It does look so far does it? The light beckoning from the horizon.Will have a lot of stuff to talk about - but not now. Everything's in quick thaw and sooner rather than later the hammers clang again. I got my wish. (Or will) Wanderlust and Challenges both as a writer and as a line manager. Oi vey, let's talk after christmas.
Princess of the Frozen North, I'll be seeing you asap. I miss you rather badly.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Bed & Breakfast
Tryst.
arms entwined. souls locked in a kiss
blanketed in the deep evening mist
unfaithful in passionate peace.
will the sun's tendrils creep with the morrow
to find me gazing at your eyes;
or driving away with leaden sorrow
of weakness and lies?
arms entwined. souls locked in a kiss
blanketed in the deep evening mist
unfaithful in passionate peace.
will the sun's tendrils creep with the morrow
to find me gazing at your eyes;
or driving away with leaden sorrow
of weakness and lies?
a very long wait
countless grains in the hourglass
anxious lover, amorous arms
rendezvous; celebration; to later pass
later to drown in your charms
to wait is to wait eternal
can you see without sight?
madness; frustration infernal
embracing you since daylight.
anxious lover, amorous arms
rendezvous; celebration; to later pass
later to drown in your charms
to wait is to wait eternal
can you see without sight?
madness; frustration infernal
embracing you since daylight.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Tonight Tonight
Halloween passed in a secluded hamlet of a town. With seven good buddies and my son Nick. Undisclosed quantities of bourbon was of course consumed by the good folks in recess. The evening was as merry as any alcohol catalyzed evening would be. Before we knew it guitars were out and so were other stuff I will not mention for our collective peace of mind.
I'll leave you with this instead, courtesy of Billy Corgan:
Tonight Tonight
Time is never time at allYou can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youthAnd our lives are forever changedWe will never be the sameThe more you change the less you feel
Believe, believe in me, believeBelieve that life can changeThat you're not stuck in vainWe're not the same, we're different tonightTonight, so brightTonight
And you know you're never sureBut you're sure you could be rightIf you held yourself up to the lightAnd the embers never fade in your city by the lakeThe place where you were born
Believe, believe in me, believeBelieve in the resolute urgency of nowAnd if you believe there's not a chance tonightTonight, so brightTonight
We'll crucify the insincere tonightWe'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonightWe'll find a way to offer up the night tonightThe indescribable moments of your life tonightThe impossible is possible tonightBelieve in me as I believe in you, tonight
Thursday, October 19, 2006
we're on!
i am guessing the gag order is now off, since Illustrado has been launched. hold on and strap yourselves in people. we are and by jove we can. whoweee!
too bad i couldn't join the opening festivities. oh well.
too bad i couldn't join the opening festivities. oh well.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
dazed
"peace is when i am six feet under." dammit it may be true. i am a hair's breadth away from coming undone, unglued, unhinged. name you "uns" baby and it may very well fit me like a glove. i can't think straight, can't do sh*t, can't even write for my own pleasure.
so yes, it would not be life if it was not an arduous and extremely lengthy assf*ck session would it? yet, is it so bad to work for a little bit of sanity? for the life of me, i cannot just drop it. my adult life is like a slow motion disassembling (forced mind you), and i have caught myself hoping a lot of times that it would just explode into innumerable fragments. i have done it a few times in the past. to no avail. life has congealed, coalesced again into something horrible.
it always has been like this. im too old and too freaking tired for this sh*t. and still i climb into the treadmill like an obedient hamster.
oh yes, i have a lot be thankful for. i cant remember what they are though.
merry f*cking christmas in advance to the rest of you miserable humans too.
so yes, it would not be life if it was not an arduous and extremely lengthy assf*ck session would it? yet, is it so bad to work for a little bit of sanity? for the life of me, i cannot just drop it. my adult life is like a slow motion disassembling (forced mind you), and i have caught myself hoping a lot of times that it would just explode into innumerable fragments. i have done it a few times in the past. to no avail. life has congealed, coalesced again into something horrible.
it always has been like this. im too old and too freaking tired for this sh*t. and still i climb into the treadmill like an obedient hamster.
oh yes, i have a lot be thankful for. i cant remember what they are though.
merry f*cking christmas in advance to the rest of you miserable humans too.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
emptiness is a four legged word (06282006)
We were out this weekend. I was being the usual couch potato, lounging and basking in the cloudy midafternoon sky. Loved the hint of rain brewing in the horizon, and reminds me of why I prefer to stay here.
Out of the blue, I hear meows. Wtf? I look down and Aira is busily gathering four kittens like a doting mother. The insane fact about it? Aira's a shih tzu. Crazy owner, crazy dog.
Amused to the end of my wits, I return the kittens to where she got them (there were still two left in the litter, and I traced them with their cries), to Aira's obvious consternation, as she was alternating whimpering and doing that agitated face she does so well.
The matter settled, I go back to my chair to idle away the rest of the afternoon. Although she had sullenly trudged back with me, Aira was clearly distraught. To the point she wouldn't even want to jump in the pool when it started to rain in the early evening, she just kept looking at me with the "you are one humongous *sshole" look in her face.
With the Saturday pretty much ruined for both of us, I did not go back to Manila this Sunday. I spent (or rather we) the day looking for a suitable breeder. I left her there to satisfy both her amorousness and her desire to have offspring. It's been three days now, and they've been terribly lonely.
Out of the blue, I hear meows. Wtf? I look down and Aira is busily gathering four kittens like a doting mother. The insane fact about it? Aira's a shih tzu. Crazy owner, crazy dog.
