reymundo salao
the guardian, iloilo city

OFTENTIMES DISTURBING
Write-ups from the column of Reymundo Salao
October & November 2003

TALES OF IMPRESSIONS & DISCRIMINATIONS
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

The sight of some business establishments putting up a sign that says "No Slippers/Sandals Allowed", while tolerating the observation of this same rule when it comes to slipper-wearing foreigners and people who appear filthy rich, is a typical example of discrimination. It very much reminds us of the salesladies at the shopping centers who doubt that we could afford to buy some fancy merchandise, just because we dress up in clothes which are below the one hundred peso price line. It is funny to note that the most simpleton of the salesladies are the ones who usually have the nerve to exercise matapobre attitude in these instances. On the other hand, I am reminded of this books and magazine shop along Delgado Street, where I used to window shop in my teen years. And whenever I did, the lady who appeared to be one of the owners of the shop always gave me an extremely cold suplada treatment whenever I'd visit her store and ask questions about the magazines. It's not as if I was makulit. It was obviously because in her eyes, I probably appeared to be the kind of person who could not afford to buy the magazines she sells. Or maybe I was just too damn indio-brown for her store. Maybe if I appeared to be mestizo-kastila or mestizo-intsik, I would most certainly pass the upstanding five-star class that her store has to offer. 

The nitelife has some nasty discrimination stories to offer as well. There's this bar (let's not be rude on naming it, but let me impishly reveal that the name of this bar starts with the letter "F"), wherein most of the people that visit it are the rich and the popular brats of the city. It is where flashy, prominent family names come face-to-face with hundred peso beers, an annoying sense of coño R & B, braggart loudmouths, and the coldest of matapobre atmospheres. I was able to visit the place when it first opened and I absolutely loved this nice bar, which had a classy feel and cozy warmth. But after a while when this place got famous, things changed. Understandably, if a bar gets too famous, it attracts the brats, coños, and wannabes, in an attempt to make their presence be felt in the hippest spots of the nightlife scene. And when this bar got famous, it instantly became the favorite of the coño brat species. These are the species which are best defined by their prominent last names, their reckless use of credit cards and daddy-mommy allowances, and their famous familiar faces which never fail to grace every decent "hip" event. Going back to the bar story, my second and third time that I visited "F", I was confronted by the kind of sensation that must be familiar with the way kryptonite weakened Superman. I stepped in the bar, and everybody seemed to turn their heads and began to stare at me and my friends like we were not wanted. It was excruciating that we wanted to shout out "Hey! We're human beings too!" The rationale for this cold discrimination: we did not look rich. Honestly, it was like the way Charlton Heston felt in Planet of the Apes. In fact, it was MUCH like it. Imagine being the only human in rags, surrounded by apes that wore beautiful gowns and shimmering armor. Well, "F" them all to hell. 

Speaking of the nitelife, I have noticed (and I hope that I wont sound like I'm generalizing) that more than half of the women who avidly observe the "gimik at weekends" attitude are the ones who are shallow enough to measure a man's goodness by his wallet, his thousand peso cologne, and his car. What is it about women and cars anyway? I may not understand this because I grew up not loving ball games and toy cars, but adored toy soldiers and hideous action figures. Anyway, some women, who I refer to as the "Bambi Chicks" (I have once written about this foul, yet tremendously attractive breed of sultry female species) often makes it a point to date a guy whose car must not have an inch of rust, must not have a window that needs manual pulling in order to close or open it, and the kind of car that looks sporty with a glimmer that appears to make it look wet and shiny all year round. It's like point system: a decent flashy car can get you their attention, celfone number, and home phone number, while a car that spells millions gives you a higher chance to score in bed. It makes sense why some jologs turn their car speakers way up and let their hip-hop make their car look like a mobile reminder of Dinagyang. It is their way to call the attention of the next Bambi chick who deludes herself to have a boyfriend who owns a James Bond car. Typical indios like us should be wary of these women who daydream their lives to be somehow connected with "The Fast and the Furious" movie franchise. To them, we who pride ourselves with just taking a cab, a jeepney, or a tricycle home, are worth sentimos. But in a vindictive sense of fate, these bambi chicks are usually the ones who end up living in a desperate "I'm still glamorous" state of mind by the time they near the age that falls off the calendar. 

Impressions are tricky, they can extract out the best and the worst of every person. In fairness to the bambi chicks, I was proven wrong by a previous love who I used to horrendously misjudge. She seemed to be your typical bambi chick, or so I thought. Apparently, there was more to her than meets the eye. I could not see that there was depth in that brain of hers. I used to think her DNA was greatly adulterated by the Beverly Hills 90210 saga of the 90's. I didn't realize, until later on, that she was also a geek who delved into the aspects of sci-fi and myth. In a mushy sense of honesty, I would even confess that it was a very sweet episode of my life. But let's not get deep into that, it's a closed chapter anyway. Impressions…you'll never know. 

