A Layman Looks At AI-Generated Art

The Sun Shining on the Longships in the Orinoco Flow. Digital art created using a Playstore app.

Introduction

What is art, really? Is it something that is created by a human hand, or is it something that is judged by its beauty and creativity? Are there rules that govern what can be called art, and who gets to decide?

In the age of AI, all of those questions are up for debate. While some may argue that AI-generated art should not be considered real art, the simple truth is that it is nevertheless a form of creative self-expression that deaerves appreciation and respect. After all, like all art, it has a medium, the digital display; and word prompts and keywords are its tools.

What Is AI-generated Art?

In a nutshell, it's artwork that's created using artificial intelligence. But that's just the beginning—AI-generated art can be in any form, from paintings and sculptures to music and videos.

Some people may be hesitant to call AI-generated art "real" art, but that's a shortsighted perspective. After all, isn't an artist the one who creates the work? And doesn't it take skill and creativity to use AI as a tool for artistic expression?

AI-generated art is a new and exciting way to express oneself creatively, and it is exciting to see where it takes us.

AI-generated Art Is A Good Thing

So what are the benefits of AI-generated art?

Well, for starters, it's a new way of expressing yourself. And as we all know, creativity is key to self-expression. With AI-generated art, you're not limited to traditional mediums like paint and canvas. You can use the digital display as your canvas, and word prompts and keywords as your pencil and paintbrush.

It's also a great way to learn about AI. As you experiment with AI-generated art, you'll start to understand how the technology works and how it can be used to create different effects.

Plus, it's a great way to showcase your skills. If you're an artist, AI-generated art is a great way to show off your talent and creativity.

Some Drawbacks

So we've talked about how AI-generated art is created, and why people might be interested in it. But what about the drawbacks?

There are a few things to consider. First of all, AI-generated art is often criticized for its lack of emotion and soul. Critics say that the machine cannot create art in the same way that a human can, because it's not capable of feeling or expressing emotion.

Others argue that AI-generated art is just a copy of existing art, and doesn't really add anything new to the conversation. They say that the only difference is that AI is used to create the artwork, which isn't really that impressive.

These are valid criticisms, but the same can be said of any art in any other medium. Richard Strauss, the composer of Thus Spake Zarathustra which is indelibly identified with the "earthrise" opening scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey, was often criticized for what has been perceived as derivative and soulless pieces of music composition. Gustave Mahler was criticized for "rescoring" Beethoven for a "modern-day orchestra." The 80s were harshly criticized during the late 90s for what we called musical and cultural stagnation, and time proved us wrong. And not a few English professors will tell you that the secret to great writing is rewriting.

Ethical Nosedive

You may be wondering what the ethical implications of AI-generated art are. This is a valid question, and one that needs to be addressed.

When it comes to AI-generated art, there are two main issues that need to be considered: First, does the artist have full control over the work? And second, is the work authentic?

Some people argue that AI-generated art should not be considered real art because the artist doesn't have full control over the work. They say that the machine is doing all the work, and the artist is just pressing a button.

Others argue that AI-generated art is authentic because it's a form of creative self-expression that uses the digital display as its canvas, and word prompts and keywords as the tools. They say that just because the artist doesn't have full control over the work doesn't mean it's not real art.

Future Implications of AI-generated Art

So, what are the future implications of AI-generated art? Well, first and foremost, it's important to realize that AI-generated art is here to stay. It's not a passing trend—it's a new form of creative self-expression that is only going to become more popular in the years to come.

And as this form of art grows in popularity, it will undoubtedly be met with more and more resistance from traditionalists who view art as something that should only be created by humans. But as we've seen with other forms of technology, eventually these traditionalists will die off and AI-generated art will be accepted as the real deal.

In the meantime, though, it's important to keep an open mind about AI-generated art. Yes, it's different from traditional forms of art, but that doesn't mean it isn't valuable in its own right. So don't be afraid to experiment with this new form of creativity—you may be surprised at what you can create.

