he won this amount? He would spend countless hours daydreaming of that day. He wanted so much in life. He figured that he could get these things if he had money.
Tonio met a young girl at one of the offices he had worked for. He quickly fell in love with her, though knowing that it would be next to impossible for her to take his love seriously. He started courting the girl by leaving flowers at her desk every morning; much to her pleasant surprise. He would also try to write love letters though the grammar is not that good. He was content with just doing these things. But one day, the girl found out who he really was. He was turned down right away. The boss, fearing that he might do something stupid like stalk the young girl, fired him at once.
And this was not the first time he was turned down. In fact, it was a series of heartbreaks that almost made him crazy.
Then there was Sonia.
Sonia gave him hope that he is capable of loving and being loved. She was different from the rest of the girls she knew. She works at the place where Tonio was the janitor. It may sound unbelievable but she accepted Tonio for what he was. In fact, she did more than that. She reciprocated the love he gave her. For Tonio, it was the happiest moment of his life. With this feeling at hand, he believed that nothing could go wrong.
But this is not so.
After more than three months of a rather blissful relationship, Sonia was sent by her parents abroad refusing to accept Tonio. He was poor. They said that he was not worthy of the love Sonia would give. He was poor. They said that their daughter has no future being with him. He was poor.
They simply couldn't accept him.
Entry No. 2
When he was around 16-years old, he decided to step outside the orphanage. Being used to the hardships of life, Tonio entered odd jobs from being a janitor to messenger to a newspaper vendor. Being taught the religious ways, he did not engage in any illegal activities though he gambled a little. He was desperate. He wanted a better life when he discovered the lottery.
Playing the lottery provided him more than just a chance to win. For him, it also gave him a sense of freedom to dream. Like what would he do if he won this amount? He would spend countless hours daydreaming of that day. He wanted so much in life. He figured that he could get these things if he had money.
Tonio met a young girl at one of the offices he had worked for. He quickly fell in love with her, though knowing that it would be next to impossible for her to take his love seriously. He started courting the girl by leaving flowers at her desk every morning; much to her pleasant surprise. He would also try to write love letters though the grammar is not that good. He was content with just doing these things. But one day, the girl found out who he really was. He was turned down right away. The boss, fearing that he might do something stupid like stalk the young girl, fired him at once.
And this was not the first time he was turned down. In fact, it was a series of heartbreaks that almost made him crazy.
Then there was Sonia.
Sonia gave him hope that he is capable of loving and being loved. She was different from the rest of the girls she knew. She works at the place where Tonio was the janitor. It may sound unbelievable but she accepted Tonio for what he was. In fact, she did more than that. She reciprocated the love he gave her. For Tonio, it was the happiest moment of his life. With this feeling at hand, he believed that nothing could go wrong.
But this is not so.
After more than three months of a rather blissful relationship, Sonia was sent by her parents abroad refusing to accept Tonio. He was poor. They said that he was not worthy of the love Sonia would give. He was poor. They said that their daughter has no future being with him. He was poor.
They simply couldn't accept him.
Feb 13, 2003
TONIO AND THE BLUE LIGHT
Entry No. 1
Tonio would do anything to get himself out of poverty. In the place where he grew-up, orphanages are almost non-existent. In fact, the reason why he grew-up in one was because he admitted himself there. When his father died because of tuberculosis, he and his mother had to live with their relatives. Shortly thereafter, her mother also died on what appears to be deep remorse. His aunt was reluctant to take him having six children of her own. So, it was agreed upon that he would be passed year to year to the different relatives of his mother. As far as he could remember, it felt like hell.
One of her aunts would make her work at a bakery even though he was barely seven years old. He would wake-up even before the sun sets in. He could not attend school. He was often transferred from place to place; his relatives passing him like a ball unaware of the deep scars they have embedded within him.
One of his relatives would shout curses at him for making the slightest mistake. They would often say that it is better to keep a pig than someone like him. Then there was an uncle who would make him beg for alms. The earnings he would make would be used to buy alcoholic drinks instead of the things he badly needed. At the young age he was in, he knew that something was wrong. With nothing to lose, he decided to run away.
The first few months was a nightmare for as long as he can remember. Things have finally changed when he saw an orphanage. He asked the nuns to take him in and he explained why. With the drab clothes he had, it was not hard to believe him. They accepted him on the condition that he would help take care of the much smaller kids. And so he stayed. Frankly, it was not that different from his life with his relatives. The only difference is that on the orphanage, he learned how to read and write, as well as the other basic things.
He worked hard to earn his keep though deep inside Tonio's little heart, there was nothing more than his wish to become rich. He would often see wealthy people donate something for the orphanage. He would stare in awe on how these people dress well, how civilized they act, and how they seem to have so much that they can still give to others large amounts of money. He envied them. Even in his prayers, he would ask God for him to become rich.
But Tonio also wanted more. He wanted to become rich more than anyone else, because he saw that money was the only way he could be free.
Entry No. 1
Tonio would do anything to get himself out of poverty. In the place where he grew-up, orphanages are almost non-existent. In fact, the reason why he grew-up in one was because he admitted himself there. When his father died because of tuberculosis, he and his mother had to live with their relatives. Shortly thereafter, her mother also died on what appears to be deep remorse. His aunt was reluctant to take him having six children of her own. So, it was agreed upon that he would be passed year to year to the different relatives of his mother. As far as he could remember, it felt like hell.
