Halloween (A Murder Account) by Karla Vizcarra

There’s a corpse down the street.

A dead body covered in white, policemen mumbling in radios, a camera crew and a crowd of people: Latinos, Mexicans, Jewish kids in their hats and curls down the street yesterday morning.

Nothing moved.

I feared the body would rise if I came

too near. Besides, the policemen waved us back.

A Chinese lady, speaking to us, and when we shook our heads she asked, in broken English: The-body is yung?

We did not know.

Nobody knew.

Covered in white, still, frozen.

The murderer had a Halloween mask on, a kid said.

Leaves everywhere. Dead. We are shivering.

He must be very cold.



There was a murder down Clara street yesterday morning. I was lazy, typing in front of the computer. Looking up people that didn’t matter. Poring over their lives. Deliciously, when Ernest called.

“There’s a dead body right in front of me,” he had said.

And I dressed up in my sweater, pants and slippers, stepped out into the cold November and walked towards where a crowd had begun to gather.

A dead body in a white bag.

The police had made sure there were cars in front of the crime scene, so no one could take a good look unless they sauntered right over and craned their necks, vulgarly, blatantly. I saw the white bag. I had craned my neck just a little.

I wanted to go home.

Ernest kissed me and got the groceries. We were cooking Hainanese chicken for dinner. We saw a Youtube video, while looking up the recipe for bread pudding.



We didn’t go out last night. My swine mask and blonde wig hung there, waiting, expectant. I had wanted to dress up in sequins and fishnets and heels and a blonde drag wig and then the mask. I wanted to be a freak in a dress. A sexy pig. A fat chick. A Fascist pig. Swine flu. Pork. Oink oink.

We ended up watching Dario Argento’s Suspiria. Goblin music. Wet rain.



The dead body had curled up in my head.

We were biking down Prospect Park, leaves rustling under our wheels. It was dark, for 7 o clock. Daylight Savings Time.

We had come from a reading in a basement.

I thought I had left my hat down there. The lights had been turned off.

I had to go down the stairs and look for the lights, located not where lights normally are.

I had to go to the very back row. The last row of chairs.

Empty chairs.

I found the switch, but not my hat.

Nowhere on the shelves at the bookshop upstairs.

We went down the basement a second time.

It was even darker. Emptier.

Goblin music.



Outside, I found my hat slumped beside my bike. On the dark pavement, it looked like a dead rat.

A dead thing on my head.



We cooked Hainanese chicken that night; it was delicious.


(Very indifferent.)

Apocalypse, by Arah Rivadeneira

The blanket of shadows unfolds

A P

     I

    T of

lO s T p L ot S,

turmoil

p

o

u

r

s

b  R  e A  t  H  i  N  g  life to DEATH.

Colored Museum

Start:	Oct 14, '09 7:00p
End:	Oct 18, '09 3:00p
Location:	Teatro Hermogenes Ylagan, Faculty Center, UP Diliman

ADMISSION IS FREE!

Philippine contextualization and adaptation of George C. Wolfe's "The Colored Museum." The play features Cathrina Aldeon, Babes Alejo, Carlo Garcia, Jerson Guiwa, Garet Picardal, Amihan Ruiz, Karen Gaerlan and Aryan Serrano, directed by Donna Dacuno

Playdates: October 14, 7pm and October 18, 4pm.

Girls of Summer

Kakamiss!

Moments that I wished became a thousand times longer.

Karla sana andito ka non!

Photos: Monica Santiago and Audie Laudencia
Director: Audie Laudencia
Story Board: Audie Laudencia
Arrangement: Audie Laudencia
Cast: The Cast and Crew of JDC
Crew: The Cast and Crew of JDC
Musical Scoring: You'll find it out at the end of this photo story

I'll watch this a thousand times over when i get home...

Friends et. al...

portraits
solos
paired
stolen

My Dear Friends...

RA

Alice

Andy

Arah

Monica and Jans

Tintin

Ahmed

Audie

Marnel and Jill

Humphrey

 

I super miss you na.

Hay.

The Cast and Crew (same place)

These are like family pictures and barkada pictures and cast and crew pictures or whatever... Anyways, photos courtesy of Monica...

Photoshoot: In the Garden (Fontana, Clarkfield, Pampanga)

It's not a garden, though. It's a lawn.

Photos taken by Audie, a person whose hands does magic with anything that he would touch: be it a sketchpad, a pencil, a gift wrapper, a set of crayons, or a simple point and shoot digi cam.

Check these out. ü

Kulitans at Fontana, Clarkfield Pampanga

Treasured moments together.

Friends.

What happens on a Friday?

I will miss these Fridays.

BecaUSE there are other days in a week, months to a year and chapters to a life.

11 days to go.

NutFireCrackers

Just as I thought that I lost my USB, I found it this morning inside my bag. Here are some pictures that you can find in it. Pictures of different people from different planets from different galaxies. They're just here to visit our planet and pester us with nonsensical funny laughter.

But, the nutcrackers are probably about to part ways to join new worlds and shift dimensions. I will surely miss them and the disciples we all each had in SSC.

ü