Are traditional artists truly opposed to AI-generated art?

Some traditional artists are opposed to AI-generated art, but I'm not sure if their opposition is really warranted. After all, AI-generated art is just another way of expressing oneself creatively, just as they themselves have always done with pen and paper, chisel and rock, or canvas and easel. Who's to say anyone who did so with entire pages of word prompts on a computer screen did not do the same thing? They arguably infused more nuance and emotion into their medium than traditional artists did with theirs.

And let's face it, humans have been using tools to help them create art for centuries. So why should we exclude artificial intelligence from that process? I think it's important to remember that AI-generated art is still in its infancy, and there will no doubt be some kinks to work out along the way.

But, in the end, AI-generated art will be regarded as a legitimate form of expression, and that artists will find new and innovative ways to use it to showcase their creativity.

Conclusion

AI-generated art is the new frontier of creativity and self-expression. It is a new way to communicate ideas and emotions, and it should be regarded as real art. As more people start using AI-generated art, the form will continue to evolve and grow in richness and complexity.

Trying to Frame the Song of Solomon As An Allegory Is Nothing Short of Cringe

"The Canticles" is a traditional name for the Song of Solomon, or the Song of Songs ["Best Song Ever"] in Hebrew. It is also my preferred name for the Song of Solomon. Henceforth I shall use Canticles in the place of the Song of Solomon, except in Biblical references.

It is both amusing and cringe, the efforts of some people to interpret the Canticles as an allegory of God's love for His people.

Song of Solomon 4:1-5

[1]Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.

[2]Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.

[3]Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.

[4]Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.

[5]Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.

Pretty raunchy for mere figures of speech, huh?

There has been a time-honored tradition of trying to keep the Canticles out of the Bible, or (since that obviously didn't succeed) to regard its literal interpretation as shallow and carnal. Bernard of Clairvaux was said to have written 86 sermons on the Canticles, poring over every figure of speech and interpreting it as a facet of God's love for His Bride.

This approach, while legitimate, may not have been the author's original intent. The Canticles may have been written by a detractor in the Northern Kingdom, intended to display Solomon in a bad light. On the other hand, it may have been written by an anonymous Jew during the Captivity and may have been sung at weddings. Still, our ability to love our spouses or partners is a divine gift, and the love shared between the Lover and the Beloved described in the Canticles is so pure and inspiring it's difficult not to see God's own fingerprint in it.

God willed this book to be included in the Bible, probably not for our allegorical gymnastics but to show that with divine blessing, "mere" human love can still be beautiful and worthy of celebration. In that regard, the Canticles are meant to show the highest form of romantic love between lovers, of which Tennyson wrote: "[The Canticles are] the most perfect Idyll of the faithful love of a country girl and her shepherd, and of her resistances to the advances of a great king, that was ever written."

***

I have copied below a summary of the Canticles from my old Bible.

Ch. 1. 1-2. 7. A Shulamite maiden la brought to the royal residence and put in charge of the "daughters of Jerusalem" or court ladies. She longs for her shepherd lover and repels the advances of the king. She adjures the court ladies not to tempt her to love another.

Ch. 2. 8-3, 5. She describes a past visit from the shepherd in her home; and a recent dream that she had sought and found him. She adjures the court ladies as before.

Ch. 3. 6-5. 1. Solomon in all his glory seeks to win the heart of the Shulamite. The shepherd's real or imagined offer to rescue his betrothed from her extreme peril: "Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse..from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards." He praises her charms and her constancy.

Ch. 5. 2-8.4. Dream of the Shulamite, in which she seeks but fails to find her vanished lover. She describes the person of her beloved. The king flatters her, but all her desire is for the shepherd, whom she calls upon to return with her to their native place. She adjures the court ladies as before.

Ch. 8.5-14. The return home. The divine flame of love. The reward of constancy.