It understandably seems normal to generalize that people from the simple classes of society go for the masa sense of musical appreciation. The April Boys, the Spaghetti pataas-pababa, the Aegis, the chiqui-chiqui, and the CHIHUAHUA! This is the musical choice of the working class, so we say. But there was one instance that made me think otherwise. Two years ago, some carpenters came to our house to work on the large aparador. On the CD stereo, played a selection of random alternative songs from bands like Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, the Lemonheads, Dinosaur Jr., etc… I was surprised when one of these carpenters started a conversation about alternative music. It seems like he was cool dude who was quite familiar with Pearl Jam, Weezer, and Dizturbed. And you must remember that two years ago, NU107 hasn't gone back on air, so this guy must have really honestly loved alternative music, amidst the pop fever of boyband and britney fad. He was even familiar with the band Guano Apes, when at that time I wasn't familiar with their music. Who would think that this simple carpenter dude would have a far better musical taste than the wannabes and coños who merely base their taste for music upon what is on the billboard charts and the musical numbers on the Sunday noontime variety shows? Sheesh! Impressions. You never know. 

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MUSIC IS MY DRUG
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

All of the people in the house (mi tatay, mi nanay & mi utols), they went to mass this morning. I decided to attend mass in the afternoon and left myself at the house with the responsibility of fixing the table and washing the dishes. With the decibel level of the house at my control, I gathered a selection of CDs and cassettes of classic rock n' roll musicians. First was the Juan de la Cruz band, which was Mike Hanopol's and Pepe Smith's band in the 70's. I just skipped their overplayed tracks like "Titser's Enemy No. 1" and "No Touch", and got into working mood with "Balong Malalim" and "Project". The mood was so toxicatingly high that I decided to wash the rest of the other dishes, grabbed the mop and began to clean the house, along with the vibes of old Razorback songs and with Led Zeppelin. There was even one point that I mimicked the wailing guitar solos of Jimi Henrix with my mop as his sound filled the house with psychedelic spirits. 

I love hippie-style rock n' roll. And if you ask me, Jimi Hendrix is the one who should be recognized as the King of Rock n' Roll. His music embodies the raw, rebellious, and soulful essence of rock music. On the otherhand, Elvis was too much of a crowd-pleasing, chick-peacock, Ricky-Martin-ancestor of a fop. No offense to the fans.

Like the music of the Pied Piper of Hamlin, music can be like a drug. Some people find the quote "Get high on music, not drugs" to be as cheesy and corny as a Chippy on Disney. But that quote holds true on me. Long before I have ever experienced the delights of irreverent vices, I have already experienced the kind of intoxication that is a cross between spirit possession and THC, through listening to my favorite kinds of music. In my youthful days, I have felt the inexplicable sensation of Hendrix's "Voodoo Child" and the smashing passion of Metallica's "One". It's like an invisible drug injected through our listening senses, through our brains, seeps through our veins and gets online, instantly harmonizes and comprehends what the soul of the song is projecting. At this point, as one hums along, one knows and understands the passion of the musician's music. 

I may not be as well-versed with the many bands and musicians, as my friends who sometimes give me an out-of-place feeling whenever they talk about obscure bands that never rang a bell on my memory banks. But I do know that I am one who really is a simple, yet passionate patron of the arts. So much so that I notice how good at work I am whenever there is the presence of my loved sounds. At my dayjob at the office, whenever I'd be encountered by a mountain of files to be worked on, I'd try my best to find some cassette player or walkman, so that the music could juice up my work energy. Most especially if I'm empowered by bands like Nine Inch Nails and Fear Factory, I am confident that my horse power is robotic. I become a better, more efficient employee. It reminds me of the Propaganda Towers of Red China that make Chinese laborers work with double stamina, for they are inspired by the sounds and the messages evoked by these Propaganda Towers. 

As I was mopping the floor that Sunday morning, I can feel the music like transparent dancing pigeons that scattered inside the living room. And by the time I was done, I relaxed upon a chair outside the house, where I stared at the relaxing chickens while listening to Led Zeppelin's "You're Time is Gonna Come". 

What's best about Music as a drug, is that it has no side effects. Shabu leaves you a damaging hole in your brain and turns you into a mindless zombie. Marijuana gives you a nasty appetite for food (munchies) and renders you too high for a normal sky, plus it can get you hooked on other dangerous drugs. Alcohol makes holes in your internal organs. Smoking turns your lungs into a septic tank of ash and burns. Music, on the otherhand, you can just turn it off. The worst damage and addiction with music can do, is giving you a mildly deaf ear. (If you did notice why may pagka BUNGOL ako, that's coz of all the Sonic Youth and Atari Teenage Riot music). I am pretty proud of admitting that music is my drug. Yours too perhaps…?

