RUSS.

2012-01-18T18:46:00.003+08:00

2011-12-25T23:21:00.006+08:00

Tickets are now available at the Cebu City Museum (formerly Rizal Memorial Library and Museum)

and the Alternative Contemporary Art Studio (ACAS) at the Sacred Heart Parish compound.

For inquiries and reservations call: ACAS [032]255-1149 | Cebu City Museum [032]255-4997

Mark Philipp Opada shoots Happy.

2011-12-21T11:43:00.002+08:00

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go to Happy Project Profile

Video: All Apologies - The Cove in Taiji, Japan 10-27-2011

2011-12-21T11:37:00.000+08:00

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Tapestry

2011-12-14T18:34:00.002+08:00

HAPPY.

2011-11-26T03:55:00.011+08:00

After its first two runs at the Diwata Galeri in Kukuk’s Nest, Talamban, Cebu and Carlos Celdran’s Living Room in Malate, Manila, Happy, the latest performance narrative offering off Russ Ligtas’s studio, the Mouth’s Cradle is back in Cebu exclusively at Crispin Ramos’ Bantawan Sugbu Theater , presented by The Hobo Hobo Group and the Cebu Performing Co.

Happy is color. It’s strings pull the ends of a mouth to form a genuine smile. The silver in its raiment reflect sparkles of illuminated eyes. Happy is a song, a yawp of freedom echoing in the mountains. Happy is the dolphin in a dream that keeps you company in the wide open sea. But Happy is lost- or its human is. Either way, they have been separated. Its human might not even recognize it anymore but Happy will not stop its search because among other things, Happy is also hope.

On 6th of October 2009- Happy was born in room 229, a space subdivided into four studios for the Fine Arts students of the University of the Philippines. On that same night and place, “XO?” Performance Art Group was staging a show entitled Please Don’t Talk To The Natives. Happy was born a healthy glob of color in the second space to the left but was unfortunately given away by its birth parent –its human. Since, Happy has been in search of its elusive counterpart, wandering the cities, splashing and sharing its colorful essence wherever its path leads. Featuring collaborations with local musicians, photographers, and the audience, the HAPPY. show employs interactivity throughout its creation and its actual staging. Musician and artist Budoy as well as dancer/choreographer Marius Centino will be performing individual pieces as preludes to the show.

For one-night only, the show begins at 8 o’ clock in the evening on Tuesday December 13, 2011 at the Bantawan Sugbu Theater, 91 Visitacion St., Cebu City. Tickets @ Php100 . Limited Seating. Please book your seats in advance. Email whereisyourhappy@gmail.com or call/text 09052699969. Click [here] for a map to Bantawan Sugbu Theater.

2011-11-08T12:40:00.004+08:00

Return to Mother Ocean. Performance in Taiji, Japan. Photo by Leah Lemieux

Leah Lemieux shoots "four performances at the cove"

2011-11-08T12:26:00.003+08:00

mother grief

return to mother ocean

all apologies

a proper burial

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CALL TO PARTICIPATE

2011-10-25T21:30:00.001+08:00

Russ will be performing for the dolphins at Taiji on October 26 & 27. One of the performances will include a relaying of messages from fellow Filipinos to the dolphins. In the Philippines, some people have made fairly decent livings out of the dolphin watching industry, allowing the cetaceans to thrive whilst earning income. Dolphins have helped put some of our islands in the tourism map and contributed to their economic progress. In Taiji, Japan, the dolphins are slaughtered by the thousands year after year as bycatch from the dolphin trade and a "tradition" that no longer holds any relevance today especially because of recent studies showing cetacean intelligence and personhood. For your messages, please email them at russligtas@gmail.com. Thank You!

Dolphin at Tañon Strait, Philippines. photo by Rai Quenca

THREE LULLABIES

2011-10-14T03:00:00.006+08:00

9 PM October 19, 2011 Handuraw Gorordo Ave., Lahug, Cebu City.

The show debuts the following three performances by Russ Ligtas:

"Lullaby of the Lifeless"

A different kind of haunting takes place in this imagining of the afterlife. A dead man is racked with memories from his previous life.

"A Fluke Among Flukes"

This piece was first performed without an audience on unfinished walkway in Lilo-an. It begins as a rumination on the plight of the dolphins in Taiji, Japan and ends as a prayer. These non-human persons are being slaughtered by the thousands every year because of the captive dolphin trade.The piece will be performed later this month at the site of the dolphin slaughter.

"Laylay ni Mortisio" ("Mortisio's Lullaby")

An homage to Tatsumi Hijikata, this dance tells of the apprehensions that visit the mind before achieving sleephood: Mortality,the elusiveness of sleep and the fear of nightmares.

for inquiries call ERIC 09175466930/ YAS 0905269996 FREE ADMISSION + JUST PASS THE HAT

2011-10-10T13:19:00.000+08:00

Contemporary Cebu / Picasso

2011-10-10T12:35:00.000+08:00

Cebu Daily News feature: Sept. 27, 2011

Emilia

2011-09-26T19:51:00.007+08:00

One by one,
she hangs them on a line:
wet pants, wet shirts,
wet sheets, wet skirts
With wet hands she assembles them
side by side with equal, if not fair-
spaces in between
Carefully,
she arranges their future symmetry
When she sees they're ready
and fit to let leave
she retreats inside and waits
approximates the waiting and waits
for them
while they drip in the sun
while they slap and flap clumsily, undone.

She waits and lets them take their time
waits for them to dry and wave like flags, proud and high
waits for the sheets to finally billow in the wind, alive
waits for the pants to lose their deepened hues
waits for the skirts and shirts to break loose
from the heavy dampness and choose
to dance
again.

And while she waits,
she watches the sky
watches for her only bane
watches out for the coming of rain
wishes dark clouds forget to pass by,
take another route
or

just

take

  their

time

wishes nothing goes awry
and when it does
she rushes outside
opens her palms to the sky
and asks
why?

To Watch: Denisa Reyes's EVERYWOMAN for Ballet Philippines's INAMORATA

2011-09-21T17:12:00.002+08:00

Ballet Philippines presents INAMORATA, which highlights the versatility and range of the country’s premier professional ballet and contemporary dance company. Celebrating the many Faces of Eve, it shows classical pieces like “The Dying Swan” and all new pieces by the country’s top choreographers like Alden Lugnasin and Denisa Reyes. Guest artists include sopranos Rachelle Gerodias and Camille Lopez Molina, while fashion designers Rajo Laurel, Ito Curata, Jojie Lloren and Lulu Tan Gan design the costumes.

EVERYWOMAN choreographer Denisa Reyes’s take on women’s rights- choosing what is best for their bodies and ultimately a better life for themselves. It is also a reaction to all these outrageous banners posted outside churches and other anti-RH Bill institutions pronouncing that supporting the RH Bill is a sin against god. On the other hand, her piece proclaims that being against sex education and reproductive health measures/choices is a sin against women. I think the piece can send a very powerful message that comes from the ones directly and wholly affected by the presence or absence of the bill – the Filipino women. Her piece will be shown on the following schedules: Sept 23 & 24 at 8:00pm / Sept 25 at 3:00pm at the CCP Main Theater.

Tickets:

P1000 | P800 | P700 | P500 | P400 (Evening Shows)

P600 | P500 | P400 | P300 | P200 (Matinee Shows)

2011-08-25T01:37:00.015+08:00

CITIES AFTER DARK

Performances by Russ Ligtas and Martin de Mesa

Ateneo de Manila University

Fine Arts Theater 7PM

(September 12,13,14,15,16)

For tickets reservation you may contact:
JV Castro: 09178318353/Martin de Mesa: 09275320886

P250 *P200 for Ateneo students and faculty staff

[go to videos]

2011-08-17T23:34:00.002+08:00

Now You, Now Me

2011-08-13T00:48:00.003+08:00

You

tireless feet,

You

restless heart,

You

ageless bones

You

relentless spirit

scouring the known world

skimming a map riddled with legends

riddled with miraculous myths

You

persist, enduring

Now your fingers reach the minefields

of my hopes. traversing fields of dust-

the desert of my dreams

You

tap on

the land of my sullen back

tap on

the starving soul beneath it

tap on

the me I refuse to see

Me,

sleeping feet

clamoring heart,

shivering bones

waking

to your tapping

tapping

me until

my feet awaken

and stomp to your rhythm

my heart opens outward

as your arms and palms display

and my bones realign and follow

your sturdy centered form-

You, my new light

Me, your new shadow

We look, mirrorlike,

into ourselves and find

our eyes, they share a vision-

as you see your fitting end in me,

I find a new beginning in you

Come, let us meet-

here in the infinity of now.

***

For a teacher

2011-08-05T23:38:00.000+08:00

2011-08-02T11:10:00.001+08:00

Mdm B. Niyaan at Celestial Gardens, Cebu City [photo: Janjan Perez]

The man next door who owns a garden

2011-07-28T10:30:00.014+08:00

He touches

leaf after leaf

as if tracing old pages

wet with memory,

alive with the thick perfume of secrets

The balete tree, the bamboo, the fortune plants-

the children he couldn’t have,

the children he could have had

the children he has

They know him well

and respect his silence

They listen

and never talk back
They shudder at his touch

and yet,

let their lush leafy limbs

willingly break and fall

by the twist of his hands
by the strike of his bolo

It is only fair. They say.

It is only fair. He says.

XO?'s Pilgrimage to Bacong, the birthplace of PantaLeon Villegas aka Leon Kilat

2011-07-07T19:43:00.029+08:00

The Sigbin or Sigben is a Visayan mythological creature that is said to be a pet of sorcerers, witches and/or people who have unexplainable longevity or success. It is said to walk backwards with its head lowered between its hind legs, resembling a kangaroo or dog with considerably long hind legs. The Sigbin is also said to have powers of teleportation and can transport its master to places in an instant.

The hero, Pantaleon Villegas aka Leon Kilat was said to have owned a Sigbin himself, allowing him to fight the Spaniards in the 1898 revolution in different places in the Visayas at a time.

