Exploring the Manila International Book Fair

Major publishers, indie and small press, book signings and books as far as the eye can see. The Manila International Book Fair 2022 had something for everyone.

In between the lockdown of 2020, the spinal injury of 2021, and the financial recovery from surgery the previous year I haven’t been able to get out much the past few years. Despite not having much money to spend while I was there though I made my way to the Manila International Book Fair at the SMX convention center in Pasay. The longest-running book industry trade show in Asia, the last event was held in 2019 and had an attendance of around 160,000. It’s been a staple of the literary world in Manila for over 40 years now.



One exciting new change to the book fair is the Indie Village. I had already gotten in touch with San Anselmo press, who just released issue 2 of their Santelmo magazine featuring poetry, fiction, and essays in both English and Tagalog.

I’d already reached out to the book fair representatives asking about covering the event they advised me to first head to the media area, which conveniently was right near the front. After signing in, the woman at the table walked me along with my friend Kathleen and her friend, who acted as my cinematographer for the day.

First, we headed to see Pol Medina Jr. Sir Pol had a new release, Blood of the Shinobi book #4. It’s a bit bloody in parts but fast-paced action. I also brought my copy of volume 4 of Ink and Politics. They had some copies of volume 1 for sale there. Medina is also a political cartoonist. The volume I have is from 2018, so there’s plenty of material related to Trump, the Singapore NoKo/US summit even Dennis Rodman makes an appearance in a frame. Another highlight for me was getting to hear a woman express her excitement at finally getting a book signed by Pol.

As mentioned earlier, the indie village section was very interesting to me. I love small press always have, indie music, indie movies, and the freedom from the micromanaging of the industries that treat art as a commodity alone is a beautiful thing. While there, I talked with Gay Ace Domingo with San Anselmo. And I had to pick up a copy of a book by Ara Villena, who I’ll be collaborating with on my first children’s book coming in 2023. Her artwork is amazing, she’s also had work published by Adarna and met some of the folks from there at their booth as well.

Read the rest of the article at The Latest.

[redacted] Presents Douglas Fairbanks covers Hollywood

During the half a year or so I lived in Burbank, I hooked up with a pop culture publication that covered mainly geek related stuff (comics, anime, etc.). I wrote a couple pieces for them but sadly they said my “style” didn’t fit. Last I checked even the couple pieces they did publish are no longer on the site. Sigh, oh well… Anyway, just now found some of those drafts while going through old files I had saved on a backup drive. In case you’re wondering, yes, while in Hollywood I went by my middle name though surprisingly few people picked up that I share a name with a classic silent film star. But enough with intros, here goes…

Author’s preliminary note: What follows is what will hopefully be the first segment in a continuing series presented by [redacted] wherein which your faithful (and social phobic) narrator braves the dangers of the high seas of high social anxiety to bring back the whole dish (you’ll have to bring your own spoon, then just scoop away). 


(authors secondary preliminary note: It really helps if you read this piece in Robert Evans’ (RIP) voice in your head That’s what I do anyway, I can’t stand my own voice.) 

Part I: Alfred Hitchcock/Twilight Zone art show opening night at the Bearded Lady’s Mystic Museum

So here goes nothing, I guess. Or maybe not, maybe worse than nothing, maybe something that (to paraphrase Metallica by way of Lovecraft by way of Schopenhauer) “that should not be.” Here it is though, the premiere “episode” (oh, don’t worry, I have issues too!) of the tales of an awkward, hayseed rube with a (no longer) famous Hollywood star’s name. This is all by coincidence and on a technicality of course, but regardless, here we go… [redacted] proudly presents? No, that’s not right I don’t speak for [redacted] , I just write for them, ok fine then, “[redacted] presents: Douglas Fairbanks covers Hollywood (and region).” 

Now we can begin at the beginning, but I think we should jump to the middle directly after. So to start where it starts: we pulled in, I noted to my sister Jane how the most unfortunate consequence and inconvenience of covering a show (even worse than digging the grime from under my guitar finger picking nails) is actually making a damn appearance at the thing. I couldn’t have known at the time the foreshadowing inherent in the story I’d relate as I was dropped at the curb under the flag in front of the Bearded Lady’s Mystic Museum in the Magnolia district of the beautiful Burbanks of Hollywood.

I’m digressing already aren’t I… so backstory then story. I’m certain it was the first or second in the “I hate Bonnaroo” series of articles, my coverage of the Bonaroo music and arts festival for Ghettoblaster or Spacelab. Anyways, the story was of the “salem k for hire gig” that I managed to opt into (and as a result, out of, the show). Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t paying the salem k for hire. They got press passes and for that I got paid. 

