What lies above us

We’ve won.
We’ve lost.
We’ve failed.

We’ve armed ourselves for battle.
We’ve harmed and hurt each other.
We’ve come home with empty hands.

But did we not do it to find
the eye of the ocean,
the unsurmountable wave,
the imagined kingdom?

How it flutters above us.
How I scratch and claw at it,
my mouth salivating, my jaws snapping
hard against the wind.
Catching, biting, holding nothing.

How it flutters above us.
How you spit and hiss at it,
your hands clenching, palms sweating
hard against the wind.
Grasping, touching, tasting nothing.

We tried keeping it safe.
We tried polishing it, hiding it,
even throwing it out.

But it won’t go away.

It shines above us
as if we never forgot who we were,
as if we will always be children.

This sprung not from a touch.
Its breadth spreads beyond
the brush of wings,
beyond life, beyong time;
After life, after time.

This encumbers not,
nor can it be encumbered.
Even at our pain.
Even at our failure.

This exists not in happiness.
This just exists.
And there is more.

Sticky Thoughts

New ideas starting again.  Usually, it comes in the most unexpected ways.  A word, a phrase, a look, an image, a sound, a laugh, or the lack of.  This one came through this image – and from all places, the daily mail.  It could be because of the article – it could also not have been.  But something said, just grab it and look at it – and now I can’t stop.  It’s going to become something, but I’m not too sure what yet. It’s almost like a sticky note – a blank one unfortunately – trying to remind me of something I can’t remember.  A premature fetus saved from a car crash – that’s what it is according to the news. But to me, there’s more.

It’s a terrifying picture to be honest.  That thing will probably live in a cage for the rest of its life.  But then again, there’s a huge chance it won’t either.

Perhaps ideas are like that.  We rip them out of our guts just before they die – right before our attention is grabbed once again by another mundane thought or obligation. And sometimes despite our best efforts, they still die. Others, on the other hand, spend every waking hour of their lives being gawked at inside a glass bubble – or even worse being poked at with a stick. But then again, one lucky bastard could grow strong enough to be released into the wild.

I’ll never really know. But it’s worth a try.

Lost and Found

Found an article I wrote 10 years ago…do the math and you’ll know my age! It’s almost as if my younger, kick-ass self is kicking my butt right now. I re-read it – and although at the time it was published I cringed and felt as though there were so many things I could’ve edited (I sent my first draft and bazinga it was printed the next day) – I love the passion, the energy and the heart of that kid. Not to mention the lack of cynicism and the desire to change the world! Seems like I can learn a few things from my less than jaded self.

Posting this as a mental note to self – yes, please do not forget.

Philippine Daily Inquirer, January 16, 2001, full article

Metro Manila Bombing, January 2001

Video Reel 2010

Here’s my video reel with a collection of films I currently have copies of.  Once I get more of them, I’ll update this.

Dirty White Gold

Here’s the trailer of a documentary I just finished editing, directed by Leah Borromeo.  For more info, go to this page.