The Literary Magazine

The Literary Magazine It wa s

In this issue Holy Week special

What if…

ju st a dream? The secrets of the heroes

Faithful Blood

He knows something after all

Close-up on Shaun the Sheep’s

Earth Day tribute

farmer

Hope Julian Casablancas of The Strokes,

Stalked

The Irony of Soufflé Learn about that

“Little

Thing” King’s buzzing about Pokemon fan? Learn about

Ash’s Past

SY 20082009 CW10 THQ

How to play Wordoku. Wordoku is very similar to sudoku. Love sudoku? Then you'll really love Wordoku! Every letter for the Wordoku must appear once: In each of the columns, in each of the rows, and in each of the nine boxes. You can find the letters needed under the puzzle. Hidden Word You will know when you have successfully completed the puzzle, http://www.wordoku.biz/ as a hidden 9 letter word will Pseudonym | Issue 1on | April 2009 | Page 3 appear the diagonal.

Su mmer Fun The sun is finally at its full glory and is now torturing us with its deadly rays of heat and light. This could only mean one thing: summer’s here! It means time to get out of the jackets and jeans and into our shorts and slippers! The beach is always a must-go, of course, it’s a summertime tradition.   Some of us will be spending our summers in school taking up six units of what could have been six weeks of pure, unimaginable fun. Most of the lucky people will be enjoying their summer to the fullest, backpacking to other countries, or relaxing at the comfort of their own homes. I guess most of us feel what I feel when I get really into the summer—I get bored and wish I were back in school.   But there are things we can do so that we won’t get bored while hibernating from the stress that is college. Whether cruising the River Thames, or DVD marathon-ing alone at home, we all can do something equally fun and worthwhile. And that is… Yes get ready for it… I swear Migz will get angry for the over usage of ellipses… But I’ll use them anyway… Get ready for it… It is…  The classic summer leisure program which makes us feel good because when we finish one because it gives us a sense of accomplishment—writing. Yes, writing, and I’m not kidding you. When I was in third year high school, I blogged a lot. There are a lot of things you get to think of during the summer that you don’t get to think of while in school because it is only in leisure time that people get to really think about things. And that gives you a lot of topics to write about. My blog entry topics ranged from beauty pageants to potato chips to the power of the mind. And I also wrote an unfinished seven-chapter fan fiction on Pride and Prejudice. All that writing kept me from being bored. Because even when you think that there’s nothing left to do, as long as ink and paper exist, there will always be something. There will always be words, and language. And it’s a blessing for us to possess them, because without them we’d probably be the most boring aliens in the universe. So go ahead, imaginative earthlings! Write!

Credits   Pseudonym   Contributors

Julia Antoinette Macaranas Mark John King Rivera Joanne Sheana Baltazar Jedrus Patron   Editor   Joanne Sheana Baltazar   Layout Artist Table of Contents   Julia Antoinette Faithful Blood Macaranas Hope 4   Julian 5 Managing Irony of Soufflé 6 Editor Ash’s Past 11 It was just   a dream 9 Jedrus Patron   The Farmer 10 Web Designer   Mark John King Little Thing 7 Rivera The Jail Cell Clock 8   Get to Know the Writers 11 Special Thanks   On the works 12 Mrs. Anna Felicia http://i.timeinc.net/recipes/i/recipes/su/07/04/cheese-souffle-su-600573-l.jpg Color me p. 14 http://www.photoeverywhere.co.uk/east/tasmania/moss_glen9115.JPG Sanchez http://xpodcast.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/heroes-logo.jpg http://thumb.visualizeus.com/thumbs/09/02/01/ear,mole,neck,pale,photography,ruffles,womanIshikawa d777104a8db47576b968788aee3207b2_m.jpg http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk252/kingkongkymm/Pokemon/ash.jpg PH 112 http://www.ugo.com/games/super-smash-bros-characters/images/Mewtwo.jpg http://velvetfont.files.wordpress.com/2008/04/watermelon.jpg www.trintec.com The internet Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 3

Faithful Blood by Jedrus Patron

I’m holding a necklace covered with wooden beads. Voice whispers blessed chant. As I felt the breathless heat, my eyes were invaded by tears. Is it regret or misfortune? My agony depends on ancient scriptures. Vatican never informed us about this, nor did the missionaries. Pacific chewed Everest and the arrows of Zeus cut Liberty’s head. Humans planted drought until famine appeared. Now, I have no space to occupy, detained by gigantic red strokes. “I believe in God the father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth” I said while bleeding and burning to death. I cried hopelessly for stairway. Amen.

Hope

By Julia Antoinette Macaranas

Green frost is breathing In the paralyzed forest. Brown leaves on the ground.

Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 4

Julian By: Joanne Sheana Baltazar

Everything starts when I put my headphones on and close my eyes on a spell. First I am in a state of nothingness. It’s like my head has been placed in a vacuum, too secluded from the material world, longing for something earthly to touch my ears deafened by the absence of sound. Dum. Dumdumdum. I hear the rousing beat of the vibrating bass string. The drums crash in, the guitars rhythmically following. After a second and fourteen, the four have created enchanting euphony. But all that is forgettable. It is the voice of the song that makes it all worth listening to. It’s fascinating how all that sound can come from a single heavy breath. It’s like the waves sucking all the air from the atmosphere above and channeling it to the water’s depth. Your voice like the sea starts out rough, but breaks up on the shore gently, soothingly, or if not, power-smashing the resisting rocks, leaving an unseen mark of incomparable impact. The words tumble gently like beads of sweat, gracefully rolling from the base to the

Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 5

Irony of Soufflé By Julia Antoinette Macaranas

It is gravity; it must be, or there is no reasonable explanation why. It was nonexistent, during the first time we met. There was no trace of it at all, none at all as far as I could tell that occasion. ‘It’s because of volleyball,’ he said. Before, it was as flat as a pancake with even a hint of tone. It was a physique worth drooling over but not anymore. Now, it is soft ice cream, melting slowly on its denim cone. It is a product most probably by carelessness and lack of controlling oneself; in no exercise and lazing around long periods of time. No wonder that his build is no longer a ghost of its former glory. He was jelly, its sides going over the rim, but not overflowing per se. But what I do not understand is why, despite his papaya figure, I cannot help but be drawn towards him. Especially my lips, sometimes fingers, they have the tendency to gravitate to his flab. It seems that the bigger this muffin gets, the more attracted I am to it. I kept thinking that what it is with him that pulls me so. I love aesthetically pleasing things, and siopao figures are not within that category. I never really noticed the paunch he was getting until it was beyond his capacity to hide it under his shirt. And without his shirt, I am often reminded of Pizza Hut’s mushroom soup with the pastry crust. Pastry crust wasn’t available a few years ago, now it is a crowd favorite. But why am I more drawn to him than I am to an average person? It was a Zen moment that answered it all; an answer that lies in the most simplest and ordinary things. It was Gravity, one of the four fundamental forces at the level of elementary particles. How simple can you get? And gravity states that a matter of lesser mass is attracted to

Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 6

Little Thing King Rivera

For almost three years of being acquainted with her, I knew a lot about her. For starters, she lives in my nearby village and I often see her in Father Joy’s mass. I was surprised, the first time I saw her, I thought that church was the last place I’d be seeing the new face. She sat on the left side, I was on the other side so I could see her neck and that little thing on it. I thought it was just a big black bug that got stuck. I saw her again when my friends and I were on our way to school. She hid her short black hair with a cap. We saw her Adam’s apple too. From a distance, she could be thought of as a guy because of her gesture. Personally, I thought that the black thing was something which came out from her Adam’s apple. We studied at the same school and belonged to the same class. Eventually, we became friends. Once when we ate lunch together, I asked her what the black thing really was. She told me that it was just an infected pimple. When we were at the library doing some research, I again asked her about it. I insisted that the pimple thing was not believable. I noticed it grew a little larger than before. Quite irritated, she ignored me. Before I utter a single word, she told me to stop asking senseless things. I apologized and promised not to bother her again. Days passed, we'd been busy for exams and other stuffs that we didn't manage to fix the conflict. We had some small talks about group works and nothing more. That was a year ago. We weren’t able to talk after graduation until we met again just these past few days. I noticed her mole, that grew a little smaller. But I didn’t Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 7

The Jail Cell Clock Riddle You are locked in a jail cell with no windows. and you need to tap out a message on the wall for the man in the other cell next to you. The problem is that you have to do it at exactly 9:15 PM, when the guard outside is switched, so your noise won't be noticed. You can't hear the switching of the guards through your walls, and you have no clock. There is a faucet with water dripping very consistently from it in the corner, but you don't know if it is dripping at 30 or 40 or however many drops per minute, and that wouldn't give you the time in any case. You can just make out the chiming of a church bell, but it chimes just once at the top of each hour, so you can't tell the time from that. You can feel the wall facing west start to cool after the sun sets, but you don't know what time the sun is setting, and this isn't very precise in any case. Your dinner is always passed into your cell between 6:15 and 6:45. How do you determine when it is exactly 9:15 PM? How Many Seconds? If a clock takes six seconds to strike six times at six o'clock, how many seconds will it take to strike eleven times at eleven o'clock?