Cheddar Cheese on Your Pasta? Sacrilegio!

Introduction

Oh, the horror! You put cheddar cheese on your pasta. What were you thinking?

Okay, so maybe we're being a little bit dramatic here. But the truth is, when you pair cheddar cheese with pasta, you're doing it wrong. This classic Italian dish should never, ever include this distinctly un-Italian cheese.

If you're looking for a creamy, cheesy sauce to top your pasta, there are plenty of other options. Mozzarella, Parmesan, Ricotta...these are all cheeses that pair well with pasta and will give you the flavor you're looking for. But cheddar? Absolutely not.

So the next time you're reaching for the cheese drawer, think twice before putting cheddar on your pasta. It's a mistake that no self-respecting Italian would ever make.

What Is the Difference Between American and Italian Cooking?

When it comes to Italian cooking, there are some cardinal sins that you just don't commit. And one of them is putting cheddar cheese on your pasta.

I mean, come on. We're in America, not Italy. And our cheese just doesn't quite have the same flavor as the real thing. Sorry, but it's true.

Now, I'm not saying that we can't do Italian cooking here in the States. We definitely can. But it's not going to taste quite like the real thing. If you want to experience authentic Italian cuisine, you need to go to Italy. That's where they do it best.

Why Do People Think They Can Get Away With Adding Cheddar Cheese to Their Pasta?

Do you like your pasta with cheese? Do you add it to your sauce, or sprinkle it on top when it's done?

If you do, you're not alone. In fact, a lot of people add cheese to their pasta. But here's the problem: Cheese doesn't go well with Italian food. At all.

The two just don't mix well together. And yet, people still add cheddar, or parmesan, or any other type of cheese to their pasta and call it Italian. It's not. It's just cheese on pasta.

So why do people think they can get away with it? I have no idea. But it's time to stop this madness. Cheese doesn't belong on pasta—it just doesn't taste good.

What Are Some Other Common American Cooking Mistakes?

Now, we're not saying that all American cooking is terrible. We're just saying that there are a few things that we do differently here, and sometimes those small tweaks can make all the difference.

For example, did you know that Italians never put cheddar cheese on their pasta? It's true! And they sure as heck don't put ketchup on their pizza. (Trust us, we've tried.)

So what are some other common American cooking mistakes? Here are a few of our favorites:

- Using salad dressing as a dip

- Boiling vegetables to death

- Serving canned fruits and vegetables as side dishes

How Can You Avoid These Mistakes and Make Authentic Italian Dishes?

Italian food is some of the best in the world, but it's also easy to make a mistake and end up with something that's not quite right. Here are a few tips to help you avoid these mistakes and make authentic Italian dishes:

1. Use the right ingredients. This might seem obvious, but it's actually one of the most common mistakes people make. Italians are very particular about their ingredients, so be sure to use authentic Italian products whenever you can.

2. Do your research. If you're not sure how to make a particular dish, don't be afraid to ask an expert or do some research online. There are plenty of recipes and cooking tutorials out there that can help you get it right the first time.

3. Use the right techniques. Again, this might seem like common sense, but it's important to use the right techniques when cooking Italian food. For example, you should use a gentle heat when cooking pasta, and don't forget to salt the water!

4. Practice, practice, practice! The best way to learn how to cook Italian food is to practice as often as possible. Get into the kitchen and start cooking! You'll soon get the hang of it and be able to create delicious, authentic Italian dishes that your friends and family will love.

What Are Some Easy Italian Recipes That Anyone Can Make?

Hey, you! Yes, you, the person reading this article. Do you like Italian food? Are you thinking about making it yourself? Well, guess what? It's not as hard as you think. In fact, there are some recipes that are so easy, anyone can make them.

For example, how about spaghetti with tomato sauce? It doesn't get much easier than that. Just cook the pasta according to the instructions on the package, and then fry up some tomatoes with garlic and olive oil. Add a little salt and pepper, and you're good to go.

