Jim Pascual Agustin's Blog, page 55

Playing with Cover Designs

The creative process is not always (not often?) a democracy. I suppose it is a bit like cooking, or running a top restaurant's kitchen – recalling the little I know of how a French kitchen is run based on that very engaging film from director Brad Bird, "Ratatouille" (did I spell that right?). There has to be a hierarchy.

But hey, there's no harm in testing the waters – or the taste buds of others, just to keep to our metaphor.

Here is the draft cover design (by very good friend and graphic designer Joanna Ruiz) I am thinking of using for the Filipino poetry book of mine that UST Publishing House will release next year. The title, Baha-bahagdang Karupukan, roughly translates to "levels of fragility" although that fails to capture the image of a terrace or staircase that is inherent in the root word "hagdan."

I would like to know what random readers (if any) think about it.

I can't offer any compensation for your precious feedback. You could count it as your good deed for the day. I will greatly appreciate whatever views you would like to share. Thanks in advance.

Filed under: Africa, Asia, Influences, Mga Tula / Poetry, poetry Tagged: Baha-bahagdang Karupukan, Brad Bird, Jim Pascual Agustin, Joanna Ruiz, Ratatouille, UST Publishing House

Where Ignorance Meets Wimpy Idiocy

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Lost it today.

Wimpy owes me an apology. Not a burger. Not a plate of greasy fries. Not a cup of coffee. I want an apology from Wimpy and their marketing executives. Perhaps in the form of a creative ad that openly fights xenophobia. At least that. Or maybe a brand new car. We could definitely use that.

I've put up with this long enough. Why should I have to be subjected to another humiliating moment in the face of ignorance, prejudice, and pure idiocy?

Step back. Breathe.

Location: Super Spar (local grocery chain) Sonstraal Heights, Durbanville

Date: 04 November 2010.

Time: around 11:00

Details of Event: I walk up to the cigarette counter – no, I don't smoke – where the lottery machine was (yes, I do know the impossibility of winning the lottery, and I also know that the people who run it have not given what they promised to hand over to needy NGOs and other organizations!) and just before I say a word one of the two women there blurts out "Two 10ers!"

I froze. Then I felt my forehead heat up. I said coldly "What did you say???"

She said nervously "I was talking to her."

"No you weren't. I know what you mean. You shouldn't do that! I hate that Wimpy ad. It is racist and it is demeaning and it is wrong. You shouldn't repeat such a thing again!" All of these and more came flowing out of me. I felt my whole body shake with pure anger.

She apologised and I took a deep breath before saying "I shouldn't have reacted like that, but I've had it with people treating me like you did because of that silly ad. It is not the first time and it should never happen to anyone."

I handed her my lottery ticket – which, as expected, was non-winning – then said sorry again with less life than before.

Now what was wrong with me losing my temper like that?

Well a month ago I had a wave of similar or worse experience which pushed me to start a short reaction to the ad. Then I thought better not make it worse by publishing it, surely such stupidity will pass. Well it definitely hasn't. So the following was my initial reaction that I now release.

-o-

(Originally written 2 October, shelved, now unleashed)

It is always tricky when one bumps into another evidence of not-so-subtle idiocy. Shrugging shoulders then moving on is one option, hoping that will the be last time. Or maybe not. Is there any escape from the pitfalls of aggressive ignorance?

This is supposed to be funny.

A man walks up to a restaurant that sells greasy (semi-)fastfood. He asks for the special, a smaller version of a regular item on the menu, the "Two 10ers." Behind him are two well dressed tenors (you see they are tenors by their outfit, of course, so very fitting to wear in such a restaurant, and by the way they blast some notes). But it turns out this eager customer has got it wrong. There is no way he can get the el cheapo special that his heart will forever cherish (feel those arteries popping).

The woman at the counter rolls her eyes and – showing little patience – tries to explain the special. It seems only two ten rands was all that he needed. Two 10ers (R10x2). Silly man. Not two silly tenors!

My god it sounds worse written down. This is supposed to be funny.

But this funny attempt has a context. The customer is Asian – well, in this context I think the viewer is supposed to assume he is Chinese. He speaks English which is not much better than the black woman at the counter. Surely it isn't just the language that's the problem here?

The woman at the counter doesn't openly mock the man. He's a prospective customer you see, but there is a clear sense of "Man, you're dumb!" in her reaction.

Sometimes making fun of what you find different, what you do not know and therefore might fear, turns an uncomfortable situation in your favour. If the alien can be ridiculed then you get the upper hand. Of course the worse reaction is to chase them out of your restaurant, out of your township, out of your country. Think xenophobia. Refugees. The thin line is often crossed with just a small push in the direction of ignorance.

