<PERSPECTIVES> A Contortionist’s Memories by Jon Zedrick H. Macahia Painful, it may seem, yet bending and breaking then twisting myself into unusual positions is what got me to fit in inside a box. I was young when I first knew about these Japanese shows called “anime.” Everyone in my school had been raving about some foreign named character who was too hard to pronounce at my age. They gush about the visuals and the plotline as I sit silently, eating my lunch, oblivious about the topic at hand. “What are you guys talking about.” I chose to ask fact that I am merely a Joze D. out loud. Their eyes were upon me, wondering if I had contortionist, trying so the grasp in their our current conversation. Thankfully, one of my classmates briefed me on what happened hard to fit within boxes, on the latest episode of a show on the cable channel. I didn’t get it yet I chose to nod my head. within systems. Trying so “Maybe they’re poor and they don’t have that hard, going lengths to channel yet.” And we were. break my bones, just to get everyone’s approval and That very day, I went home, crying. Of course, my mom asked the reason why I was tearing up and acceptance. I just responded with how I wanted to watch cable channels. At first, she was against the idea of paying I once had been a part of a group wherein I felt monthly to have additional ten tv channels but as I kept on wailing, how can she say no? truly happy. No judgements, just pure acceptance. The next week, I finally figured out Naruto. The way they treated me like I’m one of them was Then came a summer which I regret. Everyone had been raving about different popular television something I treasure. Yet those happy memories of personalities, all which seemed male. One of them gave me a nudge and asked me which team I support. mine would just remain in my mind. Team? I didn’t know how to respond. “I’m not sure.” It was a safe response. Once again, “Are you gay?” My parents spoke during their our I was kept out of the dark, they were surely interested in these males that they’ve been constantly talking family dinner once. Apparently, it was a grave sin to about for about a few days now. It didn’t dawn to me the premise in which they were talking about till one be the only guy in this group of girls. I can see the of them volunteered to emulate someone’s move. “Kobe!” He says. Ah, basketball. disappointment that I had been trying so hard to Not once, have I been interested in playing that sport. The sport is nothing but a constant reminder escape from. So, I distanced myself from the group how I never had some sort of patriarchal figure growing up. As I watched my friends have fun with and tried to be as manly as they had wanted me to their fathers teaching them to ball, I knew I would never get the same treatment. Never. be. There would be times, I would come home from So I took matters upon my own hands. It was that summer in which I chose to join a small basketball the gym that they signed me up in order to please league. Sure, it was fun at first. My friends and I were together, playing a sport which they we all enjoyed. their desires to have a worthy son. Till I injured both my knees. I swore from that day onwards, I will never make I’ve tried so hard to appease every person, contact with basketball ever again. Similarly, my friends never contacted me as well. relative, friend, in order not to lose anyone in my life. Teenage years came and I finally accepted the I’ve always kept my sexuality in check just so any sort of suspicion wouldn’t be raised against me. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?” They always seem to ask. I too don’t know the answer, yet I chose to dismiss it with a simple “my parents don’t allow me yet.” As I grew up never once had I had a compelling argument or a resounding opinion. Always on the middle ground. As they weigh two sides of contrasting ideas, I merely adhere to accepting that both may exist at the same time. When choosing between two options, I choose both. When choosing between two candidates, I say both are good. When given the chance to take sides, I never do. As choosing one means losing the other. As I continually make myself loose, in order to properly fit myself in these systems, I didn’t realize I’ve been losing something else. Myself. 46
Graphics by Kirsten Chloe D. Hernandez 47
Words by Jhustin Gabriel B. Dipasupil If you are a Senior High School student of De it is established just across former tracks of a railway or La Salle Lipa, by now, you should have noticed that railroad. What’s more comfortable and delightful when there are numerous cafeterias and food stalls visibly dining to your all-time favorite Filipino dishes, that will scattered across the campus. Ranging from all day make you regret starting upon a diet in the first place. breakfasts with beverages, to authentic continental Their offered dishes are composed of the cuisines of lunches, and even your unforgettable childhood snacks; more than a hundred distinct ethno-linguistic groups these food delicacies are obviously a “must-try”. As such, found throughout the Philippine archipelago. Bicol- you probably experienced difficulty in choosing the express? Yes! Adobo? Sure, why not! prime canteen