Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Share: A Kind of Burning

A Kind of Burning
Ophelia Dimalanta

it is perhaps because
one way or the other
we keep this distance
closeness will tug as apart
in many directions
in absolute din
how we love the same
trivial pursuits and
insignificant gewgaws
spoken or inert
claw at the same straws
pore over the same jigsaws
trying to make heads or tails
you take the edges
i take the center
keeping fancy guard
loving beyond what is there
you sling at the stars
i bedeck the weeds
straining in song or
profanities towards some
fabled meeting apart
from what dreams read
and suns dismantle
we have been all the hapless
lovers in this wayward world
in almost all kinds of ways
except we never really meet
but for this kind of burning.

--
--andoy
27 December 2005

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Share: Half an Hour, Constantine P. Cavafy

Half An Hour
Constantine P. Cavafy

I never had you nor, I suppose,
will I ever have you. A few words, an approach,
as in the bar yesterday -nothing more.
It's sad, I admit. But we who serve Art,
sometimes with the mind's intensity
can create pleasure that seems almost physical-
but of course only for a short time.
That's how in the bar yesterday-
mercifully helped by alcohol-
I had half an hour that was totally erotic.
And I think you understood this
and stayed slightly longer on purpose.
That too was very necessary.
Because with all the imagination,
all the magic alcohol,
I needed to see your lips as well,
needed your body near me.

-=0=-

--andoy

Share: Return, Constantine P. Cavafy

Constantine P. Cavafy - Return

Return often and take me,
beloved sensation, return and take me --
when the memory of the body awakens,
and an old desire runs again through the blood;
when the lips and the skin remember,
and the hands feel as if they touch again.

Return often and take me at night,
when the lips and the skin remember....

-=0=-

This is one poem which can shake your mornings. Or evenings.

--andoy
21 December 2005

Monday, December 12, 2005

Ciel brouill�

Ciel brouill�: "Ciel brouill�

On dirait ton regard d'une vapeur couvert;
Ton oeil myst�rieux (est-il bleu, gris ou vert?)
Alternativement tendre, r�veur, cruel,
R�fl�chit l'indolence et la p�leur du ciel.

Tu rappelles ces jours blancs, ti�des et voil�s,
Qui font se fondre en pleurs les coeurs ensorcel�s,
Quand, agit�s d'un mal inconnu qui les tord,
Les nerfs trop �veill�s raillent l'esprit qui dort.

Tu ressembles parfois �ces beaux horizons
Qu'allument les soleils des brumeuses saisons...
Comme tu resplendis, paysage mouill�
Qu'enflamment les rayons tombant d'un ciel brouill�!

� femme dangereuse, �s�duisants climats!
Adorerai-je aussi ta neige et vos frimas,
Et saurai-je tirer de l'implacable hiver
Des plaisirs plus aigus que la glace et le fer?

— Charles Baudelaire

Cloudy Sky

One would say that your gaze was veiled with mist;
Your mysterious eyes (are they blue, gray or green?)
Alternately tender, dreamy, cruel,
Reflect the indolence and pallor of the sky.

You call to mind those days, white, soft, and mild,
That make enchanted hearts burst into tears,
When, shaken by a mysterious, wracking pain,
The nerves, too wide-awake, jeer at the sleeping mind.

You resemble at times those gorgeous horizons
That the sun sets ablaze in the seasons of mist...
How resplendent you are, landscape drenched with rain,
Aflame with rays that fall from a cloudy sky!

O dangerous woman, O alluring climates!
Will I also adore your snow and your hoar-frost,
And can I draw from your implacable winter
Pleasures keener than iron or ice?

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

Misty Sky

One would have thought your eyes were veiled in haze
Strange eyes! (Grey, green, or azure is their gaze?)
It seems they would reflect, in each renewal,
The changing skies, dull, dreamy, fond, or cruel.

You know those days both warm and hazy, which
Melt into tears the hearts that they bewitch:
And when the nerves, uneasy to control,
Too-wide awake, upbraid the sleeping soul.

You, too, resemble such a lit horizon
As suns of misty seasons now bedizen...
As you shine out, a landscape fresh with rain
With misty sunbeams sparkling on the plain.

Dangerous girl, seductive as the weather!
Shall I adore your snows and frosts together?
In your relentless winter shall I feel
A kiss more sharp than that of ice and steel?

— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)"

-=0=-

If you want to read more, please go to the website: fleursdumal.org

--andoy
13 December 2005

Le Chat

Le Chat: "Le Chat

Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux;
Retiens les griffes de ta patte,
Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux,
M�l�s de m�tal et d'agate.

Lorsque mes doigts caressent �loisir
Ta t�te et ton dos �lastique,
Et que ma main s'enivre du plaisir
De palper ton corps �lectrique,

Je vois ma femme en esprit. Son regard,
Comme le tien, aimable b�te
Profond et froid, coupe et fend comme un dard,

Et, des pieds jusques �la t�te,
Un air subtil, un dangereux parfum
Nagent autour de son corps brun.

— Charles Baudelaire

The Cat

Come, superb cat, to my amorous heart;
Hold back the talons of your paws,
Let me gaze into your beautiful eyes
Of metal and agate.

When my fingers leisurely caress you,
Your head and your elastic back,
And when my hand tingles with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,

In spirit I see my woman. Her gaze
Like your own, amiable beast,
Profound and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart,

And, from her head down to her feet,
A subtle air, a dangerous perfume
Floats about her dusky body.

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

The Cat

Come, my fine cat, against my loving heart;
Sheathe your sharp claws, and settle.
And let my eyes into your pupils dart
Where agate sparks with metal.

Now while my fingertips caress at leisure
Your head and wiry curves,
And that my hand's elated with the pleasure
Of your electric nerves,

I think about my woman — how her glances
Like yours, dear beast, deep-down
And cold, can cut and wound one as with lances;

Then, too, she has that vagrant
And subtle air of danger that makes fragrant
Her body, lithe and brown.

— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)

The Cat

My beautiful cat, come onto my heart full of love;
Hold back the claws of your paw,
And let me plunge into your adorable eyes
Mixed with metal and agate.

When my fingers lazily fondle
Your head and your elastic back,
And my hand gets drunk with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,

I see in spirit my personal lady. Her glance,
Like yours, dear creature,
Deep and cold, slits and splits like a dart,

And from her feet to her head,
A subtle atmosphere, a dangerous perfume,
Swim around her brown body.

— Geoffrey Wagner, Selected Poems of Charles Baudelaire (NY: Grove Press, 1974) "

-=0=-

From the fleursdumal.org / Charles Baudelaire's "Flowers of Evil" web site.

--andoy
13 December 2005

Je t'adore �l'�gal de la vo�te nocturne

Je t'adore �l'�gal de la vo�te nocturne

Je t'adore à l'égal de la voûte nocturne

Je t'adore à l'égal de la voûte nocturne,
Ô vase de tristesse, ô grande taciturne,
Et t'aime d'autant plus, belle, que tu me fuis,
Et que tu me parais, ornement de mes nuits,
Plus ironiquement accumuler les lieues
Qui séparent mes bras des immensités bleues.

Je m'avance à l'attaque, et je grimpe aux assauts,
Comme après un cadavre un choeur de vermisseaux,
Et je chéris, ô bête implacable et cruelle!
Jusqu'à cette froideur par où tu m'es plus belle!

— Charles Baudelaire

I Adore You as Much as the Nocturnal Vault...

I adore you as much as the nocturnal vault,
O vase of sadness, most taciturn one,
I love you all the more because you flee from me,
And because you appear, ornament of my nights,
More ironically to multiply the leagues
That separate my arms from the blue infinite.

