Autistic Wannabe-ing

I usually have both profound sympathy and an admiration bordering on the wanting-to-be --- autistic. Strangely enough, they make my own eerie compulsions and my compulsions and mannerisms rather normal. The world is a safer place without anybody else in it.

We’ve seen a lot of movies and read many stories about emotionally disassociated minds. They were all heavily charged with disparity and kept wringing our pity. “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time” in contrast, is one that we simply relate to, and empathize with. We don’t feel pity for the character, we level with him and genuinely cheer him on and hope for an eventual triumph. It allows not to see the character as an outcast. We come to an understanding of how their world works. And we are awed by this world.

Aesthetics and Drama

My sense of aesthetics was reduced from “Aesthetic Contemplation” in the Schopenhauerian sense to the “aesthetics” of choosing the colors, fonts and graphical presentations of my daily/weekly/monthly reports in Microsoft Excel.

Coffeeshop drama na naman.

Raskolnikoving

The best part of Crime and Punishment is p.326. A proud Raskolnikov, in a sense of delirium, unremorseful of the crime he committed, tries to justify himself.

His discussion of the “Ordinary Man” and “Extraordinary Man” shows some footprints of the influence to Nietzsche. But this is also how Nietzsche departs from Dostoevsky and turns the footprints of his influence on to an entirely different path.

Forgotten Spontaneous Conversations

jairusjason: Hello H. You must be busy. Anyway, I'm making you a playlist. Very vintage. Let's meet again soon.
H: cool
H: what about tonight?
jairusjason: Nah. Got work.
jairusjason: And you've got to go save the world.
jairusjason: From a cozy office in Maginhawa St.
H: even saviors need to take a break
H: jesus even had forty days in the desert
jairusjason: Jesus didn't save the world.
H: hasn't.
H: you disbelieving pagan.
jairusjason: He's a philosopher and all, and gave a new direction to the world.
jairusjason: But Religion (including the one founded on his teachings) comprises 3/4 of reasons why the world is at war.
H: i disagree. the war in iraq is not about religion. the war in mindanao is not about religion.
jairusjason: The whole crusades was about religion.
H: it's about power. and in the course of it, those involved in the war will pray to whoever god they want to meet after they die.
jairusjason: Don't pull that Foucault shit on me. hahaha.
H: and don't pull that huntington on me.
jairusjason: Hindus and Muslims
jairusjason: Protestants and Catholics (under the banner of Christ) in Ireland
jairusjason: Wiping out the entire Tokugawa Dynasty in Japan
H: ireland was about control
H: dunno about japan but don't confuse the rhetoric used by those at war with the reasons why they are at war.
H: george bush said god told him to invade iraq and to protect israel. do we take his word for it?
jairusjason: Exactly. Religion becomes a convenient excuse for us to bite each other's heads off.
jairusjason: Of course, there is always power, land, or a nation's sovereignty involved.
jairusjason: But Religion always factors in.
H: but don't confuse excuses with the real reasons. i'm too lazy to go to the office today, my excuse: i'm sick.
jairusjason: It always works. hehe.
jairusjason: It's not entirely true that wars are all about a struglle on power.
jairusjason: sturggle
H: give me one example that wasn't about power.
jairusjason: There are people who genuinely believe that war is justified because their faith has decreed it.
H: what people who are at war believe in may be different from why they are at war.
jairusjason: If you put into context (which is always problematic), or position it in a certain logic, of one religion winning over another, then it may be true that it's always about power.
jairusjason: But it's still too reductive to say that it's just that.
H: example?
H: many people in iraq are fighting back against the US because they believe it's a war against islam and they believe it's their duty to defend their religion. true. but can we then say that the war is about religion?
jairusjason: you can go as far as saying that religion can be used as convenient yet effective excuse to defend/conquer nations and kill other people. That's just as terrible as war itself, whatever the "real" reason war has.
H: what is terrible? the use of religion?
jairusjason: that religion can be used as convenient yet effective excuse to defend/conquer nations and kill other people
H: terrible? but we can't just be terrified all the time.
jairusjason: That's what religion does.
jairusjason: It's a very big ad bacculum.
H: what the heck is ad bacculum?
jairusjason: you've forgotten your fallacies!
jairusjason: hehehehe.
H: terrible? but we can't just be terrified all the time<= what i meant was that we have to do something, and saying "it's all about the instrumentalization of religion" doesn't help much.
H: it's a nice academic thesis but it can get boring in the ivory tower.
H: and if we don't want to just be terrified, only a coherent analysis of power -- who's responsible, how can they be stopped -- can guide our actions.
jairusjason: Having something substaintial to say something about the instrumentalization religion is already part of your coherent analysis of power.
H: but you're right, the pope is evil.
jairusjason: Once we a re-educated on what religion really does, once we rebuild our perceptions or religion, if not replaced with a more rigorous philosophy, we take a signifcant step.
jairusjason: It's not just Ivory Tower shit.
H: ok, agree.
jairusjason: And we've certainly made some progress.
H: i guess i just need no convincing on the evils of religion.
H: but don't underestimate the evils of secularism as well.
jairusjason: There are many areas of society where agnosticism or plain disbelief is no longer a scandal.
jairusjason: Jesus Christ was not a savior.
jairusjason: What is called for is a re-interpretation, and re-reading of his teachings.
H: depends too, a lot his teaching were emancipatory
jairusjason: Which is good!
H: blessed are the poor in spirit, he who will be first will be last and he who is last will be first... it's easier for a camel to enter heaven than for a rich man to enter the eye of a needle or something...
jairusjason: hahaha. I really miss the scriptures.
jairusjason: What are the evils of secularism?
H: um. nazism was secular. it killed 4 million jews.
jairusjason: 6 million.
jairusjason: nah. that's different.
H: hitler wasn't motivated by religion was he?
jairusjason: He was motivated by Nietzsche.
jairusjason: hahahaha.
H: the us claims to have a secular government
H: 650,000 killed in iraq
jairusjason: Oh, yeah. And communism.
jairusjason: Right. It their movements were exactly like religion.
jairusjason: It's another form of... extremism.