of the bunch that is definitely worthy of your pocket-money. For this reason, this was created to Taza Mia (Diokno Building) guide foodies out there in their future explorations, and Craving an ice-cold beverage during the hot to make non-foodies appreciate dishes from various summer days? Or a hot drink to take the chill off? cuisines. Here are some canteen concessionaires worth Don’t worry, we gotchu! Taza Mia was the brainchild of breaking your new-year’s resolutions for: Mr. Rodel Lacorte, who hails from Lipa, the first coffee capital of the Philippines. Offering a wide array of drinks Student Center (Food Hub/Food Hall) that undoubtedly captivates the hearts of those fueled Do you often get tired of a certain thing, usually by caffeine each day. Aside from handcrafted beverages of the same kind of food? Worry no more, the Food Hub to discover and indulge in, they offer pastries and and Food Hall of the Student Centre canteen have your sandwiches that are made with high-quality, simple backs. With your all-time-favourite food carts, I assure ingredients. It's true. The ideal mug of espresso and a you that this food-experience will be one like no other. healthy, scrumptious bite can fill your heart with joy. For Aside from this, imagine the hassle-free movement this reason, they ensure that everything you pick is of the from your respective classrooms towards this particular best quality. Since truly, isn't that how life ought to be? food concessionaire since it is situated near the JRN (Jose Although this particular store may cost an arm and leg at Rizal Noli) and JRF (Jose Rizal Filibusterismo) buildings times, Taza Mia never fails to uphold a conducive canteen of the Senior High School community. Moreover, there environment where family, friends, and partners meet. are six famous food stalls that serve here, which include Waffle Time, I love Milktea, Plato Wraps, Hong Kong Animo Diner, BB Canteen, College Canteen Style Noodles, Pick-a-lane, and Varda. With more than Student-centered meals while dining with your 50 branches across the nation in huge colleges and peers, fret not! The Animo Diner, BB Canteen, and College shopping centres, Varda is the freshest expansion to the Canteen offer a wide array of meals that you and your rundown of choices to keep an eye out for. friends wouldn’t have a difficult time in choosing which one to grab and eat. Composing of several individual Secret Shop (Sentrum) food stalls aiming to serve nothing but the best quality Memorable snacks that shaped your childhood of food and beverages to Lasallian students, these are definitely treats that are impossible to forget. locations would undoubtedly bring people together like Imagine if I told you that all of these nibbles and bites a generous spread of delicious food. are all available on campus, just under your nose. The so- called “Secret Shop” is located at the west wing of the Simple Line (Diokno Building) Sentrum, which offers the aforementioned goodies that Don’t be alarmed if you ever encounter a are too hard to resist. Also, it's the small (but delicious) Lasallian student who mentions that Milktea circulates things that will surely bring a smile to your face while you through his or her veins instead of blood. Budget who? gobble down that piece of snack. Milk Tea is life! Simple Line is one of the most underrated stores within the campus of De La Salle Lipa. It is known “Riles” (Railings) for alluding to a few types of refreshment found in If you're looking for food on a budget, be sure to numerous cultures, all containing a blend of tea and not skimp on nutrition. You will definitely feel good about milk. Refreshments vary depending on the measure of eating with your classmates these creatively delectable every one of these key fixings, the method of preparation, recipes that won't break the bank. Since this particular and the consideration of different fixings. Simple Line food store creates a repertoire of recipes featuring cost- definitely settles on a worldwide and in vogue decision effective ingredients, you'll soon be able to whip out low- of drink, and mixing tea traditions into individuals' life. As cost meals without even thinking. “Riles”, a small-scale a result, they never fail to keep their promise of rousing yet down-to-earth canteen is situated near the Sports individuals in regular day to day existence and to light up Complex and Retreat Complex of the institution. It’s minds, through the specialty of tea. name was given acknowledgement due to the fact that 48
By Quinnie Hillarie Dalangin & Quincee Beatrice A. Dalangin 49
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na Yo GrHouse Horo s copeseuemy’tvoineeugcrosofqmooufueewrritIeoonsnt.trdhCaeeRmrEr!uiSFgrCehaeIltTslipnHdlgaooceuaess,leinLtstoi,pletCaiRbnsalEtielnSlindaCdnIiTn!toWnthoditweehfdaptamhrreekes?getnAuhtiredseantynoaocmuyeoseuoeo;feHfoktouihnuregsfoebfrorHeorfotaghrtuoehisredcsraosanpsicneseostchnfioeoartwea?dll. MIGUEL CIRILO Nakahanda na ba pera mo? Mukhang may Nararamdaman mo ba ‘yon? Nagiinit na yata? gala ka na naman mamaya, at ikaw daw ang Hmm, tingnan ang paligid kung may future magbabayad. kaloving! Lucky drink: Royal Lucky Movie: Jurrasic Park Lucky Vitamin: C Lucky song: Halukay Ube by Sexbomb girls SOLOMON JAIME Ewan ko na sa’yo. Lucky Me: Pancit Canton (ChiliMansi) Grabe! Napaka lamig yata ng mga araw mo? 51 Lucky Number: 23.5 Patayin mo na ang aircon niyo d’yan! Lucky food: Yelo Lucky bird: Twitter