I advance to attack, and I climb to assault,
Like a swarm of maggots after a cadaver,
And I cherish, implacable and cruel beast,
Even that coldness which makes you more beautiful.

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

More Than Night's Vault, It's You That I Adore

More than night's vault, it's you that I adore,
Vessel of sorrow, silent one, the more
Because you flee from me, and seem to place,
Ornament of my nights! more leagues of space
Ironically between me and you
Than part me from these vastitudes of blue.

I charge, attack, and mount to the assault
As worms attack a corpse within a vault.
And cherish even the coldness that you boast,
By which, harsh beast, you subjugate me most.

— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)

I Worship You

I worship you, O proud and taciturn,
As I do night's high vault; O sorrow's urn,
I love you all the more because you flee
And seem, gem of my nights, ironically
To multiply the weary leagues that sunder
My arms from all infinity's blue wonder.

I skirmish and I climb to the attack,
I, a worms' chorus on a corpse's back,
O fierce cruel beast, I cherish to the full
The very chill that makes you beautiful.

— Jacques LeClercq, Flowers of Evil (Mt Vernon, NY: Peter Pauper Press, 1958)

-=0=-

Just a selection of Charles Baudelaire's poems.

--andoy
13 December 2005

1861 Edition of Charles Baudelaire's Fleurs du mal

Poems from Charles Baudelaire's Fleurs du mal / Flowers of Evil.

--andoy
13 December 2005

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Pinoy Poets Website

This is the new revised and updated Pinoy Poets website. Looks a lot better than the old web site. Well worth the trip.

--andoy
9 December 2005

Sunday, November 06, 2005

[poem] on weddings: six senryu

a mother weeps in silence
in a churchful of smiles
her daughter at the altar

he mods, says, "I do"
head turns to the bride
whispers, "my life before me"

happy steps she makes
while he struts beside her
going through the rice shower

evening draws and getting dark
he looks at the wedding guests
"be patient," the bride whispers

hand cupping chin
he brings spoon to her lips
his baby, his bride

while the world spins
twirling and dissying
the dance continues in bed

--
--andoy
7 November, 2005

Friday, November 04, 2005

(Share) Ode to Wine by Pablo Neruda

Ode To Wine
by Pablo Neruda


Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared.
At times
you feed on mortal
memories;
your wave carries us
from tomb to tomb,
stonecutter of icy sepulchers,
and we weep
transitory tears;
your
glorious
spring dress
is different,
blood rises through the shoots,
wind incites the day,
nothing is left
of your immutable soul.
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
A jug of wine, and thou beside me
in the wilderness,
sang the ancient poet.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.

My darling, suddenly
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your nipples are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.

But you are more than love,
the fiery kiss,
the heat of fire,
more than the wine of life;
you are
the community of man,
translucency,
chorus of discipline,
abundance of flowers.
I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.
Drink it,
and remember in every
drop of gold,
in every topaz glass,
in every purple ladle,
that autumn labored
to fill the vessel with wine;
and in the ritual of his office,
let the simple man remember
to think of the soil and of his duty,
to propagate the canticle of the wine.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

[poem] running away

running away

leaning back on the wall
your droll smile paints your face
and your eyes fix on mine
as it has for most of the evening

as if you called me
I come near
and nearer
leaning over you
"I apologize
but I cannot take the kiss
you want me to take"
I bow my head
my lips dry and trembling
I graze your cheek
and I turn around and leave

--andoy
3 October 2005

[poem] six senryu

six senryu

Waiting in the restaurant
flowers and Okamoto on hand
arguing with the birds and the bees

Dark stormy night
the world twists and turns
wild dancing under the rain

Heart pounding and excited
shivering in the rain
racing against lightning

I enter the door
wet and panting
your eyes open wide in surprise

Caterwaul escapes me
while inside your head
I twitch and moan

Tears rolling down
puckered lips
kissing memories goodbye

-- andoy
6 october 2005

[poem] another temptation

another temptation

placing finger to your lips
softly so the others would not hear
I said, "may the wish be the act"

You tipped your cap
grabbed my beer bottle
looked me in the eye

and took a long drink

-- andoy
3 October 2005

[poem] senryu

senryu

rain pelting the hut
restless rustle in the night
moans and giggles

--andoy
3 October 2005

[poem] haiku (2)

haiku (2)

restless rustle in the night
moans and whimpers
rain pelting the hut

--andoy
3 October 2005

[poem] haiku

haiku

sun rising slowly
a halo of blinding red
fire tree in bloom

-- andoy
3 October 2005

Sunday, September 25, 2005

[poem] prowling, andoy castellano, 26 september 2005

prowling

a slight tremor, a nervous tic
skin crawling with warmth
eyelids flicker in animated frenzy
nostrils flare in time with the heartbeat
inviting, daring, challenging
welcoming
a pause and a half
a half step back
disguise the hunger

--andoy
26 September 2005

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

[poem] salaryman's day (12 senryu), andoy castellano, 13 September 2005

salaryman's day (12 senryu)

opening the wardrobe
white shirts, black pants
salary man

bread and hot coffee
wife nags after breakfast
stomach grumbles loud

bright sky morning
worker leaves for work
bathed in drab sunlight

brilliant colored billboards
big houses, rich suburbs
commuter pass with eyes closed

jeepney stereo
loudly blares morning news
while passengers sleep

numbers floating on the computer monitor
eyes strained
and painfully cramped fingers

hot noon sun
burning his nape
having lunch on the sidewalk

eyes spacing out
adding money on ledgers
riches not his

dark sky after office hours
a woman crosses the street
red umbrella blooms

walking in downtown rain
racing faceless crowds
tired feet in wet shoes

he massages liniment
on his limbs
evening cologne

kissing wife good night
eyes close and dream
writing finish to another day

--andoy castellano
13 September 2005

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Optional Holiday?

Sunday, August 28, being the last Sunday of the month, is National Heroes Day. And in line with this, Press Secretary Bunye clarified last Friday that Monday August 29 (today) would not be a holiday. Along came Saturday, and Executive Secretary Ermita announces that the President has decided that Monday would be a holiday. This statement in itself was not a pronouncement as the official announcement would come later. Sunday, the Office of the President decides to release the announcement that there would be no classes in public and private schools, as well as government offices. There would be work in private companies. Monday morning and I think they did this just to muddy, perplex and confuse an already confused citizenry, they qualify that it is optional. And the morning hasn't fully started yet, and they have a rejoinder that if it isn't too late to announce, then the private companies can call it a holiday.

Now I ask, is the President just PMSing or does she have Alzheimer's?

--andoy
29 August 2005

Monday, August 08, 2005

[SHARE] the day you said goodnight, Hale

The Day You Said Goodnight
by Hale


Take me as you are
Push me off the road
The sadness, I need this time to be with you
I'm freezing in the sun
I'm burning in the rain
The silence I'm screaming
Calling out your name

And I do
Reside in your light
Put out the fire with me and find
Yeah, you lose the side of your circles
That's what I'll do if we say goodbye

To be is all I got to be
And all that I see
And all that I need this time
To me the life you gave me
The day you said goodnight

The calmness in your face
That I see through the night
The warmth of your light is pressing onto us
You didn't ask me why
I never would have known
Oblivion is falling down

If you could only know me like your prayers at night
Then everything between you and me will be alright

She's already taken
She's already taken
She's already taken me
The day you said goodnight.

-=0=-

-=0=-

This is quite popular these days. And I catch myself humming or singing snippets of the song. Keeps on running round and round my head. Must be the blue skies and dark rain type of weather that we're having. Downer.

