Mark my word: I’ll never EVER write again…

…on this blog, that is. I think this “anonymous” blog’s inutile. So I made a new one today on my birthday. And I’ll update it every day. Hopefully.

So there…

Almost every day during my younger years, I was always tuned in to NU 107.5 and the now defunct (and legendary) LA ROCK 105.9 (with hosts The Ghost, The Doctor, and DJ Carrrrlos! and of course there was the sultry Cool Carla! or is it Kool Karla? and is it true that she’s the vocalist of Mariyah’s Mistress?). I stopped listening to rock only when I got married and became a full time dad during the final days of 1999. I did return listening to rock music somehow sometime during the early part of this century (even playing on stage and winning in a battle of the bands contest), but during that time I really lost interest.

During my youth, I was addicted to rock music. I even had this foolish idea of one day becoming a rock star (I know many rock fans will be offended by the word “foolish”). ¡Sobrang headbanging action ang pinág-gágagaua co noón sa cuarto có habang nagpápatugtog! ¡Hangáng sa dulo ng street namin (Gold Street)sa Camella Homes Parañaque III, riníg ang iñgay co, jejeje!

Today, my position regarding rock music has changed. After reading Catholic writings and the book Dancing With Demons: The Music’s Real Master (by Jeff Godwin) about rock music, I suddenly had a dislike for it. But the problem is, I grew up listening to it. To put it more bluntly, I miss it. Just as our lolos and  lolas miss the music of The Platters, Elvis Prestley, Tom Jones, and the like, that’s how I feel whenever I hear music that I used to listen to when I was in elementary, high school, and college. E yung erpats co, fan pa ng Survivor (of the Eye of the Tiger shame, or fame, whichever way you’d put it).

And so one day, an office mate who’s another 90s brat was listening to 90s rock music over at yahoo.com’s LAUNCHcast in the office (accidente casing nasira yung firewall ng oficina namin iláng buan ang nacalipas cayá nacapág-internet camí noón, ¡hehehe!). We both reminisced the fun and carefree days of our youth when 90s rock songs were at its zenith: Rage Against the Machine, Metallica, Nirvana and the Grunge Bands, Guns N’ Roses with their iconic November Rain, Pinoy alternative and college garage bands like Dead Nails, Dead Ends, Half-Life Half-Death, and Zexa, Marikina’s death metal rockers (Rumblebelly, Kabaong Ni Kamatayan, etc.), The Eraserheads and Rivermaya, “Laklak” by Teeth (which in one way or another became a national anthem!), “Multó sa Paniñguín”, Top 40 t-shirts, ToneDef Records, Hip-Hop vs. Metal, etc. He then told me “tumátanda na tayo, ¿no?” (we’re getting old, right?). That was a scary thought. But he’s right because I don’t appreciate Callalily, Orange and Lemons, Urbandub, nor their foreign counterparts the way I appreciated their predecessors of the previous decade. I sorely miss the 90s, dear reader.

And so, with the discovery of MP3 (I’m not really familiar with modern music technology, so pardon me [by Incubus?]) I had this wonderful idea of collecting all my favorite and popular rock songs of the 90s, categorized by the year they were released or became popular. Here’s the list:

But that’s just what my mate, Arnold, did. Alarmed by the fact that I might give up writing due to uncontrollable circumstances, he gave me his slightly used laptop as an assurance that I will never give up writing! What a generous soul!

I only got to know Arnold early last year. We were in the same call center where we’ve been working for years (we were actually considered as the pioneer/veteran employees; our employee numbers didn’t exceed the number 1,000 mark). But I only got to know him when I was transferred to his department since it needed an additional Spanish-speaking agent. He was already a Team Leader there, but I was, of course, designated to the Spanish team.

He’s perhaps the smartest TL on the call floor. Not that he’s a strict adherent to the company’s “English Only Policy”, but English is his preferred language during conversations. He’s amiable towards everyone, even to agents who are not on his team And even to the facilities staff and security guards. A masa sort of guy. We got into conversations during lunch time, where I found out that he’s a hater of environmental destruction, too. He also kept on asking about my Spanish background, and was a bit surprised to hear that he knows a thing or two about what I already know about Philippine history.

Hulk-sized for his age (and nationality), it was quite a surprise to learn that he and I shared the same kind of passion: that’s it, Philippine history. And the Spanish language. No, he doesn’t speak the language, but upon self-study and research, he knew that Spanish was illogically removed from our country. In Arnold I have found an unbiased person, who knows fairly well that when the powers-that-be removed the Spanish language from our national patrimony, it also (wittingly or unwittingly) blinded the Filipinos self-recognition, i.e., they became unfamiliar with their national identity.

The Filipinos today do not know who they are, or what they really were.

But Arnold knows. He hasn’t even spoken to any major scholars from where he could’ve learned this viewpoint. An astute researcher, Arnold never fails to uncover more truth behind the lies imposed onto Philippine eductation.

We haven’t known each other that long, but it seemed as if we’ve known each other for a long time. At long last, I have found a partner whom I can share this passion and love for everything Filipino. For many years, I was afraid that this “strong power” that I got from my Filipino scholar mentor will be left with me alone. I don’t know how to handle such potent force. What I mean to say is that I cannot do this alone. I can never reciprocate my mentor’s knowledge and wisdom, not to mention his clear and fantastic logic. I am just me compared to his great persona. I felt I wasn’t worthy to carry out his work, or at least alone to do it. But with Arnold, I think I can.

Nick Joaquín is right. There appears to be some sort of a divine pattern for us Filipinos. I’d like to think –or should I say, I DO BELIEVE– that God meant Arnold and I to team-up and fight this sick Filipino society that is now facing us.

And with this laptop (which is also my first computer!), it’s full speed ahead!

Remember my guilt trip in one of my previous posts? I discussed there my treachery, stealing my countless books from my mentor with the absurd idea that I should replace him in case he’s no longer in this world. For years, it has affected me. But what’s bothering is that, although I’ve already confessed this sinister act to a priest, I still didn’t have the heart to return the books. Greed was still there. So in order to get rid of the guilt feeling, I promised to myself that I will never still books again.