One of her aunts would make her work at a bakery even though he was barely seven years old. He would wake-up even before the sun sets in. He could not attend school. He was often transferred from place to place; his relatives passing him like a ball unaware of the deep scars they have embedded within him.
One of his relatives would shout curses at him for making the slightest mistake. They would often say that it is better to keep a pig than someone like him. Then there was an uncle who would make him beg for alms. The earnings he would make would be used to buy alcoholic drinks instead of the things he badly needed. At the young age he was in, he knew that something was wrong. With nothing to lose, he decided to run away.
The first few months was a nightmare for as long as he can remember. Things have finally changed when he saw an orphanage. He asked the nuns to take him in and he explained why. With the drab clothes he had, it was not hard to believe him. They accepted him on the condition that he would help take care of the much smaller kids. And so he stayed. Frankly, it was not that different from his life with his relatives. The only difference is that on the orphanage, he learned how to read and write, as well as the other basic things.
He worked hard to earn his keep though deep inside Tonio's little heart, there was nothing more than his wish to become rich. He would often see wealthy people donate something for the orphanage. He would stare in awe on how these people dress well, how civilized they act, and how they seem to have so much that they can still give to others large amounts of money. He envied them. Even in his prayers, he would ask God for him to become rich.
But Tonio also wanted more. He wanted to become rich more than anyone else, because he saw that money was the only way he could be free.
Feb 12, 2003
Feb 8, 2003
THE PUNCHLINE IS AT THE END
Last Entry
Wednesday came. He took extra-efforts to make himself look good on that particular day. He even went to a barber for a quick haircut and a shave. He was extra-careful while he ironed his suit.
“Tonight,” he said, “would be the best performance of my life.”
Bert smiled at the mirror. He then made a heinous laugh that sent the birds from his window fly with terror.
----------------------------------------------
“What’s with the balloons?” the stage manager asked.
“You’ll see,” and he smiled that hideous smile.
“This better be good Bert. Your ass is on the line tonight.”
He ignored him. He scanned the crowd.
"A high turn-out tonight,” he said. “Good. Very good.”
The usual program started and before it was even twelve, he was introduced by the emcee. Entering the stage with balloons at one hand, he looked like a clown.
“What’s this, a children’s party?” someone from the crowd shouted. There was laughter.
Bert snickered. Dancing without any coherent steps, he gave the heckler a balloon. He also gave the rest of the audience a balloon for each table.
“Here’s the deal,” he began. “For every joke you don’t find funny, you would have to blow up a balloon.”
The audience agreed. They thought it was part of the act. Someone said if they could take the balloon home. He replied that they could not because there’s something special in it.
“Let’s begin, alright,” he said. “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
The audience answered back. “To get to the other side.”
A man at the front table said, “Can I now blow up this balloon? I’ve heard that before.” There was laughter, but Bert wasn’t really listening.
“Why did my girlfriend have to leave for Japan?” he asked.
“Because your dick is too small,” shouted someone at the back. There was hysterical laughing from his group.
“Wrong,” he shot back. “Okay, you may now blow-up the first balloon.” He pointed at the drunken man at the middle of the crowd. He was holding the biggest balloon.
The man raised his head and asked the lady beside him for a hairpin. “Anyway, your joke is not funny.”
With that, he blew up the first balloon. But instead of air or helium inside the balloon, it was laughing gas. As soon as the gas reached the nostrils of the drunkard on the closed club, there was uncontrollable laughter.
“I’m just making sure that the boss’ orders are fulfilled.”
He was beginning to get real angry. He knew that the people around him would be in his control. He then reached for a small microphone at the stage and also the gas mask he had prepared. He stuck the mike inside the mask. He went centerstage and sat aton its edge.
“Now let me continue with my performance. A lot of you may be wondering why I’m wearing this mask. As I’ve said, this would be the biggest performance of my life. I promise that all of you would laugh,” he told the audience.
“By the way, if you would all please prick the fucking balloons I gave you.”
Not really knowing what’s happening, the crowd complied. Suddenly, there was laughing gas everywhere.
“Oh,” he said, “I added a little something special on those toys.”
He was referring to the liquid inside some of the balloons. He half-filled some of them with pig’s blood and urine. So you could imagine that amidst the laughter caused by the laughing gas, blood and urine splattered all over the floor, and on people’s dresses.
But all of them were laughing hysterically.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” said one of the female customers. She was also screaming at the same time. “There’s blood all over me. Get me out of here. Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Despite her laughter, there were tears in her eyes.
Some people started to get up and were heading for the door. Bert drew a gun. “Not this time assholes. Either you let me finish with my act or I shoot.” He was pointing his revolver at the door of the club. In his eyes were menace never seen before on his otherwise smiling feature.
People were afraid but it was masked by the filth and the laughter.
“You’re crazy,” said one man.
“Please let us go,” cried the other.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” tears were falling down on the face on that someone who was laughing.
“Now let me finish,” he pointed his gun. The audience sat on their seats; with terror on their faces, scared and confused. They tried to listen to him.
“I see you’re all in the mood tonight,” Bert continued. “Let me tell you the story of my life. Let me tell you the circumstances that made me what I am today. Things that made me do whatever it is I am doing right now.”
Roars of laughter echoed from the crowd.