Good song though.

--andoy
9 August 2005

Monday, July 18, 2005

[Share] Shade of Black, 7/16/05

Lightscapes: [POEM] Shade of Black, 7/16/05

Shade of Black
Mitz, 7/16/05

The phone rings
and the night bleeds, cut
by the sharpness of noise.
My ear, cold against
the receiver, deciphers
burning decibels:
"You've hurt me so much,"
over thin wires connecting
kilometers of pain.
"This is the second time
you've broken a promise."
Heartbeats become deafening throbs
in the ensuing stillness,
pale as withered moonlight.
"You've broken me,"he says,
"I've once believed
we have the same ideals.
You have changed."
Tears are invisible
in the shadows,
save for the errant drop
that catches moonlight,
gleaming like the last
ember of hope.
"Remember my promise
to marry you next year?
Guess what? You're right.
People do change."
The night, the oppresive darkness,
turns a darker shade
of black.

-=0=-

This is a poem by Michelle Lanuza. A good friend though we've only seen each other face-to-face twice.

--andoy
19 July 2005

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Last Saturday, I picked up my copy of the latest Harry Potter book before we (me and my family) went to Sta. Lucia to watch a movie, "Fantastic Four".

Unless the author changes her mind, this will be the penultimate installment of the Harry Potter series. As such, I can say that it delivers. It answers several questions: How can you kill Voldemort? What was the Riddle diary (in "Chamber of Secrets") all about? How can Professor Snape get back to the Death Eaters and report on them? Who takes over as Gryffindor Quidditch captain? Why was Tom Riddle born in an orphanage? How can Harry train to become an Auror? These set the stage for the next (and last) book of the series.

The larger questions remain, however. And these include new questions, like: "Who is 'R.A.B.'?"; and "Will Harry Potter kill Voldemort?"

It's a good, easy read, with almost an emphasis on simplification. J.K.Rowling's style is not like Asimov who ties up everything too nicely. Rowling leaves some loose ends which are self-explanatory. She also leaves some untied for the reader to review earlier books and to serve as teasers for succeeding books.

I think I'll be re-reading Harry Potter 1-6 for the next year or two, until the last one comes along.

--andoy
18 July 2005

Thursday, July 14, 2005

a terminal trick


Forwarded message:

i hope this isnt too far off topic for this group but i thought i
should share this

goto the terminal with an internet connection and type

telnet towel.blinkenlights.nl

then watch star wars episode 4 (the original) in ascii text ;)
have fun
`km

Yuk, what kind of dumb menu system is that? Oh, so that is Windows!

-=0=-

I picked this up on the MacOSX Yahoo groups courtesy of Kris Murray.  Enjoy.

--andoy
15 July 2005

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

[poem] Conspiracy

by Andoy, Mitz, Steph and Bambina
posted at Pinoy Poets 4 July 2005

Rolling through landscapes lost,
smoky eyes in a dark red-lit room,
cacophony of white noise foiled against
distinct syllables of poems newly writ.

Listening to echoes of words ghosting by
entwining, undulating like twin snakes--
verses birthed in a flash of lightning
swallowed by silence,
slithering slowly out from its hollow
like notes from an indian's flute.

Tonight, we conspire to write.

-=0=-

I forgot to post this collaborative poem on this blog. I've not
posted any new poems with Pinoy Poets since then. And that's quite a
long drought.

--andoy
13 July 2005

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

(Share) Somnambule, Cielo Maaliw

Poem was first posted by Cielo at her blog.

Somnambule

Je mesure chaque soufflée argentée
que m'envoie la lune;

Je te vois, lucide, accentué
sculpté par la lumière;

Je t'entends murmurer, renvoyé
en échos sur les murs;

Je te sens, ma peau s'en est brulée
de baisers et caresses purs;

Je rêve, mais je peux déclarer
que c'est toi -- j'en suis sûre.


Rough translation:

Sleepwalker

I measure each silvery breath
sent in by the moon;

I see you, lucid, focused,
sculpted by the light;

I hear you, whisper,
echoed by the walls;

I feel you, my skin tingles
from pure kisses & caresses;

I dream, but I so declare
that it's you -- I'm sure of it.



~~ Cielo Maaliw (Vendredi 1 juillet, 2005)

-=0=-

--
--andoy
7 July 2005

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Pinoy Poets Anniversary at conspiracy

Steph posted the events at the Pinoy Poets Anniversary at her blog (Angel 24/7).

It was a blast. Great affair. First anniversary and all, this looks like only the beginning of something big.

--andoy
29 June 2005

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Three Coffee Poems




MACHIATO'S CURSE
Mitz Lanuza, 6/10/05

  I should have known.
  You are Eve,
tempting me with the
poisoned gift of caramel.
I partook of your sweetness
as I would
ambrosia
(with a packetful of
brown sugar, of course),
savoring your heat with
my aroused tongue,
every nuance licked with
abandon.
  And, like a good lover,
you've kept me awake 'til
5 am.

(posted with Pinoy Poets 17 June 2005)

-=0=-

Espresso at Midnight
andoy castellano, 20 June 2005

Italians would drink espresso
first thing in the morning
and as morning becomes afternoon becomes evening
they'd drink with coffee
weaker and more tepid
sometimes chewing a coffee bean to follow
garlic-heavy pasta

I wait for you at this cafe
with my third espresso
nervous that I am
waiting to meet you
at two when you leave work
and come with me behind closed doors
 
(posted with Pinoy Poets 20 June 2005)

-=0=-

Caffe Latte
Anne Stephanie Cruz, 23 June 2005

We are all given the ingredients of happiness, but the mixing is left
to ourselves. – Ethel M. Dell

Standing hand in hand
you turn to me as the barista asked
what will it be?
Venti Latte, as always,
was my warm reply.

Your eyes probed mine in question,
espresso brown fingers
swirling over my milky white ones
Why not  plain café au lait?
you ask, 
saying that's all latte is anyway.

To you,
who sees coffee as just beverage
that may be so.
But that's not how I taste it.

Unsparing lovers prefer latte over anything else.

You see I am milk, 
and you the rich brew
I must constantly empty myself into-
the single shot of espresso
forever waiting for me
to fill the entire cup.

We are latte,
café au lait is half and half.


(posted with Pinoy Poets 23 June 2005)

-=0=-

Mitz Lanuza posted her poem with the Pinoy Poets group and instead of a critique, I posted the espresso poem.  Afterwards, Steph answered with her own poem.


--andoy
28 June 2005

[Share] A Friend With Benefits, Mark Fredrik Gumban, 06/28/2005



A Friend With Benefits
Mark Fredrik Gumban

Why?
During the temporal stasis of one's comprehension
As each others' appendages dance in the air,
Does this question beckon before me,
Interrupting my attempts to catch a glimpse of my other's
Mind-manifesting and dripping visage

Why ask why?
Is it the appearance?  The appearance of the stretch
Marks behind countless trysts,
Or perhaps, the appearance of what seems to be
The gross lacking of an outlook
Held by the majority.

Morality?
An abstraction of what they say
Is the firm absolute.  But is it not, merely,
An end of the scale that penetrates both
The creative and passive, serving as a constituent
Of the thesis for

The truth?
My reason is to simply relive that split-
Second when the gates of heaven shatter and
Welcome me upon the clouds of nine
As the trembling fluidic energies of creation
Fuel my eternal search

For purpose?
Within the tapestry of this existence I know
There is a part that I am obliged to fulfill,
And deep inside the shaft of one's psyche
Something had liberated this impression unto me as
My one true bliss


-=0=-

Mark Fredrik Gumban is a member of Pinoy Poets.  All rights are to the author.  Posted with Pinoy Poets 28 June 2005.