Yeah, it wasn’t only my mentor whom I victimized — I also stole books from other people, and from libraries even! I’m such an evil person…

But a few days ago, I realized that I did the right thing. And here’s the reason why…

This mentor I’m talking about is without a shadow of a doubt one of the greatest living scholars of Filipinism we have today. In his house (and in his other apartment complex) are kept thousands upon thousands of books, mostly about Philippine history, literature, and culture. Many of them are rare books. He even had Pablo Pastells’ nine-volume Historia General de Filipinas (yeah, had, because they are now safely tucked in my bookshelf).

I started getting his books back in 2003. Around that time, I was jobless. I ended up assisting him in his various scholarly works, particularly assisting him in preparing the next article for Nueva Era (the only existing Spanish newspaper in the Philippines which just folded up recently). During that time, I was closely associated not only to his works but to his mind as well.

One day, while we were eating lunch at his house, we were talking about his books, his source of his brilliant information on Filipinism which he interwove with his first-rate logic. Respectfully, I asked him what is he going to do with all those books when his time comes. Since he said that his son, who was rehabilitated thrice for drug abuse, didn’t want to do anything with those books, so does his daughter. To be honest, I was expecting him to say that he is going to bequeath all those books to me. But he didn’t. He said that he will just donate all his books to his alma mater when his time arrives. I was hurt, because we both know that I am his closest supporter, his most ardent student, the only person who knows so much about him — his personality, behavior, faults, and most especially, his ideas of filipinismo. But no, he said his books are better off kept in his alma mater’s library.

Just so that I wouldn’t part with his books, I suggested that I contribute my books (which was then between 250 to 500 copies) to his library. He declined, saying that my books are my books, and that they should remain with me.

Again, I was hurt.

During that time, my wife and I only had one child. We never planned to have another one, but it happened. She got pregnant. I was alarmed! I was still jobless. And we were just living in a decrepit bodega that was managed by a bad-mannered tía who never really liked us staying there.

I thought that was it, the end of it all. I’ve been dreaming of becoming a scholar like him, my mentor, the man who I even consider as my own father. But with my wife’s second pregnancy, I thought that it would be impossible to achieve.

I immediately thought of my daughter. What would she become one day? And how about this new baby? I was still an atheist back then, but I was already thinking about their future. Their intellectual future. So one day, I said to myself that if there’s no way that I’d become a scholar (because for sure, I’d lose time and have to focus on work to support my family), then might as well turn my children into scholars. But how?

Back then, I knew that I was the only Filipino left with all this information from my mentor. Precious information, knowledge, wisdom, and literary perspective acquired from Claro M. Recto, Manuel Bernabé, Jesús Balmori, José Rizal, etc. They shouldn’t go to waste.

I thought about the books. And then did the unthinkable.

And for many weeks (or I think months), after doing the tasks he assigned me to do, I brought with me books that I could carry. Nobody in his household noticed because, like what I’ve said, his books are countless. There are even books inside his bathroom and countless more in a storage room in his backyard! Why, even the tenants (my mentor owns an apartment complex) have some of his books hidden inside their respective units.

I just stopped when I thought that I all have the most important books, magazines, and other rare readables that I could gather. Now I have a collection of more or less 2,000 tomes. But I don’t feel proud of it.

Until last week.

Upon employment, I rarely got to visit the old man in his house. If in the past I usually get to see him very day, nowadays it’s even rare to see him once a month. But last week, I got to visit his house once more. And there I spoke with one of his assistants who has been living with him for years as well (actually, this assistant was a schoolmate and a friend of mine also). He confided to me that he’s doing drugs with my mentor’s son, who was a former drug addict! The son was in fact incarcerated in a drug rehabilitation facility somewhere in Parañaque. That incarceration was his fourth.

And this shame-faced assistant admitted to me that he and my mentor’s drug-addict son for some time sold several sacks of books in a junk shop in exchange for drug money.

Shocking. I stole books for a noble purpose. They, including the son himself (who, of all people, should be the one to inherit the books), sold the book just to get high.

There’s goes pieces of true Philippine history down the drain. I’ve been having some sleepless nights just thinking about what they did, what I did, and what I didn’t do.

No, I couldn’t tell this to the old man. My mentor loves this assistant like a son. His fond of him just as he is fond of me. Bacá isipin niyá naninira lang acó, o bacá may interés acó sa mga libro niyá (which is in fact the case).

Thus, I did the right thing. However, even though his son is already in drug rehabilitation, this useless assistant of his, who is unfortunately one of my pals, is still doing crack. Who knows? Even as I type this, he could be selling books right now so that he’d have money to buy crystal meth somewhere in their neighborhood. Such a filthy ingrate.

Shouldn’t that tag apply to me as well? Stealing is still stealing. Cahit pagbalictarín co man ang mundó.

I did the right think, although it’s wrong. But I got to have his books. I have to SAVE them from this assistant and from his son (it’s his fourth; I don’t think it would be the last).

The old man is still strong although he’s ageing (he turned 72 last month). Recently, he had a mild stroke. But like what I said, he is still strong because of his other physical extra-curricular activities which exercises his body.

Nevertheless, he’s already 72. And I am just 29.

He has to give me his books. His library contains very rare and truthful information about our country (much of his books, by the way, are printed in our language: Spanish). I have to have them.

I have to save them.

This time, to steal them is to save them.

My name was mispelled, however, hehehe (now my identity is revealed… but anyway, I don’t have steady readers yet for this English-language blog of mine, hehehe)! It should’ve been José Mario instead of Jose Maria. But that’s just minor. And I hope that doesn’t happen during the publication of the book. 

We appreciate so much Ms. Cruz’s time towards us unknown scribblers.

We’ve been receiving a lot of help, especially from a foreign scholar by the name of Elizabeth Medina. She’s a Chilean writer (with a hot daughter whom Arnold craves so much; the nerve of that MARRIED guy). She’s been editing our work, and is still doing it as I write this. So, before the Mayor sends his biography to the presses, we have to stop him quick and show to him the recent draft edited by a master.

We gave to him the draft yesterday. We had lunch in Starbucks (Arnold said it’s been a long time since he’s been to one; yo también) located somewhere in South Luzón Tollway, La Laguna area. The Mayor has become more like a barkada. He’s so friendly, I’m telling you guys. He doesn’t act like some intimidating rich person. He’s one of the humblest persons Arnold and I have ever met. He still wants a Tagalog version, but the good news is he’s not planning to simply translate our hard-written work into English. He will still publish our work, and have another edition in Tagalog. The problem now is where to look for a translator.