BENILDE ANICETO Pakiramdam mo siguro’y nandidilim na ang Simple lang, wag kang magpupuyat mamaya paligid mo, vertigo lang ‘yan. Magpaclinic ka na. kung di ‘yan para sa kinabukasan mo ah. Wag Lucky word: Animo kang magmamalinis. Lucky name: Bob Lucky number: (Kopiko) 78 Lucky song: White Iverson by Post Malone MUTIEN VICTORIANO Mukhang maliwanag ang mga sunod mong Pula. Minsan kulay ng lip tint, madalas marka araw, wag ka na magalala pa. sa exam. I-analyze kung saan ka pasok doon. Lucky drink: Chuckie Lucky Song: Red by Taylor Swift Lucky time: 12:51 Lucky day: Tuesday MARCIANO AUGUSTO 52 Labo mo madalas. Try mo kaya linawin na LavaRn ka today! Wag magpapatalo kung ‘yon ngayon para wala nang mahirapan? talaga ang (Au)GUSTO mo! Lucky item: Bintana Lucky food: Pan de Regla Lucky number: 50 Lucky artist: Maroon 5
Pick YOU A TA EXPER Illustrations and Words by Interpretations based off Select three cards and remember the order you picked them in. Next, flip to the next page to reveal the underside of the cards! (No peeking! Don't turn unless you've already picked.) Flip a coin three times and record the results of each, Heads means Upright while Tails is Reversed. Upright doesn't always mean good and Reversed doesn't always mean bad! 53
OUR Card: AROT RIENCE Kirsten Chloe D. Hernandez of the Rider-Waite Tarot The first card you pick pertains to your past, second applies to the present, while the third applies to your future. The coin flips will determine the orientation of your cards, first flip changes the past and so on. Remember: Tarot cards don't dictate, instead they show possibilities. It's up to you to self-reflect and see where the card's meanings apply (or don't.) 54
UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: Evolution, Forgiveness, Honesty, Ending Renaissance, The Truth, Old Ways, Yearning Justice Reformation REVERSED: REVERSED: REVERSED: Struggling Ignoracne, Lack of to Change, Self Honesty, Cleansing Deceit, Judgement Inequality UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: Charisma, Optimism, Conviction, Fortitude, Ambition, Dedication, Bravery Desire Having a Plan REVERSED: REVERSED: REVERSED: Lack of Being Self-control, Energy, Hopeless, Misdirection Letting Emotions Misery, Take Control UPRIGHT: REVERSED: UPRIGHT: REVERSED: WHAT THEY Self Intelligence, Alienation, Self-Doubt, Pick YOU Reflection, Not Divinity, Confusion, Solitude Positive Gut A TAR Belonging Silence, EXPERI UPRIGHT: Feeling Misguidance Enthusiasm, Illustrations and Words by Excitement, UPRIGHT: Interpretations based off o Dominance, Passion UPRIGHT: Power, Healthy Mother- Leadership figure, Femeninity REVERSED: REVERSED: REVERSED: Toxic Loss of Becoming Optimism, Control, too Harnessing Misplaced One's Inner Priorities Dependent, Needing Child Self-Care 55
UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: Stability, Distress, Mastery of Fatherly Heightened Craft, Talent Care for Emotions, Others Disquiet in Oneself REVERSED: REVERSED: REVERSED: Lack of Relief, Inadequate Flexibility, Suppressed Planning, Stubborness Unrealized Feelings. Talent UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: Going with New Traditional the Flow, Beginnings, Mindset, Allowing Potential for Oneself to Upholding Process Good. the Norm. REVERSED: REVERSED: REVERSED: Timidity, Hesitation, Non- Refusal Taking too Confodmity, to Move Many Risks Uniqueness Forward MEAN: UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: Union of UR Card: Equity, Right Masculine Priorities and AROT Feminine IENCE REVERSED: REVERSED:Selves Kirsten Chloe D. Hernandez Asymmetry, Clashing UPRIGHT: of the Rider-Waite Tarot Inequality, with Oneself, Advantages, Self Care Odds are in Strife Your Favor UPRIGHT: UPRIGHT: Success, Anarchy, Conclusion, Discord, an Ending Realization, Conversion REVERSED: REVERSED: REVERSED: Haste, Refusal to Losing Setbacks, Change, Streak, Odds Absolution Backwards Progress are not in Your Favor 56
<PERSPECTIVES> Death and Butterflies by Audrey B. Diaz Silahis I’ve been friends with Death the moment I realized that he was always around me. His bones were as cold as i expected them to be; his walk was neither 57 fast nor slow but always was precise, like our deaths were a schedule he followed rigorously. I asked him what it felt like being constantly around dying. He didn’t understand the question. The threat of him to us living is intangible to him– he is innocent in a sense that he thinks his existence holds some semblance to ours, that he too shall pass. Death is like a child, unlike the darkness we think of him to be. To have a friend like death is to be friends with a kid as clueless as you are. I asked him if he’s ever loved before. “I fell in love with a butterfly once.” “Exactly. We can’t control when, how nor how “A butterfly?” I asked, shaken at his answer’s much they would get hurt. I’ve learned that we can simplicity. “What did you do with it?” I probed, trying only love them with our most sincere intentions and to feed my curiosity