Another easy dish is risotto. All you need is rice, vegetable broth, Parmesan cheese, and some salt and pepper. Cook the rice in the broth until it's soft, add the Parmesan cheese and seasoning, and voila! You've got yourself a delicious risotto.

So what are you waiting for? Get cooking!

Pro Tips for Making the Perfect Italian Meal

You might think that making a great Italian meal is easy. But, as any Italian cook will tell you, there's an art to it. And if you want to make your pasta dishes just like the pros, follow these tips:

1. Use the right ingredients. Fresh ingredients are key for getting that authentic Italian flavor. So, make sure to use high-quality cheese, olive oil, and pasta.

2. Don't skimp on the seasoning. Italians are famous for their spices, and there's a reason for that. So, don't be afraid to add a little bit of salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes to your dish.

3. Don't overcook your pasta. Boil your pasta until it's Al Dente—that's Italian for "just cooked." Overcooked pasta will be mushy and lifeless.

4. Don't forget the sauce. A good sauce can make or break an Italian dish. So, be sure to invest in a quality sauce that will compliment your pasta dish perfectly.

5. Stir your pasta often. This will help the sauce distribute evenly and give your dish that perfect consistency.

6. Use the right cooking method. Not all pastas are created equal—some require different cooking methods. So, be sure to read the packaging instructions carefully before you start cooking.

Conclusion

Italian food is one of the best foods in the world, and it's a shame when people get it wrong. There's no need to add cheddar cheese to your pasta – that's just not right.

If you're looking for a delicious, authentic Italian meal, try sticking to the classics. There's a reason these dishes have been around for centuries – they're delicious! Don't mess with perfection.

Live Action Mulan Was Mary Sue

Without even referring to how woke it was, the live Mulan was just boring. How are you supposed to relate to someone who was already a literal superhero and whose only problem was that she was being “held back" by the system? There's no hero's journey, no failures, no real dangers, no fault of her own. You're not invested in her character. You don't feel for challenges. Every fight scene and conflict felt contrived because you knew she was going to win.

In the end she even got to be friends with the enemy witch by helping her break free from the clutches of whatever patriarchy the bad guys had on her. If I had her superpowers I wouldn't be someone's resident witch — I'd be the leader of the tribe. I get to decide who we fight and why. Amateur.

Compare live Mulan's story to that of Neo from you-know-what. Mulan was already a mature character from the very start of the movie. Neo, on the other hand…

Even Neo, who everyone acknowledged to be the One from the start, had to:

1. screw up every which way during training,

2. get almost everyone at the Nebuchadnezzar killed,

3. get Morpheus captured,

4. have his ass handed to him when he tried to battle Smith,

5. die inside the Matrix,

6. have sentinels tearing the Nebuchadnezzar apart,

7. put everyone's lives in danger including Morpheus his mentor and Trinity his lover…

…before rising up again and realizing his powers as the One.

Anyway, live-action Mulan failed in large part because whoever wrote it didn't write a character you could sympathize with. Plus, it sent out a really shitty message that because you have the awesomeness in you, you don't need anyone telling you what to do, even if you're a literal soldier in what is essentially a war movie.

Motorcycle Trip That Could Have Gone So Wrong

Here in the Philippines one persistent belief is that within a few days after burying a dead loved one, you go to the mall or the park or some other crowded area where there’s lots of loud noise and you can easily blend in. If your loved one's ghost is following you around, you can lose them in a crowded, noisy place. When my grandmother died in Bohol the entire clan went to the beach to party the following day.

Another belief (picked up from the Chinese, I was told) is that if you’re coming home from a place that had a dead body in it — a hospital, a funeral, a site of a fatal accident — you either light a small candle in the yard or build a small fire. You step over the flame, and any ghost following you won’t be able to cross over.

That being said...my experience was different as I did neither of the two. I had a particularly bad scrape with the netherworld while I was motorcycling back to Manila from a road trip to Baler.

