Manang Spends the Weekend.

I haven’t had much to write about since the year began. 2009 is supposed to be a year of change and transition so I’m sure I can make up for the lack of recent posts as the year progresses

In the meantime, in an attempt to keep this blog updated, let me share some pictures from my Manang’s recent visit.

She shows off her new teeth – my Christmas gift. She wants lip collagen implants for her birthday. Kidding. But, she actually gave me a lengthy answer explaning why she's not, when I said she should look for a rich husband - which suggests to me that somewhere in her mind, anything is still possible. Good for her.



She gets her Pancit Palabok fix from Jolibee. We love. Unfortunately, there's no outlet in her village so this is a must-stop for her whenever she comes to the city.



She poses beside my car to show off to her posse back home. She jumped off her seat when the sun roof opened up. Adorable.



She’s awestruck with the choices in a city supermarket





This one isn't from her vist. But I look good in the picture and it's my blog and I can post whatever I want. So, here.

Scenes from a New York Winter

My digital camera was a constant compassion during my New York trip. I have a long way to go before I get to the level of my talented photographer friends (see here, here, here and here).


But , if I may so myself, I am pretty impressed with how my photographs turned out. I find that I am drawn to shots that show contrasts (dark and light, old and new, still and moving, etc), shapes and depth.


Here are a few of my photographs (just click on the photos you want to enlarge) with some of my notes.

The shot below was taken in Central Park. The trees in the foreground have a dark, primeval quality. I like the way they contrast with the modern buildings against the blue sky. The photo seems to suggest a bright future soon to come.








This shot was also taken in Central Park. The splashes of color from the fence and the people's clothes provide a contrast to the starkness of the New York winter.

It can be lonely to live in New York. The shots below suggest how impersonal a big city can be. The tall buildings seem almost like individual entities by themselves. I can understand how they might make a person feel small and inconsequential.

This evening shot below was taken in Times Square. While the ground level was bright, noisy and busting – everything seems to fade into the darkness of night.

The shots below were taken at the West Village. I liked the vibe of the area. People stopped and greeted each other on the street. The streetlight and the fire escape made me feel that, tall buildings and neon lights aside, people – with kids and dogs and families and friends - actually made their life in this big city.

I was just going to take a shot of the fire hydrant between the two poles. As I was about to click, the yellow cab appeared in the shot. No attempts at profundity here. I just like this picture.

This was taken inside St. Patrick’s Church. I like the play of patterns and colors. The contrast I try to capture in my other shots is not in the picture but in my mind. While the shop windows outside were impressive, the grandness of the church and the lights from the votives were more awe-inspiring and brighter than any other Christmas display I saw.

Finally, the shot below. It’s not one of those I took, obviously. But, at the end of the day, New York – like any other place – is about being sorrounded by people you love and care for.

Happy New Year, everyone!

A Year End Message from Your Sponsor

I’m really glad I started this blog. Writing has become my tool for emotional catharsis.

Processing my thoughts and attempting to articulate them in as concise a manner as possible is not always easy. The right words do not always come automatically. Often, I become infatuated with a turn of phrase that’s pretty but irrelevant (something I relate to personally). In these cases, self-editing becomes an agony.

I give myself weekly deadlines. Exercising the discipline to put words into paper (or screen as is the case) on a regular basis has given me a great deal of clarity on matters that would have otherwise remained in the periphery of my consciousness

What I write about is often a zeitgeist for my current emotional or mental state - my rant-du-jour, my relationships or anything else that happens to occupy mind-share at the moment (Food! Media! Travel!)


My topics are self-indulgent, if anything. I don’t think I can do this for a lving. I like the freedom of choosing my topics and not having to be accountable to anyone about what I write.

It’s been great for me to find out that people come and visit the blog regularly and like what they read. I appreciate the comments and look forward to them. I'm not shy about courting validation!

May you all have a blessed and Merry Christmas with your family, friends and the people that you love. May the coming year be one of prosperity, good health and joy! May all our dreams come true! May the name Bruno stick! May I reach 1,000,000 site visits by this time next year.

And, as always, may God continue to bless us all!

What the Pack!!

2 check -in luggage. 2 hand-carry items.

4 black winter coats. 5 winter scarves. 1 pair of pleather gloves.

1 black velvet dinner jacket. 2 black dress shirts. 1 polyster black tie. 3 black turtlenecks. 3 pairs of shoes.

2 black denim pants. 1 black dress pants. Thermals. Underwear. Socks.

1 dozen bottles of bagoong and tuyo.

All packed. Ready to go.

I’m leaving for New York in a few hours. It's snowing!

I’m going to have fun. It’s going to be a great Christmas.

My Sixth Sense

I was going through my archives and I realized that, without necessarily meaning to when I started this blog, a recurring topic seems to have emerged.

I write about dead people.

I don’t want to be the person who can’t move on from losing his mother, father and one sister. But, at the same time, I don’t know how I can separate the loss from the person that I am.

Every experience is somehow diminished by the knowledge that it can no longer be shared with them. Christmas and special occasions are specially difficult.

Reliving the memories is often a source of comfort and inspiration. Sometimes the memories cause pain so sharp it's almost physical. But, as in life, you can't take one without the rest.