“Good,” he continued. “You see, I always wanted to be a policeman. My parents were damn too poor to send me to high school. I became a stand-up comedian because instead of crying like most of you people do, I laughed at my life. I hated my childhood. Damn! My brothers beat me up. My parents never took notice of me. The day I ran away from home, no one even looked for me. No one loved me except Emma.”
“I’m sure you know what I mean. The simple things that she does. I terribly miss her. It’s like a song, really. The way she looks in the mirror to check for pimples and stuff. Girl thing. The way she opens the door to give me that warm smile.”
Bert was silent for a moment. He then continued.
“There were times when she would hold my hand for no apparent reason. I remember one time that she cried over a movie we saw on TV. I laughed at her. It took me two hours to appease her. But now,” he paused “neither the power of poetry nor a love song, not even the strength and sweetness of a flower can bring her back to me. Is it a matter of choice? I just know that I have lost her.”
“Fuck, I sound like a poet,” he laughed but tears were falling on his eyes.
Suddenly, one man stood up and ran for the door. Bert aimed at the door and fired a shot. He did not aim at the man but it him in the back.
“Oh yes! I’m also a sharp shooter. I practice with pellet guns. Now there are only four bullets left. I tell you, I itch to use all of them.”
He stood up. The crowd who tried to scream had let out a roar of laughter. The laughing gas was still in effect. The club smells of urine and blood.
“Why did Emma have to leave for Japan, I ask you?” He slowly took off the gasmask from his face. Just a little longer, he was also laughing hysterically.
“I love her more than anything else in this God forsaken world! No one loved me more than she did. . . .” he began to cry and to laugh along with the crowd. He knelt at the center of the stage. He drew up his gun and shot in the air.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!” three bullets were heard. He then pointed his revolver at his forehead. “Laugh at my life!” He squeezed the trigger and felt dizzy inside. He was thrown unconscious to the floor.
EPILOGUE
It turned out that the last bullet did not fire. He lost consciousness suffocating from lack of oxygen. He was later turned over to the police. He went to prison for homicide and a couple of other charges. The city mayor closed down the club.
One day, a postman arrived at the club carrying a bag of letters, all for Bert. It seemed that the post office had a problem delivering his mail because someone on the other side of the street has the same name and surname as he has. By the time the letter was returned to the post office then sent out again for delivery, well, we all know what happened. Just as the postman, after seeing the establishment closed, walked towards his service motorcycle, a beggar approached him.
“Why did the postman cross the road?” the man in dirty clothes asked.
“To get to the other side,” the postman answered.
“To deliver letters, of course,” said the beggar.
The postman shrugged. He heard that joke before but not on that light.
"
The guys at the post office was right,” he thought. “You could really find the funniest people on this side of town.”
Last Entry
Wednesday came. He took extra-efforts to make himself look good on that particular day. He even went to a barber for a quick haircut and a shave. He was extra-careful while he ironed his suit.
“Tonight,” he said, “would be the best performance of my life.”
Bert smiled at the mirror. He then made a heinous laugh that sent the birds from his window fly with terror.
----------------------------------------------
“What’s with the balloons?” the stage manager asked.
“You’ll see,” and he smiled that hideous smile.
“This better be good Bert. Your ass is on the line tonight.”
He ignored him. He scanned the crowd.
"A high turn-out tonight,” he said. “Good. Very good.”
The usual program started and before it was even twelve, he was introduced by the emcee. Entering the stage with balloons at one hand, he looked like a clown.
“What’s this, a children’s party?” someone from the crowd shouted. There was laughter.
Bert snickered. Dancing without any coherent steps, he gave the heckler a balloon. He also gave the rest of the audience a balloon for each table.
“Here’s the deal,” he began. “For every joke you don’t find funny, you would have to blow up a balloon.”
The audience agreed. They thought it was part of the act. Someone said if they could take the balloon home. He replied that they could not because there’s something special in it.
“Let’s begin, alright,” he said. “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
The audience answered back. “To get to the other side.”
A man at the front table said, “Can I now blow up this balloon? I’ve heard that before.” There was laughter, but Bert wasn’t really listening.
“Why did my girlfriend have to leave for Japan?” he asked.
“Because your dick is too small,” shouted someone at the back. There was hysterical laughing from his group.
“Wrong,” he shot back. “Okay, you may now blow-up the first balloon.” He pointed at the drunken man at the middle of the crowd. He was holding the biggest balloon.
The man raised his head and asked the lady beside him for a hairpin. “Anyway, your joke is not funny.”
With that, he blew up the first balloon. But instead of air or helium inside the balloon, it was laughing gas. As soon as the gas reached the nostrils of the drunkard on the closed club, there was uncontrollable laughter.
“I’m just making sure that the boss’ orders are fulfilled.”
He was beginning to get real angry. He knew that the people around him would be in his control. He then reached for a small microphone at the stage and also the gas mask he had prepared. He stuck the mike inside the mask. He went centerstage and sat aton its edge.
“Now let me continue with my performance. A lot of you may be wondering why I’m wearing this mask. As I’ve said, this would be the biggest performance of my life. I promise that all of you would laugh,” he told the audience.
“By the way, if you would all please prick the fucking balloons I gave you.”
Not really knowing what’s happening, the crowd complied. Suddenly, there was laughing gas everywhere.
“Oh,” he said, “I added a little something special on those toys.”
