TRAVEL LIGHT

Inner North London, top floor flat
All white walls, white carpet, white cat,
Rice Paper partitions
Modern art and ambition
The host’s a physician,
Lovely bloke, has his own practice
His girlfriend’s an actress
An old mate from home
And they’re always great fun.
So to dinner we’ve come.

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On my first months working in the House of Representatives, I noticed that most Congressmen carry with them a MacBook. Of course they can afford to buy one or even a dozen of MacBooks, but for them perhaps it wouldn’t make any difference if they pick the apple or some other brand. They really wouldn’t bother, they just buy it like the stuff they love to buy during elections.

I just hope that they get the chance to watching this new MacBook Air commercial with the song, New Soul by French-Israeli singer and songwriter, Yael Naim. The commercial and its song gave me a feeling like I’m being transported into a world where there are no politicians…hehehe

Wish I could have one of that Macbook Air someday. Oh and, just on the side, Steve Wozniak, co-founder of Apple is a brother Freemason from Charity Lodge No. 362, Campbell, California.

Here’s that Apple’s Macbook Air “New Soul” Commercial, relax and enjoy, its a good Apple for the soul:

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It’s exactly a year now since I published a post about the song “Pasko sa Binilanggo”. Unlike most traditional Christmas songs this song is not popular and there are only few who knew about it. Some of them found this post, and requested a copy of it in mp3 format. It took me a year to look for a copy and at last I found one. So for everyone who asked for the mp3 copy of this song, Rejoice!!, I have a Christmas gift for all of you.

MALIPAYONG PASKO SA INYONG TANAN!!!

My take on the issue about the Filipino boy in Canada punished by his school’s director and berated for eating like a pig by using spoon and fork, is that it is a case of racial discrimination. Plain and simple. I don’t see any justifiable reason about the director’s action and reprehensible comments. I find it even stupid to use the adage “when in Rome do what the Romans do” to justify the wrongdoing and cover up the racial slur over the issue. Pigs don’t eat with spoon and fork. By using Pig to describe people who doesn’t eat the continental way smacks of racism in its most despicable form. Although I believe that not all Canadians are racists. Canada is known to be a country far more tolerant to immigrants than the US, but ironically Quebec is known to be a place where Racism is socially acceptable and where everybody assumes you’re an asshole.

A lot has already been said about the issue. I would like to share my thoughts against racism through this song by one of my favorite folk music group, the trio of Peter Yarrow, Paul Stookey, and Mary Travers, otherwise known as PPM. I thought all along that PPM has already faded into history. I never heard of them for a long time. But thanks to the internet and of course the You Tube, I found out that they are still singing their songs and even making new ones like this song entitled All Mixed Up which they made in 1990′s. Watching this video transported me back to the past when I used to jam with my old buddies singing PPM songs. Though they obviously looked like Lolos and Lola already but their music hasn’t changed a bit, their songs remain upbeat, cheerful and very meaningful.

So to all of you Racists out there better sing along and learn.

I have made a blog once about how our little ones can lead us in discovering life’s simple pleasures. I should say that it’s not only life’s simple pleasures but also great lessons in life.

Just this morning my baby Maia again led me into another great discovery. She insisted for me to sit with her and watch her favorite morning show at Nickelodeon Jr channel. There was this short musical cartoon (ala MTV) that really impressed me. It’s a song sung by the musical group Sweet Honey in the Rock about the influence adults have in forming attitudes of respect and wonder in their children and grandchildren.

No Mirrors In My Nana’s House
(Lyrics by Ysaye Maria Barnwell (c)1992)

There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house,
no mirrors in my Nana’s house.
There were no mirrors in my Na’s house,
no mirrors in my Nana’s house.
And the beauty that I saw in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

I never knew that my skin was too black.
I never knew that my nose was too flat.
I never knew that my clothes didn’t fit.
I never knew there were things that I’d missed,
cause the beauty in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun);
…was in her eyes.

There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house,
no mirrors in my Nana’s house.
And the beauty that I saw in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

I was intrigued by the cracks in the walls.
I tasted, with joy, the dust that would fall.
The noise in the hallway was music to me.
The trash and the rubbish just cushioned my feet.
And the beauty in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).
…was in her eyes.

There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house,
no mirrors in my Nana’s house.
And the beauty that I saw in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

The world outside was a magical place.
I only knew love.
I never knew hate,
and the beauty in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).
…was in her eyes.

There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house,
no mirrors in my Nana’s house.
There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house,
no mirrors in my Nana’s house.
And the beauty that I saw in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

“Chil’, look deep into my eyes.”
“Chil’, look deep into my eyes.”
“Chil’…”

Imagine it – a world without mirrors, where we would not see ourselves reflected as too anything – fat, skinny, plain, pretty, white, black, rich, poor. Perhaps if we were mirrored only in the eyes of those who loved and cherished us, we would have less need to put others “in their place” or to carry on with our prejudices, grudges, hatreds, and fears.

Indeed, we come to realize that we are more our children’s pupils than we are teachers to them. If only we follow what they teach us.

I love listening to Pachelbel’s Canon and all its versions. But this guy’s jaw dropping guitar rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon is kick-ass! It’s Pachelbel loaded and high on speed.

Watch this video and drool.

Ang lupit mo, Idol!!!

Move over Joe Satriani…

It’s now only seven days before Christmas. Everyone is off and ready for parties, reunions, exchange gifts, and assorted happy whatsoever. After all, Christmas is “the most wonderul time of the year” and everyone is supposed to be happy. Christmas time as a joyous and festive occasion comes to be accepted as a universal norm. And becuse of this state of mind, the joyful atmosphere of Christmas also serves as the most perfect backdrop for irony. In the midst of the season of plenty and celebration there are poor souls suffering from tragedies, despondent and languishing in silent misery. A lot of stories and songs have been made in this context, like the old classic movie, All Mine to Give, and the Band Aid song, Do They Know its Christmas.

There is one song that struck me deeply with this same thought. It is a Cebuano song I heard sung regularly by the istambays in our place in Iligan City during drinking sessions a long Christmastime ago. It is said that the song was composed by a prisoner whose name remain in legendary anonymity. Incarcerated away from his family and friends, he sadly wished them merry Christmas. The lyrics of the song depicts injustice, imparts a feeling of intense unhappiness and its melody is tuned almost like a melancholic lullaby. The song is aptly titled, Pasko sa Binilanggo (A Prisoner’s Christmas).

This song strikes me not just because of its general emotional appeal. My heart hangs heavy with the thoughts of the thousands of Children languishing in our prisons today. According to the Coalition to Stop Child Detention Through Restorative Justice, in their petition to the United Nations, the number of small children as young as 8 years old in the Philippines who become victims of sodomy, rape and abuse for being imprisoned with hardened adult criminals has risen from 20,000 in 2003 to a soaring 52,000 in 2004.

On Christmas eve, imagine what happens to these Children in the midst of adult criminals and rapists celebrating Christmas inside their cramped, dark and cold prison cells.