The Jail Cell Clock Riddle After dinner arrives, you listen for the church bell. Since dinner comes between 6:15 and 6:45, the next chiming has to be at 7:00 PM. When you hear it, you start to count the drips from the faucet until you hear the chime again at 8:00 PM. Divide the number of drips by four, and you'll have the number of drips that fall in fifteen minutes (Or you can divide by sixty to get the drops per minute, and then multiply this by fifteen). When the bell chimes again at 9:00, you start counting drips until you reach the specified number. It is now 9:15 PM, and time to tap out your message. How Many Seconds? 12 seconds. The timing would naturally start on the first strike. At six, there would be five more strikes in the next six seconds, for a time of 1.2 seconds per strike. After the first strike at eleven, the following ten stikes would then take 12 seconds.

Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 8

It was just a dream Jedrus Patron

As the dusk swallowed the empty sky, the wind whistled a mint blue breeze. Inhabitants of the big apple seemed to be drained and exhausted for they didn’t noticed chill’s invasion. Zephyr whispered a freezing breath which made those opened windows sway according to the wind’s rhythm. Everything seemed to be noiseless, until a Japanese man named Hiro broke silence with a scream. Suddenly, he rose up from his soft white bed. Filled with sweat in his face, he was hardly catching up his breath. Slowly, he went outside of his room. The room was filled with noises of explosions. He saw a thin man wearing a black fixed tuxedo, standing in the front of a flat screen TV. The man was reading a brown paper. Secretly, Hiro grabbed his samurai and attacked the unknown man. In a short glimpse, Hiro figured it out that it was his best friend, Ando. Ando’s eyes grew wide and his face became pale. He unintentionally dropped the brown paper. “Yu isker mi Ando? Yu sud be in Japan, wai ar yu hir? Haw did yu get insayd (Japanese accent)? Ando picked up the paper and sat down on Hiro’s soft white couch. He lighted up a brown stick, and blew a circled smoke. His aura transformed into a funny clown. “It’s easy for me to get spare key, I’m your sister’s boyfriend.” Hiro sat down beside his pal. He noticed the hands of Ando, trembling while holding a brown paper. “Watis dat? Watis da probrem.” Ando stopped from giggling. “It’s nothing. It’s a list for a preparation.” He looked straight at Hiro’s eyes. He showed Hiro a diamond ring in his index finger. Suddenly, Laughter and rejoices pushed the cold breeze in Hiro’s domain. Hiro’s voice captured the whole street’s attention even in the middle of the night. “Wi shud cerebrayt dis. I hab a bater of champagne in da kitsen.” Hiro went to the kitchen. After 2 minutes, he went back with 2 shiny goblets and a large green bottle. “Dis is a ispesiyar okaysion.” Hiro transferred champagne from the bottle to the goblets. He noticed that the bottle was already empty, yet the goblet of Ando remain half filled. He went back to kitchen. Ando placed his arms inside his right pocket. He obtained a small tube like bottle with a mixture inside of it. He transferred the mixture in to the goblet of Hiro. After a short while, Hiro went back with another large green bottle. “Hiro, I need to go to the bathroom, where should I go?” Hiro demonstrated the direction to Ando. “Jast enter may rum, en den tern rep. Yu cud si a white door on da rep sayd, dats da CR.” Ando went to the CR. He picked out his cellphone from his right pocket. He dialed a number. His voice sang agony and misery. His eyes shed pain in liquid form. His heart was filled with fear as it pumped rapidly. “Don’t hurt her. I did what you have told me to do. Please, I’m begging. Don’t hurt Kimiko.” Ando hanged up the phone. He Pseudonym | Issueand 1 | April 2009 | Page 9 viewed again the brown paper: Choose between your best friend