Canada-based performance artist and fellow XO? member RoyLu's occasional visits to Cebu are almost always never complete without a performance show with the group. This time, we managed to do two events: first was a small showing at Kukuk's Nest North entitled Open XO?urce. The other was a far more ambitious undertaking- a pilgrimage to the birthplace of Visayan Hero Leon Kilat in Bacong, the pilgrimage would be called sigbiniKilat.

We arrived in Dumaguete City in the dead of the night and decided to stay put while some of us, including yours truly, went out for an early breakfast and to look for accommodations. Our first event for the day would be an ambush performance by the city's famed Boulevard- a park bordering Dumaguete's most prominent coastal road.

After we had settled in our rooms at Ildesefa Inn, we went out and did our individual preparations for the show at dusk. I had initially planned to show B. Niyaan since the boulevard seemed perfect and deemed to be one the most cinematic sites for B. Niyaan to lose herself again in her memories. We stationed ourselves by the monument of the Nuns right across Mamia's Cafe and began the show with Raymund Fernandez and Budoy playing aleatoric music.

A crowd quickly began to flock around us. Raymund Fernandez did a performance tribute to Leon Kilat where he delivered an old verse about the Hero: Si Leon Kilat, Naglatay-latay sa dagat, Walay laing gisugat, Gyera ug gubat (Leon Kilat over water walking, Does not meet anything, But battle and fighting). As he was doing this, a Remote Controlled toy car draped in black fabric zoomed around him just like a sigbin would swoosh about. After this performance, I followed suit and did a condensed and modified version of B. Niyaan.

I sang the chorus of Usahay instead of the usual modified lyrics of Antony Hegarty's I fell in love with a dead boy and ended the performance by tying a red scarf around my neck and pulling it up as if it were a noose. I had overlooked the scarf as I was changing into my "normal" clothes and putting back B. Niyaan's garb in her overnight bag. The modification had to be done to keep the cinematic "perfective" flow of the performance. By the time my performance as B. Niyaan was done, the crowd had already covered the street from view. Chai Fonacier ended the show by singing a song A Cappella whilst facing the sea and only turning towards the audience after the song ended.

We had little time to rest as we headed to the nearby Jutsz Cafe to do the second show for the day and have our drinks and dinner. There were already Jutsz Cafe patrons having their early dinner when we arrived and so we had our fill of food and rest as we waited for our invited guests. We started the show with a repeat of the Leon Kilat tribute performance Raymund and I did in Open Xo?urce show in Cebu. I had left the mask I used in the first staging of this performance so I opted to use Lucid's face which I had painted with a layer of chrome. I welcomed the change and the experiment and the performance turned out be as affective as its first staging.

Chai did a set of beat poetry followed by original songs sung and composed by Dumaguete-based Jana Jumalon-Alano. I followed with B. Niyaan again, this time without having to change in front of the audience. I did a similar version to what I did in Ayo Cafe for Ms. Merlie Alunan in Tacloban City but ended the performance in the streets as they proved so inviting. Chai did another set of long form improv followed by a performance piece by RoyLu. Raymund capped the show with a rendition of Imagine which had everyone in the cafe sing along. The staged was then opened to everyone and was quickly occupied by a Silliman fine arts student who played some beautiful classical guitar.

The next day was set for the actual pilgrimage to Leon Kilat's Bacong. We were to head to Bacong after lunch and create Installations on the spaces surrounding the monument of Leon Kilat. We first did a short artist talk for the students of the Silliman University fine arts program in the morning. And after lunch and coffee, we then proceeded to Bacong to start on our installations and prepare what we need for the performance at dusk . Most of us had to get acquainted with the space even more (despite the ocular the day before) while some spent a few moments by the beach to rest from the heat. The installations we made were to be part of a "Sigbin Museum". Raymund drew sigbins with plastic straw rope while I made a white sigbin out of an old jar the town had been using as a trash bin. Tonton and Benz made a sort of sigbin "nest" while RoyLu planted a small shrine within one of Raymund's installations on the grass.

As Budoy and friend Nico were setting up the sound system, a horde of high school students fresh out of the day's classes noticed Budoy and very soon a considerable crowd of uniformed juveniles were hovering about our found stage and enjoying Budoy's celebrity presence. Raymund and Budoy then began the show with some aleatoric music as the students buzzed half-listening but still in the moment. RoyLu did a new performance piece involving an improvised toy rat as a sigbin while being followed around by his flip flops as he made footprints the color of blood. The kids were rather noisy but gave a decent applause after the performance.

Benz followed through with another performance. Unfortunately I couldn't see it since he was surrounded by the crowd and I was trying to figure out where and how I can change into my sigbin costume. I finally managed to change into my costume, crouching behind UP FASO Alumni Yvette Malahay-Kim(she'd brought her students to watch the show with her) just outside the stage near the installations. As soon as I heard Budoy calling out Naay muabot nga sigbin! Sigbin! I charged towards the stage, quickly answering the call of my master with the saxophone. I stayed with him (Raymund) and walked by his side until he gave me away so that he can finally rest and die. The kids were both frightened and delighted with my version of the sigbin and we ended the show with that performance.

The crowd quickly dispersed right after as storm clouds heralded heavy rains. We went straight to Hayahay to have our dinner and I had to do a short performance after to sort of "pay" for our dinner. I didn't necessarily enjoy that but was glad to have a bit of practice with the two-faced figure dance and expel whatever's left of my energy for that day. All in all, the trip was a victory for performance art in the regions and for XO?. It was an honor to perform and talk about art alongside people I consider mentors, as well as a great pleasure to share art in Dumaguete and Bacong and celebrate a Hero that I hope will live on in the memory of the Visayan pysche.

FROM TOP

Raymund Fernandez and Budoy start the show at Dumaguete's famed "Boulevard"; B. Niyaan continues her lament by the sea; filmmaker Joanna Arong documented the entire pilgrimage; B. Niyaan at Jutsz Cafe; Chai Fonacier as Kurdapya Dimaculangan; RoyLu during his performance piece; RoyLu after his performance piece; Raymund Fernandez heading the artist talk at Silliman University; sigbiniKilat in Bacong; final performance at Hayahay.

PHOTO Credits: Jana Jumalon-Alano, Chai Fonacier & Yvette Malahay-Kim

The XO? pilgrimage to Bacong, Leon Kilat's birthplace was composed of a fellowship of 10:

Raymund Fernandez, RoyLu, Budoy, Chai Fonacier, Joanna Arong, Tonton, Benz, Anne Germaine, Luz, and myself.

XO? goes to Dumaguete city and Bacong

2011-07-01T11:44:00.000+08:00

SHORT FILM: To dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body

2011-06-30T19:35:00.006+08:00

Entry to the 4th Silvershorts.mov short film competition.

Click [here] for the copy with better quality published on YOUTUBE.

[back to video gallery]

Contemporary Cebu at The Picasso

2011-06-14T14:49:00.002+08:00

Five exhibitions—Anatomical Trajectories, Displacement, Lead Lightning, Teeth of the Mouth, The Queen’s Resurrection—open at the The Picasso Boutique Serviced Residences on June 18, 2011 at 6:00 p.m. The contemporary regional art exhibition features the artworks of renowned abstract expressionists Tito Cuevas, Karl Roque, Sio Montera, and Vidal Alcoseba, Jr.; sculptor Ritchie Quijano; and graffiti artist Kidlat of The Junks Collective, performance artist Russ Ligtas, social realist Marvin Chito L. Natural, and surrealist Palmy Pe-Tudtud.

Anatomical Trajectories by Palmy Pe-Tudtud showcases recent pieces that reflect a personal narrative using a scientifically surreal streak. Displacement is composed of works by Marvin Chito L. Natural who creates a commentary on Cebu society. Lead Lightning features Kidlat of The Junks Collective, resonating their strong vandalistic force in the heart of a different city. Teeth of the Mouth, the fourth show, consists of video performances of butoh artist Russ Ligtas. The last show, The Queen’s Resurrection, is a collection of highlights from the artistic careers of Tito Cuevas, Karl Roque, Sio Montera, Ritchie Quijano, and Vidal Alcoseba Jr., present-day Cebuano artists who dominate the local art scene.

Curated by JV Castro, Contemporary Cebu will run from June 18, 2011 to August 14, 2011 at The Picasso Boutique Serviced Residences, 119 L.P. Leviste Street, Salcedo Village, Makati City. Contemporary Cebu is co-presented by Alternative Contemporary Art Studio, Casa Gorordo Museum, Gothong Southern Lines, and the Ramon Aboitiz Foundation, Inc.

Roland's Nightmare - extract from "Happy"

2011-06-13T21:33:00.006+08:00

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Prologue of "Happy"

2011-06-13T21:32:00.007+08:00

Photography by Archie Uy

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To Step Outside In -extract from "Happy"

2011-06-13T21:30:00.005+08:00

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"Have you seen my human?"

2011-05-05T23:24:00.011+08:00

The Birth of Happy.

October 6th 2009- Happy was born in room 229, a space subdivided into four studios for the Fine Arts students of the University of the Philippines. On that same night and place, “XO?” Performance Art Group was staging a show entitled “Please Don’t Talk To The Natives”. Happy was born a healthy glob of color in the second space to the left but was unfortunately given away by its birth mother –its human. Over the years, Happy has been in search of his human, wandering the cities and splashing and sharing his colorful essence wherever his path leads.