-=0=-

--andoy
28 June 2005

Monday, June 27, 2005

Guests and friends at a christening

I was at a christening last Saturday. She was Samarah Saw Buan, the daughter of Sawfin Saw and Marcelo "Jun" Buan Jr. (hence the name). Born May 1, 2005. Great looking girl. Looked like her father, and that's according to the other guests.

There's lots of stories to tell about the parents. And a whole lot of those stories were told during the reception. But mainly about the mother, Sawfin Saw. I first met her at AMA Computer College way back 1989. We were on the Dataline (the school paper) Editorial Board. For all intents and purposes, we were a barkada with the keys to a school administered room. Years later, I met Jun Buan at Digital Equipment Filipinas. And while there, I saw Sawfin at a technical training, and I thought that I can pair these two together. (This is not the place to discuss why I had this crazy idea. I thought it was a great and very sane idea at the time.) Eight years later, thy're married and have a daughter. The sanity of the idea is still up in the air.

One of the guests and "ninangs" was a good friend from AMA, Tess del Pilar Cacnio. She's Sawfin's best friend. And thinks it's my fault that Sawfin and Jun are now married. Eight years after they met, they could have decided against the idea. And they did, actually. But am I still to blame. I think so too.

I haven't seen Tess for the last thirteen or fifteen years. Last I saw her was two weeks before Mount Pinatubo erupted. And I don't even remember what year that was. I remember the meeting we had because we had a long talk. Personal issues. With her, and not with me, I was there only to listen, discuss and to help. I remember the Pinatubo eruption because she was then a contestant for the Supermodel search, and during the event proper, the volcano erupted, and it "snowed" in Manila. Memorable. Not easily forgotten.

She was telling this story. Seems that her husband Mike, asked her a question. Mike asked what she'd do if one day, she went into their son's room and find him having a "BJ" (there were kids within hearing distance including my two teenagers, so she used the term "BJ"). She answered that she would be surprised, but on second thought as long as it was a girl kneeling in front of her son, it should be okay. Around the table, we had a laugh at her answer. There was me, my wife and another former school mate from AMA. (My two kids don't count. If they had laughed, I would be frightened and would want to know what they're reading.)

Continuing the story, Tess had asked Mike in return what he'd do if he was the one who found their son having a BJ in his own room. And he had answered: "Buti ka pa, anak."

At this we gave Tess a mild dress down. That was fun.


--andoy
27 June 2005

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

INSIDE PCIJ: Stories behind our stories

INSIDE PCIJ: Stories behind our stories: "INSIDE PCIJ: Stories behind our stories"

This is an interesting blog. Very interesting indeed. The stories behind the headlines.

--andoy
23 June 2005

Monday, June 20, 2005

[POEM] Espresso at Midnight, andoy, 20 June 2005


Espresso at Midnight


Italians would drink espresso
first thing in the morning

with coffee getting more tepid
weaker and flavored
as morning becomes afternoon becomes evening

and chewing a coffee bean to follow
heavy garlic pasta

I wait for you at this cafe
with my third espresso
nervous that I am
waiting to meet you
at two when you leave work
and come with me behind closed doors

--andoy
20 June 2005


Thursday, June 16, 2005

'You've got to find what you love,' Jobs says

'You've got to find what you love,' Jobs says

This is the text of the Commencement address by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005.

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky – I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation - the Macintosh - a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me – I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I retuned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.

Kama Sutra Positions



    The Love Teachings of Kama Sutra
    By Vatasyayana

Source: "The Love Teachings of Kama Sutra"
(Translated by Indra Sinha)

    * Lying Down Positions:
    * Lying-down Positions - Samputa Group:
    * Positions From The Medieval Texts:
    * Sitting Positions:
    * Rear-Entry Positions:
    * Standing Positions:
    * Oral Pleasures -- Fellatio Techniques:
    * Oral Pleasures -- Cunnilingus Techniques:
    * Role Reversal:
    * Love Potions and Sex Aids
          o To Enslave a Lover:
          o To Increase Potency:
          o To Cope With Impotence:

Lying Down Positions:

    Indrani draws up both her knees
    until they nuzzle the curves of her breasts;
    her feet find her lover's armpits.
    Small girls love this posture,
    but becoming a goddess takes a lot of practice.

    She cups and lifts her buttocks with her palms,
    spreads wide her thighs,
    and digs in her heels besides her hips,
    while you caress her breasts:
    this is "Utphallaka" (The Flower in Bloom).

    Grasping the ankles
    of the round hipped woman, whose buttocks
    are like two ripe gourds,
    raise her beautiful thighs
    and spread the thigh-joints widely.

    Full of desire, saying sweet words,
    approach her with your body stiff as a pole
    and drive straight forward
    to pierce her lotus and join your limbs:
    experts call it "Madandhvaja" (The Flag of Cupid).

    Catch hold of her two feet,
    raising them till they press upon her breasts
    and her legs form a rough circle.
    Clasp her neck and make love to her:
    this is "Ratisundara" (Aphrodite's Delight).

    Lift the lady's feet until her soles
    lie perfectly parallel,
    one to each side of her slender throat,
    cup her breasts and enjoy her:
    this technique is "Uthkanta" (Throat-high).

    Your lovely wife, lying on the bed,
    grasps her own feet
    and draws them up until they reach her hair;
    you catch her breasts and make love:
    this is "Vyomapada" (Sky-foot).

    The round-thighed woman on the bed
    grasps her ankles and raises high her lotus feet;
    you strike her to the root, kissing
    and slapping open-palmed between her breasts:
    this is "Markata" (The Monkey).

    She lies flat on her back,
    you sit between her parted knees, raise them,
    hook her feet over your thighs,
    catch hold of her breasts, and enjoy her:
    this is "Manmathpriya" (Dear to Cupid).

Lying-down Positions - Samputa Group:

    If your penis is too small for a woman,
    the "Samputa" group of postures should be used:
    "Samputa" (the Jewel Case),
    "Pidita" (the Squeeze), "Veshtita (the Entwined)
    and "Vadavaka" (the Mare's Trick).

    In Samputa your legs lie along hers
    caressing their whole length from toes to thighs.
    Your lover may be below you,
    or you may both lie on your sides,
    in which case she should always be on your left.

    In Pidita the lovers' thighs
    are interlaced and squeeze each other in rhythm.
    In Veshtita she crosses her thighs
    or rolls each one inward,
    thus greatly strengthening her yoni's grip.

    When, like a mare cruelly gripping
    a stallion, your lover
    traps and milks your penis with her vagina,
    it is "Vadavaka" (the Mare's Trick),
    which can only be perfected with long practice.

    When she uses it, a woman
    should cease to kiss her lover
    and simply hold the lock.
    Courtesans are adept at Vadavaka,
    and it's a speciality with ladies from Andhra(*).

    *The South-Eastern state of India.

Positions From The Medieval Texts:

    When lovers, with legs stretched rigid
    and feet caressing feet,
    make love according to their hearts' desire,
    "tantra" scholars call it "Sampada" (Equal Feet)
    and agree it is a way to ecstasy.

    Stiff as a pole in the bed's center,
    she lies making love,
    cooing and warbling like a woodpigeon,
    the jewel of her clitoris well-polished:
    this is Mausala" (the Pestle).

    When she lies on her back
    with her two thighs pressed tightly together
    and you make love to her,
    keeping your thighs outside hers,
    it is "Gramya" (the Rustic).