The Farmer

Joanne Sheana Baltazar

The cock crows with the hesitation of yet a brand new day of worn-out plastic, spilling coffee on a dehydrated fence. The sun smirks in affirmation. An overture… We all awaken from the night’s sleep ration, with yours perhaps going undisturbed. Bitzer’s was possibly stupid. But I am not either of you. Each night, when the yellow orb tires, and you all retire to the measly barn I have set up for you years ago when nothing was essentially known, I sleep through the darkness with my eyes wide open, thinking that another day will slide on through like the others that have passed. I am sick of the mundane stupidity imposed on all of us by ourselves. I can’t wait for the Santa Anas to come—if we were in California, I swear I’d believe in anything. I smother my chin with chunky white gunk, not really minding the blade, but the manner in which I will make my exit (or is it an entrance?). Why is it that whenever anything happens I always appear to be the fool? I will never forget the day I discovered the dung you so carefully positioned in my teapot. You’ve trashed my house and miserably tried to clean up—all that and more with just four thin gray legs! If you live to bully young girls, steal water supply, mess with metal detectors, and take away sunlight from eager bathers, why choose a lowly farmer wearing blurry glasses on a seemingly eyeless head? Why not a desperate scientist on the other side of the screen ready to take advantage of you? I walk to the door, stretching my arms for a yawn, and out with a cod smile plastered on my face, teeth yellowing from English dentistry failing. It’s like I’m designed not to feel—a pitiful robot made to be as it is all the time. I do not want this. But still I walk in this design towards the shed, disengaging the decaying portal slowly, so as to give time for your daily aerobic to finish. It may all be well, this set-up, and there may be no points for me to complain, but how strong does that bleat at Vic’s final lines mock me! I wish I could let know of my awareness, of what I feel, and how I want this and that to be. However I am just a thick farmer who supposedly knows nothing so you could shine in every possible way. If things went on the way I wanted, then things would be boring for you, and everything would be pointless. Anyway, things like these have their advantages: I get to be on TV and I can eat lamb chops without feeling guilty. Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 10

Ash's Past King Rivera

It was the rarest creature of all, a big cat-like Pokemon having a natural armor. I wondered why I hadn't seen one before. I don't know why I felt an absurd connection with him. I stared at Mewtwo, finding it hard to decide which Pokemon to choose to battle against him. Pikachu, too scared of what's happening, backed away from me. He must have read my thoughts. It was so important for Pikachu to win this battle against this mysterious creature, considering the golden badge as a price, my ticket to the Hoenn League. Suddenly, I saw Mewtwo utter a few words using a strange language. Then, there was a flash of lightning from far off. And everything turned obscure. A freak vision. I turned to stone. Consider for a moment this incredible event that broke the laws of time and place. Finally, I managed to move back a few steps. And then, oh God! I was in another place. I screamed loudly as I could, hoping that Pikachu and the others could hear me. I focused on the dispersed light. I saw a small cat— like creature with a long and slender tail, lying on the road. It was a Mew, a young and rare creature, I knew from having researched in the lab. It was severely wounded. I observed him. A young woman walked toward Mew and took him. It was my mother! I gave a silent edged cry for her presence. I missed her so much. I was about to hug her when another event happened, the Mew turned into a baby. Nothing, I believed nothing! Thunder shock. Pikachu brought me back to Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 11

came up with the idea of writing something about the origin of Ash using a nice twist that Pokemon geeks could relate and enjoy reading. has her greatest ideas in the shower which causes her to slow down which causes her to get scolded by her parents

loves writing so much she claims she can live with a pen, paper, and a watermelon

Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 12

Wrote about a girl named Nikki Ruth Lopez Went to a confession after writing “Faithful Blood”

Wants to write and illustrate a children’s story book

Loves to read. A lot. Can’t survive

ON THE WORKS Finally, I have created a title for my work! I chose Julian, it’s the name of my stalkee, and I think it’s perfect for the piece. Direct and simple. I wrote about Julian the rock star because even though he’s so far away and unreachable, I always felt this connection, this understanding of him, and I can always feel him when I watch him talk or sing. I know, it’s impossible for me to know that, but I really feel that, especially when I listen to their songs (which are all written by him). This explains my introductory paragraphs, by the way. The comments were mostly positive, except for a few on my inconsistent images. I didn’t really change the piece much, I added and omitted a few words here and there. I wanted to present a certain calmness at first, then go to the euphoric, crazy, drug-ish kind of climax, then going back to calm. I think I achieved that and I didn’t want to change it. But I really did think about the last paragraph. A lot. I was debating if I should keep it or change it. The thing is, I wanted the reader to think about what is behind that singer’s voice. I I’ve never been this crazy about a cartoon since the beginnings of Spongebob guess one would have to know Julian’s family history to find out. =P So I Squarepants. Forgive me for being childish. However I found great inspiration in decided to keep it, but I used kitten instead of kitty-cub because I thought this stop-motion because 1) it is an animation with no dialogue, 2) the characters the cat-dash-cat pattern was already overused. I kept it because I want are interesting and 3) the farmer rarely had a say with anything. He was barely little stories to form in my reader’s heads. =) heard, and so I wanted to give him a voice. I wanted him to be justified, to be not (page 4) looked on as stupid and ignorant. I wanted to show his hurt, his awareness, his intelligence. I wanted to make him look good in front of the audience. And so came The Farmer. I think my classmates, professor and I thought the same things about my work, because they expressed the same comments I had about it, and I’m happy they gave me suggestions. The depiction of the farmer’s awareness and the symbolism of the “blind” thingy was really the most problematic for me, putting the “letting people relate and understand issue aside”. What I did was I tried to emphasize some stuff, so that the readers will grasp things better, and cut some of the descriptions because it was also in one of the comments that I describe too Jed is a fan of Dan Brown's masterpieces particularly Angels and Demons and The Da Vinci Code. Most of the time, much. I didn’t change the beginning and ending, though, I think they’re fine (and I he is misunderstood by other people as anti-Christ especially by his former classmates in DLSU. Actually, he is didn’treally remove the ellipsis either, I think it’ll be ugly if I didn’t use it). =P I just hope a devoted Roman Catholic follower who just adore Brown's unique and majestic style of writing. He love the that after this revision readers Angels shall be able to understand better and hopefully seeHe also fascinated with the way Brown conceptualized and Demons and The Da Vinci code from scratch. Shaun onthat TV. Brown =D have provided. Jed take Brown's novel as a fantastic literary work rather than a destabilization of twists (page the10) Catholic church. For him, the noise which Brown's novel created serves as an evidence of being effective and