Although Arnold and I speak Tagalog fluently, we couldn’t really write that well. We’re not trained how to. And I don’t think our country’s educational system has any specialized training for the students on how to write creatively and professionally in Tagalog. We tried to translate some sentences in Tagalog, but to no avail. It’s much easier translating English into Spanish and vice versa because they’re cognates. And they both have strong Latin roots.

Now, we wait for the Mayor’s cellphone call for more updates. And we’re both thankful that his oportunista friend was nowhere in sight yesterday. Hopefully, we’d never bump into him again. Well, if Arnold’s car will do the bumping, why not? LOL =)

“Uh, sure, if that’s what you want,” I said, doubtfully. “But you see, Mayor, the events which happened in your life is so full of fortuitous dates with destiny. That’s why Arnold and I thought it best to entitle your biography ‘A Date With Destiny’. But of course, it’s still your call”.

After our brief cellphone conversation, the Mayor hung up.

This happened just a few days ago. The Mayor is so eager to see his biography. But we still have apprehensions. Arnold and I aren’t so sure if the ball is in our hands.

Here are the causes of our trepidations…

In my previous posts (09/08/08 and 10/02/08, I’ve mentioned how we came up writing the Mayor’s biography instead of his town’s history which was our real motive. We’re now in the final stages of our first book!

But a seemingly opportunistic character arrived in the scene.

It happened during our final interview that we had with the Mayor last 3 October, a Friday, at the TAT Filipinas Golf Club, his favorite watering hole. We met at the municipal office and rode in his car. A gray-haired, bespectacled man came with us. It turned out that he’s a personal friend of the Mayor.

During our ride to the golf club which was just a few kilometers away from the Población, the Mayor introduced us to him and revealed to him that we’ve been writing his life story. The Mayor told him that we’re “rookies”, that we originally intended to write a history of the town, but he instead convinced us to write his biography. The gray-haired man was listening intently at the Mayor. I whispered to Arnold, “maybe he’s the Tagalista that the Mayor has been talking about”. Arnold was already starting to record with his newly bought tape recorder.

Suddenly, in true opportunistic fashion, the Mayor’s friend said ”cung hindí mo naitátanong, Mayor, I was the editor-in-chief of our school newspaper when I was in college.” And he later on added: “What would be my role in this, Mayor?”

Damn. The Mayor wasn’t inviting him into the project. The Mayor was simply telling him, as a friend, what he has been doing lately with his life.

Subsequently, the Mayor invited him to stay with us just to observe the interview, and to ask from him some comments. Then, this opportunistic guy asked us why we are doing this for the mayor. “Pardon me for my frankness, but you know, I’m trying to protect the Mayor here. He’s been my friend for 35 years. The Mayor and I have a relationship that is beyond a usual friendship”. Whatever that means.

But ain’t he deaf? The Mayor already told him that our original intention was to write a history book, not a biography. Here then, is a classic example of a leech, an oportunista.

I was waiting for Arnold to answer his question “why are we doing this for the Mayor.” But he didn’t; he just kept on tinkering with his tape recorder. Out of courtesy, I simply repeated what the Mayor had said.

At the entrance to the golf club’s lobby, we introduced ourselves formally. I asked him who he is.

“Are you a reporter, sir?”

“No,” he replied with a friendly smile. ”I’m actually a psychology professor.” He introduced himself as Boni. Perfunctory handshakes followed. Me and Arnold started calling him “Bonigago” behind his back. The cabrón deserves the nickname.

Walking toward’s the restaurant, I told him that I’m a nephew of another friend of the Mayor. Hopefully, that would’ve shut him up if ever he’s got any negative intention towards us.

During the interview, he started meddling with our work. He was no longer just observing. He even asked us, for the third time, why we are doing this for the Mayor. Arnold perhaps started to get irritated with either the man’s lack of hearing or comprehension.

“The Mayor couldn’t be any clearer. He simply wanted his life story published.”

I don’t think Bonigags is out to “protect” the Mayor already. He’s trying to show-off about his supposed caring stance towards the town’s chief executive.

We ate first before the interview. Before eating, he let Bonigags lead the prayer. He didn’t make the sign of the cross. A Protestant, I observed. And I almost laughed when, at the end of the thanksgiving, he was holding Arnold’s shoulder (I later told Arnold that he has been blessed by that man, or maybe he’s got the hots for him, hehehe!).

I was the one who started asking questions when the tape recorder started rolling. While I was interviewing the Mayor, the freaky ”observer” was trying to impose to Arnold on what the biography should have. The book should have this, the book should have that. Good thing that Arnold’s good in argumentative situations. Arnold has had training in management at the Colegio de San Juan de Letrán and was a former supervisor in my company. In fact, he’s perhaps the best supervisor our account/department ever had. Many were saddened when he resigned.

Arnold and I shifted Throughout that afternoon interview, he kept on commenting, meddling, speaking nonsense, quoting famous historical lines (Arnold and I introduced ourselves as novice historians, thus he was doing his historical quotes obviously to brag that he himself knows something about history). There was even a point when he made a disgusting and offensive remark that the bioography should be written not just because the biographers needed money. In case he didn’t notice, he wasn’t being frank anymore. He was getting to be a rude person.

More or less, the interview took three hours to finish. The Mayor’s life was quite a revelation. But he repeated most of what he already told us during previous interviews, forcing us to conclude that he really wanted those events to be included on the book no matter what.

We were cautious, of course. During the interview, we found out a couple of controversial events that might harm his reputation (no, he’s not a corrupt politician; we can testify to that). Arnold and I already have adult minds; by simple logical discernment, we obviously know which parts of the interview had to be stricken out of the book. But Bonigago kept on reminding us “that should be off the record.”

Me and Arnold were texting each other surreptitiously. I texted one message to him that I just couldn’t forget: “I’m starting to see this guy already with the head of a chicken cartoon character.”

When the Mayor had a bathroom break, Bonigago said something that really made me see black. He told us to give him a copy of our work so he can edit it, and that he’ll appoint other people, perhaps two to three, to review the biography. He also broached his idea to the Mayor.

This is what we’ve been afraid of all along. Arnold, especially. He was already anticipating this would happen, but we never really thought of a “Plan B” for it.

Don’t get us wrong. Arnold and I are open to criticisms. In the first place, we haven’t published a book prior to this one yet. We’re not really established writers. Aside from the Lord God, the good Mayor was giving us our first break. For that we will be thankful for him for the rest of our lives. But having our work mangled by someone who’s more obscure than us is not just (I even googled his name; even in the netosphere he’s nonexistent).