Amused to the end of my wits, I return the kittens to where she got them (there were still two left in the litter, and I traced them with their cries), to Aira's obvious consternation, as she was alternating whimpering and doing that agitated face she does so well.
The matter settled, I go back to my chair to idle away the rest of the afternoon. Although she had sullenly trudged back with me, Aira was clearly distraught. To the point she wouldn't even want to jump in the pool when it started to rain in the early evening, she just kept looking at me with the "you are one humongous *sshole" look in her face.
With the Saturday pretty much ruined for both of us, I did not go back to Manila this Sunday. I spent (or rather we) the day looking for a suitable breeder. I left her there to satisfy both her amorousness and her desire to have offspring. It's been three days now, and they've been terribly lonely.
screaming spots
harbors.beaches.cliffs.a lonely stretch of hardtop. anywhere isolated.
pebbles. and my heart.
i have prevented myself from going completely bonkers in the past through it. wherever life takes me, the first placethat i look for - a screaming spot. have a few of them scattered across the unfathomable miles. some i have not seen for years, but still a part of my soul, and a part of me.
i had to one to talk to, or no one that understands before, and that became the spillway which i still cling on to, up to the present, whenever there is something i cannot say. there i let it all out, mostly ending up panting and out of breath, on allfours, clutching the ground and blinded by my tears. i have gone there with someone only one time in these almost three decades of being in this planet, although there have been a couple of people who have thanked me for bringing it up, according to these souls, having their own screaming spot kept them from the edge as well on a number of occasions.
how does it work? the two main ingredients are in the first two lines of the entry. then find time, or rather make time. ditch.play hookey. it would be good if you had a journal or the like. each stone represents whatever you want to say or get out of your system, and you hurl it with all your might as you scream your want, your intention, your hurt, your pain. it might and it will feel awkward at first, remember though that it is your time and your hurt. let it loose. let it go.and do not cheat yourself. oh by the way, cliffs might not be a good idea if it is your first time, i would not want you to jump off it if you get too intense.
so scream.and scream till there is nothing else. scream until you are empty.
pebbles. and my heart.
i have prevented myself from going completely bonkers in the past through it. wherever life takes me, the first placethat i look for - a screaming spot. have a few of them scattered across the unfathomable miles. some i have not seen for years, but still a part of my soul, and a part of me.
i had to one to talk to, or no one that understands before, and that became the spillway which i still cling on to, up to the present, whenever there is something i cannot say. there i let it all out, mostly ending up panting and out of breath, on allfours, clutching the ground and blinded by my tears. i have gone there with someone only one time in these almost three decades of being in this planet, although there have been a couple of people who have thanked me for bringing it up, according to these souls, having their own screaming spot kept them from the edge as well on a number of occasions.
how does it work? the two main ingredients are in the first two lines of the entry. then find time, or rather make time. ditch.play hookey. it would be good if you had a journal or the like. each stone represents whatever you want to say or get out of your system, and you hurl it with all your might as you scream your want, your intention, your hurt, your pain. it might and it will feel awkward at first, remember though that it is your time and your hurt. let it loose. let it go.and do not cheat yourself. oh by the way, cliffs might not be a good idea if it is your first time, i would not want you to jump off it if you get too intense.
so scream.and scream till there is nothing else. scream until you are empty.
Supernova and Argh!
never thought i'd go back to being a tv junkie. this contest got me hooked. never mind that it was rock dinosaurs looking for a frontman.
this woman got me. and got me good. too bad she got cut one day from the final day.
will alway be a fan. a STORM LARGE fan!
this woman got me. and got me good. too bad she got cut one day from the final day.
will alway be a fan. a STORM LARGE fan!
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Yisrayl Hawkins
oh this is dandy. i was surfing around technorati, when i stumbled across this blog. for all of you doomsday soothsayers to use. click here to start your fun.
get your sandwich boards people!
get your sandwich boards people!
the break from the twilight zone
yeah so i finally got my break and i found out i had a way with women.
and they were all dead. every single one of them.i knew it was going to be a fun vacation when i walked into my room and saw someone lying in bed. it would have been the sweating, panting kind of fun, well in retrospect it also was, the only difference was the woman on the bed was translucent. yes translucent. like you see right through her kind of translucent. i have always been an advocate of having the guts to open up, but this one really went off with the "be the ball" mindset.
and then the crying lady.
then in the pool. good thing she didn't ask me to put lotion all over her back.
i finally gave up and slept early.
there was no way i could write; i am all gloom and doom but this is from the other side of the lake. i would have ended up with stuff from king.
after talking with the caretaker; now this takes the carrot (and all the beta carotene that makes your eyes sharp - and sharp enough to see things you ought not to see) the lady i described was the one who took her life a few years ago. the other ladies seem to be from some distant time because no one knew their story but have been glimpsed from time to time.
the caretaker was asking me if i saw the kids. good thing i didn't. the grisly story is something that makes my hackles rise.
i don't even want to write it down.great resort huh? i ought to put it in my review.
memoirs 09/16/05
and they were all dead. every single one of them.i knew it was going to be a fun vacation when i walked into my room and saw someone lying in bed. it would have been the sweating, panting kind of fun, well in retrospect it also was, the only difference was the woman on the bed was translucent. yes translucent. like you see right through her kind of translucent. i have always been an advocate of having the guts to open up, but this one really went off with the "be the ball" mindset.
and then the crying lady.
then in the pool. good thing she didn't ask me to put lotion all over her back.
i finally gave up and slept early.
there was no way i could write; i am all gloom and doom but this is from the other side of the lake. i would have ended up with stuff from king.
