Lechon Or Why I am considering Vegetarianism

I watched a pig prepared for lechon two nights ago. It is a slow death encouraged by a quick and deep stab to the jugular. I would ordinarily say that the pig squealed its life away but that is what pigs do. Squeal. It was more of a horrific squeal from hell. A hoarse high pitched trembling sound of animal fear and pain. I could not watch the moment of murder but I heard a sudden forceful thud as Bai thrust the knife in the pig's throat. From the sound of skin hitting skin, I imagine that he plunged the blade in completely as is also evidenced by the size and shape of the entry mark.

When the squealing abated, I rested easier thinking the pig was out of its misery but twice more, horrific sounds emanated from the creature as the blood drained out of its body into a waiting cauldron. At first loud and fighting and then low and gurgling. As if her cries riled the remaining blood in her body. Then the gurgling stopped.

Mang Jesse and Allan then carried the pig to what I shall call the staging ground. Simply a small open area of the house where I normally sit, smoke and watch the beach but now covered with tarpaulin. The boys then poured boiling water over the sow and used a spoon to deftly shear off the hair.

With the same hands used to deal the death blow, Bais carefully and expertly cut the animal open. Using light strokes with surgical precision down the pig from the throat to her last teat. Burying the knife even deeper and with both hands, Bai then sliced through the bones. "Slice" is perhaps the wrong word. Too clean for the snapping and breaking of defiant bone. I stopped counting after the fifth cup of blood was ladled out of the body and I wondered if the smell of blood is the smell of life or the smell of death. Either way, it is not sweet. Jesse, apparently in charge of the blood collection casually dipped his fingers into the cauldron and then licked them the way you would taste spaghetti sauce or hot fudge. "A dog's blood is the best," he nonchalantly told Allan.

Wanted: Inspiration in the new millenium

Here now is my attempt to take a more disciplined approach to writing. Inspiration lives on a different planet it seems and I am left to my own devices. To reach inward, excavate and retrieve with only my bare hands.
This may be a last ditch effort at survival because truly, I feel that I am close to urging death to visit upon me.
I feel as if the time I live in is so crass. Caring only for technology and politics, money and success. Too sterile a tablecloth to allow the stain of passion to seep through and spread.
I am stirred right now by another world I wish I could live in. Characters I am in love with and in whose lives I plot to intrude in. It borders on madness but it keeps my heart beating beyond a regular pace and I must explore it.
It is a delicate situation however, because I know what I dream is impossible.
I will think of things I have seen and experienced that have moved me. They are few and small in this impossible universe but I know they were real. A poor lady rescuing abandoned kittens in a shoebox being eaten alive by ants. She placed down her plastic bag of fried bananas and had climbed over a leaning fence to the soft mews hidden in the brush. Another lady on the street with a young boy, a family member I gathered from the warmth exchanged between them, hunched over a book. The lady in garish clothes by our standards but her best in her world. I felt as if she was optimistic about looking for work and providing for this child. A little girl with a blind eye under a pedestrian overpass. The daughter of a cigarette and newspaper vendor. She waits for the rain to bring in some extra coins, so miniscule as to be unquantifiable in the world’s exchange but a windfall to her. She waits by the bookstore in the rain with an umbrella larger than her to keep you and I dry as we walk to our cars. I hope they are treated well by the world and are compensated for their suffering somehow. Yet I know if wish that, I must accept that I too deserve less when the balances are adjusted.

Fuck Sulpicio

Fuck Sulpicio. I think Sulpicio should be closed down. Considering that they have figured in at least four major incidents (including the world’s worst peacetime maritime disaster for God’s sake) with a death toll of over 5000 in just over 20 years or so... come on. I don’t think it’s enough to say they should remain open because Filipinos need their service. We don’t just need any service, we deserve quality service.

I was reading some forums related to the topic and while many others share this sentiment, there was one person who pointed out that Sulpicio offers a service and that hey "their ports are clean and you can number two in their bathrooms". Call me crazy but I don’t think the victims of the relatives would be consoled by this. Watdahell? How about just getting from point A to point B alive?! None of the victims deserved that kind of end.

Aside from their dismal record and the manner in which they are dealing with the victims’ relatives, the latest discovery that toxic pesticides were on board the passenger ship and that Sulpicio did not divulge this just underscores the company’s total disregard of its patrons’ lives and even of those who are trying to help clean up their mess. Even if they claim they did not know about the cargo, that only highlights their incompetence or hints at something more ominous. They are just trying to get away with as much as they can, constantly passing the buck and to nonchalantly shrug everything off by saying “They provide a service” just cheapens Filipino lives even more.

Hodgepodge to fill in last six months...

Been a while since I wrote. Anybody miss me?... miss me... miss me... miss me... (the sound of my voice fading into the abyss).

Just a few random thoughts on some things without any thorough analysis although they have been on my mind lately and stopping sleep at the gates.

Firstly, the abduction of Ces Drilon and team by Abu Sayyaff bandits. Could care less. The only thing that pissed me off was ABS-CBN's plea for other media outfits to report on the incident with :consideration, caution and respect for the family members' privacy". Considering the channel's track record of irresponsible reporting and exploiting tragic situations and victims for their own ratings, the request is quite hilarious coming from them.

Anyway, after paying a hefty "board and lodging" fee Ms. Drilon et al. were freed after nine days. Currently the mayor of Indanan, Sulu and his son who helped mediate the negotiations with the captors and the victims' families are being held for their involvement on suspicions that they pocketed the majority of the ransom. $%#$@.

Secondly, the capsizing of the MV Princess of the Stars. As I write, hopefully there are still survivors and people being rescued right now. So far I think only some 30 people have been found alive out of the 800 or so passengers and crew. I could not sleep last night thinking about the disaster. The moments after the call to abandon ship played clearly in my mind. I imagine the panic and the fear as the waves pounded the ship, children crying and the elderly... The ship laid to rest just a couple of hundred meters from the coast of Sibuyan Island. Some bodies have been found on surrounding islands. Relatives await news at the Sulpicio Lines office in Manila.