Arnold and I are confident of our work. We will never allow to have the Mayor’s reputation tarnished, especially since our names will be included in the book. If ever the Mayor gets in trouble with what we have written, so do we. Hence, we’ll never allow that to happen.

Simplemente, we don’t need Bonigago’s help. He’s just a pain in the ass, an opportunist. Surely, he had wanted to be a part of this project ever since he heard from our car ride towards the golf club that the Mayor intends this book to look something like Dolphy’s biography. There was an excitement in his voice. Certainly, he wanted to be part of this project as well.

Call us greedy, but we don’t need him. In the first place, we don’t know him from Mang Kanor. And from the very start, we never felt comfortable with him. There was something really vile and suspicious in the way he talked about his participation. Perhaps he’s a bum, Arnold later told me, and that he’s just staying with the Mayor to “survive” in some way.

If anyone’s going to edit our work, it would have to be the Mayor himself or perhaps his wife and children and other CREDIBLE writers who are better than us. But what we really prefer is that only the factual content of our work should be edited. Our writing style shouldn’t be touched. Admittedly, I was imitating the style of Nick Joaquín, by “thinking in Spanish while writing in English”. I’m confident this Bonigago character doesn’t know a thing about this “Joaquinesque” style of writing. And if that style is mangled, then all our labors will come to naught.

And when the interview was about to end, he borrowed a pen from Arnold and started scribbling notes from a small sheet of paper. From where I sat, I was trying to glance at it, but I couldn’t make anything of what he was writing. I was hoping that it had nothing to do with the book we were writing. But I just couldn’t help suspecting something fishy.

At the end of the interview, he excused himself and cornered the Mayor for a private talk. He said he only needed to talk to the Mayor for five minutes (which eventually turned out to be almost half an hour). They sat a table outside the restaurant. In full view of Arnold; my back was against them. We started talking about our concern.

“I knew it, man! Fuck, we’re in deep shit. This guy is out to get our project from us. I’ve been anticipating that this will happen.”

I told him that, too, that a couple of holier-than-thou and opportunistic mister-know-it-all characters are out to “rape” our work with the possibility of claiming it as their own.

I’m not really sure if it was the book that the Mayor and Bonigago were talking about, but Arnold is certain that Bonigago was convincing the Mayor of his “crucial” participation in it. I just hope that’s not the case. I told Arnold that since that guy’s trying to be frank towards us, I suggested that we might as well be frank to him and tell him what we think. Arnold said it’s too premature. He’s a friend of the Mayor. We have to be careful and patient.

Several minutes later, he returned to our table. He told us that he needs a copy of our work, that we had to make at least three printouts of the draft. The Mayor was already outside. That made Arnold more suspicious. Arnold later told me that perhaps Bonigago had successfully convinced the Mayor that he would be the one to oversee this project.

Man, I was imagining murderous thoughts. The guy had the nerve. A very thick-faced character. He should have been more courteous as to ask our permission if he could join us. If he were that polite, why, Arnold and I could’ve said yes.

While we walked outside the building, I was whispering to Arnold that this is the right time to confront the guy and tell him what’s on our mind. Again, he told me to be patient and cautious.

The Mayor was already outside, standing beside a giant van (looking almost like a minibus). He instructed the driver to bring us back to the Población. He was going elsewhere.

At the van, he was making conversations. I suddenly remembered that he was editor-in-chief of his alma mater’s newspaper. What a braggart. That’s when I got “notorious”. I told him that we’re already established writers in the blogosphere (Arnold and I have many regular readers, to say the least). That I speak Spanish (true). That I was editor-in-chief of our college paper (false; I took the exam thrice but some assholes in that paper deliberately excluded me from the roster; this was already revealed to me by many people). That I have won numerous writing awards in college (true). That I have been contributing articles in major newspapers (true, and they got published). And that we’re good friends with popular historian Ambeth Ocampo (false! haha! we met him only once in Powerbooks Live! in Greenbelt Mall, Makati City).

Hopefully, these credentials would make him shut up and take notice and to perhaps discontinue whatever opportunistic motives he may have with our project. I asked for his alma mater, but out of shame he said it was just a public school. Trying to be a nice guy to this opportunist, I tried to save his shame by saying that many years ago public schools were at par with private ones. He agreed, and that he said UP was perhaps the best public school. This made Arnold and I conclude that the asshole’s from the state university.

And to finally bury his evil intentions to the ground, I told him the name of my uncle who’s even a closer friend of the Mayor: Tío Ramoncito “Monching” Alas (true), who brokered the first meeting we had with the Mayor on 29 August. I boasted to him that the my family is a kababayan of the Mayor’s dad, who’s from Unisan, Quezon (true). And that the Entrepreneur Bank (Rural Bank of Unisan) was just beside my relatives house (true). I even told him that when I was a kid, I used to play at the bank’s porch with my cousins, and that our uncles and aunties kept on scolding us not to play there (true). I even remember seeing the Mayor who once locked the door of the bank after office hours (true).

I was saying all this to him to show to him my affinity to the Mayor, to keep him from touching our maiden work. Nobody needs opportunists in this world.

We all dropped off in front of the town plaza. We said our goodbyes, and gave him the middle finger when he’s gone (how I’d love to do that in front of his face, unfortunately –and fortunately for him– he’s a friend of the mayor). I made the sign of the cross after doing the birdie; I realized that we parted just in front of the Church of San Pedro Apóstol, haha, evil me!

Again, I told Arnold that we should’ve told him what’s on our mind. But he had reason; the moment Bonigago realizes that we’re not eager to work with him side by side, he might screw us more behind our backs. Even if I’m the Mayor’s friend’s nephew, Bonigago is still closer to the Mayor. Puede niyá camíng siraan. Arnold said that it’s better if our enemy thinks that we’re with him. We’ll have to play it safe.

But that night, I read Arnold’s e-mail:

“Fuck man I can’t sleep. The possibilities are out there, it could go for or against our plans. I felt that we have been robbed today in broad daylight! it is as though someone gutted me today!
I’m trying to be optimistic here, but I can’t get myself to think positive. Why? Are we really in such a bad position that even the most agreeable and logical plan is but a hopeless idea, a lost cause?
I have been contemplating on having the writers of the book, San Pedro noon & ngayon, review our work ang get their approval! your thoughts?”