after talking with the caretaker; now this takes the carrot (and all the beta carotene that makes your eyes sharp - and sharp enough to see things you ought not to see) the lady i described was the one who took her life a few years ago. the other ladies seem to be from some distant time because no one knew their story but have been glimpsed from time to time.
the caretaker was asking me if i saw the kids. good thing i didn't. the grisly story is something that makes my hackles rise.
i don't even want to write it down.great resort huh? i ought to put it in my review.
memoirs 09/16/05
klutz-capades
such a klutz today.
i have a lump on my head the size of iowa, after i bum rushed my gate to go buy bread for paulinne(my daughter). there was a loud bang, and i found myself floored and dazed and pau with that concerned look on her eyes while she chuckled madly.
and i keep dropping stuff. i was a one man gag reel for my kids, and suffice to say, they got more than their money's worth in laughs. too bad i wasn't acting eh?
hahaha..turned out to be a fun day. hope the bad luck ends tomorrow.
oh yeah. i had a photo shoot this evening as well. i was the subject. how's that for laughs?
from the memoirs 01/03/06
i have a lump on my head the size of iowa, after i bum rushed my gate to go buy bread for paulinne(my daughter). there was a loud bang, and i found myself floored and dazed and pau with that concerned look on her eyes while she chuckled madly.
and i keep dropping stuff. i was a one man gag reel for my kids, and suffice to say, they got more than their money's worth in laughs. too bad i wasn't acting eh?
hahaha..turned out to be a fun day. hope the bad luck ends tomorrow.
oh yeah. i had a photo shoot this evening as well. i was the subject. how's that for laughs?
from the memoirs 01/03/06
farewells
maybe you think i've finally turned mean.
that i refused to care anymore.
i do. i did.
on the other hand, bear in mind as well, i refuse to drive myself
insane.
hoping,waiting, for crumbs to fall where i stand.
no way jose. not anymore.
i vehemently object! to everything!
no more meat grinders. no more waiting in the wings.
i may not be mr. man, but i do not really care anymore.
i am free and will live free.
and damned be everyone else.
my heart is not your toy.
and yeah.fuck you and anyone else who thinks they can still walk
around my head unrestrained.
i've been a dishrag too long.
it stopped yesterday.
from the memoirs 01/02/06
that i refused to care anymore.
i do. i did.
on the other hand, bear in mind as well, i refuse to drive myself
insane.
hoping,waiting, for crumbs to fall where i stand.
no way jose. not anymore.
i vehemently object! to everything!
no more meat grinders. no more waiting in the wings.
i may not be mr. man, but i do not really care anymore.
i am free and will live free.
and damned be everyone else.
my heart is not your toy.
and yeah.fuck you and anyone else who thinks they can still walk
around my head unrestrained.
i've been a dishrag too long.
it stopped yesterday.
from the memoirs 01/02/06
ground zero mid-mornings
took the leap.
went to see the princess in metrowalk this morning.
pressed for time. and for a place to hang-out.
i left a girl and came back to a woman.sitting across the table.ah time.
and follies of inane men too stupid to know.
or to hear. or listen.
i am thankful i went.
from the memoirs 11/20/05
went to see the princess in metrowalk this morning.
pressed for time. and for a place to hang-out.
i left a girl and came back to a woman.sitting across the table.ah time.
and follies of inane men too stupid to know.
or to hear. or listen.
i am thankful i went.
from the memoirs 11/20/05
convu-"f**king"-luted
bite me.
everything around me is falling apart. or crumbling. whichever way you look at it, it isn't a happy sight. to top it off, i am falling apart in the seams as well, and it is causing the stress levels to go to stratospheric heights. so yeah there are far pressing problems in the general vicinity of the universe today, but who gives a flying f*ck anyway? we deal with what we got and bend over eventually (we don't necessarily like it) then take it up the tail pipe.
the world is indeed screwed and the good people finish last. the likeable harmless young man gets to be the freaking sponge but never gets the woman. oh yes dearie you are a nice friend, and it is great that you stay constant and are always there when i need you, but hell, you are too boring to consider spending a lifetime with, much less sleep with. (he might be there because he yearns for you too, and if you cannot love him, at least have the decency to treat him with just a speck of consideration)
by the freaking way, don't you happen to be well-off too? so why don't you be a complete a-hole and solve my problems while i sit and wait for the next neanderthal to swipe me off my feet then break my heart?!!! the guy maybe nice and maybe genuinely nice, please don't turn him into a hateful mofo. the one, the breaker, the one true and fiercest love, it happens once in a lifetime, after that you find someone and love again, but it will always be "ok i can live with this", and will always pale in comparison. so please.
i just want to scream. bite me.
everything around me is falling apart. or crumbling. whichever way you look at it, it isn't a happy sight. to top it off, i am falling apart in the seams as well, and it is causing the stress levels to go to stratospheric heights. so yeah there are far pressing problems in the general vicinity of the universe today, but who gives a flying f*ck anyway? we deal with what we got and bend over eventually (we don't necessarily like it) then take it up the tail pipe.
the world is indeed screwed and the good people finish last. the likeable harmless young man gets to be the freaking sponge but never gets the woman. oh yes dearie you are a nice friend, and it is great that you stay constant and are always there when i need you, but hell, you are too boring to consider spending a lifetime with, much less sleep with. (he might be there because he yearns for you too, and if you cannot love him, at least have the decency to treat him with just a speck of consideration)
by the freaking way, don't you happen to be well-off too? so why don't you be a complete a-hole and solve my problems while i sit and wait for the next neanderthal to swipe me off my feet then break my heart?!!! the guy maybe nice and maybe genuinely nice, please don't turn him into a hateful mofo. the one, the breaker, the one true and fiercest love, it happens once in a lifetime, after that you find someone and love again, but it will always be "ok i can live with this", and will always pale in comparison. so please.
i just want to scream. bite me.
traffic jams and traffic signs
I give up. Filipinos are either color blind or apathetic. Or both. No maybe it is not just us, since the general expatriate community including those with those spiffy blue plates do it all the time. If you still need to ask what I am talking about, it is either you are not in the country or you have police escorts when you go out of the house.