Baler is a beautiful little community on Luzon's eastern shoreline, famous for beaches, surfing and seafood among regular tourists. In recent years Baler has seen the rise of a different kind of tourist, people who travel not so much to go to an amazing destination -- which Baler is --  as to experience the thrill of the road and getting there: motorcycle tourists.

I had fun with the sights and the food on my way to Baler. Unfortunately, the road had been tough on my China-branded second-hand clunker, so I had extensive tune-up and repair work done as soon as I got there. There weren't that many roads you can take to get to Baler; ironically, the road I took was the newer, more modern one, which at that time was dusty and patched with construction activity. Determined not to put myself through the same mill again, on the return journey I took my chances with a different route, Bongabon-Baler road.

Monument to a certain red horse of legend, which was said to be extra strong.

Gapan, Nueva Ecija, downtown. I set off quite late and fought my way through Metro Manila's traffic. It was past midnight when I arrived at Gapan.

The hotel I stayed in at Gapan had literal rice fields at the back.

More distraction. I stayed at this tanawan (viewdeck) for several hours on the second day of my trip. 

This "newer road" to Baler is the Pantabangan-Canili trail. During my trip entire stretches of it were undergoing reblocking, and loose soil from all the earthmoving it involved was all over the cemented parts of the road.   

***

Bongabon-Baler road (henceforth BBR) is an 80-kilometer mountain pass than spanned the width of the Sierra Madre de Luzon. I avoided this road on my way to Baler for more banal reasons: it was monsoon season at that time, landslides and algae growth on the road were common. BBR had endless curves and unguarded drops, and an unlucky overshoot could send you flying over the side of the mountain. There was very little in the way of streetlights and reflective road signs. I would dread going through this road at night.

The area surrounding BBR is also a known hotbed of bandits and communist rebels. In 1949 Aurora Quezon, widow of President Manuel Quezon, was murdered here along with her daughter, son in law, and nine others in their convoy. In 2006 a military camp along the road was attacked and several soldiers and rebels killed. I guess this also makes BBR a hotbed for angry spirits that were forcefully ejected out of their bodies.

Besides dead people ghosts, otherworldly elements were also known to prey upon unsuspecting motorists. However, one look at Google Maps gave me a plausible explanation for all the creepy stories the more supernaturally inclined say about BRR. I was one of those people who try to explain away such phenomena by citing BBR's constant uphills, downhills, and hairpin turns causing disorientation and mental fatigue.

As recently as 2018, there were still skirmishes between government forces and communist rebels on the BBR. This marker commemorates a soldier who died in an NPA ambush that happened almost exactly a year before my trip.

***

I set off from Baler at around 9 in the morning. The first 10 kilometers of my trip was uneventful enough. I liked how my motorcycle was tuned and how somehow everything about it looked shiny and new. The shop that handled the tune-up and repair work did an excellent job with my bike, I thought to myself.

My troubles began as soon as I started climbing uphill. I mentioned that I had my motorcycle serviced in Baler. The shop replaced the battery and the engine oil, cleaned the carb, and checked and repaired for leaks, stiff lines, and loose screws. Yes, my cheap China bike wasn’t FI, and that should be an issue when air density gets a little thin with altitude, but BBR wasn’t so high that carb tuning would be an issue. But none of these would prevent me from suffering completely random breakdowns once I hit the mountain pass. At one point, my two-week-old throttle cable snapped. Luckily, I had spares. I repaired the damage and carried on.

On several downhill turns I would feel a massive wiggle behind me, as if someone on my back seat – and I was riding alone – did a sudden jerk. I would struggle with the handlebar, sometimes violently, and once it almost sent me over the side of the mountain. There was no strong wind and the road was even. I compensated by driving really slowly, 40 km/h tops.

Then I had a blowout when, as I was going at my miserable speed for about an hour on a mostly empty road, my rear wheel found a nail. It took me another hour using my rudimentary toolkit, but I was able to fix my tire. I carried on.