SAN PEDRO, NOON AT NGAYON is a Tagalog history book of San Pedro that was published during ex-Mayor Felicísimo Vierneza’s final days as the town’s chief executive. It was authored by Amalia Cullarín Rosales and San Pedro’s own Sonny Ordoña of Barrio Landayan (in my 09/08/08 post, I mistakenly wrote that the his name is Larry!). It wasn’t sold in bookstores, though. It was only distributed within the town’s municipality.

I thought that it was a good idea. But I’m not sure how these authors would be of any assistance to us.

Throughout the next days, we’ve been working on the biography with preoccupation on our minds. I’ve been sick, literally, several times just thinking about Bonigago and his opportunism. I even silently cried on my station. I forced myself to cry. Para lang mailabás co yung samá ng loób co. Me and Arnold really felt that we’ve been writing this book for nothing. That we’d be giving the draft only to be warped and mangled by this Bonigago character.

And even as I write this article, I have a severe headache. I’ve not been feeling very well these past few days due to overfatigue. Right after my shift (10:00 AM), I’m forced to stay at the office to type because I don’t have a computer at home. My back has been aching. I’ve had a recurring fever. I’ve had sleepless nights (or in my case, days).

Instead of enjoying what we’ve been doing, we’re writing with a feeling of uncertainty and trepidation. We trust the Mayor. He really is a nice person, no pretensions at all. A very humble guy. But we don’t trust this Bonigago friend of his, especially how he cunningly devised a way to get into the project that rightfully belongs only to us.

Now we’re on a “suicide run” because Arnold and I have finally decided on one thing: if the Mayor allows Bonigago and the latter’s “editorial board” to make decisions without our authorization, that is to say, if they edit our writing style, then we’ll walk out of the project. We’ll just leave the work to Bonigago’s hands. Yeah, the Mayor paid us P30,000 bucks already. But we’ve done our part.

And to tell you the truth, our work is even worth more than P50,000 because we really poured everything into it. It was meticulously written. We wrote the biography in an artful way. And I’ve been losing so much time with my family already. I just go home to sleep. Arnold is forced not to look for other jobs yet to focus on this project. He even had a little misunderstanding with his wife who’s in Singapore because she doesn’t approve of Arnold’s “historiographical activities.” And he had to put in the backburner a land problem that he has in Iloílo (his parents’ provincia).

We met with Sonny Ordoña in McDonald’s near Elvinda Village. After browsing through our work, he gave us his comments to it and his personal views about writing a biography. He turned out to be very helpful. An amiable guy. Generally, he’s OK with our work.

We also sent out our work for a very short book review to renowned writers such as our dear friend Señor Guillermo Gómez Rivera, his best buddy José David Lápuz (“International lecturer, Rizalista de la Vanguardia, TOYM political scientist, noted foreign policy expert, Radio Veritas political analyst, and Knight Grand Cross of Rizal, José David Lápuz, UST professor of international affairs and comparative politics, global issues, Philippine government, and Constitution! – ¡oo, talagáng dapat casama itóng lahát capag may introduction sa caniá!), former beauty queen and historian Gemma Cruz Araneta (she already replied to my e-mail, and she even told me that she already met the Mayor personally years ago!; she’s now writing a book review which she told me she’d publish in her newspaper column soon), my Adamson University historian friend José Mª Bonifacio Escoda (author of WARSAW OF ASIA: THE RAPE OF MANILA), US-based linguist Christopher A. Sundita (author of IN BAHASA SUG; he’s also a member of Círculo Hispano-Filipino to which I belong since 2001) and the famous writer José “Butch” Dalisay of The Philippine Star who’s become an e-mail friend of Arnold). I also sent a coppy to multi-awarded writer Joe Bert Lazarte of the SKIRMISHER, one of the Philippines’ most popular blogs (I contribute there during the weekends, or if I have time). Lazarte himself is a credible writer who had already won a Philippines Free Press Literary Award.

Quinapalán co na talagá ang mukhá co sa canilá.

With the exception of Mr. Dalisay, all of the above-mentioned writers and scholars know me personally (I haven’t met Chris and Gemma personally, but we’ve been e-mailing and d, opportunismebating for years about various Philippine historical topics in Círculo Hispano-Filipino). Now these are the most credible who should have the authority to scrutinize our work, not someone like Bonigago who probably has been asking favors from the Mayor just to bring a can of sardines back to his hut. And once we receive favorable reviews from the above-mentioned established writers and scholars, man, I’d figuratively slap those book reviews into Bonigago’s face! But I might do that literally if he’s become already blatantly offensive.

These are all the travails that has beset us in writing our first book. It’s not an easy one, especially for me because I work full time in a call center. And, contrary to Bonigago’s pariníg, we don’t intend of asking for more money from the Mayor (but if the Mayor insists, who are we to decline? hehehe…). Seeing the book with our names on it and published the way we wrote it is more than enough.

*******

A couple of day’s ago, at Tuding’s in Muntinlupà City, Arnold and I were discussing the possibilities of our first book venture. We’ve been getting paranoid already. What if Bonigago wins and that the book would be printed without our names on it? Or equally worse, that he’d have his name included with ours?

Our self-imposed deadline on passing the final draft is today. Later, at around noon, we’re going to meet up with the Mayor. We haven’t received the book reviews yet from Señor Gómez et al. But we couldn’t wait for them anymore because the Mayor couldn’t wait to have the draft as well (he’s asked for it many times already). Certainly, there will be revisions from him. And we’re supercool with that of course.

But with that gago friend of his, we’re not.

I told Arnold that the Mayor wanted his biography to be entitled One More Challenge. I still think that the title A Date With Destiny is closer to the events of his life. Fortunately, during the above-mentioned cellphone conversation, he gave me the go-signal to think of whatever title that may seem fit. But his One More Challenge should appear on the book cover.

Thus, the working title is: A DATE WITH DESTINY (One More Challenge!) The Life Story of San Pedro, Laguna Mayor Calixto R. Catáquiz.

While eating our porkchops, Arnold noted something about the title. “You know, man, I think that title that he wants doesn’t apply to him.”

“And why is that?” I said while slicing the soft and tasty porkchop that has made Tuding’s popular in Muntinlupà and northern Laguna.