Red means stop. Green means go. Pedestrians cross on either the overpass or the underpass. Pretty simple right? OH HELL NO! In the typical Filipino attitude of "I can get away with it if you aren't looking and I know people" , no one bothers anymore. Lemme give you an example:
It is a weekday afternoon. Everyone has been through the daily grind and each person believes he/she deserves to get home first, at the expense of everyone else. So if the person has a car, he drives it right in to the queue, never mind if the traffic lights are about to go red. Never mind if your car dangling on the middle of the intersection will be blocking the lane that just went green. Ok, so the guy on the other lane, feeling just as self righteous as the guy blocking the intersection, maneuvers deftly into the fray and gets jammed himself, what with all the pedestrians suddenly swarming like bees. Pedestrains who do not have an ounce of self preservation instinct in their overriding obsession to get home (they had a tough day after all and deserve to get home first). So with the opposite ends of the intersection populated by nimrod jeepney and bus drivers who think that the best place to let their passengers off would be the middle lane, the jam moves trickle by arduous trickle, made all the more agonizing by each person's blinding selfishness to meet their end. End of story? The 20 minute trip becomes 3 hours. Go figure.
Oh don't even get me started on what happens when it rains, and why all the streets get flooded when three dogs decide to piss together, why those squatters think it is the government's job to give them homes when all the rest of us need to break our backs to buy them.
from the memoirs 10/16/05
Red means stop. Green means go. Pedestrians cross on either the overpass or the underpass. Pretty simple right? OH HELL NO! In the typical Filipino attitude of "I can get away with it if you aren't looking and I know people" , no one bothers anymore. Lemme give you an example:
It is a weekday afternoon. Everyone has been through the daily grind and each person believes he/she deserves to get home first, at the expense of everyone else. So if the person has a car, he drives it right in to the queue, never mind if the traffic lights are about to go red. Never mind if your car dangling on the middle of the intersection will be blocking the lane that just went green. Ok, so the guy on the other lane, feeling just as self righteous as the guy blocking the intersection, maneuvers deftly into the fray and gets jammed himself, what with all the pedestrians suddenly swarming like bees. Pedestrains who do not have an ounce of self preservation instinct in their overriding obsession to get home (they had a tough day after all and deserve to get home first). So with the opposite ends of the intersection populated by nimrod jeepney and bus drivers who think that the best place to let their passengers off would be the middle lane, the jam moves trickle by arduous trickle, made all the more agonizing by each person's blinding selfishness to meet their end. End of story? The 20 minute trip becomes 3 hours. Go figure.
Oh don't even get me started on what happens when it rains, and why all the streets get flooded when three dogs decide to piss together, why those squatters think it is the government's job to give them homes when all the rest of us need to break our backs to buy them.
from the memoirs 10/16/05
Patricia Evangelista and stress thresholds
I am very near the end of my rope. Or was rather. See I was in a cycle of sleeplessness for around ten days already. It was (and still is) insane as hell at work, I had a ton of stuff half written which were lying there, left to rot. I can't get my baby yet (new car) and the wait is driving me crazy. Well...Let me take that back, I am crazy, everything else was driving me crazier. Good thing it still rains in the evening, or I might have seriously considered shooting myself.
So there I was, on my way back to my designated place as a member of the corporate land of the dead herd, and I spot the Inquirer (Ms. Evangelista pointed out that it was three days old). I was so tired by that time and looking for a shot of whatever to resuscitate my frayed nerves, so I decided what the heck, I'll scare myself shitless by reading the dailies. I browse through the paper, looking for something that would catch my attention. Bad news...crap....bad news...crap...more bad news....more crap.... Then all of a sudden...Oh manna from heaven! Tell you the truth, this was the first time in years that I had spent time on a newspaper page that didn't have pugad baboy on it. She made me smile. Considering my predicament, it was a mean feat. She writes about everyday stuff and brings it forth in a new light, it takes someone really crafty to do that, make the humdrum seem like freshly baked muffins. Oy vey, she is wacky as well. Nice. And very original!
I could not help myself and emailed her to say thank you. I honestly did not know she was bigtime until I heard her endorse something on the radio as I was driving to work today. Hmmmm....I really am getting old, if I have fallen behind the times that much. Then again, I was never the current events type of person. She mailed me back. Cool. No, wait. Way cool! In all its meanings according to the old skool dictionaries.
from the memoirs 10/14/05
So there I was, on my way back to my designated place as a member of the corporate land of the dead herd, and I spot the Inquirer (Ms. Evangelista pointed out that it was three days old). I was so tired by that time and looking for a shot of whatever to resuscitate my frayed nerves, so I decided what the heck, I'll scare myself shitless by reading the dailies. I browse through the paper, looking for something that would catch my attention. Bad news...crap....bad news...crap...more bad news....more crap.... Then all of a sudden...Oh manna from heaven! Tell you the truth, this was the first time in years that I had spent time on a newspaper page that didn't have pugad baboy on it. She made me smile. Considering my predicament, it was a mean feat. She writes about everyday stuff and brings it forth in a new light, it takes someone really crafty to do that, make the humdrum seem like freshly baked muffins. Oy vey, she is wacky as well. Nice. And very original!