more. if they don’t want that anymore, then we have to let “I kept in a jar! Look, It’s here in my pocket!” He go.” exclaimed as he busied himself with searching for the said butterfly. He took out a brown and dried “But that’s unfair! You mean we’re not sure if they butterfly. It was dead. would love us back?” “Look, see! It isn’t as pretty as i first saw it but it’s here. I carry it with me all the time. That’s what you do Life chuckled softly. “Sadly, yes. But trust me, to with the ones you love right?” love a butterfly flying freely, experiencing beautiful I thought about my late grandfather, things with or without you would feel so much better grandmother, aunt, and dog, if i would have kept than holding the idea of it.” them with me even after death because I loved them. I thought about holding their bones, unaccustomed Death smiled with suns in his eyes and Life stood to the cold I’ve known to be warmth. Would it be love vulnerable in her ground. We may have met Love still? as unfair and cruel. We may have known Love to be There are only so much lines that love can cross fleeting. And sometimes Love is like that, innocent until it harms. and sweet yet stubborn and bitter Love. “Is that what we do to the ones we find dear? Keep them in our holds, unable to do what they were May we find Love like how Death found his meant to do?” butterfly but as unrestricted like how Life experienced Of course Death didn’t know what to answer, he it. If Love does not come as sincere as Death’s and as was death after all. Innocent and sweet death, like your free as Life’s then dear, that is not Love. Run. After all, favorite little cousin who asks you random questions there are only so much lines that love can cross until about life out of pure, untainted wonder with a side it harms. of whether or not kokokrunch is the best cereal in the whole wide world. Innocent and sweet death. Unlike Life, whom I’ve only been acquainted with moments after Death presented his dear butterfly. I realized too, that Life was always around me; that there exists a constant stream of come and go every wake of morning. Unlike Death, Life was old. Tough and firm. Unmoving and unkind. Stubborn and bitter. Life, like a war veteran grandfather. It was amusing to see how death and Life’s conversation went. Life said that Death took something very important from the butterfly; that what he did probably hurt the butterfly. “But I can’t help it. What can I do to stop hurting what I love?” Death’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry kid, I wouldn’t. I’ve known pain so well after eons of going to bed with it but i still hadn’t figured out how to protect who I love.” “You mean... there’s nothing I can do to protect them?”
Social Outcasts: THE STARS OF THE SHOW LITERARY PROLOGUE “Popcorn! Get your popcorn!” “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Step right up!” Tents of red and white were as far as the eye could see. White and gold lights illuminated the crowd as the smell of popcorn and fairy floss filled the air. The three children stood in awe. One would think that in such a place like this, not a voice could be heard amidst all the ruckus. However, six words—six agonizing words lingered in the minds of three specific children, who at the time were unaware of each other’s exis- tence, as they found themselves in front of an arch, leading to what they believed was paradise—an escape. “Grow up and go by yourself!” the exact same words rang in their ears, though they hadn’t heard it from the same mouth. And immedi- ately, as they crossed the threshold, they were reminded of just that. See, they were shunned all their lives and they knew that wasn’t going to change any time soon—they were the social pariah, after all; the re- jects—the outcasts. Nevertheless, they were there—about to have the time of their lives. And so, they ran, and for once in their life—they didn’t look back. Words by Francesca Victoria B. De Chavez 58
WHO IS (S)HE? Illustration by Daryelle Naomi Nastassja M. Guerrero Words by Jerica Kyle J. Inandan and Leigh Patrick M. Mamisay, Pretty face, sad cries. Pretty words, sad lies. Smile, deceiving—but inside, Not one happy thought resides. Surrounded, but all alone— Who to love, still unknown. Whispers, yells, voices, woes. So deep into the maze of mirrors, he goes. Further, he tread on—without any guide, Hoping that from judgment, he could hide But the farther he went, the more he couldn’t help Getting lost among the many versions of himself. The light in his eye dulled and spluttered. He looked into one of the mirrors and uttered, “You choose not to speak, though your voice is free. So I hope one day you’ll be as happy as you’re pre- tending to be.” 59