Happy's Progress. (clockwise from top left) 2009 to present

Happy is color. That unique color inherent in every human born. Happy’s strings pull the ends of a mouth to form a genuine smile. The silver in his raiment reflect sparkles of illuminated eyes. Happy is also a song, a yawp of freedom echoing in the mountains. But Happy is lost- or his human is. Either way, they have been separated. His human might not even recognize him anymore but Happy will not stop his search. Because among other things, Happy is also hope.

project profile / performance work / ART

THREE LULLABIES (Tulo Ka Laylay)

2011-05-05T13:36:00.082+08:00

PROJECT PROFILE
Time: October 19, 2011
Space: Handuraw Gorordo, Cebu
Collaborators: Chai Fonacier, Raymund Fernandez
Credits:
"I Miss You So" by Chris Connor, performed by Paul Anka
"Rokudan-No-Shirabe" Traditional Japanese Koto Music
Video Documentation: Mark Gary (to be released)
Photo Documentation: Faye Seña

The THREE LULLABIES triptych performance show debuts three performances inspired by specific time frames of the artist's confrontations with mortality, insomnia, and shared guilt. The ontologies of which are contained in a single night:

12:01 am
Lullaby of the Lifeless
with Chai Fonacier

Visions from Way Past at Midnight.
A different kind of haunting takes place in this imagining of the afterlife: a dead figure is racked with memories from his previous life triggered by the memories of the living. The performance uses a 1950’s song to illustrate the cyclical nature of the imagined afterlife.

a fluke among flukes reprise. photo by Faye Seña

2:24 am
A Fluke Among Flukes Reprise
with Raymund Fernandez

Nocturnal Visitations and Epiphanies.

This performance takes off from the installation Facing Extinction and the video installation/performance featured in it titled A Fluke Among Flukes which was first performed without an audience on an unfinished coastal walkway in Lilo-an, Cebu. The reprise begins as a rumination on the plight of a non-human people- cetaceans. The piece preludes PROJECT TAIJI, a series of performances at the site of the dolphin slaughter. This year’s dolphin slaughter season in Taiji, Japan began last September and will continue until the end of March 2012.

Laylay ni Mortisio (Mortisio's Lullaby). photo by Faye Seña

4:05 am

Laylay ni Mortisio (Mortisio's Lullaby)

Grim Dreams Waking Horrors.
This dance tells of the apprehensions that visit the mind before achieving sleephood. Mortisio is still awake at 4:05 and his mind is full of inconvenient realities. He cannot sleep but when he finally does, he dreams of death and wakes up to the reality of consciousness.

Laylay ni Mortisio (Mortisio's Lullaby). photo by Faye Seña

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news from the Mouth's Cradle: HAPPY. new performances by Russ Ligtas

2011-05-05T13:36:00.004+08:00

click here to enlarge

Performance Artist Russ Ligtas' latest offering is a collection of experimental performances following the story of Happy.

Diwata Galeri, Firiday, April 01, 2011
Kukuk's Nest (North), Talamban Road, Nasipit, Cebu City
Tickets with dinner @ Php 250
dinner starts 7pm + show begins 8pm
Limited Seating Capacity .
For reservations , pls call : 4163443 / 09123109642
or email diwata61@yahoo.com

Ghostlike, Butoh by Russ Ligtas

2011-04-10T03:19:00.004+08:00

For Liyo, on his birthday.

[back to videos]

For Liyo

2011-04-10T02:36:00.014+08:00

When we broke from crawling

and considered walking,

you’d swum an ocean

and taken flight

When we fell trying,

you were grooming your wings

for your journey back

You see,

our wings

unlike yours,

are still seeds of wishes on our backs

They have not begun to grow

We are not ready for them

We have yet to earn their being

As you have switched from feet

and hands to fins and flukes to wings,

we have yet to straighten our legs

and stand as you have-

long before you even knew

you had to learn to

Where are you,

child of the sun

friend of the wind

lover of the earth

brother to the sea?

We have only your feathers-

delicate letters from your travels

in our calloused hands

carrying the scent of distant lands

you’ve surely conquered,

dazzled by the color of your soul,

enchanted by your taming touch

and swooned by the tickle

of your tongue

Come back

and radiate your warmth upon us

once again

for we have gone cold and dull

in your absence,

languid and bent

Every day

we stretch our necks

and search the sky

for you,

we look down and wait

for the shadow of your wings

to glide across the ground

Return

creature of flight

of light

of delight

of lightness,

end this bobbing of hollow-eyed heads

and teach us, finally-

how to fly.

***

Thank you mpareh.

In dog we trust

2011-04-06T00:54:00.004+08:00

Go to bed

Let the dogs do the barking

Let them do the howling

for you

They can take it

Their hearts are smaller

but they beat faster

They can take the cold

and the dark

and the mystery of night

Let them lick the wounds of the day

Their tongues are softer

and easier on the skin

They are better at it

It will not take them long

Let them dig through the dirt

and uncover the spoils

Their courage is purer

and more potent

They can take whatever horror

rises from the depths of the black earth

Hide under cover of their warm coats

and sing yourself a lullaby

If they become silent

It is only because they are listening

to you,

for you

Now rest in the innocence of their eyes

and close yours as easy

as they stand guard

patient

knowing

certain that the sun will return

in the morning,

that the mourning will end.

The Evolution of Mdm B. Niyaan

2011-03-29T17:16:00.012+08:00

Mdm B. Niyaan (as in the cebuano "Biniyaan" meaning abandoned) began as an adapation of Madame Butterfly in an autobiographical performance discussing the subject of love. Donned in a black ceremonial kimono, an androgynous almost expressionless mask and carrying a red parasol, Mdm B. Niyaan was the first character created among all the other alter-egos. Her first appearance was with XO? performance art group in a piece with Liyo Denorte as "the devil" with accompanying music by the late great musician Winston Velez. In the performance, Mdm B. Niyaan sang B. Gudmundsdottir's "unravel" whilst quite literally interpreting it with her pumice heart in hand wrapped in red yarn which the devil unravels throughout the duration of the performance. The piece was later restaged in award-winning playwright Crispin Ramos' Bantawan Theatre in Visitacion as part of the retrospective XO? show "The best of XO?". In this version, the devil is replaced by a red balloon, released into the sky, unravelling the yarn and revealing the state of Mdm B. Niyaan's heart.

before and after. (left photo by Liyo Denorte) Mdm B. Niyaan in 2008 (right photo by Janjan Ybañez Perez) present

Now, Mdm B. Niyaan has evolved into an embodiment of the forsaken lover in us all. She is literally the "lady in waiting". Still in the skirt of her wedding gown, she waits and waits still, steadfast in her love as she slowly turns into a living ghost, lost in her own oblivion. She sings and dances of her absent love, and frequently relives her most painful and ecstatic moments in fits of violent reverie. For her, memory is as palpable as sweat, something she can taste and smell and feel and can sting her eyes and make her cry even more.

Photo by Katya Zialcita

back to MDM B Niyaan PROJECT PROFILE

Happy Birthday

2011-03-22T22:23:00.012+08:00

Three years ago,

your birthday present was something else

you took to me an island paradise no less

and gave me hell

There in a state of ecstasy, of having been whisked away

by my man, yes you were my man-

you chickened out on me

turned away from me for good, maybe

You said you couldn’t take it anymore

that you had to leave these shores

that you had to leave me

So you did

and my birthdays haven’t been the same ever since

Only because in the dread of its imminence

I go through lengths farther than you’ve ever been

to run from me, from us , from you

to survive the memory of that day, of you

You were my victory, you see

a love I have built with scarred caloused hands

and a zombie heart on stands

but I fixed myself by letting me love you

and ended up letting you love me less

But like your birthday present, you were something else

You lingered like your great predecessor

the one you beat with your hardcore

laugh and your smile that can kill the devil

and raise the dead,

the dead like me.

Yes, you lingered on, you stayed

in my head, in my double-dead

heart, you lingered more and more

your ghost knocking on my door

twenty four

seven

And I tried to shoo you away believe me

I tried to dismantle your image in my brain

and reassemble my bane, a monster of pain

But I remember your sobs like I remembered mine

I remember your eyes flooded, your fingers entwined

clasping for something, something I’ve seen and felt

that you haven’t yet-

perhaps until now.

Three years later,

I’m here

with you

in the city you ran away to

hide from me

from us

from you.

Here,

on my birthday

with you, my birthday present.

taking me to dinner

and a movie

like how we used to be.

And my first real date

in a thousand days

since you left me.

“Take care” you said

“Always”

“And be good”

I’m always good, I say.

Hey

Listen.

You don’t have to say it.

Happy birthday-

to us.

Introducing Mdm B. Niyaan

2011-03-22T03:27:00.007+08:00

After embracing the art of Butoh, visual artist and now Cebu’s only Butoh dancer, Russ Raniel Ligtas continues with his artistic evolution in a new set of performances entitled “Mdm B. Niyaan”. The show will feature one of the alter-egos Ligtas employs in his various performances that lead him to appropriate Butoh as another artistic medium.

Butoh rose in 1950s Tokyo-Japan, when Tatsumi Hijikata and Kazuo Ohno pioneered a certain technique of intimate and haunting dances. Butoh strikingly dwells more on the relationship of the performer’s body with his soul; his subconscious in an exhibition of usually slow and controlled movements. Naturally evasive of a fixed definition, Butoh has spread across the world and entices performers and audience alike. Ligtas draws himself to this raw experience, and has since been relaying his ideas through the obscure but captivating art form.

“Mdm B. Niyaan” is an autobiographical piece in three parts titled “Fight”, “Struggle”, and “Surrender”. These three sections map out a series of events from a specific period and aspect of the artist as a lover rendered in a collection of Butoh dances, interactive performances, and songs. The show will bring in Ligtas’ artistic roots and is infused with various elements of performance art and theatre.

Mouth's Cradle's offering for April Fool's Day: Mdm B. Niyaan

2011-03-07T19:52:00.010+08:00

click here for actual size.

An evening with Butoh Artist Russ Ligtas in a story of lost love and relentless memory

Diwata Galeri, Firiday, April 01, 2011

Kukuk's Nest (North), Talamban Road, Nasipit, Cebu City

Tickets with dinner @ Php 200 regular /Php300 special

dinner starts 7pm + show begins 8:30 pm

Limited Seating Capacity .

