notes on chillin' at a starbucks, or, the benefits of being a cow sipping a venti mocha frappuccino

today is sunday, october 30, and i write this while sitting at a starbucks and pondering on the vague discomfort that comes just by being at a starbucks. you see, i'm here because officemate steph, in a commendable act of charity, handed me a coupon for a free "tall" sized drink (a "Mocha Frappuccino", in this case), which i upsized to a "venti" (which is supposed to be the largest drink size in the starbucks scheme of things, which is funny because for the uninitiated, like yours truly, "tall", supposedly the smallest, actually sounds taller than "venti") for a mere P30 add-on. the coupon and starbucks' claims to corporate responsibility notwithstanding, me going to a starbucks for coffee still feels like supporting this whole global (but seemingly crumbling) capitalist system, with its accompanying notions of economic imperialism and inequality, so on and so forth.

i mean, it still strikes me as silly to pay P175 for coffee. although, aside from the coffee being good, it can be argued that one is not only paying for the coffee, but the cafe itself, the whole cornucopia of sensations neatly packaged into the word "ambiance": the airconditioned refuge from the heat, the comfy sofa and the smartly designed hardwood chairs with the subtle recess to snugly hold one's butt cheeks, the nice view of the street, the fine samples of the female subspecies attracted to places like this (example: the korean chicks on the 2 nearby tables silently reading), the invigorating smell of coffee wafting around and transporting you to a higher level of consciousness like you'd just inhaled a drag of marijuana smoke, bob dylan's jingly-jangly guitar and offbeat harmonica alternating with soft unintrusive jazz both echoing from the overhead speakers, the interesting semi-cubist semi-impressionist coffee themed illustration (not sure if you can call it a painting) on the wall of people reading in a library and a painter (i presume) contemplating his just finished painting interspersed with coffee cups and coffee pots (suggesting coffee's contributions to the advancement of literature and the arts, and by extension, civilization as a whole), and most of all, the strange (but not totally pleasant) way one's image seems to be upgraded by the simple fact of being in a starbucks (in the same way being in a jollibee supports one's assumption of middle class status, being in a starbucks is an indicator of belonging to a social strata that finds it acceptable, ordinary even, to spend P175 on coffee). [note that i say "in/at a starbucks" and "in/at a jollibee", as these sort of places have a photocopied feel to them, i.e., make a copy and plunk one down here, make another copy and plunk down another one over there, so on and so forth.]

the "ambiance" theory doesn't totally fly, though. a counter-example: that mysterious (for me, at least) phenomenon of people, usually younger folk, strolling around the various malls in the city while nursing a P175 cup of coffee. the fact that they're not in the cafe invalidates most of the supporting arguments of the "ambiance" theory, except i guess for the last part.

from my current perch, i have noticed a couple of times already the passengers of passing jeepneys outside curiously looking at this local incarnation of starbucks, and the people inside. us, i mean. and it doesn't look like plain curiosity. they have an i-wish-i-was-there-sipping-that-P175-cup-of-coffee kind of tinge on their faces, but not so much a desire for the place (or the coffee), but what the place (or coffee) represents. or am i only projecting?

either way, the fact that i get the benefits of the image upgrade just because i got a free coupon feels, well, kind of unfair: like i just swindled a shitload of cash from someone on the street (thanks steph!).

oh boy... all this introspection and the resulting guilt trip are just ruining this rather rare experience of chillin' at a starbucks. truly, there are benefits to being a bovine chomping unreflectively on a bit of grass... or sipping on a venti mocha frappuccino.

a hundred years and a day

i do not know these people buried here, but their gravestones seemed to call out as i walked by...



Gregoria M. Albao
Nov. 17, 1910 - Oct. 12, 2010



Marcus Aurelius S. Lazarte
Sept. 22, 2010 - Sept. 23, 2010

the surrogate

downtown cebu city, may 2010

to the unknown god

at san fernando rey parish church, liloan, cebu, march 2010

the bearer of light

colon st., cebu city, march 2010

something i'd thought i'd never see

downtown cebu city, march 2010

you might as well smile

three old ladies going to church, dalaguete, cebu, april 2010

walking around: alcoy

taken around april and october 2010

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old house



gasoline station



"buhat mao'y pasulti-on"



standing aside



to the sea



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on the move









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big and small







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parking areas





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donated by



diverging visions

haiku: the quiet toilet

in homage/parody, yet again, of basho's pond haiku :)

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the quiet toilet
the shit drops in
the sound of water

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2 things...

first, it is said that basho wrote the pond/frog haiku while in a medititative state. isn't the act of sitting/shitting on the toilet also a medititative act?

second, can't shit be a valid subject for poetry? or, reframing the question, can't shit be a subject of valid poetry? not that i'm claiming that my... err... "haiku" is poetry, but you can't really shut poetry in a cage while expecting it to fly, no?

a cruel fate

after a well-fed life spent in their cages, the chickens are finally taken to market



the chickens gaze at the wide wondrous world outside their cage



only to see the cruel fates that would befall them, ending up as either tinolang manok...





... or chicken joy



... or their bodies chopped up and skewered on a barbecue stick





if you were a chicken with a choice, how would you rather end up?

pictures taken around carbon market, cebu city, may 2010, and carcar market, october 2010

walking around: downtown again

taken on a walk from cebu city hall through magallanes st., to carbon, then to colon and osmena boulevard, may 2010

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now open for business 24 hours



at a bank



ukay2x





lechon bread



the contortionist





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you've got to marvel at the great variety of stuff that street vendors sell

... from guitars



to cigarettes and candies



cut vegetables



dried fish



even more vegetables



used shoes



to green mangoes



... yummy



fried peanuts (with a jingle to boot)



used electronics



and even a peek at your future...