another possible fictional.

realistic. Jed thought of the concept of the end of the world after seeing the assigned picture. He has this impression that people portrayed in the painting are dependent and ignorant. Inspired by Brown's novel, he also used the same theme and style. His intention is to create a story that will tackle outcome or angle of the religiosity of people. It is purely However, he stand that if people will not be careful about their actions, there is a possibility that this situation will occur. (PAGE 9) Jed is a certified Heroes addict and an ultimate fan of Hiro Nakamura, one of the lead characters in this American series. For Jed, Hiro and Ando's friendship is very ideal. It's good to have a true friend like Ando who will risk everything (even his job) just to help his best friend in fulfilling his dream. He unintentionally save the world because he only cared about Hiro's safety. On the other hand, priorities of Hiro are different. He also cares about Ando of course. But, he believes that the welfare of the majority of the people is more important than the sake of an individual person. When Jed is writing, he always deal with dark twists. Breaking the supposed to be perfect friendship of Ando and Hiro is a big challenge for Jed. Aside from their friendship, what are the things or who are the persons who linked Ando and Hiro. Ando fell in love with Kimiko, sister of Hiro. Jed thought that this detail can be useful in order to make the the ideal friendship of Hiro and Ando possible and realistic. idea of breaking (page 8)

 

Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 13

The subject is moss, and how it is able to live in a bleak forest, where almost everything is dead. It is a symbol of hope; that there is still life even in the most desolate of places. The last line was changed to create a new image to further enhance my ideas (Page 3) The inspiration of this piece is a special person for me in class. I’ve known him for more than four years, and well, we’re going out. This body part of his is something we often had a disagreement on. I like him the way he is but he complains about it. I wrote this to kind of playfully insult him while complimenting him. I decided to let the piece be. Except for the little errors and the omitted final sentence, nothing has changed in this piece from the workshop days. I felt that the definition of the gravity actually helps the work. There is also no need for transition to the definition, because it emphasizes the Zen (sudden realization/enlightenment) explanation. The definition also creates a kind of irony between the gravity being simple into something scientific, something complex. And, the title, I know that “soufflé” is not found anywhere in this piece, but it fits the work in my perspective. The soufflé’s shape is similar to all my examples in this piece. However, the soufflé’s enemy is gravity, for it has a tendency to fall rather quickly when taken out of the oven and is considered a failure if falls immediately (page 6)

My work for the fan fiction exercise bears out the deep passion I have for the story of Pokemon. I think my work (first draft) simply tells and narrates a series of events. My ideas come immediately out according to some critics. The reason for this style of writing is for all the readers to fully grasp the prose even if they don't have any idea or background of the story. The common problem for some fan fictions is that some readers can't relate on the prose as it requires a little knowledge of the story. Melissa Cabral mentioned the twists were so sudden and commented on the impact of the ending. She also advised to make Ash's character narrate less seriously and of less formal tone. I revised the style of writing by putting images and figures of speech that you have to work a little hard to find. T experimented also on the way Ash talks and tried to make him sound less serious and unaware like the he was introduced in the original story. Miguel Toribas suggested to rephrase the last part so as to give an impact. What I did is to suggest a shocking but not too telling ending. As for the title, I chose not to change it although it seemed not subtle enough for some critics. This is to emphasize the idea of an important event in Ash's life, his past. It also shows the irony that Ash, being the conquerer of the Pokemon world is unaware that he himself is a Pokemon. (page 9)

Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 14

COLOR ME!

Pseudonym | Issue 1 | April 2009 | Page 15