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July 31 2012 3 31 /07 /July /2012 16:00

A writer-friend asked, What ... how did it happen? I guess my good friend, without malice in his heart, must have thought I must be pretty dumb (initially used the word 'stupid' --- but I eased off, since so many already have flung the unsavory word my way, since then) to post my novel in the internet, where anybody could see and download it, yes, only un istupido, would do that, and though I've done much stupidness and silliness in this and previous life (karma), how could it be possible to be so naive, with so much stupid experience, as to fall for the oldest trick of a swindler? So, I look back to the date on the website, the so called Zamboanga.com - webmaster.zamboanga.com, 2006; looked back over half a decade ago, and I think I got it, recalled back all those half-dozen years, which wasn't easy, the recalling, the brain not as sharp as when it happened, six years ago, but the memory came back, rather trickled back: and it is this, that it would not have happened if there wasn't so much trust, compiansa, to fellow humans, to strangers, in fact, as I never personally met him, the perpetrator, the trickster, the whatever, and yet so much trust. It was for this in the recollection, for this that I was introduce to him, the stranger, by a relative, a cousin maybe, a brother even, I was eager to, since the plan then, the master plan, if you wish, was to put up a website for my stories, my new novel, 'The Revolt of Gueremon Tenorio.' So I gave him these, which he too wanted, but without the honest plan, his evil mind already charging like a half-ton battery; so when he had my stories and novel the next thing came, likely easy to him, but hard for an honest man --- the posting of what I had through sweat, blood, and tears, worked on for years, for decades, him posting them on the Zamboanga.com website. Fine! but compoblanos, friends, readers, fellow-writers; without my permission; in spirit or put to pen and ink. Ay, so easily riped off, this Tony Enriquez, who I hope could write as I some times think I can, but can't see the huge, black hand of a con man.   

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