For reservations , pls call : 4163443 / 09123109642

or email diwata61@yahoo.com

"FACING EXTINCTION" Installation featuring video art enititled "A Fluke Among Flukes"

2011-02-24T11:20:00.016+08:00

Mused

2011-02-23T22:23:00.005+08:00

I have decided

to make you my muse

on this hour

when not only houses

and streets and buildings

separate us

but foreign universes

alien lands

of different time scales

and physical laws

Tonight, you are my muse

going about your business

as you dwell in a world

entirely your own,

where probably

pigs fly above banana-made castles

surrounded by moats that flow

with deep dark chocolate

home to gummy crocodiles,

translucent multicolored reptiles

licked by the light of a lollipop moon-

And you,

perhaps framed by a window

in a tower higher than a mile

Yes, you

beaming a cheshire cat smile-

glowing, beckoning

a beacon

I look to your face

so I can keep typing

so I can keep writing

because you are my muse

I cannot refuse

to choose you-

now, at least for now

Maybe not tomorrow

but certainly, definitely

on this hour, on this night

in this reality, I write

for you,

my muse

sleeping,

unaware of your new calling

Unaware of me,

houses, and streets, and buildings

away

awake

but dreaming-

as you are.

Sayanga Nimo Uy

2011-02-20T23:55:00.012+08:00

"Sayanga nimo uy" ingon ka,

Gamit imong simod nga mga murag lubot sa baka

Ug nganong sayang man ko?

Kay di ko mupatol nimo? Kay babay ka?

Sa tinuod lang day, mupatol man gihapon ko'g babay,

pero muputi nalang ang uwak, di gihapon ko mupaak

anang imong pahiyom nga murag tiyanak

Ayaw lang laina pagsabot day

Kung nganong sa imo, dali kaayo ko manglagot

Ug kung nganong sa imo, di nako mada magbinutbot

Dili man tungod kay bati ka’g nawong ba

bisan runner-up ra ka sa talong nga gisugba

gipanitan ug gitorta, gitilawan ug giluwa

kay pirting parata pagkaluto-a

Dili pud tungod kay wa kay kwarta

Kay parehas ra man tang gasiga ang mata

gipangkapoy sa pagpangita'g kaayuhan, galaroylaroy

samtang kanunayng gainom ug gamaoy

Dili tungod kay pirting daku-a ana imong baba, miss

Nga kung mukanta puydi agi-an og ceres,

kung mukatawa masudlan ug superferry

ug kung musyagit murag nakaluwa sa tibuok SRP

Dili pud tungod sa imong lawas

Nga mas bug-at pa’s napu ka sakong bugas

Gipatongpatong, Giputos ug tube, ug tsenen-

Snowman de Pilipinas!

Dili pud tungod kay putot ka

kay putot man pud ko, klaro man na diba?

Pero mas putot gihapon ka

may nalang ko, gikaluy-an bisan gamay

di pareha nimo day-

putot,

di mapasyalo ang katambok,

sabaan, way batasan,

ang dagway kulang nalang og sungay,

ug baho pa gyud og baba.

Pero di gihapon day,

di tungod anang mga butanga

nganong di gyud ko munganga

mu-usap ug mutulon anang imong kumbira

Simple ra man ba,

tungod kay BUGO ka.

Kay ang imong konsepto sa sayang kay laki nga gwapo

nga dili gyud, i repeat, dili gyud ma-imo

Kay ang sayang para nimo kay laki nga tinuod

Tinuod sa iyang kaugalingon, sa uban tao, sa ginoo, ug bisan sa imo,

Kay ang sayang para nimo kay laki nga musukol

sa panghinaway, bugalbugal, ug mga panuway

nga gitawag og pihig ug way rasong panglupig

Kay ang sayang para nimo kay laki nga kibaw mutuo

bisan siya nag-inusara, bisan wala siyay kuyog

Busa una ka musulti nga sayang ko

kuyog sa tanang ubang tao nga pareha nako ug di pareha nimo:

di pareha sa dagway’ sa imong kalag ng murag balay nga gi-anay

di pareha sa imong kapobre sa pamatasan ug kadato sa pagmahay

di pareha sa katambok sa imong garbo nga walay unod bisan gamay

di pareha sa imong baba nga way masulting matahom ug matinabangon

Ug dili pareha sa pagkaputot og pagkamubo sa imong panan-aw ug pagmatngon

Una ka musulti nga sayang ko, nga sayang mi-

Tan-awa sa kuno na imong kaugalingon beh.

For Mecca

2011-02-16T12:24:00.015+08:00

And we wonder what you see

outside your DIY fences

when you look behind those lenses

not the ones on your camera

but those hugging your ultra

sharp eyes- held back by squinted lids

as cigarette smoke seeps from your lips

You say you’re not deep

but please don't even try

we all know the bullshit hill’s too steep

for you to climb, too foul for your kind

that's why we don't waste time

in moving along, and dancing along

and singing along

with you in your car

that’s as sweet smelling as your scars

Drive us, miss daisy and break the silence

Deliver us from these sullen awkward moments

Your laugh is a racket; warmer than a jacket

your wisecracking knocks our lightbulbs off their sockets

But you can be cold too, colder than Busay

where we used to shout out songs and wave goodbye

to sadness and say hello to madness,

breathe in our awesomeness, puke out all the mess

in the nearness of us.

Sing us a tune, please, miss muppet

and frighten the puppets

that screw us on tuffets

for days without nothing to do , to feel ,

to inspire us to heal

from this blahblahblah normalcy

this healthy existential complacency,

Oh miss daisy please have mercy,

give us a fever as hot as summertime,

perhaps a moondance or a funny valentine

It doesn’t matter if your volume’s sublime

Doesn’t matter if we end up killing time

waiting for your rhyme to fill the room and mime

every single person with the crime

that’s your heart, bleeding

and we drink from it, humbled, believing.

***

Happy Birthday Geng, thank you.

Go Green Love

2011-02-14T05:11:00.017+08:00

You there in your go green shirt

smiling like you’ve just been hurt

I know that smile, it’s called

Staying alive staying alive

Ah ah ah ah staying aliiiiiiiiiiive-

I know,

Love hurts but your ex is not all that

Ditching you like that,

Leaving you like that -you

pretty face you

heartthrob you

sexy eyes you

dramatize, internalize

what I’ve done and been through

It maybe a long time ago, but yeah I was there too

I know how it feels to be dumped without a clue

They say they don’t deserve you

Or "you’re too good for me boo"

When what they really mean is "I’m tired of fucking you!"

And I know you’ve been looking at me,

looking for me too

But please baby don’t do unto others

what you don’t want others to do unto you

The last time you texted me and I showed up,

you didn’t know what to do-

with me

yeah me

hey, it’s me

didn’t you see me?

Hey, remember me, you asked for me?

But I’m still here baby,

looking at you

You know I’m a sucker for you

Your smile’s a sight I just can’t say no to

One day I'll glide my fingers across your future tattoo

You know the one that says you love me too?

I wanna kiss you and feel you and see what's inside you

I wanna react, make contact, and contract you like an STD or a flu

And I wanna bend for you and break condoms with you

hell I’ll even break dance for you

If I could just dance with you-

again, without you keeping your distance of ten

steps and more and more as you leave

without saying goodbye, but it doesn’t really matter

'cause you didn’t even say hi

and you say you don’t remember cause you had too many Tanduay

Ice’s, Baby I’m a Pisces,

I’m a romantic, poetic, and yes masochistic

neurotic, artistic, my style is ballistic

Bring it on baby, you can’t ever make me sick

And you can be a prick or at times juvenile

so act like a child, hell I’ll be your pedophile

How’s it gonna be baby, when’s it gonna be?

Shall I count from one to three,

Or wait for you to tell me, tell me

quando quando quando quan –do?

And I'll wait

and while I wait

for you in your go green shirt over there

I imagine my nose buried in your hair

not your head stupid but you know, down there?

Come on baby, what are you waiting for?

You don't need a go signal , your shirt says it all

Dance with me, leave with me, get off that damn chair

It's time for us to put love back in the air.

In the air

2011-02-14T03:13:00.004+08:00

So it's valentines
and love is in the air,
question
where the fuck is my pair?
my inbox is bare
i still sit and stare
glued to a chair
scrolling scrolling through my daily facebook fare
Let's see:
married married
in a relationship in a relationship
it's complicated
the single ones are ugly as shit
should i say it? am i gonna say it?
you know what i mean,
it's not fucking fair!
hearts everywhere;
paper hearts, cardboard hearts,
plastic ones etcetera
que sera sera
just doesn't work anymore does it?
so where is he
where is she
where is it
is he there
is she there
is it there
are you there
are you there
are you there?

man this is boring,
so exhausting,
more exhausting
than jerking
off to porn streaming,
perpetually buffering

buffering

buffering

but never coming

Anyway,
yeah it's valentines day

and love is in the air-

fuck.