How to Lose, Gracefully

With the right frame of mind, luck, logic, position, you turn your deuce-sevens to pocket rockets. You gain the discernment and humility to fold a good hand when it’s not the strongest. You know that a chip stack can be a tool, a fortress or a strap, and you fight out yours until another large stack is born. You play above the rail. You plan the man, not just the cards. You show respect, you commend your opponent when you’ve been well outplayed. You shift gears right when you need to get up to speed. You learn to live with a bad beat, but never be hampered by defeat – thereby comprehending what it means to move forward. You put method to madness, logic to luck. You gain the temperance of never going on tilt. You value the company of friends you play with. You win. Most importantly, you learn how to lose, gracefully.

My Sad Republic

My Sad Republic festoons your life with words and phrases which were so intricately selected, as though it had nature’s help when its processes opens the petals of a flower. It naturally and intricately story-tells what is beautiful. It rewards your life with a narrative that summons so much history, nostalgia, fascination, humor, and a mastery of the literary craft that makes you want to worship the writer the way people worship the saints who wrote the bible.

The only downside is it reminds you too much of the images, characters, and even the structure of “100 Years of Solitude” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It whittles the originality, but somehow My Sad Republic still manages to leave a uniqueness that leaves you awed. You felt the unforgiving heat he described, the loneliness of what seemed like a hundred years of rain, the power of each ritual and each amulet, you saw how the moon was a bright silver wafer as they made love by that beach, and you will eternally be entranced by the idea of poetry attacking the most unlikely places.

Remembering June

The inherent infirmity of human memory is that it makes last month’s memories appear like a constellation away. Out of 43,000 minutes I would be fortunate enough to re-stage an hour in my mind. My perfunctory toiling during the nights of work has been condensed into a shadow slipping into a slim spot. The fifteen to twenty minute drive to work starts to feel like five.

The masterful quality of human memory is that it can be selective. It can choose to retain parcels of how we felt happy. For example:

Of all the Monday mornings of June, I boarded two light rail transits to get to Ortigas. I felt like I’m traveling on a weekend in another country with my gear - backpack strapped on my shoulder, a pair of ¾-trousers on my legs, rubber slippers, iPod and sunglasses. Eric Gamalinda’s “My Sad Republic” keeps me company as I leisure the entire morning away at the Coffee Bean in Ortigas Park. The iPod is packed with freshly downloaded music courtesy of D. Serenity settles in as I sip the powdery mocha latte. And to cap the glorious morning with a climax, I have lunch with D. at simple restaurants like Kitaro or Reyes Barbeque. We visit the St. Francis Square (may he bless those pirates) for some pirated DVDs we will be watching the next week.