    If, encircling and trapping
    her thighs with yours,
    you grip so hard that she cries out in pain,
    it is "Ratipasha" (Love's Noose),
    a device most charming to the ladies.

    Her limbs, entwined in yours
    like tendrils of fragrant jasmine creeper,
    draw taut and slowly relax
    in the gentle rhythm of linga and yoni:
    this is "Lataveshta" (the Clinging Creeper).

    She draws her limbs together,
    clasping her knees tightly to her breasts,
    her yoni, like an opening bud,
    offered up for pleasure:
    this is known as "Mukula" (the Bud).

    When she draws up her knees
    and you clamp yours about her raised thighs,
    trapping them in a tight knot
    while riding saddle upon her buttocks
    and kissing her, it is "Shankha" (the Couch).

Sitting Positions:

    Seated, mouth to mouth,
    arms against arms, thighs against thighs:
    this is "Kaurma" The Tortoise).
    If the lovers' thighs, still joined, are raised,
    it is "Paravartita" (Turning).

    If within the cave of her thighs
    you sit rotating your hips like a black bee,
    it is "Markata" (The Monkey).
    And if, in this pose, you turn away from her,
    it is "Marditaka" (Crushing Spices).

    She sits with raised thighs,
    her feet placed either side of your waist;
    "linga" (penis) enters "yoni" (vagina);
    you rain hard blows upon her body:
    this is "Kshudgaga" (Striking).

    When your wife sits
    with both knees drawn tight to her body
    and you mirror this posture,
    it is known to experts in the art of love
    as "Yugmapada" (The Foot Yoke).

    Seated erect, the lovely girl
    folds one leg to her body
    and stretches the other along the bed,
    while you mirror her actions:
    this is "Yugmapada" (The Feet Yoke).

    If, with left leg extended,
    she encircles your waist with her right leg,
    laying its ankle across her left thigh,
    and you do the same,
    it is "Svastika" (The Swastika)*.

    *An ancient good-luck talisman based on the symbolism of a
    cross whirling sun-wise. The Nazis used it the wrong way
    round, whirling widdershins, and the Indian pundits
    always said this was sacrilegious and would doom them.

    Sitting face to face in bed,
    her breasts pressed tight against your chest,
    let each of you lock heels
    behind the other's waist,
    and lean back clasping one another's wrists.

    Now, set the swing gently in motion,
    your beloved, in pretended fear,
    clinging to your body with her flawless limbs,
    cooing and moaning with pleasure:
    this is "Dolita" (The Swing).

    If, seated face to face,
    your toes caress the lovely woman's nipples,
    her feet press your chest
    and you make love holding each other's hands
    it is "Kaurma" (The Tortoise).

    Seated, the lady raises
    one foot to point vertically over her head
    and steadies it with her hands,
    offering up her "yoni" for lovemaking:
    this is "Mayura" (the Peacock).

    If, sitting facing her,
    you grasp her ankles and fasten them like a chain
    behind your neck, and she
    grips her toes as you make love,
    it is the delightful "Padma" (the Lotus).

    Sitting erect, grip your lover's waist
    and pull her on to you,
    your loins continuously leaping together
    with a sound like the flapping of elephants' ears:
    this is "Kirtibandha" (the Knot of Fame).

    Kneeling between her thighs,
    tickle her breasts and under her arms,
    call her 'my lovely darling'
    and print deep nailmarks around her nipples:
    thus "Jaya" (Victory) is expounded.

Rear-Entry Positions:

    She bends well forward and grips
    the bedstead, her buttocks raised high;
    cup your hands to serpents' hoods
    and squeeze her jar-shaped (sic) breasts together:
    this is "Dhenuka" (the Milch Cow).

    If you mount her like a dog,
    gripping her waist,
    and she twists round to gaze into your face,
    experts in the art of love say
    it is "Svanaka" (the Dog).

    If the lady, eager for love,
    goes on all fours, humping her back like a doe,
    and you enjoy her from behind,
    rutting as though you'd lost all human nature,
    it is "Hirana" (the Deer).

    When, with lotus-feet
    set well-apart on the ground, she bends,
    placing a hand upon each thigh,
    and you take her from the rear,
    it is "Gardabha" (the Ass).

    If she lies on her stomach
    and you seize her ankles in one hand,
    lift them high and make love,
    tilting her chin back with your other hand,
    it is "Marjara" (the Cat).

    She lies on her front,
    grasping her ankles in her own hands
    and pulling them up behind her:
    this difficult posture is known to experts
    as "Mallaka" (the Wrestler).

    When your mistress lays
    breasts, arms and forehead to the carpet,
    raising her buttocks high,
    and you guide your penis into her yoni,
    it is "Aibha" (the Elephant).

    You lift her ankles high;
    she draws up
    and extends her legs as though she were
    crawling through the air:
    this is "Hastika" (the Elephant).

    She stands on palms and feet;
    you stand behind her
    and lift one of her feet to your shoulder,
    enjoying the lovely girl:
    this is "Traivikrama" (the Stride).

    Seize her feet and lift them high
    (like a wheel barrow),
    drive your penis into her yoni
    and pleasure her with vigorous strokes:
    this is "Kulisha" (the Thunderbolt).

    You kneel, as in archery,
    take her on your lap
    and bend her forward till her breasts
    are pressed to her thighs:
    this is "Ekabandha" (One Knot).

    Lying on her side, facing away,
    the fawn-eyed girl
    offers you her buttocks
    and your penis penetrates the house of love:
    this is "Nagabandha" (the Elephant).

Standing Positions:

    And now for the love postures
    with which sculptors adorn our temple walls.
    When a couple make love standing,
    or leaning against a wall or a pillar,
    it is called "Sthita" (Steadied).

    When the woman sits in her lover's
    cradled hands, her arms around his neck,
    thighs gripping his waist,
    her feet pushing back and forth against a wall,
    it is "Avalambitaka" (Suspended).

    When, catching and crushing your lover
    in the cage of your arms,
    you force her knees apart with yours
    and sink slowly into her,
    it is "Dadhyayataka" (Churning Curds).

    When she leans against a wall,
    planting her feet as widely apart as possible,
    and you enter the cave
    between her thighs, eager for lovemaking,
    it is "Sammukha" (Face-to-face).

    If, as you lean against the wall,
    your lady twines her thighs around yours,
    locks her feet to your knees,
    and clasps your neck, making love
    very passionately, it is "Dola" (the Swing).

    When your lover draws up one leg,
    allowing the heel
    to nestle just behind your knee,
    and you make love, embracing her forcefully,
    it is "Traivikrama" (the Stride).

    If you catch one of her knees
    firmly in your hand
    and stand making love with her
    while her hands explore and caress your body,
    it is "Tripadam" (the Tripod).

    If she raises one leg
    and you catch hold of her little foot,
    caressing her breasts
    and telling her how much you love her,
    it is "Ekapada" (One Foot).

    Her foot pressed to your heart,
    your arms encircling and supporting her,
    lean back against the wall
    and enjoy the lovely girl:
    this is "Veshta" (the Encircling).

    She stands against the wall,
    lotus-hands on hips,
    long, lovely fingers reaching to her navel.
    Cup her foot in your palm
    and let your free hand caress your angel's limbs.

    Put your arm around her neck
    and enjoy her as she leans there at her ease.
    Vatsyayana (the author) answer others
    who knew the art of love in its great days
    called this posture "Tala" (the Palm).

    If you lean back to a wall
    and your lover, clinging to your neck,
    places both her feet
    in your palms and thus makes love,
    this is "Dvitala" (Two Palms).