I could not help myself and emailed her to say thank you. I honestly did not know she was bigtime until I heard her endorse something on the radio as I was driving to work today. Hmmmm....I really am getting old, if I have fallen behind the times that much. Then again, I was never the current events type of person. She mailed me back. Cool. No, wait. Way cool! In all its meanings according to the old skool dictionaries.
from the memoirs 10/14/05
well met
now just as i was turning the corner, here comes another pleasant surprise.a bunch of people who make the bulbs in the mind (however few and worn out they are) light up and/or blink!
a bunch of people who make the bulbs in the mind (however few and worn out they are) light up and/or blink!
their works keep me entertained, fascinated and often times awed these past few weeks. solea or carmen is one hell of a freaky inventive photographer and has certainly put some of my smudgy lines into blurry oblivion (thank you very much there carmen). she keeps me thinking and incredulous, i mean how in the hell does she come up with those ideas anyway? the more pressing matter is, how does she actually bring those ideas to life? she is also at the firing end of the most engaging conversation i have had in recent memory.
julia is a definite hottie although she is quite young (15 yo, people!) , and amanda is one gorgeous blonde, never mind the fact that she is already taken. both are extremely talented with their cameras as well. they have the innate eye for interesting topics and when it comes to self portraits, well of course beautiful women and the camera are perfect partners.
lordy, this has been an enjoyable week.
from the memoirs 10/07/05
a bunch of people who make the bulbs in the mind (however few and worn out they are) light up and/or blink!
their works keep me entertained, fascinated and often times awed these past few weeks. solea or carmen is one hell of a freaky inventive photographer and has certainly put some of my smudgy lines into blurry oblivion (thank you very much there carmen). she keeps me thinking and incredulous, i mean how in the hell does she come up with those ideas anyway? the more pressing matter is, how does she actually bring those ideas to life? she is also at the firing end of the most engaging conversation i have had in recent memory.
julia is a definite hottie although she is quite young (15 yo, people!) , and amanda is one gorgeous blonde, never mind the fact that she is already taken. both are extremely talented with their cameras as well. they have the innate eye for interesting topics and when it comes to self portraits, well of course beautiful women and the camera are perfect partners.
lordy, this has been an enjoyable week.
from the memoirs 10/07/05
the pressure packed vein and messengers
acting up. that's what's going on. and not a damned thing i can do about it. i still have my internet explorer, but the whole messenger combo and that includes trillian, is shot to everlasting pieces.
so i cant talk to buddies, cant reach out to people i love talking to, and i am basically isolated. add the fact that i know very few people and the ones that are worth talking to are quite a distance away, is putting the veins into a pressured condition.
simply put. it is pissing me off to high heavens.
from the memoirs 10/02/05
so i cant talk to buddies, cant reach out to people i love talking to, and i am basically isolated. add the fact that i know very few people and the ones that are worth talking to are quite a distance away, is putting the veins into a pressured condition.
simply put. it is pissing me off to high heavens.
from the memoirs 10/02/05
from the recent diaries
the bass guitar is out of the case and the fender amp dusted. nothing much unpacked except for the percolator and a few clothes, plus the crappy mug which gleefully says " san fransisco was so expensive i could only afford half a mug! " it is only half a mug mind you. saw it in a gift shop and it seemed fun at the time, so i bought it. the aircon is in place as well plus a dozen rims of reds and oodles of starbucks coffee. and two bottles of jack daniel's.
my tabs have been unearthed too, since it seems ill be spending some time just doing a thump thump and a slap on the five strings. and the blasted journal of course. as i always say, never leave home without the venom recorder.
a childhood friend had his wedding earlier, and i chose not go, at the pain of incurring his eternal wrath. at my present state of mind, go to a wedding? i almost went just to heckle them, but my saner half prevailed.
so i spent the afternoon slumped on the floor re-aquainting myself with cliff burton's anesthesia among other things while the sky opened up around me. went out back late afternoon and sat in the rain when i got tired. it was exhilarating that the downpour was quite strong and coincided with the onset of dusk.
litton brushed my mind a few times during the course of the day, but to call her will mean giving her keys as well. and i dont want that. no further complications.
left my gun. too scary to lug it along when you have jack as a companion. i may just get too depressed and decide to bite the bullet. it seems plausible, and well there is baygon. oh but the beloved family won't get any from my insurance.
hmmm.... my life insurance - it is finding the nimrod tough enough to pull the trigger that may prove quite difficult. then again, perhaps a stroke of luck helps me out. maybe then it all ends. got cash and dont have mike. good riddance and thank you very much.
from the memoirs 09/27/05
my tabs have been unearthed too, since it seems ill be spending some time just doing a thump thump and a slap on the five strings. and the blasted journal of course. as i always say, never leave home without the venom recorder.
a childhood friend had his wedding earlier, and i chose not go, at the pain of incurring his eternal wrath. at my present state of mind, go to a wedding? i almost went just to heckle them, but my saner half prevailed.
so i spent the afternoon slumped on the floor re-aquainting myself with cliff burton's anesthesia among other things while the sky opened up around me. went out back late afternoon and sat in the rain when i got tired. it was exhilarating that the downpour was quite strong and coincided with the onset of dusk.
litton brushed my mind a few times during the course of the day, but to call her will mean giving her keys as well. and i dont want that. no further complications.