“I think this ‘one more challenge’ perfectly describes our plight and not his. We’re the ones who are being challenged here,” he laughed

“Yeah, right”.

And so we’ll see what will happen later.

I envy Arnold because he’s working full time on this project. Me, I still have to fight away the sleepiness after my night shift. Good thing Arnold gave me the password to his internet access here in the office. But the problem is, right after my shift at 10 AM, my head either dreams about the land of sleep, or the land of porn (hyuk-yuk-yuk!). I sometimes rest my head on whatever CSR desk I choose, fall asleep, and then wake up an hour or two with an aching back. Like what I’ve said before, I can’t afford to leave this job especially since my wife’s pregnant again (ang sipag namin, ¿no?).

So that’s what has been keeping us busy all these weeks. We’re trying to beat a self-imposed deadline because the mayor wants his biography to be launched just in time for the town fiesta this coming February. According to my partner Arnold, who’s got friends in the printing business, it takes up to two months just to publish even a minor book! Man, this politician mustn’t have any idea at all about the length of time it takes to publish a book! Now, we’re in a time quandary. But still, I think we’re doing progress.

We only got to start out last 29 August, making this project –as I’ve boasted once to Arnold– one of the most fastest-written biographies in the world. Another problem we have is that the Mayor is one of them “unlettered guys.” He’s not an avid reader. He didn’t even finish the samples of the book we’ve written about him. And worse, he wanted his book written in Tagalog. He told that to us when we’ve already written much about him.

Arnold and I weren’t trained to write in Tagalog. I think most Tagalog-speaking Filipinos today aren’t well-trained to write in their vernacular. ¡Caramba! I believe the case is much worse for other non-Tagalog Filipinos. Are they even being trained to write in their vernacular. Look at F. Sionil José. He’s an Ilocano, but he’s not articulate in his native language, being trained in English. And he admits that sad fact.

Anyway, the Mayor doesn’t seem to be all worried about that. But worried us is that he said he’s got a translator friend, a Tagalista, who can help us to translate his work. That didn’t sound right for us. We couldn’t even get out of this project anymore since he already paid us P30,000 grand. Of course we had to accept; we’re not rich kids in the first place. And that’s not bribe money, as well; it’s our first pay check as writers! Yay!

But back to the sad part. The uncertainty of seeing our names printed in this book looms in the air. What if he double-crosses us? The suspicion couldn’t be waived off because of the immediate trust he gave us in publishing his life story. I mean to say, he’s a longtime politician, a rich businessman, and one-time general manager of a prominent governmental department. He could’ve easily gotten himself a prominent writer to the job for him, right? Or maybe he trusted us that easily because he’s a friend of an uncle of mine.

Is this kind of anxiousness normal for writers who’d get published for the first time.

In the meantime, we are busy and strictly tightening our belts while making both ends meet. caEspecially since we have recently bought our own residential unit in Calambâ (my dream place). The house has two rooms and two storeys high. The unit we bought stands on one of the largest lots in the subdivision (ours is 112 sq. m.), thus we can build an extension of the house in the future. But right now, we have to pay at least P150,000 every year so that we’d be finished with all our house payments within seven years instead of 25.

It is therefore a necessity for me to augment my salary. I’ve been with my company for close to four years now (I signed up with them on 29 October 2004; now my co-employees reverently call me an “institution” of our company). It is there where I was promoted as a Spanish Speaking Agent when one of their accounts/departments opened up slots for Spanish speaking customer service representatives. I owe this place a lot. It’s my home away from home. Even though it’s now facing harsh criticisms from ex- and even current employees, I still remained loyal to it. There were times when I got into trouble, but everything was ironed out. It was weird. I can still remember the first time I stepped into this company’s building. I was then full of anxiety and nervousness since I just lost a job. I kept on praying to land a job because I have no one else to depend to but God. Also, prior to this, I had a penchant of not becoming a regular employee, and I was getting tired of it. Becoming a regular employee back then was one of my main objectives.

Upon entering the premises that cold and sunny October morning, I felt something strange yet familiar. A feeling of muted familiarity, of comfortability, struck me immediately. I didn’t know why. I went through several interviews and tests. And on the night of that same day, I signed a contract! I was then offered P13,000 plus P2,000 in allowances. I couldn’t contain my smile, and felt that my eyes were popping out. That amount back then (2004) was already huge and exciting for me and my wife. We only had two children, Krystal and Momay who was just born that year. We weren’t living with any relatives anymore. We were on our own, renting a small house in San Pedro, Laguna.

Right now, as I plan to leave, I’m earning P31,200 per month, plus P2,000 in allowances. Not enough anymore since our youngest, Jesús Felipe, “Jefe” arrived early last year. And we now need two maids since one can’t handle three playful kids. And even we call center agents are affected by this rice price increase. That’s the reason why, reluctantly, I have to leave this company no matter how much I’m fond of it. Even my amigo Arnold already left amid a financial and/or management crisis that is besetting this company.

Speaking of mi amigo, we are now working on our first book project! Yes! It’s every writer’s dream! To have a book published!

You know, whenever I visit bookstores and libraries, I always read the author’s profile with much interest, checking out their profiles, their writing and academic credentials. I bite my lip in jealousy. I say to myself, I have much more better ideas and stories and verses than some of them. So I think I myself have the right to be published.

And then I look at myself in the mirror. There’s a headset strapped onto my big head, and I’m starting to show baggy eyes. I’m thinning more and smell of second-hand smoke because of my chain-smoking co-employees.

I am just a call center agent. An owl. A vampire.

But I never stop dreaming.

One day, many weeks ago, I thought of an idea. I invited Arnold, a TL in our department and a fellow dreamer, to co-publish a book. I told him that we had to get published, or else as writers we will perish. His plan was actually to have a teaching position in the academe, which is a good idea as well. But that doesn’t suffice. I have a teacher in college who teaches and writes brilliant pieces of literature, Radney Ranario. But you won’t even find his name in web searches (until now, I think). Thus, book is a necessary avenue for us to reach a wider audience. Our blogs/websites are not enough. A book has much more prestige and style compared to a website. Oh may the trees of this country forgive me.

So he asked me how to do it. I told him that it would be a bit easy. The mayor of San Pedro is, incidentally, a good friend of my dad’s cousin. This uncle of mine, upon learning that me and my family moved to this town, referred me to this politician friend just in case I needed help. But I never really minded it. Until that day that I was looking outside the street from our apartment door.