    If you lift your lover
    by passing your elbows under her knees
    and gripping her buttocks
    while she hangs fearfully from your neck,
    it is "Janukurpara" (the Knee Elbow).

    Your wife grips your neck
    and locks her legs around your waist:
    this is "Kirti" (Fame) - a posture
    not described in "Kama Sutra" or "Ratirahasya".
    Never try it with heavy girls.

Oral Pleasures -- Fellatio Techniques:


    When your lover catches your penis
    in her hand and, shaping
    her lips to an 'O', lays them lightly to its tip,
    moving her head in tiny circles,
    this first step is called "Nimitta" (Touching).

    Next, grasping its head in her hand,
    she clamps her lips tightly about the shaft,
    first on one side then the other,
    taking great care that her teeth don't hurt you:
    this is "Parshvatoddashta" (Biting at the Sides).

    Now she takes the head of your penis
    gently between her lips,
    by turns pressing, kissing it tenderly
    and pulling at its soft skin:
    this is "Bahiha-samdansha" (the Outer Pincers).

    If next she allows the head to slide
    completely into her mouth
    and presses the shaft firmly between her lips,
    holding a moment before pulling away,
    it is "Antaha-samdansha" (the Inner Pincers).

    When, taking your penis in her hand
    and making her lips very round,
    she presses fierce kisses along its whole length,
    sucking as she would at your lower lip,
    it is called "Chumbitaka" (Kissing).

    If, while kissing, she lets her tongue
    flick all over your penis
    and then, pointing it, strikes repeatedly
    at the sensitive glans-tip,
    it becomes "Parimrshtaka" (Striking at the Tip).

    And now, fired by passion, she takes
    your penis deep into her mouth,
    pulling upon it and sucking as vigorously
    as though she were stripping clean a mango-stone:
    this is "Amrachushita" (Sucking a Mango).

    When she senses that your orgasm
    is imminent she swallows up the whole penis,
    sucking and working upon it
    with lips and tongue until you spend:
    this is "Sangara" (Swallowed Whole).

Oral Pleasures -- Cunnilingus Techniques:

    With delicate fingertips,
    pinch the arched lips of her house of love
    very very slowly together,
    and kiss them as though you kissed her lower lip:
    this is "Adhara-sphuritam" (the Quivering Kiss).

    Now spread, indeed cleave asunder,
    that archway with your nose and let your tongue
    gently probe her "yoni" (vagina),
    with your nose, lips and chin slowly circling:
    it becomes "Jihva-bhramanaka" (the Circling Tongue).

    Let your tongue rest for a moment
    in the archway to the flower-bowed Lord's temple
    before entering to worship vigorously,
    causing her seed to flow:
    this is "Jihva-mardita" (the Tongue Massage).

    Next, fasten your lips to hers
    and take deep kisses
    from this lovely one, your beloved,
    nibbling at her and sucking hard at her clitoris:
    this is called "Chushita" (Sucked).

    Cup, lift her young buttocks,
    let your tongue-tip probe her navel, slither down
    to rotate skilfully in the archway
    of the love-god's dwelling and lap her love-water:
    this is "Uchchushita" (Sucked Up).

    Stirring the root of her thighs,
    which her own hands
    are gripping and holding widely apart,
    your fluted tongue drinks at her sacred spring:
    this is "Kshobhaka" (Stirring).

    Place your darling on a couch,
    set her feet to your shoulders, clasp her waist,
    suck hard and let your tongue stir
    her overflowing love-temple:
    this is called "Bahuchushita" (Sucked Hard).

    If the pair of you lie side by side,
    facing opposite ways,
    and kiss each other's secret parts
    using the fifteen techniques described above,
    it is known as "Kakila" (the Crow).

Role Reversal:

    During lovemaking, ten types of blows
    may be struck with the penis,
    but of these only "Upasripta" (Natural),
    which is instinctive even to untutored cowherds,
    results in full clitoral stimulation.

    It is a gentle forward stroke
    which may be varied for depth and speed,
    allowing a subtlety, rhythm
    and spontaneity which
    the other nine each lack to some degree.

    If you grasp your penis and move it
    in circles inside her yoni,
    it is "Manthana" (Churning).
    When you strike sharply down into the yoni,
    it is "Hula" (the Double-edged Knife).

    If, when her hips are raised by a pillow,
    you strike a rising blow,
    it is "Avamardana" (Rubbing).
    If you hold your penis pressed breathlessly
    to her womb it is "Piditaka" (Pressing).

    If you withdraw completely
    and then strike her violently to the womb,
    it is "Nirghata" (the Buffet).
    Continuous pressure on one side of her yoni
    is "Varahaghata" (the Boar's Blow).

    If you thrust wildly in every direction,
    like a bull tossing its horns,
    it is "Vrishaghata" (the Bull's Blow).
    Quivering in her yoni is "Chatakavilasa" (Sparrow Sport),
    which usually heralds orgasm.

    The involuntary shuddering of orgasm
    is called "Samputa" (the Jewel Case).
    But no two women make love quite the same way,
    so orchestrate your rhythms
    to the moods and colors of each lover's "raga" (emotions).

    If long lovemaking exhausts you
    before your lover has reached her orgasm,
    you should allow her
    to roll you over your back
    and sit astride you, taking initiative.

    If the posture gives her deep pleasure,
    or you enjoy its novelty,
    she may transpose into it as a matter of course,
    taking great care, however,
    not to expel the linga from the temple of love.

    Consider: she climbs upon you,
    the flowers dropping from her tousled hair,
    her giggles turning to gasps;
    every time she bends to kiss your lips
    her nipples pierce your chest.

    As her hips begin to churn,
    her head, flung back, bobs ever faster;
    she scratches, pummels you with small fists,
    fastens her teeth in your neck,
    doing unto you what you've often done unto her.

    When she takes the man's role,
    your lady has the choice
    of three famous lovemaking techniques:
    "Samdamsha (the Tongs),
    "Bhramara" (the Bee) and "Prenkholita" (the Swing).

    If she uses the Mare's Trick,
    gripping your penis with her yoni's vice,
    squeezing and stroking it,
    holding it inside her for a hundred heart-beats,
    it is known as "Samdamsha" (the Tongs).

    If, drawing up her feet,
    she revolves her hips so that your penis
    circles deep within her yoni,
    you arching your body to help her,
    it is "Bhramara" (the Bee).

    If she now swings her hips
    in wide circles and makes figures-of-eight,
    swaying upon your body
    as though she were riding on a seesaw,
    it is "Prenkholita" (the Swing).

    When her passion has ebbed,
    she should rest, bending forward to lay
    her forehead upon yours
    without disturbing your yoked bodies:
    it won't be long before desire stirs again.

    Catching your penis, the lady
    with dark eyes like upturned lotus petals
    guides it into her yoni,
    clings to you and shakes her buttocks:
    this is "Charunarikshita" (Lovely Lady in Control).

    Enthroned on your penis,
    she places both hands on the bed
    and makes love, while you
    press your two hands to her thudding heart:
    this is "Lilasana" (Seat of Sport).

    She sits upright upon you,
    her head thrown back like a rearing mare,
    bringing her feet together
    on the bed to one side of your body:
    this is "Hansabandha" (the Swan).

    The young woman has one foot
    on your heart and the other on the bed.
    Bold, saucy women adore this posture,
    which is known to the world
    as "Upavitika" (the Sacred thread).

    If, with one of her feet
    clasped in your hand
    and the second placed upon your shoulder,
    your young lady enjoys you,
    it is "Viparitaka" (Reversed).