Leave Taking - Butoh performance with Liyo Denorte

2011-01-03T03:26:00.002+08:00

[back to videos]

Video: Mdm B. Niyaan - Mouth's Cradle, 12-20-10

2010-12-22T16:52:00.004+08:00

[back to videos]

[back to] project profile]

Video: Am, But 1.5 - Bantawan Sugbu Theater, 12-10-10

2010-12-22T16:50:00.004+08:00

[back to videos]

[back to project profile]

Video: He[sit]ation 1.4 - Bantawan Sugbu Theater,12-10-10

2010-12-22T16:36:00.008+08:00

[back to videos]

[back to project profile]

Poetry [2011]

2010-12-05T02:48:00.011+08:00

PICK A POEM:

NEW: Emilia

NEW: Yes

Now You, Now Me

The Man Next Door Who Owns A Garden

Am, but & other uncertainties

2010-11-06T17:35:00.002+08:00

Three Nights at the Bantawan Sugbu Theatre. December 8, 9, 10 + 8 o' clock in the evening. For ticket reservations call Gloria 09152655858 or pat 09326339315

Video/Slideshow: Mecca Maranga shoots "Am, But"

2010-11-02T15:44:00.009+08:00

go to IMAGES / VIDEOS / project profile

Video: Am, But (my cards on the table) - Turtle's Nest book Cafe & Gallery, 10-22-10

2010-11-02T15:42:00.007+08:00

[back to videos]

Video: He[sit]ation 1.1 - Turtle's Nest book Cafe & Gallery, 10-22-10

2010-11-02T15:30:00.008+08:00

[back to videos]

Performance: Am, but & other uncertainties

2010-10-14T02:03:00.003+08:00

Corned Tuna

2010-10-05T15:01:00.004+08:00

Everybody likes corned tuna, I thought, watching a middle-aged man in rimmed glasses drop three cans of the canned food from the shelf into his basket. My mother had brought me to the supermarket with her to buy some groceries for me at the studio and we were at the canned goods aisle. I’ve been having a sort of loathing for preserved food so the aisle didn’t feel as appetizing even with the purchasing power of my mother. I’ve also been broke and it was an opportune time to get anything just in case. Just in case. If it hadn’t been for the man in rimmed glasses, I wouldn’t have wanted to get anything from that aisle. You like corned tuna. And you’ve told me stories of other people liking it, your father if I’m not mistaken. Oh, yeah, corned tuna, I said. Go ahead my mother replied, smiling. After deciding between chili and the original flavor, I grab one, two, three cans, copying the man in rimmed glasses. I paused and thought- about you-“would this be enough?”- four , five. One, two, three, four, five - five cans of corned tuna in the basket, we left the canned goods aisle and moved on.

I only unpacked the groceries the day after my mother and I bought them, the same day after you left the studio as well. I didn't get enough sleep that day and desperately needed a reason to get up, unpacking the groceries seemed the only thing sensible to do. I first transferred some of the powdered milk from the massive can my mother forcibly bought into two glass jars. I arranged the packets of oatmeal cookies on the shelf, and placed the sugar in a sealed plastic container. All the rest; tea, biscuits, pain relievers, I put in their right places until only the five cans of corned tuna were left. I hesitated, dumbfounded, watching them stand from inside the plastic bag. When I went back to my senses, I took them out of the bag. I barely looked at their labels, unlike what I did with the rest, checking if they were healthy enough to eat. One two three four five, five cans of corned tuna, I counted repeatedly as if I was never sure of the count. Finally, I arranged them in a line like a platoon of stocky tin soldiers, cold little cylindrical things, I never even got to show them to you as sort of a surpise. I wondered what to do with them now that you’re gone. With a sigh, I closed the cupboard door gently – oh well, everybody likes corned tuna.

The Waking of Lazaruss - An Open Invitation to Participate

2010-09-30T00:52:00.010+08:00

Mouth's Cradle is in the process of mounting a ceremonial performance dubbed The Waking of Lazaruss before the day of the dead on November second. The ritual will include nine direct participants that represent each of the following enneatypes:

X the reformer
X the helper
X the achiever
X the individualist
X the investigator
X the loyalist
X the the idealist
X the challenger
X the peacemaker

Once all the roles are filled, the performance will happen on the planned date which is on the last Tuesday of October. Mouth's Cradle is calling on cradle rockers to participate in the said ceremony.If you are interested, please send a private message to Mouth's Cradle or Russ Raniel Ligtas on facebook or email russligtas@gmail.com and indicate which enneatype you wish to fill. A final invitation and sketch of the programme will be sent to the final nine participants. Types with X marks mean the type has been filled. Please share this note as well. Thank You and Thou Art.

Mount Wittenberg Orca - Björk + Dirty Projectors

2010-09-23T20:57:00.006+08:00

The Dirty Projectors and Björk were first asked by Stereogum.com’s Brandon Stosuy to do a benefit concert. As both agreed to do the show, Stosuy asked if they could collaborate as well. Both said Yes.

Initially, Dirty Projector’s frontman David Longstreth wanted to write a collection of songs for Björk and the group to sing at a collaborative benefit show. On that same month, Amber from the Dirty projectors, while walking on a ridge on Mount Wittenberg, saw a small pod of whales swimming into the bay in the distance. That experience became the subject of the songs Longstreth would write. The collection was first performed on April 8 2009 at the intended benefit show in a bookshop called Housing Works in New York. Björk sang the part of the mother whale, while David played the part of Amber. The rest of the Dirty Projectors vocalists played the part of the baby whales. The album was digitally released last June through the Mount Wittenberg Orca website giving all the proceeds to the National Geographic Society for the creation of international marine reserves.

Made by two very complex avant-garde orientations, Mount Wittenberg Orca triumphs, surprisingly, with its simplicity. The song cycle is short at about 20 minutes long with seven songs, each coming from that benefit show they did. Heavily vocal, the album seems to be a marriage of Björk’s experimental drive and the Dirty Projectors’ youthful energy. The intense melding of these two are most apparent in the songs On and Ever Onward, Sharing Orb , and All We Are, where Björk sings with the group. She doesn’t appear in the rest of the songs which are still clearly influenced by her in terms of structure and vocal arrangements. Although slightly different from the original performance version, the variations in lyrics and arrangements convey a more evolved and straightforward design that ultimately sends Björk and The Dirty Projector’s message clear as ice and ever resonating.

Road Song

2010-09-04T15:57:00.001+08:00

Come

my friends

with me

I have come

Or have I gone?

The road is no longer

there

It is

what

we make it to be

where

we want it to end

how

we want it to go

Come

come

my friends

with me

without

you

or me

The road

as long

as we

g o on.

Kuyaw Ang Yawa

2010-09-02T19:19:00.002+08:00

Kuyaw kay ka.

Kuyaw!

Kuyawa yawaa.

Yawa.

Yawa ka!

Yawa kakuyaw.

Yawaa ka, kuyaw ka?

Kuyaw ka yawa?

Yawa, away?

Away ka yawa?

Yawa!

Yawa.

Unya yawa, away?

Away!

Yawa, away?

Yawa ka?

Kuyaw ka?

Kuyawan ka?

Uy, kuyawan ka?

Yawa, Kuyawan?

Kuyawa yawaa nakuyawan!

Yawa makuyawan?

naay ana na yawa?

Yawaa.

Kuyawa.

Way yawa uy.

Kuyaw, naa.

Bahaw

2010-08-22T18:26:00.007+08:00

Human na ang kasal

Hurot na ang inasal

Human na ang kumbira

Hugaw na ang kutsara

Human na ang lingaw-lingaw

Mga langaw nalang ang gasayaw-sayaw

Ang bag-ong mingyo

tu-a na, gipangmino

sa ilang kaugalingong tuno

sa Thailand ba o sa buwan

basta, di na makit-an

ang mga pak-an.

Apan, adunay nagpabilin

Tua sa daplin, si Kurdapaya namasin

Akong nadunggan

ang hiyos sa iyang dughan

Naghagawhaw –

Wa ta kahibaw

Basin naa pa’y lain bahaw.

Nearing

2010-08-22T03:01:00.007+08:00

Opening night is only less than a hand of days away. Perhaps that doesn’t make sense. But I have given up on trying to make sense. Whatever you start with, it always ends up being so much less. A character named Richard said that. From “ The Hours”, yes. I am waiting for the boiled water to cool. I have hives all over my body. I have to take my medication but I’ve run out of mineral water. Thus the boiling. So I have hives. They say it’s because I’m stressing too much about the show. Immature. Masturbatory . Waste of paint. What the hell is he doing? But worst of all. Zero sales. I need to give back to the hands that rocked the cradle. That is my first concern. Never mind if it didn’t come out in the papers or if I end up being the only to have had fun experiencing my so-called creative output. I need to let them know. Perhaps they were right. Stress. About the show. Yes. Thus these red archipelagos on my skin. When most things are done, the question resurfaces. What am I doing?Perhaps these red bumps are the questions I’ve been shushing all this time.So now I am trying to suss myself out. I have almost completely detached myself from office-work, papers, official documents- this entire get a job-stay there-retire-then-you-can-live-your-life reality- to inhale life without the smoke from self-inflicted infernos. I have subsisted on painting sales, magazine honoraria, and odd gigs here and there like judging incredibly wasteful and idiotic pageants- Whatever are these for children? Go plant trees. Hug your mothers. Read. Go home. Feed your dog. Get struck by lightning. Yes. That. For real. Just now. The floor actually shook from the thunder. My feet even shook with it. They are tired. Hives are on them too. Maybe they need a holiday. Maybe I need a holiday. It’s seems I have walked a long way. Alone. I no longer know which way is back. To be honest, I do not want to know. I do not want to go back. Wherever that is. But I do know I have to keep walking and perhaps I might know where to go.

Rocking the Mouth's Cradle

2010-08-17T20:45:00.007+08:00

In 2004, I was given Bjork’s fifth studio album Medulla. I have had a growing interest in the Icelandic musician’s work since her album Post came out in 1995 when I was still ten years old. Medulla was rendered almost entirely with the human voice, an emphasis and homage to the primordial musical device. One of the songs in the album was entitled Mouth’s Cradle, a rather difficult song to sing with unusual and almost cryptic lyrics that I was considerably drawn to. I had learned that the song was about the loyalty of love but it was only until fairly recently that I had begun to understand what it personally meant for me. Since then, the title phrase has taken a life of its own, and has become a personal metaphor. It took so much of my thoughts that I was certain I was going to name my studio after it. Last May, Mouth’s Cradle finally found its space in one of the rooms atop the Turtle’s Nest Book Café and Gallery. It is there that I have created and nurtured my most recent concepts in painting and performance and there that Rocking the Mouth’s Cradle was conceived.

This exhibition is Mouth’s Cradle’s first offering of tangible work. It follows my observations, preoccupations, and intentions that all stem from the connotative ambiguities of the title. Rocking the Mouth’s Cradle may seem to imply only two varying goals; the inducing of sleep thereby fostering a state of stasis and paralysis or the deliverance from the horrors of the waking reality into dreamland- a place where everything can be done, everything is possible.