He was referring to the liquid inside some of the balloons. He half-filled some of them with pig’s blood and urine. So you could imagine that amidst the laughter caused by the laughing gas, blood and urine splattered all over the floor, and on people’s dresses.
But all of them were laughing hysterically.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” said one of the female customers. She was also screaming at the same time. “There’s blood all over me. Get me out of here. Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Despite her laughter, there were tears in her eyes.
Some people started to get up and were heading for the door. Bert drew a gun. “Not this time assholes. Either you let me finish with my act or I shoot.” He was pointing his revolver at the door of the club. In his eyes were menace never seen before on his otherwise smiling feature.
People were afraid but it was masked by the filth and the laughter.
“You’re crazy,” said one man.
“Please let us go,” cried the other.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” tears were falling down on the face on that someone who was laughing.
“Now let me finish,” he pointed his gun. The audience sat on their seats; with terror on their faces, scared and confused. They tried to listen to him.
“I see you’re all in the mood tonight,” Bert continued. “Let me tell you the story of my life. Let me tell you the circumstances that made me what I am today. Things that made me do whatever it is I am doing right now.”
Roars of laughter echoed from the crowd.
“Good,” he continued. “You see, I always wanted to be a policeman. My parents were damn too poor to send me to high school. I became a stand-up comedian because instead of crying like most of you people do, I laughed at my life. I hated my childhood. Damn! My brothers beat me up. My parents never took notice of me. The day I ran away from home, no one even looked for me. No one loved me except Emma.”
“I’m sure you know what I mean. The simple things that she does. I terribly miss her. It’s like a song, really. The way she looks in the mirror to check for pimples and stuff. Girl thing. The way she opens the door to give me that warm smile.”
Bert was silent for a moment. He then continued.
“There were times when she would hold my hand for no apparent reason. I remember one time that she cried over a movie we saw on TV. I laughed at her. It took me two hours to appease her. But now,” he paused “neither the power of poetry nor a love song, not even the strength and sweetness of a flower can bring her back to me. Is it a matter of choice? I just know that I have lost her.”
“Fuck, I sound like a poet,” he laughed but tears were falling on his eyes.
Suddenly, one man stood up and ran for the door. Bert aimed at the door and fired a shot. He did not aim at the man but it him in the back.
“Oh yes! I’m also a sharp shooter. I practice with pellet guns. Now there are only four bullets left. I tell you, I itch to use all of them.”
He stood up. The crowd who tried to scream had let out a roar of laughter. The laughing gas was still in effect. The club smells of urine and blood.
“Why did Emma have to leave for Japan, I ask you?” He slowly took off the gasmask from his face. Just a little longer, he was also laughing hysterically.
“I love her more than anything else in this God forsaken world! No one loved me more than she did. . . .” he began to cry and to laugh along with the crowd. He knelt at the center of the stage. He drew up his gun and shot in the air.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!” three bullets were heard. He then pointed his revolver at his forehead. “Laugh at my life!” He squeezed the trigger and felt dizzy inside. He was thrown unconscious to the floor.
EPILOGUE
It turned out that the last bullet did not fire. He lost consciousness suffocating from lack of oxygen. He was later turned over to the police. He went to prison for homicide and a couple of other charges. The city mayor closed down the club.
One day, a postman arrived at the club carrying a bag of letters, all for Bert. It seemed that the post office had a problem delivering his mail because someone on the other side of the street has the same name and surname as he has. By the time the letter was returned to the post office then sent out again for delivery, well, we all know what happened. Just as the postman, after seeing the establishment closed, walked towards his service motorcycle, a beggar approached him.
“Why did the postman cross the road?” the man in dirty clothes asked.
“To get to the other side,” the postman answered.
“To deliver letters, of course,” said the beggar.
The postman shrugged. He heard that joke before but not on that light.
"
The guys at the post office was right,” he thought. “You could really find the funniest people on this side of town.”
Feb 7, 2003
THE PUNCHLINE IS AT THE END
Entry No. 3
Two months have passed since Emma left for Japan. Bert received neither a letter nor a call. He would have been worried sick if not for a friend who told him that Emma’s doing fine. The friend told him that she received a letter from Emma. Wondering why he did not receive one, he just tried to convince himself that maybe she’s still adjusting to her new work. Maybe she’s busy. These are the thoughts that crossed his mind. As hard as he might want to believe, he knew that he was lying to himself.
Bert’s performance has been deteriorating along with his hope that he would personally hear from Emma. One day, his boss warned him, again, to “clean up his act.” Fewer customers laughed at his jokes and fewer attended his shows. At times, he would pause in the middle of the performance as if he forgot his next line. Then one night, try as he did to become funny, he was booed by the crowd; something that he had experienced for the very first time.
From the back of the stage and into the dressing room, he could hear his boss shouting curses at him.
“What the hell is fucking wrong with you!” the stage manager cursed.
Somehow, he couldn’t care less. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket.
“Just one more performance for you,” the stage manager was leaning on the mirror of his dressing room. “You know how things are.
Just one more performance. Next Wednesday, you better be funny or you’ll be losing your job.”
“What’s the catch?” he asked, acting indifferent about the whole matter.
“The catch is, you must make everyone, including me, laugh at your jokes. I can’t let you work here unless you do your job. And that’s final,” his boss slammed the door behind him. Bert sat inside the dressing room for almost three hours before he came out of the club.
He felt numb, confused - but he had a plan.