Actually, we were actually already planning to move to another place because I ran into trouble several weeks before. It was past midnight, 12:30 to be exact because I was just looking at the time in my wife’s cellphone which I was then using. I was already walking outside our street towards the national road (Mahárlika Highway) going to Alabang where my office is located. Our place was deserted since everyone was asleep. But not this huge guy with a motorbike who stopped right beside me just to beat me up. He appeared either drunk or wasted by crack. I froze right in my tracks when he got off his motorbike, with a maniacal look in his eyes. He asked me why I kept on looking at him. Obviously, he was looking for trouble. He found the wrong guy in me. I was simply rushing towards my office, fearing a corrective action formfor tardiness from TL JJ. Now that fear has been transferred to this guy who may have an intent to draw blood. I told him I wasn’t looking at him, I don’t know him, and that I was just going to my work.

Just as I was about to leave him, his left hand grabbed the neck of my shirt and gave me a big windmill right which I immediately parried. He hit me a bit on my left ear. And all his successive punches hit nothing but my parrying left arm. And while he was doing this, I was screaming at him to stop (¡Teka lang! ¡Teka lang! ¡Walá acóng casalanan sa’yó!). But thanks to God, I still have my presence of mind. I have in my pants’ back pocket a mean-looking wooden knuckle that was given to me two years ago by Lee, a former co-employee and bandmate, as a remembrance (he was about to leave our call center for another). I thanked him, thinking that it may come in handy in the future, although I was always hoping that I will not be entangled in any violent scenario. For all my hidden rage and short temper, I am actually a pacifist.

But the inevitable happened. This huge crackpot was looking for trouble. And he got what he wanted, and more. My right fist was able to wear the wooden knuckles (made of molave, I think) while blocking his barrage of wild punches. I then landed a huge right onto his left cheek. He felt it good, I thought I even saw stars around his corrupted head. But he still had a grip on my shirt. I landed another — it hit his face again, but he was starting to fall. The third time was the charm: he fell to his knees and let go of my shirt. I landed a barrage of wooden knuckle punches on his head, face, and nape that even Count von Count of Sesame Street would have lost count! If not for a motorbike or two which was then arriving to aid him, I would have certainly killed the guy. I sprinted to the nearest esquinita (Castassus street), the fastest run I’ve ever done in my whole life! I ran so fast that I even arrived on time!

This crime happened just a few feet from the chapel of St. Vincent Ferrer (our barangay was named after him). Thus, I attributed that victorious night to San Vicente’s intervention.

Days later, I learned from a relative and neighbors that that freako has already been accused of murder and has beaten up a couple of people already. The asshole lives in nearby Barangay Laguerta, notorious for its drug-trafficking. That struck fear in my heart. Not that I fear for myself, but for my family. Me and my wife both work the night shift. We leave our three children to their yaya Cel (right now, we only have one maid; cailañgan pa namin ng isá, cayá pahiñguí namán – bacá may irereto cayó para sa amin).

My only consolation is that I’m positive that he didn’t recognize my face because he was obviously high that night. And I change my features from time to time; you can check out my Friendster which will be divulged in this website in the future.

Therefore, we decided not to leave. It’s not that easy to transfer from one place to another. I mean to say, we just moved to our new apartment from another street just last December 8. And if you don’t know yet, we have already lived in several places already we’re already fed up with moving. Might as well wait until we’re done with the equity. Hopefully by next year, we will be able to move to our new — and our very own — home. Me and my wife just agreed for me not to walk from our apartment towards our highway. I’ll just hail a tricycle or jeep in front of our apartment building no matter how walkable our place is from the main road.

My friends in our office have advised me to move. I told Arnold not yet. I think there’s still a purpose for my stay in San Pedro. I explained to him that we can publish a history book about my town! I’ve been living in San Pedro since May 10, 2004. And Arnold has bought a residential unit in San Pedro. I’m moving out, he’s moving in. But San Pedro’s in the heart (my apologies to the great Carlos Bulosan). I told him of my connection: my Tío Monching! And so Arnold was convinced, and the rest is, well, history.

I looked for Tío Monching’s phone number using Friendster. I asked some of my relatives. Upon getting hold of the number, I immediately contacted him. And I was so happy to learn that he’s always with the Mayor! He instructed me on whom to talk with, and so after a couple of days of SMS exchanges, on the morning of August 29 (after my shift) Arnold and I had a date with destiny. We met at San Pedro Apóstol Parish Church that morning. I asked him if he was ready. We both were. And so we marched towards the crowded and busy municipal hall.

When we got to the receiving room prior to the mayor’s huge office, there appears to be a mass civil wedding going on. I immediately looked for a certain Óscar Ramírez. Tío Monching said that Mr. Ramírez is the man who’ll bring us directly to the mayor. Unfortunately, we learned from some people there that he was at the hospital at that time, attending to a sick family member.

We were about to go home, seeing that it’s impossible to even seek an audience with the mayor. There were so many people who were queueing his office to discuss far more important matters compared to ours. There were guards all over the place. There’s no easy access to get to the mayor. We were just staying at the receiving area, looking through the glass panels to catch a glimpse of the busy politician inside his huge office. Arnold invited me to leave by 10:00 AM if still nothing happened. I almost agreed, but I told him that it’s now or never. If we never get to talk to the mayor that day, then I don’t think we’d be able to get to talk to him anymore. He’s our only ticket for us to get published.

Me and Arnold, as you all know, are not renowned writers. With our separate blogs, we may be known to some people who are interested in Philippine history. But like what I wrote above, a book holds much prestige. And authority. We are not history nor literature majors. We are virtual unknowns, dilettantes, amateurs. But one things for sure: we do know how to write, and we’re damn sure of what we’re writing about. It’s just that we’re not given opportunities make our thoughts known in printed form. So this San Pedro book we’re babbling about is the key.

And then I saw this young man who looks exactly like the Mayor. I assumed that his Mayor’s son (later on, from Tío Monching, I learned that he is, and his name’s Aaron) since he’s got free access to the door of his office. Labás-masoc siyá. I gathered enough confidence and walked to him, since it appears that he’s quite approachable. And he was. I presented myself to him, and he does know my uncle, but he told me and Arnold that it might be impossible for us to get an audience with the mayor because it was really a busy day. There were countless people in the lobby, in the office. I didn’t imagine a mayor’s office to be that crowded with so many people in need of his assistance. But the son was accomodating. He said that we could actually make a presentation at their house. Me and Arnold weren’t sure if we should say yes — it was an invitation to their house. Since we didn’t have a ready answer, and that some people kept on approaching him, too (he was busy like his dad; everyone in that place was busy), he just recommended us to the City Administrator’s office (Tío Monching said that he’s a brother-in-law of the mayor, a silent and chiflado/suplado type of guy). We got to his office, waited for our turn for us to talk to him (his office was very busy, as well; I expected them to be busy, of course, but not super busy!).