42 minutes though should be just enough time without being in any danger of being too near. Besides it’s the meaning of life, the universe and EVERYTHING according to Douglas Noel Adams and whenever I’m in Burbank or Hollywood I go by my middle name Douglas (making me the third Douglas Fairbanks in Hollywood on a technicality, despite the fact most people don’t remember the first and the ones that remember the first don’t remember the second and I’m no relation except in legal name to either) it seems to fit somehow. 

There’s quite a line though and it’s crawling at a snail’s pace.

Act II

Time lapse: Ext: sitting across the street from the flag to wait out my ride and get at least a bit of distance between myself and “the madding crowd.” It’s 9:02, we’d scheduled our pickup for 9:09 at the flag in front of the Bearded Lady Mystic Museum, unfortunately (or fortunately rather, both for us, the museum and the story) the line was lengthy enough to preclude our entry by our aforementioned pickup time and leaving a shaggy dog story in place of my entry at opening night as sitting outside the show, as fate would have it, would be the show for us this night. Luckily however for any of us within the Magnolia district region for the next two months the Alfred Hitchcock and Twilight Zone art show is only OPENING this slightly chilly Saturday evening. The chill to the air opening night only added to the chilled backdrop as “the line procedure” enacted itself, slowly, horrifyingly in a vicious creep of humans huddled against the perfectly manicured, but still eerily gnarled trees.

ACT III

Somewhere and somehow (and we can’t even blame our penmanship this time) we lost a Frank Zappa reference somewhere in between our equally anxious and excited head and my fumbling fingers. I’ll blame the balancing act I was forced into trying to maintain hold of my little, blue sketchbook and the laptop. The laptop was to keep time so I’d know when my ride was to arrive. More on why I didn’t just bring a cell phone like some kind of sane person in just a bit. 

In between the precarious balancing act and the note taking I was able to get lost in myself somewhat at least but this far from elegant procedure was making me painfully aware of my none-too-swanlike carriage amidst “the beautiful people” of classy, but quaint Burbank. 

After my phone’s Freudian crack (I Freudian dropped it a couple months ago and have Freudian “forgotten” to replace it since as I believe I get beeped and buzzed plenty by way of the laptoblet (it’s a 3 in one, I manage to put up with the top screen since it has a fold-away physical keyboard). If I might digress just a moment, (I know this makes my second major digression at this point, but the sooner I acclimate you to them, the sooner I can stop worrying about indulging myself in them) I personally fear that the touchscreen “technology” will fare us as well as broom technology has. Just think, brooms can’t be much newer than the wheel, but have you ever seen a dustpan that didn’t leave some line (however thin). 

There it was, just the distraction I needed to get my mind off of the space I was taking up in the world (and the inevitable scene that follows) I found just the distraction I needed in the form of a pup sized pup tent outside of Pimp my Pooch (immediately upon seeing this name my mind jumps to Zappa’s live cover of “Call any vegetable” off of Billy the Mountain, specifically to the line in which the Mothers’ chorus queries: “Where can I go to get my poodle clipped in Burbank? At Ralphs vegetarian poodle clipping…” Well now I’ve seen one more thing…

And that was it for the night. Apart, of course, from receiving a pin, commemorative even, and free only to the first 100 to make it in to the show, or at least the first 99 and me. I entrusted my entry fare to some ladies in front of me in the line (specifically earmarked for purchase at the Mystic Museum, but they looked trustworthy). Ah, but the night was still young, even if I didn’t feel as young as I evidently look. 

To be continued in part II

buscalan apo whang od mambabatok

Trekking to Remote Buscalan

In March of 2018 I made the trek out to the remote mountain village of Buscalan in the Kalinga province in the Cordeillero region in northern Luzon, Philippines. We came to try and get tattoos from Apo Whang Od, oldest living Kalinga Tattoo Artist (or “mambabatok”). We weren’t able to get ink from Apo Whang but did get tattooed in the traditional fashion (pomelo thorn, bamboo and charcoal ink).


The trip alone was long, arduous and at times somewhat precarious. After hours spent on an overnight bus ride, we made it to Bontoc, as far as the bus line ran towards our destination. From Bontoc we took a jeepney ride up the Halsema highway, one of the most dangerous highways in all of Asia. I remember wondering why there were so many large stones and boulders in the road… that’s when I noticed that it was because they were regularly just rolling off the side of the mountain.

Holding on to the rails of the top of the jeepney for dear life we rode up the highway up until the point that nothing with wheels could pass. From here we found a guide who accompanied us as we made the steep hike up the narrow path. At one point I ended up losing a sandal which got sucked down into a rice paddy, never to be seen again! Ah, but it was worth it for the once in a lifetime experience we gained.

In this video I go into a little bit of detail about some of the history behind the Kalinga and their tattoo tradition. Thanks to the Goldwater staff, especially my Goldwater co-host Diana Printz who was responsible for video-recording and editing the audio and video together and K2, our a/v guy who mixed the audio of my recording and of course Diana, Maria and Tita Fely for accompanying me on the adventure.


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