Instead of practicing for his performance on Wednesday, he went to a friend who makes balloons. There, he revealed what he wanted to happen. At first, his friend hesitated on the favor he is asking. Bert explained that the plan would save his job. After a lot of convincing and reasoning, his friend agreed with a condition that he would not be responsible for anything.
What was on Bert’s mind then? He felt that fate is pushing him to his limits. He felt that destiny is playing a very cruel joke on him. Down on his luck, the departure of Emma pushed buttons inside him that even he did not know existed. As he felt the heat rising from his arm, he formed a fist. He threw a punch in the air. He was angry.
Bert knew that he must do something otherwise he’d go crazy. The balloons were just part of his plan. His plan was to avenge his fate. His plan was to explode his anger amidst all the laughter.
Entry No. 3
Two months have passed since Emma left for Japan. Bert received neither a letter nor a call. He would have been worried sick if not for a friend who told him that Emma’s doing fine. The friend told him that she received a letter from Emma. Wondering why he did not receive one, he just tried to convince himself that maybe she’s still adjusting to her new work. Maybe she’s busy. These are the thoughts that crossed his mind. As hard as he might want to believe, he knew that he was lying to himself.
Bert’s performance has been deteriorating along with his hope that he would personally hear from Emma. One day, his boss warned him, again, to “clean up his act.” Fewer customers laughed at his jokes and fewer attended his shows. At times, he would pause in the middle of the performance as if he forgot his next line. Then one night, try as he did to become funny, he was booed by the crowd; something that he had experienced for the very first time.
From the back of the stage and into the dressing room, he could hear his boss shouting curses at him.
“What the hell is fucking wrong with you!” the stage manager cursed.
Somehow, he couldn’t care less. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket.
“Just one more performance for you,” the stage manager was leaning on the mirror of his dressing room. “You know how things are.
Just one more performance. Next Wednesday, you better be funny or you’ll be losing your job.”
“What’s the catch?” he asked, acting indifferent about the whole matter.
“The catch is, you must make everyone, including me, laugh at your jokes. I can’t let you work here unless you do your job. And that’s final,” his boss slammed the door behind him. Bert sat inside the dressing room for almost three hours before he came out of the club.
He felt numb, confused - but he had a plan.
Instead of practicing for his performance on Wednesday, he went to a friend who makes balloons. There, he revealed what he wanted to happen. At first, his friend hesitated on the favor he is asking. Bert explained that the plan would save his job. After a lot of convincing and reasoning, his friend agreed with a condition that he would not be responsible for anything.
What was on Bert’s mind then? He felt that fate is pushing him to his limits. He felt that destiny is playing a very cruel joke on him. Down on his luck, the departure of Emma pushed buttons inside him that even he did not know existed. As he felt the heat rising from his arm, he formed a fist. He threw a punch in the air. He was angry.
Bert knew that he must do something otherwise he’d go crazy. The balloons were just part of his plan. His plan was to avenge his fate. His plan was to explode his anger amidst all the laughter.
Feb 6, 2003
THE PUNCHLINE IS AT THE END
Entry No. 2
Bert and Emma were engaged to get married next year. After getting off from work at the club, he would enter this cafeteria that opens at three in the morning. This is where Emma works. After a couple of times that Bert ate at the place, he noticed this waitress who had small lips, delicate jaws, full breasts and eyes that actually smiled. He found her very attractive, scolding himself a couple of times because he hadn’t noticed her before. With a simple ‘good morning’ that later turned to ‘hello’, a relationship was formed. He asked where she lived and got off at work earlier so he can fetch her at the cafeteria. To make the story short, they became a couple.
Emma quit her job because of a new opportunity waiting for her. It’s been a week now. She’s waiting for another week and she’d be off to Japan.
Bert argued with her, not giving his permission for Emma to work overseas. He had heard of tales of women being dragged into prostitution. He could not accept her reason that it all depends on the individual involved.
“If you have faith in me and trust me,” she said, “then you’d let me go. I’ll be a waitress there. The same job I had the day you first saw me. I’d only be earning bigger.”
With that, he shut up. He knew that he would never win the argument. He also knew that she needed the money to help her folks back at the province. Bitter to his taste, he accepted the fact that they might not get married next year, or ever for that matter.
Reaching Emma’s apartment, Bert went straight to their room. He found her sleeping. He got dressed and did not wake her up. As he sat beside the bed, she murmured, “You’re early.”
“The show finished early,” he reasoned.
“Could you get me a glass of water,” she was half-awake.
Bert went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Coming back, Emma was packing some of her clothes. She’s been doing that for a week now, packing things that she said she’d bring to Japan. He lay in bed. When she was finished, she also went to bed and cuddled beside him.
“Bert,” she said, “Before I go away, I would like you to do me a favor.”
“What is it?” somehow he could not find some sleep.
“First of all,” she said while leaning on his chest, “I don’t want you to cry.”
Like all instances when he is not sure of his answer, he was silent.
“Second,” she continued, “I want you to be always happy for me.”
He did not know what to say. He just nodded.
“Promise me that,” Emma sounded pleading and commanding.
“Okay, I promise,” Bert finally managed to say.
During the rest of the night, they did not face each other while lying in bed. Both of them pretended to be asleep.