I fumed. I'll be on this road till nightfall...but then, I thought darkly, maybe that was "their" game. I dreaded the thought that "they" were real and that "they" decided to pick on me on this desolate road. When I tried to pick up speed, another jerk had me fighting the handlebar again. This time I braved a look at my rearview mirror and I swear I saw a shadow just over my shoulder. Almost as if on cue, I felt yet another wiggle and my focus snapped back to the road. I swore as I fought for control of the bike for the last time, and just then I heard it. The bray of an angry horse.

When I recovered, I'd had enough. I stopped at a bare flat overlook on the side of the road and got off my bike. I looked over the unguarded edge of the road and to my dismay, the edge was a near-vertical drop of several hundred feet as far as I could see. And I wasn't even at the highest point of the road yet. I glared angrily at the backseat. I told my invisible guest, as calmly as I could, that I knew what they were up to and that they'd better knock it off. I said I realized they were lost and everything but wherever their destination was, was not where I intended to be at that time. And that was final.

A view from my overlook.

Done screaming.

Don't even ask.

Taking in a cool midmorning breeze, I took a deep breath and sat down, calming down a bit. My overlook opened to a vast, beautiful virgin landscape, so different from the concrete human excrement that is Manila. I could easily imagine the forest in front of me having stood there for hundreds, even thousands of years. Our islands used to have way more of these forests, way more creatures and shadowy mystery to feed the imagination by the fireside. In our mythology certain breeds of aswang lived deep in these forests, sometimes melding with the rocks and tree trunks themselves. Then they'd emerge at nightfall to hunt. If a human saw them, all they'd see is whatever form the aswang took in disguise: a dog, a rooster, an old woman – or a horse.

I also thought about the tikbalang, masters of the forests who had the head and legs of a horse and the torso of a man. One of their most celebrated powers was causing you to lose your way through their domain. To counter the spell, you had to put your clothes inside-out. This distracts the tikbalang and he wouldn't recognize you, and hopefully you've bought yourself enough time to escape. Not all tikbalang were evil; stories abound of tikbalang who shared powerful amulets and knowledge of medicinal plants to local healers.

To ancient Filipinos, these beings were relegated as one-dimensional and opaque. The cannibalistic aswang was always evil; the fickle tikbalang always mischievous. The Christianity Filipinos received from the West did nothing to help with the understanding of that lore. Catholic priests dismissed them all by tearing down their shrines and branding their way of life as works of the devil. They rejected the Filipinos' capacity for culture and portrayed them as primitive and childlike. They called the Filipino ignorant and used this ignorance, this fear the mysteries of his local mythology, to keep him inside the pueblo, under the shadow of the church’s bells. Just as the Americans would do in 1898 when their imperialist government would refuse to acknowledge the Filipino revolutionary government, and their yellow press would paint Filipinos as tree-dwelling savages: unwashed, bloodthirsty, unfit for self-rule.

In many ways my mysterious guest was on the same journey as the culture that defined him. I did not pretend to understand his nature or motives, or why we who are alive demonize the spirits of the unknown. When I was in my teens then I've been called a Satan worshipper too, by "brothers in Christ" who didn't understand my video games and my heavy metal music. So all I could say was, if my guest was real, I completely sympathized.

"You're just going to have to stop pissing me off," I said. "You're already making me look silly talking to thin air."

It's been hours since breakfast so I decided to have lunch as I rested there. I took out a sandwich, broke it in two, and laid one half on a paper napkin. I told my guest that I was leaving it there for him – a peace offering. I also filled a paper cup with juice, spiked it with lambanog (coconut brandy), covered it in napkin and left it beside the sandwich.

After the modest meal I said a short prayer for my protection, and for my unseen guest to be at peace. I was never a believer in prayers for the dead or other such spirits – and in the Christian beliefs I grew up with, my guest would definitely be condemned as a demon. But at the same time, kindness and prayer for a troubled spirit's repose somehow felt like the better thing to do. It was just as well. I made it home without further incident.