left my gun. too scary to lug it along when you have jack as a companion. i may just get too depressed and decide to bite the bullet. it seems plausible, and well there is baygon. oh but the beloved family won't get any from my insurance.
hmmm.... my life insurance - it is finding the nimrod tough enough to pull the trigger that may prove quite difficult. then again, perhaps a stroke of luck helps me out. maybe then it all ends. got cash and dont have mike. good riddance and thank you very much.
from the memoirs 09/27/05
conversations with a coffee mug
feel like i am in limbo lately.
not particularly angsty, which is so unlike me.
just empty.
the void is a wide and deep expanse in my soulwhich suddenly appeared from nowhere like abiker blindsiding you as you negotiate a sharp bend.i am not even trying to fight it. i guess i really am mercurial.needing the fix to keep myself on an emotional highnow how to? with this boring life i lead?i still like those people who are capable and willingto put me in a meat grinder, but that is an entirely different matter altogether.
but i do not wish to listen to angry people anymore and borrow their hatred to further my own existence.yet i am too tired and jaded to have one of my own.am i jaded? i have lived one of the most timid lives on theplanet, both by choice and circumstance.jaded by living vicariously through others? now that is so pathetic, it is hilarious.
it might be because i have finally closed all the doors too.i have finally said everything that needed to be said to those who did matter to me. to those who made the world spin and painted the days with color.
so this is closure? i thought it would feel better than this.well perhaps being overly romantic and optimistic, i have overlooked the fact-
that it could feel like a coffin lid being shut tight.it feels like that now.the glaring absence of the renewed vigor i had expected.there is no afterglow.i am stumped and rudderless, and have no idea of how to proceed.so this is contentment? the state is alien, foreign.am i jaded, or numb, or has the work been left unfinished?is it? or have i yet again made another colossal blunder?
from the memoirs 09/22/85
Saturday, August 26, 2006
bitte
swamped. and happy.i barely have time to hear myself think nowadays, running mostly on instinct.i really had thought this would be a vacation, and as you know, krishna decides to play games, and the fickle fates cooperate.been so long since i had this much fun from being this preoccupied. i do have lots of stuff i would like to have uploaded, but they are all hobbling to completion, so no go as of yet.
from blogger 09/06/2005
from blogger 09/06/2005
monsoons and late afternoons
manila late may. the afternoon reclutantly gives way to twilight, and the air is pregnant with moisture. people on the streets walk briskly in unison though each one to their own purpose. makes me stop and gaze at the sky before i get into my car. the air is heavy and sorrounds me, i feel at ease, comfortable in its embrace. i would be very happy to reside in burmecia.
the first droplets fall, splatter on the windshield. i let them accumulate. at last they cover my entire field of vision and i recline, the steady drumming of raindrops playing the music of hope, the song of renewal. it is not enough and i step out of my car - into the midst of the weeping sky. i let myself go inside it - standing immobile as a marble statue yet surely as alive as the leaves in the trees nearby. i keep my head bowed, i have been waiting for months; i will drink as much of the moment as i can.all too soon the skies grind to a halt. i find myself soaked to the bone and looking up to the sky as the last droplets fall on my face, realize that evening has draped her arms across my little area of the universe.a contented smile forming on my lips, i walk back into my house.
from livejournal 2005-05-31 13:13:00
the first droplets fall, splatter on the windshield. i let them accumulate. at last they cover my entire field of vision and i recline, the steady drumming of raindrops playing the music of hope, the song of renewal. it is not enough and i step out of my car - into the midst of the weeping sky. i let myself go inside it - standing immobile as a marble statue yet surely as alive as the leaves in the trees nearby. i keep my head bowed, i have been waiting for months; i will drink as much of the moment as i can.all too soon the skies grind to a halt. i find myself soaked to the bone and looking up to the sky as the last droplets fall on my face, realize that evening has draped her arms across my little area of the universe.a contented smile forming on my lips, i walk back into my house.
from livejournal 2005-05-31 13:13:00
Friday, August 18, 2006
Tumult
Here's another one of them. A lot of these sick murky melodramatic *sswipe stories have been spewed forth recently. Ugh.
Tumult
By Michael Martin
The laptop screen’s glow etches him in blue against the darkness. Once in a while, everything is in plain sight, as lightning snakes across the night sky. The room is awash with light for an instant; a Polaroid snapshot from God. Sound effects of thunderclaps on cue, courtesy of the Big Cheese as well.
Andy is lost in thought, staring but unseeing, peering at the crevices in his mind. The WordPad is empty, save for the flickering cursor, eternally patient for the birthing process to begin. It will not today, for the muse has taken leave and left the writer to his devices.
Finally tired of staring at the screen, Andy folds the laptop and stares at the window and the endless night. Immersed in the sights and sounds of the violent evening – and he is roused by the cigarette ember in his fingers.
"Shit!" As he jumps to his feet, wringing his hands, the cigarette butt falls to the floor and he crushes it underfoot. He looks at it intently afterward and decides not pick it up. Dressed in boxers and undershirts he trudges downstairs and goes out the back door into the stormy evening.
The rain is a welcome respite. He sits in the backyard, head bowed and unmoving; the slow rise and fall of his shoulders are the only sign of life. If you knew him, it’s the sign of the tumult inside the man. He’s talking to himself again.
He starts to murmur. To whisper. The freight train inside him begins to gather steam, gain momentum and he lets it build. Until it is audible: his pain, his hurt, and his vehemence. He lets it rip, imploding on himself.
"And I chanced upon you in my mind again. Time does fly doesn't it? There were fleeting hand waves as you passed by. It seemed to be pretty much the way this was going to be. You in a different league and going past at breakneck speed. I am resigned and reconciled. More than an acquaintance, less than a friend."