This polarity, however, is divided even more into the semiotics of the central character, the Mouth’s Cradle: its physical mode as the space that fosters the material manifestations of insight and its more abstract, intangible form as the metaphysical environment that reveals the insight. All these serve as the ontological platform on which the collection imposes a discussion of certain possibilities: the gift and curse that are speech and language, the voices of instinct, the universe, and its messengers, and finally the concurrence of the former and the latter towards illumination and empathy.

It is with great hope and love that I share my thoughts, visions, and dreams on canvas. They do not produce sound nor do they speak but please

listen and listen hard.

The exhibit opens at 6:30pm on the 25^th of August at the 856 G Gallery along A.S. Fortuna St. Mandaue, Cebu City. Happy will be making an appearance along with his friends from XO? Performance Art Group.

See you there!

Battle for the Sun - Placebo

2010-07-10T19:41:00.004+08:00

While most of Placebo’s albums are generally racked with intense angst, anger, and pain, their latest offering is surprisingly laced with hope, positivity, and incorruptible determination. Battle for the Sun begins with the album title track which sounds like an anthem for the once defeated. This kicks off the album’s more unified thematic atmosphere which frontman Brian Molko says “is about choosing life, about choosing to live, about stepping out of the darkness and into the light. Not necessarily turning your back on the darkness because it's there, it's essential; it's a part of who you are, but more about the choice of standing in the sunlight instead.” Ashtray heart follows suit with an upbeat chorus in Spanish. The song’s title was the initial the name of the Molko and Olsdal duo which, by the addition of drummer Schultzberg was changed to Placebo, and thus marking their serious foray into the music industry.
The album features new Drummer Steve Forrest, and distinctively gives the band a fresher sound with its new percussion base. In Battle for the Sun, it would seem as if Placebo came back sharing lessons from all the twisted tales they’ve told before. There are unquestionable gems here like Speak in Tongues and Bright Lights with lyrics one wouldn’t expect from the band that gave us Nancy Boy and Pure Morning. Another noteworthy track is Happy You’re Gone which brings back the soul of Without You I’m Nothing. The album sounds like the band’s reincarnation of sorts with a different kind of vitality but is in essence as potent as Placebo’s first hits.

A Lesson

2010-05-28T04:42:00.007+08:00

I have barred the gates

of my quiet estates

Installed fences

Reinforced defenses

Scattered mines

Posted signs

Stay out

Keep out

Perhaps I’ve mistaken you for a reader

or an english speaker

Because you still knock

at one o’ clock

or barge in

at two fifteen

pushing your way in

to weep

to sleep

to keep your bed empty

your room happily

-alone

Because it can’t handle your own

endless drone

When will you learn?

When will you break that urn

you wear as a face?

When will you learn

space won’t change your shadow’s place?

Meanwhile and just in case,

Stay out

Keep out

Get out.

Sirens

2010-04-08T13:34:00.004+08:00

The sirens are at it again,
they are coming.
They've come for me,
and maybe you.
Coming.
Nearer now
mounted on a fire truck, flaming red,
a giant twirling STOP sign.
i've been caught red-handed
again
It is true.
Mea culpa
Mea culpa
Mea culpa
akong sala
akong sala
akong dakong sala
Amen.
And then-

A crescendo
red on the go:

we-who-we-who-we-who-we?

Then it disappears,
the truck did not stop
here.
and with it
all that bright red
leaving dread,
dead ears,
and tears
unshed.

The road is now still and black.
Soon the sirens will be back.
The sirens will always be back.
and
The silence will always be back.
The sirens will always be back.
The silence will always be back.

DOLPHIN DEATHS: A CULTURAL AFFAIR

2010-04-08T03:04:00.011+08:00

SAVE JAPAN DOLPHINS.org feature on performances by Russ Ligtas in Taiji

by Leah Lemieux.

As seen on: http://savejapandolphins.org/blog/post/dolphin-deaths-a-cultural-affair

Here in Taiji we were recently pleased to welcome an unusual addition into our midst: Artist and performer Russ Ligtas from Cebu (in the Philippines).

Russ, who among his many interests studies the art of Japanese Butoh traditional dance, had made his way to the Cove in Taiji for a series of performances dedicated to the dolphins that are killed here. In his home country, Russ participates regularly in scientific surveys of several local dolphin species and has come to have a deep respect and affection for them.

"In the Philippines, some people have made fairly decent livings out of the dolphin watching industry, allowing the cetaceans to thrive whilst locals earn income. Dolphins have helped put some of our islands in the tourism map and contributed to their economic progress. In Taiji, Japan, the dolphins are slaughtered by the thousands year after year as bycatch from the dolphin trade and a "tradition" that no longer holds any relevance today, especially because of recent studies showing cetacean intelligence and personhood."

This was Russ' first time experiencing the difficulties of international travel and when we finally arrived at the Cove for his first performance, we were soon greeted by a welcome sight: several of my colleagues ambled into the Cove aboard Ady Gil's boat from seaward to film Russ' performance from another angle! Word quickly spread and the place was soon fully stocked with around 15 police who had turned out to see what was going on. But there was more, as Ady's boat was soon joined by the coast guard's zodiac in the Cove. Russ was in the public bathroom putting on his costume, which includes very striking white face paint. I was startled by a shout of surprise as one officer discovered the "ghost" in the bath room – the officer was a good sport, and we all had a good laugh about it together. As has become mandatory here now, before Russ could perform, he had to go through the passport check procedure, while the officers peered curiously at him. He was entirely relaxed about it all, which also put the police at their ease too.

I had worried that we might be barred from this enacting this project in a public place. But this did not happen, for which I am extremely grateful.

Finally, everyone settled down, and Russ began to perform on the shoreline of the Cove while cameras rolled and clicked.

Butoh dance is a more modern adaptation stemming from more traditional art forms like Kabuki theatre. It often addresses difficult social issues through the expressive medium of dance and voice. Russ' performance, like his white visage, was as haunting as it was captivating. The emotions we all struggle with here in Taiji were portrayed with the power that strikes one into silence: the anguish, the grief, the despondence, the rage, and the empty lack of understanding....

To say it was a powerful performance would be a terrible understatement. It may be that those in our official audience felt this too in some way, because Russ's Butoh performances kept a faithful and growing following throughout his short time here, despite the fact that his artistic stance was clearly of no threat, and the authorities knew this.

You can see more of Russ' work at his fine website:

http://www.russligtas.com/

During Russ' short time here, two pods of beautiful Risso's dolphins, totaling around 20 individuals, including tiny babies, were slaughtered in the Cove. Having to witness this atrocity with one's own eyes changes a person forever, and I know Russ took these experiences and incorporated them into his skillful artistic expression.

There are times when art goes where activism cannot and where it can touch or reach those who might otherwise remain deaf and blind to issues of cruelty and suffering.

I overheard much discussion over the meaning of Russ's Cove performances among the officers, and I think that is one of the aims of good art – to invite thought, discussion and, one can always, hope, change.

***

Photography by Leah Lemieux.

go to NEWS ARCHIVE

Poetry [2010]

2010-04-08T03:04:00.008+08:00

PICK A POEM:

Road Song

Kuyaw Ang Yawa

Bahaw

Lesson

Sirens

One Day at Dauin

Michelle's Birthday Song

[back to words]

Iconoclasts

2010-03-27T14:32:00.006+08:00

I overheard a friend of mine practically selling the latest "smart phones" to another friend who just lost his phone. It reminded me of an American inventor featured in this show called "Iconoclasts" together with actress Isabella Rosellini. The show basically reveals the real people behind legends and celebrities. The inventor's name was Dean Kamen, he had created several helpful tools, one of the more famous was called Segway, a two-wheeled self-balancing electric vehicle. I followed around Dean and Isabella as they explored Dean's estate and his inventions, which were either fascinating contraptions or noble ideas. Dean exuded an astounding humility for an individual with such power of mind. At one of point of the conversation, as they were talking about the great problems of the world while Dean was showing Isabella his portable water distiller, Dean expressed his frustration with humanity. He said and I quote "Technology is easy, we have the technology, it's changing people's mindsets that's hard." This was actually the statement that echoed in my head as I was listening in to my friends' conversation. The loss of a mobile phone is an opportunity, a breather, from the quasi-communication frenzy humanity has become addicted to. The type of communication that's cowardly, insincere, and rude. Shoutouts, text messages, and forwarded emails, although helpful in various ways, foster this kind of communication. The loss of a mobile phone presents a period of pure communication, a space and a time for silence and an opportunity to gaze at the real world instead of a virtuak one that fits in your palm. Listening to my friend talking about the latest and the trendiest phones made me realize, it is with this kind of contagious blind campaigning that breeds more of this consuming frenzy. The "advantages" and "special features" of the phones my friend was talking about seem to mask a bigger, more sinister purchase. It wasn't just the "Experia" or the "Aino" that was being rallied for, it was this counterculture. One needs to be in touch at this age but it seems dubious to bite at every offering the market presents. Questions should be posed before an important purchase. Do we really need all these extra features? Is it the right time to buy this? Is this a good deal? Is this really for utility purposes or just gloss? Technology is easy, and technology is good, but if it creates a false need and an unnecessary compromise, it defeats its own purpose.

One day at Dauin

2010-03-25T16:41:00.005+08:00

So we drifted to the beach,

in our wet shoes,

our drunk eyes,

and soaked with a secret we shared

but did not know of.

The sun rose at our arrival,

a round hello, red and warm.

We lay and turned in the sand,

scrubbing off our guilt and our ties

We twisted our bodies underwater

wringing out the secret

we carried around.

At noon, we ate without talking,

chewing at each other’s eyes,

swallowing our lies.

We watched our shadows

switch sides but remained ours.

We left as the sun sank,

our faces

stained by its redness.

And with wet eyes

and drunk shoes,

you and I drove back home

as our secret drifted in the ocean.