(But as not as addicted as I am with coffee! www.reymundo.cjb.net | tripxyde@yahoo.com )

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THE PRESIDENT'S FRIENDS
By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing

Whoever your friends or your enemies are, just make sure of one thing; that you are NOT President Arroyo's enemy, and you are a dear friend of hers. Let me count that as one of my Christmas wishes. With you on her friendship list, you will live a life on this country with ease. 

For one thing, you are sure to be friends with her American barkadas too. Like Pare Bush, whose being welcomed so warmly, so much so that she would surely let him have his secret service and security agents along for the ride to degrade the other senators with a security routine that will treat them like hoodlum-looking suspects from Tijuana (Mexico). At least this is one scenario that Satur Ocampo and other critics of the Bush visit, are foreseeing. Lord knows that Gloria really loves her administration's cooperation with the white government, to a point that last year, she accused those who were against the Balikatan as "Not Filipinos" and "Abu Sayyaf lovers". Oh how true. How wise our president is to announce that sentiment. Being one who wants to be friends with her, I must agree that we must allow ourselves to be the beloved footstools of the American government, we must allow ourselves to be the cooperative pawns and tools of the American war against terrorism. Thumbs up, El Presidente, we must give our lives for the glory of America, because America is our master, right? Hooray for America. Let us turn a blind ear to the will of the nationalists and the activists and give our will to President Bush who will pay us handsomely for our cooperation. 

I really envy Gloria's friends. That is why I want to be like them. Nani Perez who was slammed by an incriminating scandal may have left the nation in shame. But look at him now, dear Nani, barkada ni Gloria, drinking champagne, celebrating some kind of a party. I think it was when Gloria announced her plans for reelection. 

Who cares if the polls are bad? Who cares if you lied to the Filipino people by changing your mind to run for reelection? You're the current president, dear Gloria! You have the resources! It will be a piece of cake for you to rig the elections! Come now; think of the country's future? It would be such a waste not to use the obvious helping hand of the Americans. Besides, the Americans are pretty good in deception. You can use it to control the victory of the election unto you. Besides, they seem to be one of those who are convincing you to run for president. Why else would a foreign country want to indorse a patriotic, libertarian leader, when they can indorse a foreigner-loving president who can turn the entire nation into a lap dog which other countries can toy with?

Let us just laugh at the misery of your foes. How difficult their situation is. They must envy the ease of your friends. They must envy how Angelo Reyes has a new job now on your government, after only around a month of being suspended. While the Magdalo Group, languishing in their cells, are not being given the forum to air out their "madness". It may have taken mere hours for Gloria's friends to decide that Honasan should be jailed. But it took around a month to have Reyes suspended. And now he's back with a new job. Isn't it great to be the president's friend. 

And what of the squealing Ping Lacson? The government is now making sure he is going to be caught before he delivers a new revelation about Gloria's "Mr. Suave" hubby Mike. 

Oh yes, being the President's friend pays handsomely indeed. I look forward to a day when I would be her barkada too. I picture an evening of cocktail with Nani, Gloria, Mike, Angie, and Vicky, raising our glasses of champagne, relaxing in a hall where the painting "Parisian Life" is gracing the atmosphere. Who cares if the GSIS has no more money left for the employees to loan, when we, Gloria's friends would live our own Parisian Life? Glory be Arroyo, Amen.

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THE MATRIX REVOLUTIONS

Usually, whenever me and my barkada watch a grand film, most especially ones who influence a religious following, like the Star Wars saga, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and the X-men series, we find time to hang out on a café or bar and discuss the film. We talk about how good or how bad the film is, and we discuss and try to dissect the other aspects of the film we just watched. Of course, MATRIX REVOLUTIONS have given us quite a lot to discuss about. 

Unlike the so-called high brow critiques of film who dismiss sci-fi flicks like STAR WARS and The EVIL DEAD series as “mababaw”, there are many of us who see beyond just the special effects and the action, and see the philosophies and the prolific messages that are embedded in these stories. 

THE MATRIX TRILOGY is one sci-fi saga which is rich in these subliminal philosophies. In fact, there are cults and groups of people who liken the Matrix storyline into religious ideas. Weird as it is, some of them even liken Neo to Jesus Christ. I’m serious, there are people bizarre enough to think of these things. Try to research this in the internet, by searching “Matrix and Jesus Christ” in any search engine like YAHOO! Or GOOGLE, and you’ll find out what I’m talking about. 

But truly, MATRIX SAGA does carry within itself intelligent ideas. Chronologically, as based in the storyline in ANIMATRIX (go watch this animated collection of stories that revolve around the Matrix at your nearest video shops now) the Matrix saga began with mankind’s vanity that they took it upon themselves to create AIs (Artificial Intelligence, robots, etc..) to be their slaves. Then the AIs, like other intelligent creatures also desired freedom. But mankind’s pride hindered this. And thus, war has destroyed mankind’ future. The saga tells us of man’s destructive nature. Mankind is likened to a virus, a creature who spreads to one area, consumes and corrupts it, then moves on to another area and spreads even more, without serving a natural purpose. 