And then human memory makes everything else, all the boredom and loneliness, easily forgettable.

A Blissful Trip to Malapascua Island

(As told by D. )

'We have to remember this,' J. tells me as we drive past the stalls of roasted pigs and chickens by the sidewalk near the church at Lilo-an town in Cebu. We are aboard the Rough Riders' Bus going to our mini-vacation to a place called Malapascua Island. It is 'the little Boracay of Cebu,' according to the cab driver who took us to the Northern Bus Terminal at around 6:45 that morning. The driver, who spoke perfect Tagalog and English interchangeably, even offered to take us to Maya for Php 2,000. We refused and opted to take the 60-peso bus ride at the non-aircon bus which will take us to the port where we'll take the boat to the island.

The roads to the north are impressively paved and about four of the 12 towns one will pass through are located along the coast. Save for the speedy driving and the hot rays of the sun on our side of the coaster, the ride was what we had both hoped for. We shared an Ipod and relaxed as the music played from our earphones. At the end of it, we could not believe how far the 60-peso fare took us.

At the tip of Daanbantayan is Maya where you take the boat to Malapascua island. The fare is 40 pesos and the boat leaves as soon as it's full. Approximately 26 passengers can sit in one boat, not to mention, 20 gallons of mineral water. At that time, all the passengers were Filipinos, most of them spoke Visaya and a few were locales to the island. J. and I barely noticed the 40-minute boat ride as we listened to chillout music and took pictures.

We could hardly control our excitement when the island came to view. It is exactly what the websites described it to be---an idyllic island paradise with white sandy beaches, lush green palm trees, and aqua-blue waters. This little paradise has everything the sun-worshipper or adventurer seeks. Though not that adventurous, J. and I have both put the 'beach' as one of our Friendster-declared interests.

After we've settled at a beach front resort, we headed to try out the food that this pristine island had to offer. I had shrimp curry while J. tried the grilled fish with buttered vegetables. We were one of the few Asians at the restaurant. There was a whole bunch of Caucasians at one table and two pretty looking guys at the other. They looked like Matt Damon and Tom Cruise on their way back from a private holiday. Seeing the beach and all these people, I was reminded of the weekend trips I used to have with Julie, a British colleague, to Railey Bay, one of the spectacular beaches in Southern Thailand. I remember having so much fun just being around those foreigners or farangs. I had always wished though that I could do the same in my own country, travel and enjoy the white sand beaches where I will not be a foreigner anymore.

This trip in Cebu will always be a memorable, if not the only, one. I am with J., the love of my life, and we are on our way to fulfilling our dream in making our lives together truly a blissful trip.

What Happens in the Weekend

It only happens during the weekend. Again, in bullets:

- Subway Sandwich picnic on a Saturday Morning
- Having the car washed
- Full Body Massage treatment at the Island Spa during the afternoon
- Watching a play, an adaptation of “The Pretenders” by F. Sionil Jose during the evening
- Poker and Wine after the play
- The next day, “The History Boys” at Greenbelt 3
- A quiet TV night at D.’s
- Grocery at Powerplant and a walk around Rockwell

Living a Philosophy of False Optimism

It was almost miraculously easy to get through this day. I’m flanked with problems at work, but last night I was able to adopt a pragmatic approach to all of it. Don’t let anyone go monkey. Find a quick fix for now, but keep a workable long term solution so that everyone remains complacent. Never fail to point out the progresses and gains, but keep watch on the areas where we’re losing.

Never fail to muster enough composure to just ignore how difficult it all is.

Go home as early possible. Have your serving of That 70’s show episodes, choose from the wide selection of herbal infusion teas, write a little, imagine yourself kissing D., listen to the latest additions to your iPod, and lord, lord, lord over your life.

In Sickness and Health

It may have taken just one unhesitating kiss for me to have passed D. the measles. She had it already, and we may have lacked another moment’s rumination that she may have it again. She took it uncomplainingly, as her selflessness reveals how real this love is.

In sickness and in health, I love you my D.