Talking Silence

2010-03-19T18:39:00.003+08:00

Perhaps the primary reason for my unequivocal silence in the virtual world was the sentiment that the community I exist in has, in a sense, either misused or overused the freedom and the privilege of being heard. I remember thinking “too much talk, too less action” and though I share the same weakness, I am quite certain it has become prevalent. In this exercise of silence, which I have practiced as a young boy albeit unconsciously, I’d like to believe I’ve somehow learned a lot of things- lessons mostly about my own processes and my niche as a social and individual being. This “exercise” has led me to participate in even more specific experiments on the importance of silence, its fundamental purpose in our evolution. One such experiment was the four-day retreat I spent at the Priory of the Brothers and Sisters of St. John where I found for myself another hiding place- the Celestial Gardens. Situation-based experiments also contributed greatly to my foray with the absence of noise, instances such as social gatherings in various scales from parties to small-group interactions where my apparent silence expresses observation as a participative reaction. This portion of my immersion with silence, however, might have only affirmed my inherent proclivities as far as social interaction is concerned. I am a confessed observer, and even my initiatory actions are observation-oriented as well. As a practitioner of performance art, observation plays a vital role in the creation and success of my performances, much like the mechanics of silence and observation where one has a considerable need for the other.

I should have qualified silence first before I started this discussion. Silence practiced maybe defined as either of the following: being absent of noise or being in environments absent of noise. And because I included the word “noise” in my definition, the word can refer to the literal “noise” or the noise as in the excess use of speech in the process of interaction. Noise can also refer to unreasonable stress one inflicts on oneself. Having stated these qualifiers and qualifications, the exercise, ultimately, has rendered me- to put things simply –addicted to silence. Perhaps this is how my initial reasons have evolved into and thus prolonged my refusal to write text in whatever form. I have come to realize, however, that although silence has and will remain a preoccupation as far as my existence is concerned, it should be, at least challenged and deconstructed. Challenging and deconstructing silence will not come as a counter-study or an immersion in the definitions of “noise” I have stated, rather, an acceptance of the importance of language and the documentation of observations through language aka writing. This discussion is one of the first attempts; thus, forgive me if this comes out rather alienating.

With that, I am pleased to announce that READ RUSS will from here on in, push itself to publishing observations in a close-to-regular frequency.

Michelle's Birthday Song

2010-02-16T02:32:00.005+08:00

Tonight,

her house is the universe,

her friends are stars

and

she,

but a satellite,

careening through the vacuum

pushing the blackness farther

into their pockets

into their sockets

into their hollow mouths

into the crack

of her own tired smirk

Perhaps,

silence is her song for the evening,

not the love of danger

or the glimmer of whiskey

Eyes in,

she wraps her skin

around the moon

She cradles it in her arms

and hums a tune,

through a cigarette.

READ RUSS OPERATIONAL

2010-02-15T23:16:00.002+08:00

After more than five months of silence, I've decided to go back to writing here. Welcome back to my universe.

Performance:

2009-08-19T07:56:00.002+08:00

CLICK HERE FOR PHOTOS

Reflection on the sea between Lorca and Dali

2009-08-13T15:07:00.007+08:00

How many necessary NO's have I not said

and how many YES's have I wasted?

I've kept the courtyard from flooding

by standing still in the downpour

head bowed in futile humility

fixed, unmoving, guarding the flux of time

until the rains have stopped to a full

I wonder how many bits of wood,

of earth and gold, I've allowed

to flow unnoticed- how many petals,

roses, or whole bouquets I've tossed

along the waters cupid has blessed me.

I've resisted a Lorca or two

Now, even the Dali in me is dead.

I sense a distubrance in the force...a certain Ryan Ligtas Nursebrother

2009-08-12T13:46:00.000+08:00

I didn't have time nor the chance to paint your portrait a la "AJ McLean" so I drew the great Vader instead. Happy Birthday Kuya! So you're like forty now, right? hehehe�

Bed Wetter, Bad Weather (fragment)

2009-08-08T08:51:00.000+08:00

Head in hand,

you hide inside

your weeping mime

Behind the curve

of your spine,

your face reacts to facts,

contracts

and holds its folds

to forget

to wring out what was said

now wet, with regret

your womb- this bed

is soaked instead.

Bed Bug

2009-08-03T08:34:00.002+08:00

On sunny days

the sheets are splayed

The dust takes flight

and delights

in the sight

of sun

I make a run

for it, for fun

Fast while it lasts

and the odor of dolor

disappears

behind my ears

But

The sun always dies

waves goodbyes

in orange or red or pink

and I sink

with it

back into the deep

that bed of black

With a sack

or I in it

I lie,

awry

misplaced

replaced

by a layer of dust

and rust

and lust.

Ugma, karun, gahapun, ug ganina: magkita ra ta dire sa atong padulngan

2009-05-07T00:44:00.007+08:00

Gahapun, padulong ko dire
Karun ni-abot ko didto
Ganina nilakaw ko gapalayo sa ugma
ug karun ni-apas ang kaganina nako
Lisod na ni
Kapoy ang maggukod
sa nadakpan na
Ganina unta ang angayan karun
ug ang ugma mas angayan gahapun
pero ni-abot na ko dire
gikan didto sa akong gipadulngan karun
Ing-ani man gud ni:
ang ganina ug gahapun
ug ang ugma ug karun
kanunay magkabali-os
ug ako kanunay nilang
malabyan ug mabiyaan
ug ang karun ug ganina
ug ang ugma ug gahapun
kanunay pud nakong
mabiyaan ug malabyan
Busa mupuyo nalang ko,
magpahimutang dire,
sa akong puesto
sa akong lawas
Ug maghuwat nga ang karun ug gahapun
Ug ang ugma ug ganina
magtagbo sa akong tungod
ug maghusay ming tanan
aron human,
manamilit ko nila og dungan

Eulogy for James Dean

2009-05-07T00:44:00.006+08:00

Is it cold there now?
Well, it shouldn't be
you heated the road
and burned rubber
and now
the world
is redolent
of tire
yellow fire
a star for hire
swooshing
down and out
they didn't see you
step out
come out
walk out
of that crash
footprints pointing
back to eden
where fathers
raise fathers
and sons linger on
and children
revel
in the dark
and spark
stark naked
in a spotlight
without spite
A sprite
flaming white,
you were always warm alright.

Queen Disguise

2009-05-07T00:43:00.001+08:00

flashing skulls
on your forehead
turning with your face
with your eyes, erratic
ecstatic
then empathic
to the static, neurotic
you see,
these bones aren't your
bones
aren't your own
aren't your home
i've yet to count them
one
by
one
and imagine their faces
come
as one
to their deaths
Tell me,
which ones died
with your enzymes
the sparkling
poison of your mime
your secret smile
when you've
once again
leaked
into
a spine
Well,
you've leaked
into mine,
a mine
of quarks
and sparks
Now,
pull up
your blinds,
breathe mask-
less
and listen,
a song
trickling
down
your spine
one
vertebrae
at
a
time.

Rebel Without a Cause

2009-05-07T00:41:00.000+08:00

Run like hell rebel run like hell like a rebel in hell like hell in a rebel run run run rebel run AWAY
but
not
too
fast
too
quick
from
the
past
tomorrow's
still
free
please
oh
but
you
did
now
you
really
are
a
rebel,
pleased.

-for J.D.-

Giant: A Eulogy for James Dean

2009-04-17T19:43:00.002+08:00

well,
flabbergasted yes
you had me
nibble on the pillow
yes, dear, wide-eyed
panting, anticipating
the next languid turn
of your head
of your spine
the way it touches
the earth, owning earth
the giant that you are
stomping away
gentle, divine, awry
perhaps that's why
they never heard a sound
until that crash
perhaps you
didn't hear it too
perhaps you spoke
too softly, too true
perhaps you bled
too quietly too
perhaps the drops
steamed out
through the sad lines
of your eyes
those incensed lies
perhaps
you heard it early
in the morning
when the sun
chose to rise
with you
and all you had to do
was do
and all you had to do
was welcome you

-for JD-

For James Dean

2009-04-06T08:38:00.000+08:00

"you got to live fast;
death comes early."
James Dean
1931-1955

three of you
in one day
I made love to

in bed, a taste
chaste
and in haste

a cowboy hat
a red jacket
and $5,000 dollars

three of you
in one you
i made love with

gently,
terrible-
beautiful

little bastard you
little rebel you
little giant you

eastward off eden
cruising on route 66
then crashing and burning

you comet you
i'll love you
as you loved

gentle
fast
and strong

dreaming as if you live forever
living as if you died today

Hymn

2009-04-02T13:21:00.001+08:00

O

o

o

o

o

o

o

o the church's bored dome

o the church is bored dumb

o the church's boredom

o the church is boredom

o

o

o

o

o

o

Echo.

Goodbye

2009-03-31T13:16:00.000+08:00

I am never what I am, but always always what I was and what I will be.

Tago

2009-03-25T11:29:00.001+08:00

dali,
manago ta, dali

manago ta
kay humana ang tagu-anay

namatikdan na ko nimo
nasakpan napud tika

manago ta
kay panahon na'ng magpakita

manirado na ta
kay panahon na'ng mangabli

magbukot ta
kay panahon na'ng maghubo

mupiyong na pud ta
kay panahon na'ng mangmata

manghilom ta
kay panahaon na muhalok

mupuyo na ta
kay panahon na'ng mulihok

magkuyog ta
kay panahon na nato

dali,
manago ta, dali

didto sa ngilit nga bahin
didto nga kita rang duha

dali dayun, manago na ta
basin masakpan ta niya.

Birthday Report

2009-03-24T16:23:00.002+08:00

I had exactly five days of rest since my birthday.

In those five days, I saw magic again- a shivering handshake of boy poised for freedom and a birthday party at dawn with a stranger and one of 2 friends I trust my life with. I forgot the coldness of solitude. I remembered the sun is round and that it revolves around the world. I witnessed the fury of a friend's happiness. I got a message from heaven via meteorite. I realized the moon is never really full. And yeah, I learned that a birthday cake's ingredients are dried squid, instant noodles, and leftover rice.