Entry No. 2
Bert and Emma were engaged to get married next year. After getting off from work at the club, he would enter this cafeteria that opens at three in the morning. This is where Emma works. After a couple of times that Bert ate at the place, he noticed this waitress who had small lips, delicate jaws, full breasts and eyes that actually smiled. He found her very attractive, scolding himself a couple of times because he hadn’t noticed her before. With a simple ‘good morning’ that later turned to ‘hello’, a relationship was formed. He asked where she lived and got off at work earlier so he can fetch her at the cafeteria. To make the story short, they became a couple.
Emma quit her job because of a new opportunity waiting for her. It’s been a week now. She’s waiting for another week and she’d be off to Japan.
Bert argued with her, not giving his permission for Emma to work overseas. He had heard of tales of women being dragged into prostitution. He could not accept her reason that it all depends on the individual involved.
“If you have faith in me and trust me,” she said, “then you’d let me go. I’ll be a waitress there. The same job I had the day you first saw me. I’d only be earning bigger.”
With that, he shut up. He knew that he would never win the argument. He also knew that she needed the money to help her folks back at the province. Bitter to his taste, he accepted the fact that they might not get married next year, or ever for that matter.
Reaching Emma’s apartment, Bert went straight to their room. He found her sleeping. He got dressed and did not wake her up. As he sat beside the bed, she murmured, “You’re early.”
“The show finished early,” he reasoned.
“Could you get me a glass of water,” she was half-awake.
Bert went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Coming back, Emma was packing some of her clothes. She’s been doing that for a week now, packing things that she said she’d bring to Japan. He lay in bed. When she was finished, she also went to bed and cuddled beside him.
“Bert,” she said, “Before I go away, I would like you to do me a favor.”
“What is it?” somehow he could not find some sleep.
“First of all,” she said while leaning on his chest, “I don’t want you to cry.”
Like all instances when he is not sure of his answer, he was silent.
“Second,” she continued, “I want you to be always happy for me.”
He did not know what to say. He just nodded.
“Promise me that,” Emma sounded pleading and commanding.
“Okay, I promise,” Bert finally managed to say.
During the rest of the night, they did not face each other while lying in bed. Both of them pretended to be asleep.
Feb 5, 2003
THE PUNCHLINE IS AT THE END
Entry No. 1
The only thing on Bert’s mind right now is a wish that he’d be able to survive another night of performance without breaking down. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulder as he straightened his American suit. His girlfriend once asked him if he ever felt that what he’s doing is more than a job, but a mission.
“The task of making people laugh is no small deal,” she would often say smiling. “It’s not a laughing matter.”
He admires the way his girlfriend believes in him. More often than not, she would have more faith in him than he himself does. He would reply that it really is no big deal; he’s a performer like any other person who performs as a source of income. Like a singer that people pay to sing, or an instrument player that people pay to see them play, his medium is just different from the rest. The goal and job description still remains the same: entertain the audience.
He checked on his face on the mirror of the dressing room. He knew that the paleness emanating from his face is not because of the face powder he’s required to put on. It’s like a mask or a make-up to stand-up in the crowd, to make him more noticeable in the spotlight. His hands were also sweating profusely, an involuntary sign of nervousness he has since he was a child. The sweat from his eyebrows were dripping like he’s about to go into war without a gun. It all punctuates his fear.
But what is he afraid of? He has done this more than a couple of times, each with successful results. The fact that he no longer feels funny is what he’s most afraid of.
The stage manager knocked on the dressing room. “Ten minutes,” he yelled.
He stood and went to the backstage. There, he scanned the audience. There were about a hundred guests or so tonight. It is a large crowd compared to the previous nights. And this does not include the waiter, and the women whom you could ask to keep you company (GRO’s or guest relation officers).
“A hundred drunkards,” he thought. He willed that everything would be fine. Wiping the sweat from his palm, he inhaled deep. Feeling the pocket of his suit, he felt the cigarette sticks he knew he would need.
The dance number is almost over. Scrambling on the stage was the emcee.
“Let’s give them a big hand of applause,” the emcee yelled.
“And now, for the kind of entertainment that this club has been known for,” he continued. “Someone to tickle our funny bones. Someone who could also tickle your fancy.”
The audience laughed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, here he is. The funny and the witty, fresh from a sanitarium in the north,” the audience again laughed. “Bert ‘The Punchline’ Salinas!”
There were applauses from the crowd especially from the waiters and the GRO’s. It a conspiracy actually. To make the customers feel that that the performance is great, the first ones to laugh at a joke or clap at an introduction are the GRO’s. It helps, he has to admit. It sets the mood. Though tonight, it made him more nervous.
“The expectation would be higher,” he thought.
Frantically waving his hands, he entered the stage. As part of the routine, he would chase the spotlight, which would deliberately avoid him. He would chase it down the stage then the spotlight would settle on a customer. Holding a microphone with one hand he would shout, “Hey you’ve got the wrong guy.”
He would sit right next to the startled audience and say, “I guess I haven’t started yet and you think you could take away my job,” all part of the act, he would look serious to the delight of the crowd.
“What?” he would start making fun of the customer under the spotlight, “So you think you’re funny? If holding the hand of the lady beside you from under the table is funny, I think you’re wife must know. Welcome to candid camera”
People would then reciprocate with laughter as well as the customer whom the practical joke was on. He would then say, “Fix the light. I need to work here, Mac,” referring to the lightman. The spotlight would then fix on him. “Thank you sir. What a lovely company you have.”