When we got hold of his attention, he brought us a bad news: there is already a book about the history of San Pedro. He said it was written by Larry Ordoña, one of their consultants for the municipality’s cultural affairs. We were disheartened, but we got our spirits back to hear that it was written in Tagálog. We said that we plan to write something in English, and that it would certainly be more comprehensive and detailed since I speak Spanish. We’d be able to get more info from the National Archives of the Philippines, wherein more than 13 million historical documents are written in Spanish.

We were so bold and confident. This is because a few weeks prior to our San Pedro municipal hall visit, we visited Muntinlupà City’s Public Library. We got hold of a very recently published book regarding the history of Muntinlupà. But we were amused to find out that the book seemed more like a public relations tool of one its former mayors. We were thinking the same about this San Pedro history book that the City Administrator told us. But in the end, he consented with our request for an official letter, with the municipio‘s letterhead, allowing us to freely visit related departments in connection to our research purposes. But he suggested that we talk to Larry Ordoña as well to avoid conflict of ideas since it was Ordoña who wrote about San Pedro’s history first.

We waited for the letter for around half an hour while watching the City Administrator mediate between two feuding groups of public utility drivers. Afterwards, we were handed the letter and was asked to give it to someone at the mayor’s office to be signed by the mayor himself.

While waiting for the “golden signature,” Arnold was hoping that the mayor would see my last name. But I told him that it’s unlikely since he might just sign the official paper without reading much of it, let alone our names.

A few minutes later, we were shocked when we were invited inside!

At long last, we got an audience with Mayor Calixto Catáquiz, a longtime mayor of San Pedro during the latter half of the 80s throughout the first half of the 90s, and is a former Laguna Lake Development Authority chairman. We asked to seek his kind office the permission, support, and blessing to write about the history of San Pedro (de Tunasán during the Spanish times), La Laguna. But we were surprised when he whispered to us that he’s been looking around for a writer or two to write his biography!

We requested to write just one book. But it appears that we’re going to write two: we couldn’t contain the joy in our faces. I whispered to Arnold: “God is good!”

He then invited us to lunch. He just signed a few more papers, talked to a couple of more people, and then we were whisked away together with the mayor by his bodyguards to a secret passage to his car! And then we went off to Yellow Cab pizza along South Luzón Tollway in nearby Santa Rosa, at the Caltex station (owned by his friend, Ms. Adelaida Ponce de Yatco, a mother of a Viñáng político). During the car trip there, we started interviewing him, using a tape recorder his son Aaron lent us earlier.

And there at Yellow Cab we discussed the plans for his upcoming book. It appears that we have to write his biopic first since he wants it launched this coming February, in time for the town’s fiesta.

Man, this life is incredible! But so much to do, so little time… I haven’t even mentioned here that I’m going to take up review classes for the Diploma Español como Lengua Extranjera exam this coming November.

So this is perhaps the most stressful event of my young life. But I’m enjoying it!

Blasted cable company thinks they’re the best in our town. Bah, humbug! Actually, by standards, they are. Damn. But after booting out Jack TV and its associate channels,  I rarely use it save for occasional TVE programming that’s beginning to become a bore — that freakin’ channel’s got nothing interesting during the day but boring news and anchorwomen with bad hair. Only Jack TV offers up-to-date episodes of my favorite TV programming of all time: World Wrestling Entertainment! Been watching it since I was uncircumcised. Now I’m searching for another company in our dirty trying-to-be-urban provincial town which offers McMahon‘s twisted concept.

If I ever find an alternative company which offers Jack TV, TVE, EWTN, and Nickelodeon and Disney Channel for the kids, then it’s bye-bye for good to our blasted cable company which doesn’t give a hoot of a recognition to its loyal patrons.

Now that it has been settled, I move on to yesterday. Hurray! Our water was disconnected! We were caught by surprise, but The Spouse was at fault; she forgot that it was already due! The man who was sent by our water supplier refused to accept payment, nor did he allow wifey’s excuse that she’d pay it right at that moment. He said that orders are orders. He still went on with the disconnection.

We sent the maid to the main office to have the bills paid. She texted back, saying that it requires a P300 reconnection fee. Blast it! And the main office wasn’t even that near our place. It was nearly four in the afternoo. And the dishes from lunch weren’t even done yet. And my kids are running around like rats, with foodstuff in their mouth and hands all over the floor – my wife is very finicky; she has OCD (which in time I also acquired from her), so that for us is a big problem.

After that has been taken care of, wifey decided to settle our Meralco bill as well, sending off our maid to a nearby office. She brought with her more than P3,000 grand.

After around an hour, which was unusually long because the office was very near our place, she went back on the verge of tears.

She was victimized by the notorious hypnotists/robbers: budól-budól gang! I will not jot down how our stupid maid was victimized. Anyway, I couldn’t understand her explanation since her Tagalog’s halting and convoluted (perhaps due to nervousness or her being Visaya).

How nice, ¿no?. Yesterday was such an “awesome” day. Now we only have around P500 left. And my salary’s due to arrive this Tuesday (still far away). I tried to cry it all out but couldn’t. I tried to get some sleep as well since I have work later that night. But all I did was recite and memorize Nick Joaquín’s jazz chant Consumerismo with Krystal. Kept on grabbing books, browsing, and then skipping on the floor. Looking out of the door towards the darkened streets. Don’t know what to do. Wanted to write, nor read to say the least. But so agitated and restless I was. I grabbed me a glass of Coke to avoid hypotension.

Sigh. We keep on losing money. We occasionally lose them to a couple of lowlifes (pickpockets, etc), A few years ago, the people tending to our upstart piggery tricked us out of our hard-earned money. Now this. Now this? Is this all part of “you reap what you sow?” Goodness gracious, I just don’t know how to react.

Such an aspiring artist I make with such a disastrous day like that. Oh boy. What’s next?