RIP: Alexis Tioseco

Now I don't know much about Alexis Tioseco, but news of his death particularly struck me though I can't really explain why. Tioseco was murdered in his home in Quezon City with his Slovenian lover.

I first heard him on the program Media in Focus, as a panelist on the (very) recent NAA controversy along with Butch Dalisay and Carlo Caparas. He and Butch were among those who questioned the legitimacy of the selection process. He was meek and mild as a freshman in university, but on the few times that he was able to speak (Caparas took his and Dalisay's position personally), he made me listen to what he was saying. I first found it a bit difficult, seeing that he seems so lightweight sitting beside THE Pinoy Penman, but the words that came out of his mouth where sharp and concise, on target but not provocative. He was worth listening, and soon I found myself reading his articles in Rogue and checking his Wordpress. I remember watching that particular episode just about 2 weeks ago.

He was passionate about cinema (Filipino cinema in particular, which is more than I can say about other film intellectuals) and he wrote about really interesting stuff. A few blogs more, and I was already looking forward to what he was going to write about next. Rarely do we find someone as promising in his field.

He was 29 years old when he was shot 8 times.

Now I finally understand why his violent death struck me. He was gone too soon.

of heroes and honor

I wish we don't give title so easily. Heroes fight for a cause bigger than themselves and their loved ones. They change the course of history and the forces that move it when all circumstances tell them it should go one way. With all due respect, what Aquino did was ride - and not without reluctance - on its tide, when millions of small heroes who bravely faced tanks and guns armed only with flowers and their faith, needed a clear, bright ink to write the history they were making.

Give Aquino all the honors she deserves, and give our heroes what's rightfully theirs and theirs alone.

***

Butch Dalisay was being polite when he insisted on TV that the issue is not with Carlo J. Caparas but with the National Artist selection process being compromised. As much as I'd like to think that is the case, I doubt if the protests would be this loud if he wasn't conferred as one. I also think that contrary to Dalisay's assertion, the selection process is not entirely devoid of dirty politics to begin with. Our creative community has a highly tribal nature, and awarding decisions are not immune to the asarans and inisans they get into during their inuman sessions. Cecille Alvarez has every reason to be paranoid: had she left Malacanang out, she can say goodbye to the award for good - there is talk she is not well-liked by our respected "artists", and there's no chance in Dante's hell that she would be nominated for the title without some external intervention.

But the divine comedy is in the tarpaulin-waving Caparas, who equates the title with box-office earnings and masa appeal. It doesn't matter that he had not won a single award for any of his works, nor a recognition of the literary values of the komiks na kanyang pinagpupuyatan at pinagpapaguran. His arguments remind me of Erap-talk, that philosophy where giving away grocery gift bags equate to good governance. If these will be our criteria, then by all means let's already give Lito Camo and Salbakuta the award for music.

***

They say every dark cloud has a silver lining, and this controversy brings to light an important discourse on the value and the subject of art. In a country where art lessons end with the color wheel chart, its great to see people talk about these things with equal airtime as anything Kris Aquino.

My sad prediction however, is that the awards will never recover from this controversy. Its a lose-lose situation - whether they revoke the awards (a very long shot) or not (Caparas receiving the honorifics forever).

erratum

the sun didn't shine last Saturday (Aug 1 post)

In life, as in movies, dark periods of grief and sorrow almost always are framed in gray, sunless skies. I woke up at 1PM today after a drunken binge last night, and it was raining - the skies fortuitously weeping without any trace of the sun hiding behind dark, heavy clouds. I went about lunch and grabbed a few stuff at the grocery like a zombie.

I wondered why the world is not bursting with yellow sunlight, and then I heard a stray noise from a neighbor's telly about the passing of a great woman. I finally understood why.

The world will turn a bright yellow tomorrow.
***
In college I was taught that Aquino's administration was not as rosy as we like to think of it to be. Even as she ushered in democracy to a then heavily-wounded society after decades of tyranny and oppression, most of the old problems remained, and some opportunities for renewal and genuine change were lost.

But I say history is woven by small stories of personal triumphs and losses. And Aquino's story is that of a woman who was not meant and fit to be president, but whose integrity, honesty, and sense of responsibility was greater than the any qualification we will ever need. And during those times, those may well be the only things that we needed from a leader. We may not have achieved far in terms of social development, but Cory shined the brightest light to show what it means to be a true social servant.