This ad throws open the doors to prejudice against Chinese people and those who might look Asian. It mocks the historic struggle of such people in this country. It is nothing but a call to ridicule a particular group. Frankly, I felt offended by it the first time I saw it, but then I grew furious after each incident that I have experienced.

The first time I saw this ad I just shook my head. What sort of reaction was the ad agency expecting? It depends I suppose on who they expect to go to that particular restaurant.

Well I go there sometimes (or should I say I used to?) because they have nicer toys for my kids than McDonald's. We got mini story books once. Another time it was a set of interlocking toys that had a fully-working compass, a pack of note paper with its own compartment, and a laser light pointer among other wonders!

Almost every single time we went there for a meal we got friendly service. Wait, there was this one time I remember getting funny looks when I went on my own. I had to say things over and over before they understood me. I certainly remember the funny look. It wasn't that much different from that waitress in the ad!

Since that ad was shown some months ago I've had semi-taunts thrown at me by more than a handful of people. First I thought it was just a rare thing, like this burly looking guy out to poke fun at just anybody. He came to my car and said "Were you in that Wimpy ad?" I said no, definitely not. Then he insisted "Are you sure? Are you sure? The guy there looks just like you!" I just shook my head as he smirked and chuckled. What do you say to idiots who accost you?

I had a less aggressive but no less infuriating experience at a stationery shop, pretty much a toned down repeat performance of ignorance.

It seems to be more common than I thought. Even as the last tourists were leaving the FIFA World Cup venues this year bands of idiots once again waved the terrifying flags of xenophobia. Something like "We got your money, now run!"

Or have I just lost my sense of humour?

I can only blame the ad agency for such an ad that rouses what seems to be a lurking nastiness among the more ignorant population. What can one do?

-o-

Well I decided to write this. The next move is to tell the execs to read it. Then what? We'll see. Or we won't. I may not be part of their demographics. I can always go to a different grease factory.

Filed under: Africa, Asia, Creatures, Influences, Life in a different world, politics, Sanaysay / Essays, Silly Babble, Uncategorized Tagged: racism, South Africa, Wimpy Burgers, xenophobia

Chagos Islanders Still in Limbo

'What in the World?' is an Irish series of tv documentaries presented and produced by Peadar King. (See also http://kmfproductions.net) In this episode, Peadar King travels to Mauritius to meet the original inhabitants of the Chagos Islands (Indian Ocean). The Chagos Islanders were secretly and brutally expelled from their homeland by British governments in the late 1960s and early 1970s, to make way for an American military base on the main island of Diego Garcia. For more information and updates on the plight of the Chagossians, please visit the website of the UK Chagos Support Association at www.chagossupport.org.uk.

PLEASE SIGN THE PETITION – GO TO http://www.gopetition.com/petitions/let-the-chagos-islanders-return-home.html

I first posted the following poem in May 2009. I hope you don't mind a second read.



Rounding Up The Dogs of the Children Who Died of Sadness

Monsters came one day, dressed

in stiff uniforms. They were fed

largely on red meat and so had grown

like giants compared to the islanders.

They scarred the land as they drove,

engines growling like hungry beasts,

churning sand and dust into the terrified

eyes of the children. Those little

Brown arms grew powerless at the sight

of fists clutching the collars of their pets.

Never before had they seen such dark

nightmares. The monsters had come

To gather all the dogs of the island.

They were taken amid screams and cries,

hearts cracking like husked coconuts

flung against a jagged rock.

-o-

Filed under: Europe, Influences, North America, politics, terrorism, Uncategorized Tagged: Chagos Islanders Day, Chagos Islanders' Rights, human rights, Justice, terrorism, UK Imperialism, US Military Bases, violation of human rights

A Postscript to an Imported Tradition

A still photo from Jim Henson's The Storyteller - The Soldier and Death

Horror of horrors. Being in South Africa means we get a spattering of pop culture (relentless bombardment of mostly Hollywood-processed images and thus filtered and/or watered down North American traditions or mythmaking) and other cultural oddities remixed into the local configuration (hahahahaha, I already lost myself there!).

Our kids wanted a Halloween of sorts so they started days ago with cutting up bits of paper into ghost shapes, skulls and ribcages with strings to connect the hands and legs, lots and lots of bats (out of black paper with silver ink outlines), one orange pumpkin about the size of their hand, and a few other things I can't remember. They stuck these all over the house, often in the most unexpected places like next to a light switch.