Organizational Announcement

Please join me in the following congratulatory announcement:

Jairus Jason

From ______ to ______

Here’s to a job where you can expect nothing but the worst. Organizational announcements sound just like obituaries.

I now have a monthly income (in thousand-pesos) that’s more than the number of years I’ve spent on earth. I wouldn’t deny that I was proud and even happy. Until you entertain the idea of how you’ve been swallowed into a cycle. First, you were just pretending at work. You master the subtle practice of being impossibly polite, peppering everyone with empty praises, inserting buzz words into your sentences, patronization, managing perception, and mindless productivity. Sometimes you stand out with a bright idea. And when you begin to earn a little, you pretend, eventually becoming forcefully sincere about answering to life’s questions with clichés and corporate canned responses since you can’t risk de-motivating others. When you realize you’re falling into the traps you’ve avoided all your life, you hope your choices and actions lead you to something more genuine and meaningful. You sought the alternatives but you’re hooked with pride. And as work wears you down, you begin to accept who you are. You fearfully grow comfortable with who you’ve become. Lastly, you still feel a lamentable lack of money, and might end up wanting more.

Congratulations, Jairus. You Drama-King you.

Starting Right

Why was there an enormous scarcity of journal entries last 2006? When our corporations pressure us to put an explanation in position, we do a deep dive, pointless blame-storming, and optimistic strategizing.

And of course, we think in bullets. To return to the original question:

• My life has been embarrassingly humdrum
• I have failed to capture the poise, specify the uniqueness, the silent clarity, and the engaging experiences of everyday.
• I was counting on converting what I thought were remarkably written emails, but they turned out to be too businesslike, witless, if often too utterly senseless to commit to this form of documentation.
• I was busy doing something else, and I didn’t find time to write because I chose not to. Because I thought my life only as interesting and recurring as a blur, and it had a slight chance of being well written and well expressed.
• And because I didn’t live up to myself.

There’s also no effective explanation, no scientifically satisfying reason why I suddenly had a non-specific viral exanthema (probably German Measles) this January 1, 2007. And so we turn to the metaphorical outlook: fate wanted me to isolate myself, my body needed its rest, my mind/spirit required replenishment. After the December 31 revelry with wine, fish fillet, salad and grilled chicken, there was fever, joint pains, tiny red dots and rashes all over my skin.

My body begins the New Year with a big, red bang.

The doctor ordered my isolation and I fell in love with it. I rediscovered how I had it in me – the rare power not to need other people and close up my world. Except that I needed D. to come visit. I got a chance to listen to over 10GB worth of music, finished two or three books and stayed in the room all day.


Starting Right. I started with the Death of Ivan Illyich this morning and should be finished this afternoon. It was perfect with sodium-rich imported corned beef, white bread, strong coffee, and classical music.

The new translation makes it an easy, excellent read. The more adjusted, contemporary language made it easier to relate to being a yuppie in 1880 Petersburg. It just fits the exact profile: the selfish pursuit of money and pleasure, careers, promotions, vices, climbing the social ladder and commingling with the people who are exactly like you, who live like you. Finally, there’s dying a well-deserved, ugly death that is inconvenient. And when you’ve lived like that, the secret source of joy of those closest to you – is that you’re dead.


Dying is practically how I felt when I arrived at the inexorable conclusion - I had to go back to work. Goodbye music (Recently added: WDOUJI’s Zen and the art of Dressmaking – courtesy of D., a lot of Miles Davis and John Coltrane downloads – courtesy of Limewire, the new Dashboard Confessional album – bought from UM, and a Classical Compilation – bought from the Music One in Greenbelt). Listening to the seven angels sounding the trumpets of the apocalypse: that’s how awful work sounds.

Now here’s another so-called metaphorical outlook: I’m no longer physically sick, just lazy.



But I still want to begin this year with a restated absurd hope: maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.



Incidentally, “maybe it wouldn’t be that bad” and the whole business of being unexcited about what to expect in life was along the lines of a thought in Italo Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night A Traveler:

“You’re the sort of person who, on principle, no longer expects anything of anything. There are plenty, younger than you or less young, who live in the expectation of extraordinary experiences: from books, from people, from journeys, from events, from what tomorrow has in store. But not you. You know that the best you can expect is to avoid the worst.”