Source: Expanded from my Quora answer to: What would you do if a ghost follows you when you are going back home?

Haunted Bus Ride

 I'm not sure how relevant this would be, but this happened to my father.

He used to work as a security officer at the Philippine Plaza Hotel, a swank government-run hotel on the CPP Complex in Manila. His hours were often crazy. In 1980s Philippines where people were on strict 8 to 5 workdays, with a one-hour lunch break at 12, he was doing graveyard (8 to 5, 12 to 9) or mid-shifts (12 to 9 PM, 3 PM to midnight) as well as the obligatory 8 to 5 day shift -- schedules unheard of until the rise of the call center industry in the early 2000s.

One day, coming home about an hour later than usual from a mid-shift, my father sat quietly and ate his dinner with a haunted look. Seven year old me was already asleep by that time, and he told his unusual story to my mother and grandmother.

He said that when work ended, he and his buddies stepped out for a little snack at a street vendor close to the hotel. Over coffee, one of them brought out a pack of cigarettes which he said he'd bought in Quiapo, one of Manila's old districts. It was one of those specialty brands that were usually homemade and had hand-drawn labels. Some of them go back several decades from when the country had a robust tobacco industry, but remained niche and small, unable to compete with the Phillip Morrises and the Winstons that were dumped from overseas. Anyway, my father said the cigarette was bitter but otherwise tasteless, like it was just shredded tobacco wrapped in paper. Shortly after smokes the small gathering broke up and went home.

My father had to walk a few hundred meters to his bus stop and remembered being very alert and awake in spite of the hour. He was never a drinker. In fact, besides cigarettes to which we vehemently objected, he had no other habits his family frowned upon and called vices. At his peak, my father was a very sane, very healthy man.

When he awoke, my father had bumped his head rather messily at the snack he bought earlier, which to his confusion he still had in his hand. Peeling away at the pasty mess, he saw the entire bus had gone asleep. It wasn't my father's habit to snooze while on commute, especially in a bus, especially at that hour. Looking around, he wondered why the bus was going ever so slowly, why South Superhighway was empty (joy riders as well as semi trucks from the Port of Manila took to this road only after midnight to the southern Luzon provinces), why even the conductor was sleeping with his jaw open.

Sure, it was past midnight, but he regularly took this bus and there were always people chattering away over the heavy metal or classic rock playing on the radio, which the driver played loudly to keep himself awake. On this trip, not only was there no music but everyone was also hunched over asleep -- including himself until he felt rice cake squishing against his forehead. And now he felt he was drifting off again.

The disorientation peaked when the bus reached Alabang Exit. In my father's mind the passage through the town was brief and uneventful, until he remembered Alabang's Public Cemetery which was right at the side of the highway was being exhumed and relocated to make way for a new mall. He struggled to stay conscious as the bus rejoined the highway.

My father got off at the next exit and walked to the nearest cigarette seller for another smoke. Taking huge puffs, he shook off the lethargy and asked the vendor why everything looked different.

"What do you mean?" asked the vendor.

"Alabang looks different now."

"Yeah, I heard. They say they're going to relocate their cemetery."

"You heard? Don't you live here?"

"Of course I do," replied the vendor while eyeing my father with an oh-crap-another-drunk look. "I live here in Biñan. What do you mean?"

Eventually my father got home. He had missed his bus stop, Alabang, and had to ride back on another bus.

I was prepping for school the next morning. After breakfast Mother was doing the dishes when she dropped the plate she was working on in the sink. The news on the radio was that a few hours ago, a bus going along South Superhighway went out of control after being rear-ended by a semi truck. It traversed the center island and got hit by an oncoming bus from the opposite lane.