A day before Halloween they rediscovered an interactive book we had given them when they were too young called Human Body (a DK – Dorling Kidersley action pack it says!). Well, they are still too young for such a challenging project, so my ever-patient wife who loves the fiddliest of things (I am the clumsy junkman) worked for hours putting together the book's intricate and superbly detailed human skeleton made out of thin cardboard. Boy was it a show of technical wizardry!

Not having grown up with such a ghastly (nudge, nudge) tradition as Halloween, I was of little help, of course, in thinking of ways to make the evening more interesting. All I could do was hang dark cloths to cover windows and set up dim lighting in one of our spare rooms (my junkroom, actually). The skeleton standing next to a slowly waking lava lamp did add some… cheer?

Skeleton out of cardboard from DK Interactive Book, Human Body

Now my wife had other plans. She grew up in North America and it was something huge for her, really lots of fun — or was meant to be anyway.

The kids put on their home made (more like home trashed) outfits of a witch (black silk cape and broom of the wrong design!) and an Eastern European looking Little Red Riding Hood (nope, not really, more like a gypsy actually) then knocked on our door, but then forgot to say TRICK OR TREAT and instead just giggled.

We brought them inside the house, blindfolded them, spun them around three times and then led them to the "Haunted House" (my junkroom, remember?) where cobwebs (a peacock feather!) brushed against their cheeks and foreheads. We sat them down, took off their blindfolds, then made them put their hands in a bag. Gooey stuff on their fingers, they started giggling then went "Ewwww!!" "Yukkk!" "Gross!!!!!"

My wife said it was the guts of someone we had cut up! Hideous laughter from yours truly. Well after the frantic laughter and faces of disgust (all mixed in!) they asked us what it was. "Noodles!" my wife declared. Worse facial reactions accompanied an extended and screeching "YUUUUUKKKK!!!"

The next item was a little bowl with an eye and an ear floating in blood. Grapes, my wife told me later on, would have been best for an eye, but they're totally out of season in this country. She used, of all sad things, carved out cucumber. The blood was tomato juice. The kids laughed and laughed, but they did eat an eye! My wife managed to string up a story of sorts, nothing I can remember now. What mattered was there were loads of laughter and expressions of gleeful disgust.

So it was a weird first Halloween. Well it would have been way better anyway than my silly idea of showing them an episode of Jim Henson's "The Storyteller" series – which they have seen a number of times already and would be nothing new or scary anymore. Still, that series and that particular episode I was thinking of, "The Soldier and Death," remains one of the best rendered fairy tales that I have ever seen. John Hurt is always fantastic, and here plays The Storyteller's part with perfect dramatic and comic flourishes. I miss Jim Henson's genius matched with Anthony Minghella's scriptwriting magic.

Ah, maybe I can watch it on my own again another day.

Filed under: Africa, Creatures, Influences, Life in a different world, North America, Sanaysay / Essays, Silly Babble Tagged: Anthony Minghella, Dorling Kindersley Action Pack, Halloween, Human Body, Jim Henson, Jim Henson's The Storyteller, skeleton

Nobyembre ng Kalburo

Nobyembre ng Kalburo

Sinlaki

ng aking

mga daliri

ang mga langgam

na ito:

mga bulaklak

na itim,

kay bilis

umusbong

sa uka

nitong nitso

sa tabi

ng nitso ni lolo.

Kailangang

mag-ingat

na di-saktan

kahit gahiblang dulo

man lamang ng kanilang mga antena.

Hindi ko alam

ang kanilang tunay na pinagmulan,

hindi ko dinig ang kanilang bulung-bulungan,

ang pangalan nilang tangan.

Malayong alingawngaw ng puti ang puntod,

ginapangan ng lumot. Inapak-apakan,

pinag-akyatan ng mga taong hindi

kaanu-ano, taun-taon

tuwing Nobyembre

ng mga kandila, radyo, at kalburo.

Biniyak ng ugat ng kalapit na puno

ang kanang kanto ng nitso.

Tila kinakapa ang malamig na

kaibuturan, ang malaon nang

nakaligtaang pagtirikan ng kandila.

Buong maghapong pasan-pasan

nitong mga sanga

ang makulimlim

na kalangitan. Pasan-pasan pati ang walang humpay na ragasa ng kumustahan, kuwentuhan, sayawan, tagayan, kainan, hagulgulan, bulyawan, takbuhan, at iba pang panghihimasok at karahasan ng kabayanan ngayong iisang araw lamang ng taon.

Sa wakas sumuko ang araw.

At ang mga kandila, naging hiwa-

hiwa ng liwanag sa balat

ng karimlang pumapagaspas.

Samantala, ang mga langgam,

patuloy sa paroo't parito sa mga uka

at lihim na landas. Papalapit

ang isa

sa aking sapatos

na pagkit

sa putik

at kandilang

nalusaw.