His alter ego is standing with his arms crossed, shaking his head and smiling at him condescendingly.
"How long are we going to stay in the rain sissy boy?"
"Shut the f*ck up will you? I didn’t ask for your opinion."
"Well excuse me, Mr. I know where I am headed! I’m not the loon sitting outside getting soaked moaning about how unfair life is. Why don’t you just nail some woman and get it done with?"
"Contemplating while washing the dishes. That's the life, I say to myself. I have neither the luxury nor good luck to have had it otherwise. Ugly and unbalanced to boot. There are a lot of things I ought to be thankful for I remind myself, my eccentricities are nothing compared to the plight of who we consider to be less fortunate. At least I still have time to muse."
"Yeah, yeah. Blah blah, sob and all that rot. Will you quit being a pussy? You’re about to make me puke you know."
" It's in these terms: anyone who would have you in their life need not look for much other than that, except maybe for air and water. Then again, what do I know I am little league. I think of it in terms of like being the emperor of the universe or some grandiose event. But therein lies the gist of all this meandering. The inevitable question will be, can we ever find an adequate ratio? To be colloquial, "rock mine as I rock yours?" Darn impossible right?
If we do get it does it mean we settle for someone else? To be the center of one's existence and then revolve around another's? To choose because you are loved but know deep inside you are head over heels for someone else. History and literature is replete with it. All of them end in tragedy. A warning that the world will not stand for it. Is there no workaround? Can it not be two souls revolving around each other?"
He stands up and glares maliciously at himself, picks up the umbrella near the back door. He proceeds to the empty flowerbed, opens the umbrella and hunkers down groping for a nearby stick. He writes furiously, and droplets are caught in between his furrowed brows.
"Oh writing! I see you still haven’t given up that sissy dream of yours eh? How quaint!"
His hands grasp the muddy soil, as if purchasing for balance and lets out an anguished scream, body wracked with sobs. After an eternity of silence, with nothing but the deafening pitter-patter of the rain around him, he folds the umbrella and walks back to the house. Inexorably being erased by the elements, the words he wrote barely legible in moments:
"We live and we love. Once in our lives we love enough to override everything and it is the stick by which all subsequent loves are measured. You will move on and fall again, but never recapture it. You will tell yourself it's over and love fully. Yet once in a while you are reminded of the lie you told yourself to believe in order to continue. There the person remains. Her smile, her hands, her face, the tilt of her head when she looks at you, there she stands, in the sunshine and in the rain. In your heart until your last breath."
---end---
Tumult
By Michael Martin
The laptop screen’s glow etches him in blue against the darkness. Once in a while, everything is in plain sight, as lightning snakes across the night sky. The room is awash with light for an instant; a Polaroid snapshot from God. Sound effects of thunderclaps on cue, courtesy of the Big Cheese as well.
Andy is lost in thought, staring but unseeing, peering at the crevices in his mind. The WordPad is empty, save for the flickering cursor, eternally patient for the birthing process to begin. It will not today, for the muse has taken leave and left the writer to his devices.
Finally tired of staring at the screen, Andy folds the laptop and stares at the window and the endless night. Immersed in the sights and sounds of the violent evening – and he is roused by the cigarette ember in his fingers.
"Shit!" As he jumps to his feet, wringing his hands, the cigarette butt falls to the floor and he crushes it underfoot. He looks at it intently afterward and decides not pick it up. Dressed in boxers and undershirts he trudges downstairs and goes out the back door into the stormy evening.
The rain is a welcome respite. He sits in the backyard, head bowed and unmoving; the slow rise and fall of his shoulders are the only sign of life. If you knew him, it’s the sign of the tumult inside the man. He’s talking to himself again.
He starts to murmur. To whisper. The freight train inside him begins to gather steam, gain momentum and he lets it build. Until it is audible: his pain, his hurt, and his vehemence. He lets it rip, imploding on himself.
"And I chanced upon you in my mind again. Time does fly doesn't it? There were fleeting hand waves as you passed by. It seemed to be pretty much the way this was going to be. You in a different league and going past at breakneck speed. I am resigned and reconciled. More than an acquaintance, less than a friend."
His alter ego is standing with his arms crossed, shaking his head and smiling at him condescendingly.
"How long are we going to stay in the rain sissy boy?"
"Shut the f*ck up will you? I didn’t ask for your opinion."
"Well excuse me, Mr. I know where I am headed! I’m not the loon sitting outside getting soaked moaning about how unfair life is. Why don’t you just nail some woman and get it done with?"
"Contemplating while washing the dishes. That's the life, I say to myself. I have neither the luxury nor good luck to have had it otherwise. Ugly and unbalanced to boot. There are a lot of things I ought to be thankful for I remind myself, my eccentricities are nothing compared to the plight of who we consider to be less fortunate. At least I still have time to muse."
"Yeah, yeah. Blah blah, sob and all that rot. Will you quit being a pussy? You’re about to make me puke you know."
" It's in these terms: anyone who would have you in their life need not look for much other than that, except maybe for air and water. Then again, what do I know I am little league. I think of it in terms of like being the emperor of the universe or some grandiose event. But therein lies the gist of all this meandering. The inevitable question will be, can we ever find an adequate ratio? To be colloquial, "rock mine as I rock yours?" Darn impossible right?
If we do get it does it mean we settle for someone else? To be the center of one's existence and then revolve around another's? To choose because you are loved but know deep inside you are head over heels for someone else. History and literature is replete with it. All of them end in tragedy. A warning that the world will not stand for it. Is there no workaround? Can it not be two souls revolving around each other?"