I know that I can share new experiences with the people who are still present it in my life. And I do. I have a close circle of family and friends who are my life-savers.

I know that I should go ahead and create new memories. And I do try. That's what they would have wanted. More importantly - that's what I want for myself. There is so much left to do and try and taste and see.

But the fact remains – they’re gone. And I miss them. And I don’t want to relegate their presence in my life to the past.

I write about them because this is a way to keep their memories alive. I write about them because I want people to know that they lived, that their existence mattered.

I write about them because their influence in still very much apparent in how I now live my life.

I write about them because I know I write well. And I want to use that gift to honor them.

That's the way it is.

The Shame!

Forget about the shoe-throwing incident involving Bush.

Even before his much anticipated innaguration, Obama suffers from indigestion during a secret meeting with Philippine President Arroyo.

Talbog si Tina Fey at kanyang Sarah Palin impersonation. Love ko talaga ang Filipino humor.

Bruno is My Name. Coolness is my Game.

My birth name is Fermin Arcadio Concepcion Taruc III.

The name dates me. I don’t think anyone born after 1970 has been called either "Fermin” or “Arcadio”, much less both.

Had I been born a few years later – you may probably now know me as Kayne, Richard or Joshua, even – God forbid – Duane.

But,even for my time, I admit my name is unusual. I can only explain it by supposing that my parents were trying to get in the good graces of my grand-parents.

“Fermin” is my paternal grandfather. “Arcadia” is my maternal grandmother. They had no money so their good graces were not worth very much materially. This would be an entirely different post if I were Fermin Arcadio Vanderbilt or even Fermin Arcadio Ayala.

“Concepcion” is my mother’s “maiden name"(how archaic, this term, but it’s still in use apparently).

The “III” is like a transvestite’s penis - a useless organ. There is no other “Fermin Arcadio” so I cannot be “Taruc III”.

As a child, everyone called me “Jun-Jun”, true to the Filipinos penchant for doorbell nicknames, Everyone who still remembers me by this nickname is dead from old-age or close to it.

My parents called me “Sonny-boy” to their last breath. When my Dad was working abroad, his letters to me would all start with "Dear Sonny-boy:.

My grandmother still calls me "Jun-Love-First-Born-Apo" in one go, stringing the words like they were all joint together.

I never had a choice in any of these names. I always felt that none of them captured the essence of who I was or who I want to be.

“Fermin” sounds like a low-level municipal government employee who wears white socks and puts a comb in his back-pocket.

“Arcadio” sounds like somebody’s old bachelor uncle with epilepsy living up in the attic.

Nobody over 10 years old has the right to still be called “Jun-Jun” unless they were 400 pounds and still living with their mother.

Jun-Love-First-Born-Apo sounds like something my Lola would call one of her poodles.

With what I consider good reason, I have had to take matters in my own hand.

“Tarcs” is something a friend came up with about 20 years ago. It was a private joke until I decided I wanted everyone to call me by this name. Since I was shifting careers at that time, it was easy to get people to call me by my new name as they didn't have to unlearn an old one. Easy for everyone else – that is – except me. It took me a while to respond immediately when anyone called me "Tarcs". Twenty year is enough time to get used to it.

At 33, I was one of the oldest in my MBA batch back in 1996. I didn’t want my classmates to have any impression that I might be the fuddy-duddy-serious-party-pooper that “Fermin” or “Arcadio” would suggest”. “Tarcs” was fine but I was tired of it.


After much thought, I decided that I wanted to be called “Joey". The name seemed to conjure just the right images of the young, hip, easy-going, baseball-playing, gum-chewing person I wanted them to think I was before they found out otherwise (note to heckler - no, I didn't think they could tell just from looking and it's not polite to snicker) .


In all my school pre-registration forms, “Joey” was what I put in in the line across “name you prefer to be called by”. “Joey” was the name that appeared on my name-tag during the first day of class.

Unfortunately, my classmates were pretty smart. Without having to be told, I guess they knew instinctively that I wasn’t a “Joey” type. An Indian friend - due to my insistence on not responding to anything else - tried, but with his accent, what he called me sounded closer to “Jovy”.

I got the hints. I could never be a “Joey”. I stuck to “Tarcs”. Fortunately, it turned out that i had other qualities so I was still cool .

But, I’m rethinking my options. It 's time to try out a new name. I want to re-invent myself.


Looking back, it does seem like I get to do this every 10 years or so . Much less frequently than Madonna but definitely more than most normal people. But, then again, if I were normal, I would just have settled for good old "Fermin Arcadio" and you wouldn't be reading this blog.

I think I want to be called “Bruno” from now on.

“Bruno” sounds just right for somebody who shaves his head, dresses all in black, drinks Grey Goose vodka tonics and quotes Samuel Beckett.


Even if Bruno worked for a municipal government office, he would be the mayor's henchman doing all sorts of cool things with his machete. Even if he were an uncle living in the attic, he would be up there right now recuperating from being attacked by a bull in Pamplona. Even if he were 8 years old, Bruno would be the king of the playground "takin no shit from nobody, yo" with pockets bulging from other kids' lunch money.

I want to be a "Bruno". People have said I look like a "Bruno". Okay, that's settled - call me Bruno .