I had a different birthday this year. Turning 24 has made me feel younger, I'm not 25 yet!

P.S. As for the absence of posts, I'm busy. Just you wait.

Blocked White

2009-02-08T09:59:00.002+08:00

There is a blank canvas
in my room,
leaning on a yellow wall
six feet tall
it stands on the floor
it stands so it greets me
when I open the door
it stands so I can see it
when I go to bed
and when I wake up
it stands with a restlessness
like me

I'd like to think
it's watching over me
when I'm asleep
or out in the world
I'd like to think it worries
that I might run into dogs
in the streets or in my dreams
I'd like to think of
this tall white blankness
as a lover
or a friend
the soul mate I haven't met yet
but I know is already there
existing
faceless
standing against my jaundiced walls
opposite my door
waving
welcome
hello
hey
I'm here

I've been coating it white
after every failed attempt
a few things change in its whiteness
a few more faint lines
a few more bumps and nubs
a few more impressions of color
but still-
a silent and empty white- restless
and the blankness remains
prevails-
a white a flag.

Mid-weak

2009-01-29T11:14:00.003+08:00

Wednesday is here,
the third dot of the ellipses
but smaller
and in its smallness, darker
a pinhole
a trap for the speck
a flick of the second hand
a twitch in the face of the clock
3 2 1
how thin the stroke is
how the dot fades
into a nick
My wednesday
and the sun is angry
a shining hoodlum,
bright and brute, a bully
I fear for this day
I fear it might be
crushed into a pulp
by the heat
sandwiched by its brothers
the middle child
runny-nosed,trickling snot
spit spat
saliva on the pavement
evaporating
3 2 1
there
and gone.

Old man-boy and a boy talking

2009-01-28T18:16:00.005+08:00

Higher up,
the clouds and farther out, stars
perhaps

He wasn't so sure-
even I could tell.

Billions of 'em
yeah- and they twinkle too

twinkle- what a funny a little word

Now, that is a building- pretty Las Vegas huh?
Reminds me of searchlights though-

Never really seen searchlights before

what are you doing here, anyway?
only rats your size are out at this time

Maybe I'm waiting for the skies to clear

at three in the morning?

yeah?

Alright alright, but you were here last night-

Yes. How'd you know.

Kid, you're forgetting I'm you.
Anyway, stars were out last night.

So?

You're not out for the stars.

Sure I am.

you know what I think you're waiting for?

Do I have a choice?

Searchlights, boy, the damn searchlights

Cabin Fever

2009-01-22T13:04:00.008+08:00

I have not gotten off the boat since the storm

The waves have gone, they are resting
The boat has finally docked near the cathedral
The sea remains where it is
but I have been adrift since.

I am telescoping from one of the cabins
there are holes, round windows
I can only see one circle of the sky and sea
at a time
Sometimes, the moon fills an entire hole
other times, a few stars parade in stillness
I spot mermaids when I’m lucky
but in the cabin, their songs cannot be heard
Flukes of whales and wings of seagulls
go by in the circles, and they go by
When I’m bored, I distract myself,

tracing constellations I can never complete
You see, I cannot see the bigger sky,
only one lonely little circle of it
and it is hard to spot a constellation
as elusive as the one I lost in the storm

I have not the left the boat
The waves have retreated
but the boat still rocks dangerously in my mind
Tonight, the cathedral is out of sight
From my cabin on this boat,
I have yet to kiss the earth.

Story

2009-01-12T12:56:00.006+08:00

If you come back
and decide to decode me

again
We, forever, will be lost

in translation
Our language is dead, my love
and I have stopped sitting on its grave
Our scholars have given up
The story we told is forgotten
Unlike the letters
that spelled our love
or the forest of poems
we planted
Our story cannot be
rewritten
Our love cannot grow
in a garden of ash
Relic, I am
of our history
And when I disappear
when finally
finally, I crumble
into dust
you can scatter
the powder of me
and find

there is no knowing
which part is our story
and which part is me.

Bitch in estrus

2009-01-12T00:56:00.001+08:00

Feline
going canine

cheshire cat on the road
grin in code

run to and
walk away

stare or sneer
look away

reverend,
the bitch is here
send her away

away

away

away

madame president,
no, make her stay
she'll soon be away

and away she goes
you know she knows

runs to you,
then walks away

stares or sneers,
looks away

mother superior,
still wondering if she prays

you'll never know
until you go-

the same way
so now you pray

but hey
we're all the same anyway

the bitch

the priest

the chief

the beast

we
sniff,
lick,
fuck,
and walk away

There,

2009-01-07T19:25:00.000+08:00

Behind your left ear

Wait,

under your chair

it's moving up

round

and round

and round

your silly little pumpkin head

oops

ni-swoop siya

going down

circling your ass

o, your gorgeous gorgeous ass

diha,

shet kalami

ayay

nituyok napud

ayaw na ba

aw man

stop it

there it goes again

nitugpa na

shet gilok kaayo

ayaw ko'g gitika ba

stop that

ayawg kinto

it's too

AAAAAAAAAAHHH

not on my eyebrow

not on my shoulder either

nope ayaw diha

Definitely not there

I said not there

Hawa ba

sobra na na

ayaw na ba

gara

gara bitaw

wa ko gabinuang

ayaw lagi dira

ok ra to ganina

i said go away

no, i won't swallow

kinsa ka?

husto na ba

di na ko

your bravado

is embarrassing.

Sexist as it may sound:

2009-01-07T19:10:00.000+08:00

Larry has a way of articulating what for me is ineffable and can only be communicated through a series of bodily ticks and spasms:

BAYOT KO PERO DILI KO BABAYE

While

2009-01-05T19:14:00.001+08:00

everyone else is busy posting photos from the holidays and mumbling about returning to their jobs, I am packing my things to move back in with my parents.

I'm finally back home in Cebu from Camotes. My 5 day journey with milk brother Liyo has come to a close and I finally know what "riding the waves" feel like. I've been pushed to fear levels that concern a possible untimely exit. But hell, for a minute there, it felt like a rollercoaster ride. In the two trips, I sat on the same plastic bench beside the captain's deck. I found out that I am person who cannot stand not having the least idea of next thing to happen. I watched the waves in their fury or delight bullying the boat that seemed like rubber ducky in a bathtub with a toddler. Last night I shouted expletives until the u-turn back to camotes. Today I sang songs until we finally reached Danao, matching the high notes with the high waves, a different type of videoke.

Tonight I might dream of the sound the wind made that was more dreadful than the crash of the waves that played with our boat last night and today. Two days ago, I thought there was no lesson to be learned in Camotes, now I think the lesson was learning without having a lesson. Ride the waves people. Sleep tight and hold fast.

dream # 307

2009-01-04T07:55:00.000+08:00

Body, scattered in a cemetary by the beach

As if by the moon's command,

my bones rallied into a skeleton

I beat my chest, brandished my scars and

sounded the trumpet that was my throat.

From my mouth flew a royal kingfisher,

its wings were as large as an eagle's, flaming blue

I ran towards the open sea and chasing the burning bird

running on the seawater, barely touching the surface

under the glass-like field where i ran, i saw almost everyone i knew in my life

and they looked at me with flickering blue eyes, following my flight across the ocean

the kingfisher flew faster and faster but I remain close keeping my distance

chasing the endless horizon, we raced across calm seas and raging oceans

Finally, the sun streaked a finish line

the kingfisher flew faster now then ever before

until it's blue flame disappeard into the sun's rays

but i pressed on, the fastest i can this time,

and the line between ocean and sky quickly faded into a blinding white

i closed my eyes to the brightness, still racing forward

body fading, becoming one with the light.

Home

2008-12-30T01:59:00.006+08:00

I've changed my mind. The house in Consolacion where I dumped my hermit fantasies on has become the coke and fries upsize the mcdonald's girl offered me- No thank you. I woke up this morning strangely aware that the sun has roused earlier to wake me up and make my bed- an open tomb, and to splatter light on my face while shouting an errand in my good ear- a fit wake-up call for one who's found himself nowhere and why-less: see the house in Consolacion, take center stage and give one hell of a thinking performance.

See I've been holding off thinking out specific things escaping thinking on certain things. The result of course is no thinking at all.

Saying no to the house far away from everyone and everywhere, the house I envisioned a home for myself alone has surprisingly led me back- home. I guess Lorca was right, turtles evolve into iguanas after all, iguanas that bite those who do not dream. I like my shell though and I'm keeping it. Home isn't wherever I stash this shell anyway, it's where my feet are. All I need to do now is decide on my next address.

Happy new year earthlings.

Dude

2008-12-27T19:14:00.003+08:00

or dudette
(or whatever you are)

how's the drag,
the costume,
the performance so far?

you think it's applause
but again maybe not,
but whatever

whatever

whatever

right?

Ok, hang around with the turtle
spread your peacock-ass wide
snare another rooster,
who cares about pride?

and when you're done,
rush rush rush
to the net and go online.

Hello

2008-12-27T19:05:00.003+08:00

TV witch, marooned in Eastwick
candle-light night trip,

go on,
wiggle some more
giggle some more
and be idle idle idle

call a rockstar here,
ring a cop there,
toss your salad-bowl air
decide what dressing to wear:
Caesar's or Oriental despair?

but please,
laugh, laugh as much as you can
we all know your teeth scare the hell out of men.

Oh

2008-12-27T18:31:00.002+08:00

shut up, you alice-dorothy hybrid you
with your pillow and your blanket too
click your heels,
click those ruby shoes in the air,
utter-
there's no place like- where?

Tornado through the houses of your friends:

rid the witch of her broomstick,
childish and make-believe, you say

snag the white rabbit,
steal his pocket watch

try on all the mad hatter's hats
and order some more- some more

and ride,
ride you like you've never rode before
on that flying monkey or that dandelion
until your queen-sized mirror screams

OFF WITH HER HEAD