UPCHUCk And just like the first time he did it, it felt nice. Kind of like soothing a burn with cold, cold ice; Like he saw light for the first time in dark skies, Like he finally succeeded after millions of failed tries, And soon enough he felt— “Stop, don’t.”, whispered one voice. “Stop, don’t!”, repeated another. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed there on the floor kneeling; body—slumping, stomach—churning, mind—reeling. Wearily, he let his head rest on his arm. He breathed out to simmer down for his face felt rather warm. His hair was messy and beads of sweat dotted his temple. The scent of citrus wafted through his nose, with little hints of menthol. His ears were ringing and his sight was also blurry. His heart was beating fast as if it was in a hurry. But he forced himself to focus on the porcelain under his fingertips, not want- ing to mind the sour taste that lingered on his lips. Closing his eyes, he gathered what was left of his power. Then, he recalled all that happened in the past few hours. He envisioned himself walking down the crowded corridors, with people staring at him like he was the prey and they were marauders. He relived all the shoves, all the taunts, all the jeers. He remembered the disgust in the eyes of his peers. He pondered on every name, every jab, every joke. Emotions rose up to his throat—almost causing him to choke. The longer this went on, the farther he went back on his trip to reminiscing. And he soon found himself questioning if he was even worthy of existing. He wished to know if he had a greater purpose in this world that was ever so cruel because it seemed to him that all he was made to do was play the fool. It was like there was only a single point of his pres- ence, and that was to entertain others with jokes at his expense. It was as if in this big, never-ending, circus show put on for the sad and blue, he was the fat man whose name no one ever knew. Shakily he stood, wobbling towards the bathroom mirror—wiping the glass as if that would make his own vision clearer. His eyes trailed down from his puffy face to his bare chest, trying to find one—just one—asset he actually didn’t detest. But as he scanned over his body, all the mockery came back. And he found himself abhorring all he had and all he lacked. So pushed himself towards the toilet once again, and like a man intoxicated he hunched over. He gagged and heaved, though he wasn’t drunk—he was nothing less than sober. Gripping the bowl with one hand like he’s done many times before, he put his fingers in his mouth and waited for the upchuck to pour. But little to nothing came out. Only the sharp taste of stomach acid was left in his mouth. One would think he would stop. But he didn’t. Voice one whispered, “Don’t stop.” Another repeated. “Don’t stop!” And soon enough he felt— Like he finally succeeded after millions of failed tries, Like he saw light for the first time in dark skies, Kind of like soothing a burn with cold, cold ice; And just like the first time he did it, it felt nice Words by Jerica Kyle J. Inandan Illustration by Marco Alejandro Villapando
Hanging on.. “Let’s soar the skies together, captain.” laid upon an untouched note conveniently He says, smiling sweetly as time stood still on stuck between the refrigerator and a magnet. the balcony of our shared apartment. The dark It was too weird of him to write a note when blue night sky was heavily fogged that not a he could just send me a message. But as I take single star could be seen, except one. The light a closer look to inspect the note, I knew what blinks as it moves in a diagonal direction, carry- that message meant without having to read it. ing a bunch of passengers into destinations un- So I ran out. Ran as far as I can where no known. one would and could bother me. I cry under Now I look at him, he seems to sure that the same night sky as everything managed to our shared dream of becoming the captain of a change so quickly. The apartment in which we plane is already within the grasps of our hand. had shared loving memories is now filled with Who’d blame him? Ever since we were young, painful ones. his parents had already set sight on him The letter that I saw was becoming one of the top aviators in a pre-prepared one. their company. He too had loved I knew he already planes, maybe that’s why I loved had prepared to him too. leave me the “Ok captain.” is my only moment we response before sharing stepped into a New Year’s Kiss. The the fireworks start to appear, apartment. and we part our lips, only to laugh at the moment. We knew that this year The would be the hardest, Stunt but never did it came Show to me that it will also be our last. There were “I love you.” We were always a duo. “I’m sorry.” Flying-in-tandem. “I hope I can be there for you.” Though very much “I hope we reached our dream togeth- different. Captain had er.” always been above, Lastly, hanging on horizontal “Goodbye, captain.” bars flying from one I should’ve stayed on the ground. As place unto another. I propelled myself once more, there was no And I stay below, more hand to attach myself upon. The horizon- relying on some sort tal bars were too high for me to grab on my of trampoline before own. So, I came crashing down, destroying the I fly. trampoline that had been beneficial to me. He’d always catch me, as I try my hardest to . .Steel Bars “P.S. Fly. Without me.” gain some height from what was given to me. He’d always be there, waiting for me to grab Words by Jon Zedrick H. Macahia his hand so that we could fly together, hand-in- hand. Until he’s not. “Cap?” It’s been a week and he hasn’t re- sponded to any of my social media interaction. The apartment we shared had been too empty without his presence. I thought I could survive a few days without him yet every corner of the room reminded me of him. “Captain, are you here?” I called once more, unsure of the answer I would get. It pains me to not be able to see the arms that were once open to embrace me anytime. It hurts, not being able to know what happened, what is happening, and what would happen. 61 I move towards to the kitchen. My eyes