-o-

NOTE: This poem, written a few years ago, was meant to appear in a more visual format. I saved a PDF of it here: Nobyembre ng Kalburo

A translation is forthcoming (meaning one day when the gods grant me space and time to be more selfish than usual). This poem (is it?) appears in a collection to be released by The University of Sto. Tomas Publishing House, Baha-bahagdang Karupukan.

Filed under: Asia, Fragments and Moments, Influences, Mga Tula / Poetry, poetry, Uncategorized Tagged: All Saints Day, All Souls Day, Baha-bahagdang Karupukan, Jim Pascual Agustin, Philippine tradition, UST Publishing House

First Quick Review for Goodreads

Suddenly, Memory

From the music video of Bjork's "Unravel" directed by Lynn Fox

My cellphone went wild this morning – sounded like a maimed animal trapped in a dark cave.  It was the alarm for a reminder I had set over a year ago, around the time I visited my family back home after the Ondoy floods.  Today is the birthday of my youngest sister's first son.  I tried to phone them to greet him, but the line was bad probably because of the super typhoon that had just wreaked havoc in the region.  I wanted to share with them some good news, but had to hang up.

Today also marks the day I took my first international flight in 1994.  I thought the flight was going to be cancelled because, just as now, a powerful typhoon had just dragged its vicious winds and heavy rains across the country.  I went to my old university that morning, hoping to bid farewell to any unfortunate being I might bump into.  Classes had been called off.  It was mostly working staff who were there picking up huge branches of trees strewn across the campus roads, shaking their heads at uprooted trees that were older than them.  Roots pointed to the brewing clouds.

I didn't know I, too, was being uprooted that day.  I didn't say goodbye to friends properly.  My best friend drove me to the airport doors, he wasn't even allowed in.  I pretended not to be afraid.

A few hours after takeoff the plane caught up with the departing typhoon, so the shrimp dinner that was hastily served by rattled flight attendants said Hi to me a second time.  Singapore Airport was cold and mostly empty after midnight when the plane landed.  In transit for over four hours, dreading the longer haul, I stupidly spent sitting not that far from huddled countrymen who were on their way to hard labour in unwelcoming kingdoms.

I did not know how fortunate I was.  Or what really awaited me that October 1994.  South Africa was a country in the midst of transforming itself and I was merely an alien, just as uncertain of what lay ahead.

Today I also received word from the director of the publishing house back home which recently accepted my two manuscripts.  She sent me snippets of what the reviewers had said about my poetry collection in English.  I was overwhelmed.  I couldn't believe what they thought of my work.

Then at the same time I felt like I was on my own.  That very moment I truly was.  It would be an hour before I was to see my wife and share with her the good news.  And the only friends I managed to get hold of were online ones — one in Phoenix, Arizona, and the other in central Cape Town.

Somehow all those years in between came rushing back.  Suddenly, memory.

-o-

Filed under: Africa, Asia, Creatures, environment, Fragments and Moments, Influences, Life in a different world, Literary News & Articles, Mga Tula / Poetry, poetry, Sanaysay / Essays, Silly Babble Tagged: Alien to Any Skin, Baha-bahagdang Karupukan, Jim Pascual Agustin, Manila, memory, Ondoy, Philippine poetry, poetry, Singapore Airport, South Africa, University of Sto. Tomas Publishing House

Sea Pirates Strike Again! With Tasers!

[image error]

Filed under: Middle East, politics, terrorism Tagged: Gaza, Gaza Siege, international condemnation of Israeli atrocities, Irene, Israeli piracy, Israeli propaganda, Jews for Justice

Order Your Copy Now: GUD Magazine Issue 6

In the past couple of years (actually counts as longer than a lifetime for most independent publications) the editors of this magazine have consistently managed to put together stunning literary pieces – stories, poetry, essays, drama, even comics! – with breathtaking artwork.

GUD Magazine Issue 6 is finally out on PDF and the print edition will follow soon.  Place your order now and be captivated.  The hard work that goes into putting out such a fine publication shows on every page.

Hmmm… and two of my poems are in it!  hahahahahahahaha now that's a hardsell.

Filed under: Literary News & Articles, Mga Tula / Poetry, poetry, Uncategorized Tagged: All You Had, GUD Magazine Issue 6, Jim Pascual Agustin, poetry, Sand Clings to My Toes Daddy, William Burkholder

Paris Welcomes Viva Palestina Convoy

Filed under: Europe, Middle East, politics Tagged: Breaking the Siege, France, Gaza, Israel, Israeli siege on Gaza, Paris, Viva Palestina