    If your lover, seated above you
    with feet lotus-crossed
    and her body held erect and still
    makes love to you,
    it is known as "Yugmapada" (the Foot Yoke).

    If she strides you,
    facing your feet,
    brings both her feet up to your thighs,
    and works her hips frantically,
    it is known as "Hansa-lila" (Swan Sport).

    Your lover places one foot
    on your ankle, lodges
    her other foot just above your knee,
    and rides you, swinging and rotating her hips:
    this is "Garuda" (Garuda).

    If you lie flat on your back
    with legs stretched out
    and your lover sits astride you, facing away
    and grasping your feet,
    it is called "Virsha" (the Bull).

    Clasping each other's hands,
    you lie sprawled like two starfish making love,
    her breasts stabbing your chest,
    her thighs stretched out along yours:
    this is "Devabandha" (the Coitus of the Gods).

    Lying upon you, your beloved
    moves round like a wheel,
    pressing hands one after the other on the bed,
    kissing your body as she circles:
    experts call this "Chakrabandha" (the Wheel).

    If, by means of some contraption,
    your lover suspends herself above you,
    places your linga in her yoni
    and pulleys herself up and down upon it,
    it is "Utkalita" (the Orissan).

Love Potions and Sex Aids
To Enslave a Lover:

    Anoint your penis, before lovemaking,
    with honey into which
    you have powdered black pepper,
    long pepper and "datura" (the green thorn apple) -
    it will utterly devastate your lady.

    Leaves caught as they fall from trees
    and powdered with peacock-bone
    and fragments of a corpse's winding-sheet
    will, when dusted lightly
    on the penis, bewitch any woman living.

    If you crush milky chunks of cactus
    with sulphur and realgar,
    dry the mixture seven times, powder it
    and apply it to your penis,
    you'll satisfy the most demanding lover.

    And if, to these powerful ingredients,
    you add a monkey's turd,
    grind them together and sprinkle the powder
    on your unsuspecting lover's head,
    she will be your devoted slave for life.

To Increase Potency:

    Honey-sweetened milk in which
    the testicles of a ram
    or a goat have been simmered
    has the effect, when drunk,
    of making a man as powerful as a bull.

    Pumkin seeds ground with almonds
    and sugarcane root,
    or with cowhage root and strips of bamboo,
    and stirred into honeyed milk,
    have the same arousing effect.

    The sages say that wheat-flour cakes
    baked with honey and sugar
    and sprinkled with the powdered seeds
    of pumpkin and cowhage
    give one strength for a thousand women.

    The yolk of a single sparrow's egg
    stirred into rice pudding
    that has been thickened with cream,
    wild-honey and "ghee" (clarified butter)
    has the same invigorating effect.

To Cope With Impotence:

    A man who climaxes too swiftly
    should arouse his lady
    by caressing her clitoris with his fingers
    and flooding the well
    of her yoni before he enters her.

    If, during lovemaking, the erection
    cannot be sustained because
    the man is old, or simply exhausted
    he should use the delicate
    oral techniques given in an earlier chapter.

    The man who is utterly unable
    to achieve an erection
    should pleasure his wife/lover with a phallus
    crafted from materials like
    gold, silver, copper, iron (!!), ivory or horn.

    The artificial phallus should be shaped
    to your natural proportions.
    It will be more arousing for the lady
    if the outside is studded
    with a profusion of large, smooth nodules.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Pinoypoets' Anniversary Night at Conspiracy


 

If you're a writer, a poet, an artist or simply a lover of literature, better block off Tuesday, June 28  on your social calendar. Pinoypoets (PP), an online community of literary enthusiasts, will be holding its first anniversary bash at Conspiracy Bar in Quezon City.

 

The event, dubbed PP 'to!(The Pinoypoets' First Anniversary), promises to be an evening filled with laughter, music, and of course, excellent poetry.  Prominent social, academic, and literary figures Makati Rep. Teddy Locsin Jr,  Conchitina Cruz, Vin and Kris Dancel, Noel Del Prado,  Joyce Burton Titular, Enrico John Torralba, Hannah Romawac,  Roli Inocencio, Monica Llamas and Gary Granada, are but a few of our guest readers.

 

The celebration will also be highlighted by performances from G-Strings, 10kpp, Rubberband, Johnoy Danao of Bridge, Paramita, and Hanna Romawac of Session Road.

Pinoypoets is a community of poets, writers and literary enthusiasts who share their works, thoughts and insights on poetry. Formed by less than 50 members in June 2004, Pinoypoets has grown to 250 members based in different regions of the archipelago---and even abroad.

 

Its primary objective is to facilitate a creative forum and enrich its members' knowledge and craft. Michael Coroza, Edgar Samar, Santiago Villafania, Louie John Sanchez, Eileen Tabios, Bino Realuyo and Jema Pamintuan, some of the most respected names in Philippine poetry today, are the group's consultants and critics.

 

PP 'to!(The Pinoypoets' First Anniversary), will start at 8 p.m. Admission is FREE!  For more information, please get in touch with Rhodge Fernandez (721 7229, seventhgecko@yahoo.com ), Kathline Tolosa (09175777128, kathline_anne@yahoo.com ) or Romel Samson (09278470212, risingphoenix101@yahoo.com)



Monday, June 13, 2005

Photo Shoot

I volunteered for a nude photo session yesterday. It was a different experience. I think I was lucky that there were practically no other persons around waiting to be photographed. Actually there was this couple (from Bulacan, I think) who finished before I came to the studio. And then there were these two girls in their early-twenties or late teens. Pretty they were, in a cookie-cutter way; they looked like and dressed like a whole lot of girls their age. Tall and thin, which is the current fashion, the art center aide told me later that these two girls were regular nude models for the center.

I had no logical reason why I went to have my picture taken. Only that it would be several new experiences: this is the first time a professional fashion photographer would be taking my pictures; the pictures will be part of a photo exhibit to be shown in various venues in Europe and Asia; and the pictures were taken in the nude.

The photographer is Marlon Despues. And the exhibit is entitled "1000 Nudes." This will be shown in February at the Instituto Cervantes. The shoot was at Art Informal, along Connecticut Street in Greenhills, almost across Red Ribbon.

When it was my turn to be photographed, marlon told me that I can choose to be in any degree of nakedness I am comfortable with. I started out wearing boxers, but before the photos were taken, I decided to just not wear the boxers.

Twelve shots were taken. Of the twelve shots, I was asked to choose three which would be for exhibition. And of the three, Marlon would choose which to include in the exhibit. The other two would be held in reserve for possible inclusion in other exhibits, if any.

The pictures and poses were not erotic in any way. (hahaha That's a laugh; erotic! ha!) I tried to be cool and relaxed about it. It was free form in expression, and in an almost paradoxical and funny way, it was mainly light, shadow, and musculature. The funny part is that I have been sedentary the past few years, and I really lack exercise, so I am (relatively) thin, with a tummy, and flabby. This body is very funny. Though I wasn't wearing anything, there was only one shot which showed my penis. And it was a very shy thing, too. And, no, I didn't choose that one.

And no face shot either. Cool. Way, way cool.

--andoy
14 June 2005

Goddess

Goddess

g-string under
wrap around skirt hooked at the back
while I walk upstairs behind her
a swish and a flash
twin moons of the goddess!

-=0=-

Posted with PinoyPoets 2 June 2005 (rev.2).