A Song of Scorching Fire Words by Lance Carlo J. Mendoza I If I do choose to betray What have I become? (I’ve become… I’ve become…. I’m be- Everything I ever desired Now that I have betrayed Everything I laid on my cross coming) In my lucid dreams You are beautiful on the inside Your roses I chose to push away Living out my life You are majesty personified Your chocolates And instead But you will drag me down and burn Your sweet syllables of praise- Have burned it out me out everything that exists in For the scorching Midas I should steer away my heaven touch of bastards! Engulfed by your hubris, I surrender But to enter my heaven my plight You ask me to brazenly enter Ar- Surrounded by thorny roses, I fight mageddon IV Hoping to scrape out a life without Yes…I am no Jesus. The incessant urge of conformity With the bareness of my Earthly I am but a Judas. (I’ve become… I’ve become… I’m be- mortality A Judas to the man I was. These dark marks under my coming) (I’ve become… I’ve become… I’m II becoming) feet show that But what will I become? III And worse… Down this fiery terrain I walk to sow your applause (I’ve become… I’ve become… I’m But with how my being flounders becoming As I step upon the simmers of the --A slave to the inferno.) Cinders Defiance ain't bent.” How dare they question me and assume that I am not one of them. Or worse, a femme. This thought, I condemn! I can hear the same taunts of men, So I marched to the stunt show with my chin up and my my father being the leading partisan puffed up chest They would say, “Grow stronger, conquer the weaker Behold! Roaring flames played around by monkeys and and don’t be a fucker. giants! Hush. Be quiet, little one. Your mellow thoughts are Slowly, the creatures calmed down and women sprung poison, it should begone. undressed. Entertain yourself with rugged stunts and acts, I don't understand how I was able to mistook them for they’re never mediocre.” Goliath. Sneering, they teased relentlessly, pushing me to- Words by Corinne V. Gonzales wards one of the tents Illustration by Marco Alejandro Villapando “Go on, prove it to us. Show us that your masculinity Return A few more turns, minutes spent; People around her came and went. Then when it finished, no lights shone. And she was once more all alone. Pretty music, youthful laughter, She decided to get off but then she found she 62 Promised happy ever afters, couldn’t leave. Whispered wishes, bated breath— To her surprise, the ride restarted with a noisy Hold your horses, and get set. little heavy. Up and down, round and round, never stopping— Slowly moving, being wound, dusk or dawn. On the grand Merry-Go-Round. Just like life, all she could do was try her hardest Moments passing, seconds ticking— to hold on. Why was she no longer grinning? Words by Jerica Kyle J. Inandan Graphics by Audrey B. Diaz
C lowns Words by Francesca Victoria B. De Chavez Illustration by Kirsten Chloe D. Hernandez It was in fourth grade, when I learned how to smile; To frown, to mourn—to cry for a while. “Mom… Dad…” I called out shakily; It was then when I first felt the gut-wrenching pain As slowly but surely, my vision blacked out. of— And the last thing in sight were cackling, snickering, Well—being afraid. It all started in fourth grade. evil—clowns. “Mom! Dad! Let’s go to the circus!” In a white room, I woke up to flowers and fruits— Those words I wish I hadn’t said—words that I re- And people around—as I laid in bed— gret. In a hospital gown. Those words! I wish I had not said! “Where are they?” My voice cracked. The lights, the music, the aroma, the people— It was from their faces, I knew—I wanted to flee! the feeling; “Your parents… got caught up in the debris.” It was all so vague, so surreal! It was all so unbelievable I—I didn’t know what to I grew up too quickly—too cruel, too swift; feel. I lived a life of shame. I had no one but those Stupid, stupid jesters to blame! My eyes darted quickly on the peculiar fellows up- f ront; From then on, I despised clowns—the circus, even Their faces drenched in paint, noses—bright red more. and hair—a mess, For everyday they reminded me of the life I wish I As they swiftly graced the fortress. could’ve had— Of the childhood I had lacked. In deep amusement, my mouth went agape—the crowd in utter disbelief; I hated clowns; their putrid white make-up, As we sat and watched the jesters pull of— The ridiculous wigs, the mess of a man— A brilliant trick up their sleeves. I wish I could’ve fixed. But, in the blink of an eye— I hated clowns for the smile— The clowns’ maneuver had faltered in sight and I— They always seemed to put on; So quickly—stood amidst the flaring red and white. The smile I needed from dusk ‘til dawn. People screamed, children cried. I hated clowns—because of all things I was lost—I didn’t know where I was—I didn’t know They reminded me of a