He would then go back to the stage, pretending to trip at the stairs. More laughter. On centerstage, he would perform the act he’s been practicing in the mirror for the last few weeks. Every week, there must be some new materials to present otherwise it would be the same thing over and over again. He prepares very hard for every performance. He’s an amateur compared to stand-up comedians who made it big on television. Frankly, he’s confused on whether he’d like to have this job as a career. He’s twenty-six. He feels that he’s just playing with time. He’d still be able to make his dreams come true.
The pressure mounting on him to become funnier on each performance is taking its toll on him. He’s running out of funny situations that he could think of. Add these to the fact that there are problems that he must face, like everyday living for example. With all these things running on the back of his mind, he felt that the audience’s laughter is not the same as the first day of his act.
He was a very good comedian. He could stand on the stage to crack jokes for thirty minutes or so, not tiring, unwavering. His audience being part of his jokes, always complied to the punchlines he had. He was witty. He could think of a funny line in an instant. But tonight, he only performed for twenty minutes. He felt he was suffocating. Loosening the collar of his suit, he inhaled for clean air but got cigarette smoke instead.
“I guess that’s all folks,” he said. “You’ve been a great audience. You’ve ensured my pay for the week.” He was smiling.
Entering the dressing room, the stage manager followed him. He was a big and burly man. He was not smiling.
“There are some folks that wants you to join them in the lounge,” his boss said.
“Not tonight,” he replied.
“I’m gonna be frank with you. I did not like your performance. There were too many bashing. Hell, these people came here to relax not be harassed.”
“They found it funny, didn’t they?”
“That’s not the kind of entertainment we want to show here. What? You want to start a reputation?”
Bert pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and started to smoke.
“I’m giving you time to clean your act,” it was a warning, an ultimatum and an order at the same time. “I’ll cut you off the list and don’t even think if I can do that or not.”
The stage manager got off the room. Bert stood in silence. He knew that there had been too many insults he had thrown at the audience. He also knew that next time, people might not find it funny. He got dressed and went to the bar. After taking two cans of beer, he declined an invitation from one of the customers to join them. Excusing that he’s got to go somewhere, he started towards his girlfriend’s apartment.
Entry No. 1
The only thing on Bert’s mind right now is a wish that he’d be able to survive another night of performance without breaking down. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulder as he straightened his American suit. His girlfriend once asked him if he ever felt that what he’s doing is more than a job, but a mission.
“The task of making people laugh is no small deal,” she would often say smiling. “It’s not a laughing matter.”
He admires the way his girlfriend believes in him. More often than not, she would have more faith in him than he himself does. He would reply that it really is no big deal; he’s a performer like any other person who performs as a source of income. Like a singer that people pay to sing, or an instrument player that people pay to see them play, his medium is just different from the rest. The goal and job description still remains the same: entertain the audience.
He checked on his face on the mirror of the dressing room. He knew that the paleness emanating from his face is not because of the face powder he’s required to put on. It’s like a mask or a make-up to stand-up in the crowd, to make him more noticeable in the spotlight. His hands were also sweating profusely, an involuntary sign of nervousness he has since he was a child. The sweat from his eyebrows were dripping like he’s about to go into war without a gun. It all punctuates his fear.
But what is he afraid of? He has done this more than a couple of times, each with successful results. The fact that he no longer feels funny is what he’s most afraid of.
The stage manager knocked on the dressing room. “Ten minutes,” he yelled.
He stood and went to the backstage. There, he scanned the audience. There were about a hundred guests or so tonight. It is a large crowd compared to the previous nights. And this does not include the waiter, and the women whom you could ask to keep you company (GRO’s or guest relation officers).
“A hundred drunkards,” he thought. He willed that everything would be fine. Wiping the sweat from his palm, he inhaled deep. Feeling the pocket of his suit, he felt the cigarette sticks he knew he would need.
The dance number is almost over. Scrambling on the stage was the emcee.
“Let’s give them a big hand of applause,” the emcee yelled.
“And now, for the kind of entertainment that this club has been known for,” he continued. “Someone to tickle our funny bones. Someone who could also tickle your fancy.”
The audience laughed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, here he is. The funny and the witty, fresh from a sanitarium in the north,” the audience again laughed. “Bert ‘The Punchline’ Salinas!”
There were applauses from the crowd especially from the waiters and the GRO’s. It a conspiracy actually. To make the customers feel that that the performance is great, the first ones to laugh at a joke or clap at an introduction are the GRO’s. It helps, he has to admit. It sets the mood. Though tonight, it made him more nervous.
“The expectation would be higher,” he thought.
Frantically waving his hands, he entered the stage. As part of the routine, he would chase the spotlight, which would deliberately avoid him. He would chase it down the stage then the spotlight would settle on a customer. Holding a microphone with one hand he would shout, “Hey you’ve got the wrong guy.”
He would sit right next to the startled audience and say, “I guess I haven’t started yet and you think you could take away my job,” all part of the act, he would look serious to the delight of the crowd.
“What?” he would start making fun of the customer under the spotlight, “So you think you’re funny? If holding the hand of the lady beside you from under the table is funny, I think you’re wife must know. Welcome to candid camera”
People would then reciprocate with laughter as well as the customer whom the practical joke was on. He would then say, “Fix the light. I need to work here, Mac,” referring to the lightman. The spotlight would then fix on him. “Thank you sir. What a lovely company you have.”
