Scenes From the Basement

This is half public service, and half rant. Photography is a necessity, and definitely not for aesthetics.

First sms I saw when I woke up Sunday morning was from K, asking if I had any idea what time we’d have electricity again. I didn’t even know power was out, as I wasn’t in the studio. Then she explained that a car blew up in the basement, and two or three other cars burned along with it. That got me worried, because I left a car at that basement.  I went back to the condo and was greeted by the sorry sight of people lugging suitcases and carts of hastily packed things, stuff thrown in huge garbage bags and hauled to their cars. Dang, the place felt like some ghost town with people just wanting to get out.

Today the story came together, finally. From what I gather, one of the residents met with a car accident and drove the vehicle to the basement, anyway. While he was maneuvering to park, smoke started to come out from under the hood. Driver staggered out as the guard on duty ran toward the car with a fire extinguisher. Flames erupted, and the rest, especially the SUV parked right beside it, is history. Another SUV sustained a lot of  damage, while a sedan had a melted bumper and busted headlights.

And perhaps the best part is that almost the entire building is left without power, no telephone lines, and no cable.  Good luck, everyone, especially to the offices. Right now I am typing this in the dark, as the emergency outlet can only handle so much. Plug a pc in, and forget about using your electric fan.

So, for crying out loud, I am no expert but if any of you gets into an accident that could’ve damaged the engine in any way, please drive your car to the nearest service outlet. It doesn’t just happen in the movies; damaged engines can make cars blow up, burst into flames, and take some innocents with them. Not to mention disrupting the lives and livelihood of the occupants of an entire building, big time.

 

Fuego! Still

Instead of an essay for an opening board or such, a poem dedicated to fire, by a daughter of fire.

Baba’s Child

Hedwig de Leon

By your gait I can tell; I know

when you are off for leisure, the pace

of unhurried cadence breaking

into a dance. It never fails to rupture

my trance: the leaps, stomps and pirouettes

of bare feet on yielding grass.

At times it is the certainty, the sure

footed march to war: I feel each inhale

each exhale each breath; never

labored always calm all ways

Quiet. The perfect backdrop

to your scream in the sky; the perfect

Silence soon shattered as heaven

roars with thunder and lightning zigs

and zags across the skies.

In a hammock on your back I lie

Cradled, nibbling fruits and nuts, wondering

Why? Why must you carry me in a sack

on your back even when you fight? Or hold

me to your chest while you snooze?

A shrug.

Great. Should I pester you for an answer, pelt

You with nuts, maybe?             But then you

Opened an eye before I could:          “Because,

You said, “you are a brat.”

“My brat.“

August 2010

Fuego!

19 Auagust 2010, and Fuego! opened at Penguin. Late post, yes, very. I kind of got a little possessive of my little fire babies, didn’t exactly want them out there in the wild cyber world. Silly, huh? But come on, give a photog a break. There was a lot that went on: African drummers came, Earth dancers came, goodness, even my Mom came. That really was the biggest surprise of the night. I was scared of a people-less opening, but No, we ended up drinking beer on the sidewalks. It was a fun night, problem is I couldn’t document it. Good thing some friends took some. Coming up, soon!