Several people were injured or killed, including the driver of the first bus, which witnesses say was going slowly on the innermost lane. Records showed that the driver had been on duty for 18 hours nonstop, and was probably feeling tired or sleepy. However, he would also be tested positive for shabu (crystal meth).

As for the offending truck, it had been going way above the speed limit. The authorities speculated that the driver, who was also killed, drove around like he was on a joyride, seeing the empty highway.

Most of the passengers who were killed or injured were from Alabang. Many of them were from the first bus, and said they were asleep when the tragedy happened. They were surprised they'd missed their stop somehow.

This happened in the early 1990s, before cellphones and the internet. Eventually Philippine Plaza Hotel would be privatized and sold to AccorHotels, and rebranded as Sofitel Philippine Plaza. In such acquisitions the security team are usually the first to go. My father took a generous severance offer and retired.

As I think about his strange adventure that night, I still have questions. Was it the same bus? Why were the passengers behaving strangely? Was it all just coincidence? Or did the spirits foresee what was about to happen to their resting grounds and exacted vengeance on the town before the fact for allowing it to happen?

The mall would be built by 1996, but the developers were said not to have done a great job at removing the bodies properly. Rumor was that they only relocated the graves on the surface. A lot more were torn apart by their backhoes and carted off in big dumper trucks as the foundations and the basement of the mall were built.

Some rare pictures of the cemetery:

Rare photo of the billboard in front of the cemetery announcing the planned mall:

The mall as it was first built:

Source: My Quora answer to: If you are sitting in a bus/train and realize that everyone in the bus is a ghost, what would you do?

Do ghosts try to communicate to us through our dreams?

I’ve had friends who believe in ghosts, friends who don’t believe in ghosts, friends with an “open third eye”, and friends with a “closed third eye”. I myself believe in ghosts but haven’t seen one or sensed the presence of one. We have all dreamt about dead persons or pets interacting with us. A few grief-stricken friends have dreamt of recently deceased loved ones. I’ve dreamt of a grandfather I only know through my mother’s stories. As we think about those experiences, we realized that none of the “ghosts” we encountered in our dreams ever said or did anything that we didn’t already know either through first-hand knowledge or through intuition.

So while ghosts may try to communicate with us in our dreams or through our dreams, at least in my experience there are wholly rational explanations for why this would not be the case even if it seems to be so.

None of which stops me from laughing out loud at my favorite anime episode:

Yusuke Urameshi (green), the leader of a gang of misfits at a local high school, died recently after saving a child from being hit by an oncoming car. The Spirit World offered him a chance at resurrection, but they were unimpressed by everything else on his record before his heroic death. They said he had to demonstrate further his capacity to do good before being allowed back into his apparently unembalmed body, which was being preserved by magic or something. (It’s been decades since I've seen the episode. Back off.) Here we see Urameshi coaching his foil, comic relief, and best friend Kazuma Kuwabara (purple) for an upcoming exam in a dream.

The writers of Yu Yu Hakusho made it very clear that Urameshi’s ghost did indeed invade Kuwabara’s dreams all of his own free will in order to impress the Spirit World, and in order to prepare Kuwabara for his test. From Kuwabara’s point of view, however, nothing that Urameshi coached him on in their dream sessions was beyond what he’d already read on his textbooks. And why Urameshi? Grief, probably. It’s been only a week since his best friend died.

In the end, I don’t think ghosts communicate with the living any further beyond the grave because they can’t be bothered to. I believe there is a liberation from all of life’s concerns when a person shuts down for the last time. The dead would know this, if they ever know anything, and to them all of life’s little worries are over in a few decades. These worries and the trouble we assign to them dwarf to insignificance in the context of eternity, which is set before all of us, whether dead or living.

But hey, I'm not an expert in any of this. If you don’t understand what I’m saying, I leave you with another picture of Kuwabara and Urameshi which I'm sure you would understand perfectly well.

Source: My Quora answer to: Do ghosts try to communicate to us through our dreams?