time I once was happy— where to go; A time when I believed in fairies and fantasies. But I stood as I waited for them to show. I hated clowns as I can’t seem to forget that time; I coughed, I wept—I stood my ground; People screamed, children cried, As I watched the catastrophe unfold. And tents were flaring—red and white. It was quick, it was scorching—it was nowhere near cold. I hated clowns—even if I was the biggest there was. For believing long so that they were to blame— Tents ablaze, lights were flickering; I had no choice That they caused this pain. but to run. So, I ran and I ran away from— I once despised clowns— All the laughter—all the fun. It started back in fourth grade; When I learned how to smile, But, I stumbled and fell towards the concrete pave- To frown, to mourn—to cry for a while. ment. I cried as my vision was rash— Smoldered, covered—fuming in ash. 63
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Higher Beasts Words by Daniel Joash S. Cerrado Illustration by Audrey B. Diaz High cats, beasts, and the farrago Unhinged by the curtains drawn ajar They partake in an animal show Between steel bars When proud beasts refuse to succumb, then, With grotesque lust or crude rage, The tamers strike, wielding cackling whips, Outside the iron cage In deep bemusement as I descried Freedom makes lowly beasts of many An engraving bereft of reason For man preys on his fellow men Thus my question: why are animals Without fetters, they are but dogs, Guarding the prison? Feral and sanguine There are bars on both sides of the cage; As one treads this world of men and beasts, Only the latter ever proves to be; Wherever is the genuine cell? Without fangs but frothing-at-the-mouth, They growl warningly Beyond the rusting grates are turmoil Whereof none could quell, thence left free And artificial hell To their grotesque lust or crude rage; The most rabid beasts are always found Man is a creature and nothing more, Outside the iron cage Borne of sly nature and lineages Brutal to faults, ruthless in work, they Are upright savages High cats, beasts, and the farrago Pensive, as they morosely gaze afar Jadedly watching an animal show Between steel bars 66
THE HOUSE Sonnet I: Queen of Spades Sonnet I I: Jack of Diamonds Damning the baroque façades of Gallic repute, Their eloquent figures invoke immortal fame; Inside abysmal wounds of massive stone Cursing all hewn bastions of Teutonic acclaim, Where darkness gnaws on lamps’ fleeting light Unyielding rock that dares duel time absolute; And there, opaque and bloodied, is what might Here, on shifting floors, stands the throne of disre- Be dull crystal earth, wedged calm and alone pute In rock throne; leaden in hand, cold as night Whereof reclines a fearsome lady, whose great Its feeble sheen pities the miner’s plight name His tired visage etched upon; fading not is the Queen of Spades. Her sceptre wields twi- Against the morose night, it would not die. light’s flame Wherefrom begets swift decay’s vindictive pursuit. The decadence of few are merely bought With vials of blood, sweat and tears— weighed by “Withhold your futile attempts to last” declares she The Maiden’s crooked scales—purchased from those With dull, blasé eyes. “Such clownery disregards Sentenced to soot, dust, and smoke; they languish How stone crumbles and steel rusts; ‘tis fate’s de- While others revel in what fate bestows: cree For facets of gems are faces of anguish. Which I enact; monuments I shall crush to shards, Forts I will tear asunder, to warn you clearly: Whatever is or will be are houses of cards.” 67
OF CARDS Sonnet I I I King of Hearts Sonnet I V : Jack of C lubs Not like the byzantine castles of dated mode, Caressed by timid sun of dying noon Succumbing to time, evinced by fading colour He tends to wollen flock; with hymn and lyre— The court of the King of Hearts, mightiest Caesar A smooth-honeyed tenor—he wrought such tunes Is lib’rally bathed in crimson dyes, his abode Beguiling; lambs and ewes and rams admire Is fiery impassioned scarlet, a lovers’ ode But fathom not jeweled verse and they soon To youthful fervours and moving ardour Marched wherever the bishop’s staff would tell: The pillars of garnet are bedecked with rose briar To a demesne more barren than alive; Yet his throne is pallid snow on Winter’s threshold. There moonlight kissed them a gentle farewell The noblest of passions are judged not by its flames, Indifferent to the growling rhythm, Which, in time, forsakes its warmth for heat— it An altar, a high place, there he led them maims To where the canine fangs were ritual knives; The heartstrings with ghastly travail and leaves it Forsaking trusting herd to wolves which cull, charred The dewfall was red of death and death-red —But by endurance; soft fires, dying to none, spurn Was that morose glen. Lo, brutal pastoral! The bitt’rest of chills; they are Romance’s vanguard Against the fools who love the heat but fear the burn Words by Daniel Joash S. Cerrado Illustration by Kirsten Chloe D. Hernandez 68