The saga also makes us open our mind to understanding reality. “What IS real? How can you tell the difference between the dream world and the real world” It takes a lot of sanity to survive trying to ponder upon these questions, but these are all nonetheless, interesting. THE MATRIX makes us ask the question “Are we really in control of our lives? Or is it about time that we DID take control of our lives” Sometimes, we realize that we are slaves. Slaves to the standards of society. Slaves to religion. Slaves to modern culture. Slaves to the opinions of our peers and our contemporaries. Slaves to the government, taxes, obligations, employment, media, and vanity. In the MATRIX saga, the heroes are the individuals who are defined by their virtue to defy authority. It is because in this storyline, authority enslaves mankind. But does living in the dreamworld of the Matrix truly a state of being enslaved? In the first episode, the character named Cypher betrayed his allies and surrendered himself to live back in the world of the Matrix. Because back in the Matrix, he is free from the inconveniences of being in a state of war against the machines. It is like a symbolism for many things. If we were living back in the Spanish era, would you have chosen to be a Katipunero living in utter discomfort, chaos, and danger, but living in defiance, seeking freedom? Or would you have rather lived peacefully under the rule of the Spaniards, keeping a blind eye to the fact that we are under foreign rule? But if we desire to be free, what do we want to do with that freedom? At the end of the final episode of the Matrix, when mankind has indeed earned their freedom, would mankind live well, in civilized peace and independence once again? Do you think that after a while of peace, man would absolutely forget his destructive abusive ways? In the millions of human beings, are we sure that no one man can emerge to be one who can possess the human attributes of being abusive, hostile, envious, malicious, and destructive, and eventually lead to another downfall of the entire human race? In another standpoint, The Matrix is order. But it is much like the strict classes of order like Communism, Socialism, and Tyranny. While the humans desire an order based on freewill, like Democracy. But it was the humans, in the first place, who abused this democracy by depriving the machines of it. An order based on freewill is good, but should we dictate this freewill only to a particular group of citizens? 

One of the premises of the Matrix is War and Order. Man has lived in Order, and for a time, it was good. Until man’s pride has led to war with the machines who only desired freedom, and so there was disorder among men. Then the machines established Order, and for a time, it was good. Until the machine’s pride has led to war with man, who only yearned freedom. Is this the cycle of war and order? It appears so. That is why at the end, the Architect doubts that peace shall not last long. It is because it is in the nature of man to , in one way or another, surrender to his harmful attribute. The end of the MATRIX REVOLUTIONS is indeed one that is uncertain, for it is honest to admit that there truly can be no absolute peace. If the producers would make another sequel to this saga, trying to continue the end of the last chapter, it would focus on the peace treaties between man and machine. The whole movie would be like watching a two-hour United Nations session. 

Are you confused yet? The other sublime messages of the MATRIX are also those tiny bits of philosophy scattered around the trilogy. “Hope is the quintessential human delusion which is the source of one’s greatest fear and greatest strength” as said by the Architect. “It is purpose that guides us, that binds us…” and so goes Smith’s lecture about purpose. The Merovingian’s concept of “Cause and Effect”. The definition of LOVE and KARMA by a program who appears to be Indian. There are many more that one can learn from the saga of the Matrix. It makes MATRIX “More than meets the Eye”. It is perhaps because the storyline is inspired by so many things, aside from Japanese anime and Hongkong stunts, but by books on modern philosophy and other related studies, books like “Simulation and Simulacra” and other sources that discuss matters beyond the comprehension of sanity and reality. 

Personally and honestly, I hated the action scenes of the second episode, but I was stunned by the storyline and the dialogues. The third episode is even more interesting. And I liked the action in this one because it was a war movie that focused on various cuts and scenes by the various characters of the story. Because this was not your usual “Jerry Bruckheimer garbage”, the running of the storyline is very unpredictable. Anybody could easily just die, anybody could do some crazy stunt, and anybody could end up doing something that is nearly a miracle. 

Some of my friends have had so many questions and unpleasant opinions about one or two aspects of the film, reasonable points that make sense too, but I loved it almost flawlessly. Why? This was a war epic that appealed to me very much. It was the sort of sensation that only a STAR WARS movie (I’m talking about the first trilogy - ep. 4,5,6) could generate. The dialogues were so interesting that I find myself giggling to basically all of Smith’s lines. And we see Neo’s journey from a Geek who questions reality (first movie). To warrior (second). And until he finally emerges the charismatic Savoir who endured all the pains and challenges. 
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