He would then go back to the stage, pretending to trip at the stairs. More laughter. On centerstage, he would perform the act he’s been practicing in the mirror for the last few weeks. Every week, there must be some new materials to present otherwise it would be the same thing over and over again. He prepares very hard for every performance. He’s an amateur compared to stand-up comedians who made it big on television. Frankly, he’s confused on whether he’d like to have this job as a career. He’s twenty-six. He feels that he’s just playing with time. He’d still be able to make his dreams come true.
The pressure mounting on him to become funnier on each performance is taking its toll on him. He’s running out of funny situations that he could think of. Add these to the fact that there are problems that he must face, like everyday living for example. With all these things running on the back of his mind, he felt that the audience’s laughter is not the same as the first day of his act.
He was a very good comedian. He could stand on the stage to crack jokes for thirty minutes or so, not tiring, unwavering. His audience being part of his jokes, always complied to the punchlines he had. He was witty. He could think of a funny line in an instant. But tonight, he only performed for twenty minutes. He felt he was suffocating. Loosening the collar of his suit, he inhaled for clean air but got cigarette smoke instead.
“I guess that’s all folks,” he said. “You’ve been a great audience. You’ve ensured my pay for the week.” He was smiling.
Entering the dressing room, the stage manager followed him. He was a big and burly man. He was not smiling.
“There are some folks that wants you to join them in the lounge,” his boss said.
“Not tonight,” he replied.
“I’m gonna be frank with you. I did not like your performance. There were too many bashing. Hell, these people came here to relax not be harassed.”
“They found it funny, didn’t they?”
“That’s not the kind of entertainment we want to show here. What? You want to start a reputation?”
Bert pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and started to smoke.
“I’m giving you time to clean your act,” it was a warning, an ultimatum and an order at the same time. “I’ll cut you off the list and don’t even think if I can do that or not.”
The stage manager got off the room. Bert stood in silence. He knew that there had been too many insults he had thrown at the audience. He also knew that next time, people might not find it funny. He got dressed and went to the bar. After taking two cans of beer, he declined an invitation from one of the customers to join them. Excusing that he’s got to go somewhere, he started towards his girlfriend’s apartment.
Feb 4, 2003
What to do? Oh what to do?
I’ve been rounding blogs on the net lately and I’m fascinated with the ideas of so many people. Much like the underground punk scene, there’s a community of bloggers willing to share their ideas. Basically, it’s largely an online diary where people could let others take a peek on their so-called life. It’s a great idea actually; a form of expression of another level.
For the past few months, I’ve been thinking a lot on how to make this blog “different.” The truth is, I did not take a hiatus or something. All the while, I was trying on how to concretize this “idea” I have.
First, there really isn’t much to say about me. There are times that I even find myself boring and lazy. I lack the discipline to keep-up with whatever ambitious project I have started. Unless of course there’s a big necessity, or it really perked my interest, I just slide things off for tomorrow. Carpe diem is not my style. I collect zzzzzzzzzz and take things slowly.
The first idea I had in mind was to make this blog a “Question and Answer” website. As it would turn out, this page would belong to the people who would answer the questions I would give. In essence, the questions would be about life in particular. Each day, I would think of a question that I myself might want to ask me. The comment link would serve as response dialogue box, and the tag board, the general comments about the site.
The second idea is more ambitious. I already have some “index cards” on the ideas that I would write; the only thing lacking is the actual writing. We have soap operas on the radio as well as on television. My idea is to do the same on this blog. It must contain all the elements found on a telenovela with little twists, which is basically my writing. The aim of this project is for me to discipline myself into writing at least one entry per two days. That way, I would be “forced” to write, write, write.
Or maybe I could do both. What do you think? The first idea or the second one, or both? Click your comments people. Thanks!
I’ve been rounding blogs on the net lately and I’m fascinated with the ideas of so many people. Much like the underground punk scene, there’s a community of bloggers willing to share their ideas. Basically, it’s largely an online diary where people could let others take a peek on their so-called life. It’s a great idea actually; a form of expression of another level.
For the past few months, I’ve been thinking a lot on how to make this blog “different.” The truth is, I did not take a hiatus or something. All the while, I was trying on how to concretize this “idea” I have.
First, there really isn’t much to say about me. There are times that I even find myself boring and lazy. I lack the discipline to keep-up with whatever ambitious project I have started. Unless of course there’s a big necessity, or it really perked my interest, I just slide things off for tomorrow. Carpe diem is not my style. I collect zzzzzzzzzz and take things slowly.
The first idea I had in mind was to make this blog a “Question and Answer” website. As it would turn out, this page would belong to the people who would answer the questions I would give. In essence, the questions would be about life in particular. Each day, I would think of a question that I myself might want to ask me. The comment link would serve as response dialogue box, and the tag board, the general comments about the site.
The second idea is more ambitious. I already have some “index cards” on the ideas that I would write; the only thing lacking is the actual writing. We have soap operas on the radio as well as on television. My idea is to do the same on this blog. It must contain all the elements found on a telenovela with little twists, which is basically my writing. The aim of this project is for me to discipline myself into writing at least one entry per two days. That way, I would be “forced” to write, write, write.
Or maybe I could do both. What do you think? The first idea or the second one, or both? Click your comments people. Thanks!
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