Thursday, June 02, 2005

A Rotten Poem (2)

a
poppy
plant
sways
high
in
the
wind

--andoy
2 June 2005

A Rotten Poem

long strands of hemp
struggling to be paper brown envelopes
or long brown thick rope mooring nameless lonely ships to post
short cut leaves of hemp
smoke snaking hazy trip

--andoy
2 June 2005

Thursday, May 26, 2005

POEM: Linger

Linger

the slow way you rove your eye
scanning me without turning your head
here I sit by the next table
sipping from my cup in silence
seemingly unmindful of you
I feel the way you look at me
with avowed disinterest
a stranger
sizing another stranger
one table away

I sigh and wink in your direction
you turn your head away
and slouch in your seat

message received
I ask for the check and leave

--andoy
27 May 2005

-=0=-

My blog had a visitor, and gave a comment.  And I visited her blog, and left this poem as a comment.  Wala lang.  Just off the top of my head.

--andoy
27 May 2005

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

A Celebration!

Went to a celebration last Saturday. My friend Rach's eldest daughter Chit graduated from college, Summa cum Laude and class Valedictorian. The graduation ceremony was held the Sunday before. she had an average of 1.15 for her whole stay in UPLB. Supposedly her lowest grade was 2.25, but that's a different story.

Rach rented the club House of a neighboring subdivision which had a pool. The Thanksgiving mass was scheduled for 10:00am. And the party was "scheduled" up to 6:00pm. We arrived "after lunch" around 1:30pm and the party was still in full swing. The bulk of the guests have left by then, but Rach was still harried and busy attending to guests. I introduced my family, Lilia, Kenneth and Darwi. There was only one time when Lilia met Rach, and that was when she was in Manila studying for the Chemistry Board exam. And Rach was about twenty pounds lighter then. Lilia later gave a comment that she looks a whole lot better with the additional poundage (and curves).

It was the first time Lilia met Rach's children, and the first time Rach got to see my kids in person. After lunch, Darwi went with the other "kids" and "swam" in the pool. I tried to catch up, chatting with Rach and her sister, Lea. And later, Kenneth and I played basketball. Lilia was
content sitting at the table chatting with Lea and other guests. There guests were in groups sitting at the tables, some were drinking beer, the ladies were drinking wine. There was a karaoke/videoke machine and a continuous stream of singers, as the mike was passed from person to person.

One of the guests was Lily, another graduate of Chemistry from UPLB. Last I saw her was by accident in Bolinao when they had an outreach program. She works for IRRI. I guess she's been working for IRRI since after college. She was with her husband and two wonderful daughters, the eldest was six years old.

Late to the party were Red and Loi. Red still works for a government agency. And he brought along his son and daughter, his wife stayed home with the youngest. Loi is a doctor, surgeon actually, specializing on cancer and trauma. I still can't get over that combination. And he's also a police officer, complete with badge, ID and snub-nosed pistol. THAT combination I can't really get over with. There was the usual joking around, and old jokes, and some chit-chat about friends who weren't there. If Loi hadn't picked up Red, they would not have come at all.

It was a light party. Somewhat loud, but as far as I can tell, everyone was occupied with something and nobody (I hope) got bored. It was a time to touch bases, and keeping up with the news about old friends.

Not enough of those celebrations, I guess. Maybe next time.

To Chit, again, congratulations and good luck. To Rach, thank you very much for being a friend.

--andoy
3 May 2005

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Hemp Republic

I was listening to the radio Saturday night and there was a song by a new band called Hemp Republic, titled "LB Nights." sounds cool. I think I'm going to get a copy of their album.

Their blog page is http://hemp-republic.blogspot.com


--andoy
25 April 2005

SHARE: "Désir et Désespoir" by Cielo Maaliw

Désir et Désespoir
-- Cielo Maaliw, 10 mars, 2005


Je ne sais plus ce que je fais.
Même se je me l'admettais,
je n'ose pas le lui dire
et même de le dire à voix haute
… que je l'aime.

Mais à chaque fois que je le dis
où même l'écrire
mon cœur se serre.
Je sens l'abîme étroite où je me trouve,
cette abîme de vérité,
de ce que je fais est de la folie
qui m'apportera de la désespoir et de la tristesse.
… je ne serais jamais sienne.


Mais j'aime ses baisers.
J'adore la sensation de son corps contre le mien
à chaque fois que nous nous tenions
dans les bras de l'un et l'autre.
Je chéris ses paroles remplis de convoitise
qui servent d'étincelle pour attiser le feu de désir
et qui remplis mon corps de langueur.
Je lui donne ce corps brûlant.

Mais ce qu'il ne sait pas
c'est qu'il a envoûtée mon âme
et que je me soule avec mon sang,
drogué avec l'envie de l'embrasser.
Il m'hypnotise avec ses touchés
quand ses mains errent ma peau
ce que me rend confuse avec l'idée
que j'ai besoin de lui'
Que j'ai besoin de lui en moi
Comme si chacun de ses va-et-vient me réanimera ;
Que mon cœur battra de nouveau
et que ma vie se remplira avec cette chaleur
si humaine et si intense,
que j'ai cru que le destin me l'y avait privé.
Je me fais des délires.
Il ne sera jamais mien.


Translation:
I no longer know what I do.
Even if I admit it to myself,
I dare not tell him
and even to say it out loud
... that I love him.

But each time I say it
or even write it,
my heart clenches.
I feel that I am in this narrow inferno [1],
this inferno of truth
that what I do is folly
which would bring me sorrow and despair [2].
... I will never be his.

But I like his kisses.
I love the feeling of his body against mine
each time we would be [3]
in each other's arms.
I cherish his lustful words
which makes sparks to light the fire of desire
and fills my body with lust.
I give him this searing flesh.

But what he doesn't know
is that he has possessed my soul
and that I'm drunk with my [own] blood
drugged with the want to kiss him.
He hypnotizes me with his touches
when his hands roam my skin
which leads me to this vague notion
that I need him.
I need him inside me,
as if each of his thrusts would bring me back to life; [4]
That my heart would beat again
and that my life would be filled with this warmth,
so human and so intense,
that I believed destiny had deprived me of.
I am fooling myself [5]
I will never be his.


Author's Notes:
This was originally written in French in your typical boring paragraph. I then decided to give verses a try. During translation, I took note of the techniques I learned during Latin class: that the literal translation of one word doesn't exactly translate the idea and context the writer wishes to convey. I could also say that I "rewrote" the poem in English to express the right mood -- and believe me, I didn't do this in 5 minutes! I present to you then, my (foot)notes:

1. "I feel that I am in this narrow inferno" -- I am aware that "abime" translates to "abyss"; but since I am mostly referring to desire, I immediately remembered Dante's "Inferno" and his second 2nd Level (The Lustful), and settled on that word for my translation. "Enfer" in French just sounds too dirty and negative to me. My translation's contradictive, yes.

2. "which would bring me sorrow and despair " -- I've inverted the words for impact; a little tribute to coined terms in English literature.

3. "each time we would be; in each other's arms" -- the literal translation of the corresponding phrase would be "each time we would hold each other; in each other's arms"; question of redundancy.

4. "as if each of his thrusts would bring me back to life" -- sexual innuendo and parallelism with CPR. Enough said.

5. "I am fooling myself" -- I initially wanted to write, "Je me fais des illusions", but "delires" was more of a tribute to Neil Gaiman (if you've noticed, I have 4 out of 7 of the Endless here -- missed out on Death, Dream and Destruction); but "I'm making myself delirious" doesn't sound nice and doesn't have the same idea as the original version.

-=0=-

Cielo is a French-speaking agent with a world-wide account (Pixela) at C-Cube. She is also a full-time student currently enrolled at UP.

--andoy
25 April 2005