THE CIRCUS’ PERSPECTIVE Eternal Loop of the Virtuoso’s Mind Is it just me, or is everything getting more diluted with each passing minute? Ohh, I apologize. Being here for what feels like more than half of your lifetime has certainly taken its toll. You start to hear the same lines, recognize weird and unseating patterns and enter a loop of never-ending familiar- ity. Well, I didn’t say that was a bad thing. There are some familiar things that you I’d say, you could never go without. One such thing is: MY AUDIENCE. Yes, I can never go on without them. They complete me. They give what I do meaning. Every performance I crave to hear those recordings from them, singing intense reactions and praises of what I do. After all, what is the purpose of my art if there is no to appreciate it? I even compiled in my mind the record- ings that I hear the most from my performances. As a tribute to my excellence, I have started a habit of sorts, wherein I count the number of times I heard such recording. Here are some of my favorites. “Is this for real?”- One-Thousand Eight-Hundred Seventy-Six Times For some reason, I have an eerie attachment to those who host this kind of reaction. Maybe its the mind games? It’s probably the mind games. I am addicted to messing with people’s minds and their perception of what is real. Hey, there could be worse addictions out there. “What a joke!”- Four-Thousand Five-Hundred Ninety-Two Times I love hearing this. This is the exact point of my performances. They are all one big comedic spectacle meant to indulge you in the ridiculousness and levity of it all. If you decide to deny yourselves of these pleasures, then the joke’s on you. After all, friend, why so serious? “Woah”- Five Thousand Six Hundred and Ten Times Shock Expression? Amazement? Why not both? Listening to them marvel in awe of my performances pro- vides a unique sense of fulfillment that I cannot find elsewhere. It helps placate my self-esteem and pride as a performer, reminding me that my passion is not merely a comedic fraud but rather, a craft honed to absolute excellence. “HAHAHAHAH”- All the time I could never get enough of this. This is the ultimate culmination of my art. Seeing them have a laugh and be immersed in the jovial atmosphere from my work is a reward in it of myself. Getting and listening to people have this reaction is certainly always a highlight, because that means I have done my job in giving them the medicine they asked for: laughter. YES! That Laughter! That jovial expression from my audience is what gives me life in this deceptively frivolous art! Would be a damn shame if it wasn’t all real…. Words by Lance Carlo J. Mendoza 69
for their final curtain call...
the beodaitrdorial Charmaine C. Estabas John Clarenze C. Macalintal Editor-in-Chief Associate Editor Audrey B. Diaz Maria Sophia Andrea E. Rosello Creative Director Managing Editor and Head Layout Artist
Dipasupil Cerrado Ong Morada Perez Feature Writer Literary Writer Feature Writer Feature Writer Feature Writer Creator’sthe wielders of wordsBobadilla De Chavez Dalangin Gonzales Feature Writer Literary Writer Feature Writer Feature Writer guildcaandricaarttuisraens ofenchantersfoafctehpeaicnrtyesrtsa,llens, whimsical Mamisay Macahia Feature Writer Literary Writer Declaro Dela Rueda Hernandez Villapando Dalangin Layout Artist Photojournalist Graphics Artist Illustrator Photojournalist Caro Atienza Abogne Make-up Artist Make-up Artist Make-up Artist
the joke’s on you. typo. ‘19-’20 EDITORIAL BOARD Charmaine C. Estabas, Editor in Chief John Clarenze C. Macalintal, Associate Editor Maria Sophia Andrea E. Rosello, Managing Editor/Head Layout Artist Audrey B. Diaz, Creative Director STAFF & CONTRIBUTORS Kirsten Chloe D. Hernandez, Graphics Artist Chrieshna Chelcea U. Declaro, Layout Artist Francesca Victoria B. De Chavez, Literary Writer Jerica Kyle J. Inandan, Literary Writer Leigh Patrick M. Mamisay, Literary Writer Daniel Joash S. Cerrado, Literary Writer Ica Geiel M. De Chavez, Literary Writer Corinne V. Gonzales, Feature Writer Yna Melarie A. Bobadilla, Feature Writer Jhustin Gabriel B. Dipasupil, Feature Writer Max Alessandra B. Perez, Feature Writer Jeannette R. Ong, Feature Writer Hannah Beatrice A. Morada, Feature Writer Quinnie Hillarie A. Dalangin, Feature Writer Jon Zedrick H. Macahia, Feature Writer Joshua L. Dela Rueda, Photojournalist Quincee Beatrice A. Dalangin, Photojournalist Lance Carlo J. Mendoza, Literary Writer Marco Alejandro Villapando, Illustrator ADVISERS Ms. Angie Samonte Ms. Gennelyn Fortus
About typo. Anything and everything we do now, with the view point—or mindset of wanting to make every second of our lives define us and make us learn some- thing new, is the constant push that we all need to move forward from compla- cency and into developing anew. Typo, also commonly known as the typo- graphical error, is by definition, “the error made whilst typing”, —error, a very com- mon one we find ourselves making in our generation now. As we are living in the fast-paced digital era, an error like this is one we almost al- ways try to correct immediately and this is what ‘typo.’ is all about. Correcting the misconceptions and rectifying what we deem to be wrong as right. typo. is published by CRESCIT, the offi- cial publication of De La Salle Lipa Senior High School 1962 JP Laurel National High- way, Lipa City, Batangas. Words by Maria Sophia Andrea E. Rosello
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