He stands up and glares maliciously at himself, picks up the umbrella near the back door. He proceeds to the empty flowerbed, opens the umbrella and hunkers down groping for a nearby stick. He writes furiously, and droplets are caught in between his furrowed brows.
"Oh writing! I see you still haven’t given up that sissy dream of yours eh? How quaint!"
His hands grasp the muddy soil, as if purchasing for balance and lets out an anguished scream, body wracked with sobs. After an eternity of silence, with nothing but the deafening pitter-patter of the rain around him, he folds the umbrella and walks back to the house. Inexorably being erased by the elements, the words he wrote barely legible in moments:
"We live and we love. Once in our lives we love enough to override everything and it is the stick by which all subsequent loves are measured. You will move on and fall again, but never recapture it. You will tell yourself it's over and love fully. Yet once in a while you are reminded of the lie you told yourself to believe in order to continue. There the person remains. Her smile, her hands, her face, the tilt of her head when she looks at you, there she stands, in the sunshine and in the rain. In your heart until your last breath."
---end---
Thursday, July 06, 2006
monsoon morning
here's something for the season. on the first draft. wanted it out raw.
I
The sun breaks through and the tendrils invade his windows. With burning corneas Andy is roused to consciousness and another day of his drab life.
Humming to herself, Cathy finishes up the dishes. It felt so nice to pig out once in a while, and that overdose of eggs and bacon is surely making the morning that much better.
II
The promise of the morning forgotten, Cathy hunches underneath her umbrella, unsuccessfully trying to shield her and her belongings from the downpour. She presses on to the nearby bus stop, awkwardly shuffling her feet in her haste. Goes to show why you cannot trust weathermen. It was supposed to be a lovely day.
"A few more feet, just around the bend."
His circle fondly calls him eccentric. Ditching work at the sight of the first droplets falling at his windshield, he decided to go for a long walk instead. Soaked to the bone and loving it, he rounds the bend.
Right smack into his future.
III
Cathy saw the oddball as she turned the corner. In the split second before he slammed into her, she caught herself wondering what the hell this guy was thinking, walking around in the rain. Then she realized there was no sidestepping, and braced for the impact.
He was chuckling at his good fortune; something about the rain gave him comfort, made him happy, kept him sane. The Big Guy upstairs really knows more than we think. As he looked up, he found himself face to face with a striking woman who looked both puzzled and surprised. And she was on a collision course with him.
"Right after I sing you praises" was his last thought before the inevitable.
IV
She lay sprawled on the curb, her things scattered all over her. She shook her head, dazed from the impact. Droplets clung to her hair and he thought her maddeningly beautiful. He caught her eye, and the burning stare shoved him from his reverie.
Him:" I am so sorry! Are you okay?"
Her: "Do I LOOK like I am OKAY?"
Him:" I really am sorry, let me get that."
Her: "You’re getting my stuff soaked!"
Him: "Look, I said I was –"
Her: "What’s your glitch anyway? Walking around in the rain like some psycho –
Wait. I am sorry too. I’m not usually mean, it just this day –"
Him: "I know what you mean, how about we get out of the rain?"
V
They found shelter in an outdoor deli/resto covered by a makeshift tarpaulin roof. They had coffee and exchanged pleasantries. She called in absent not too long after. She found him arresting, this man in the rain, or Andy as he was known. He wasn’t in the "make you swoon" department in the looks category, but he was definitely interesting. In a weird, off kilter kind of way.
She was not arresting. She was radiant. Looking at her earlier, huffing and puffing while she glared at him, she seemed a goddess. Implacable and destructive. Seeing her now, seated across him in the gloomy morning sky, with her hair damp and tangled, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And she was here. Now. With him.
VI
The smell of the rain still hung in the air. The sky was slowly turning blue; the sun was still hiding. He had offered to walk her home and she had accepted. They were silent as they walked beside each other. She had noticed, for the first time in her life – the droplets caught in the blades of grass, hanging on the leaves of trees, the smell of the air after the monsoon rain. She felt like the world was renewed; and her along with it. Is this how he felt? She would ask him next time. Next time? That made her smile.
Time felt like it was stretched disproportionately. Then all too soon they were at her front door and he was handing over her stuff which he helped carry. Was this all there was to it? Fighting the fear of rejection, he scratches his head and blurts out:
Him: "Cathy?"
Her: "Yep?"
Him: "Well I was wondering if you were, I mean if I was, what I meant was – "
Her: "I’d like that. You may stop stuttering now."
VII
She peeked at him through her front window and her smile turned to giggles when he jumped with his fists in the air. So like a victor, so like a man, and so like a boy. She stepped into her room, and went into the shower; radiant like the most beautiful woman in the world.
He couldn’t contain his joy. He was exultant. She said yes! He had her number! As soon as he felt he was politely out of sight, he let his feelings engulf him and he shot out into the sky with his fists up, feeling like he could fly.
You never know what’s beyond the bend do you?
-end-
I
The sun breaks through and the tendrils invade his windows. With burning corneas Andy is roused to consciousness and another day of his drab life.
Humming to herself, Cathy finishes up the dishes. It felt so nice to pig out once in a while, and that overdose of eggs and bacon is surely making the morning that much better.
II
The promise of the morning forgotten, Cathy hunches underneath her umbrella, unsuccessfully trying to shield her and her belongings from the downpour. She presses on to the nearby bus stop, awkwardly shuffling her feet in her haste. Goes to show why you cannot trust weathermen. It was supposed to be a lovely day.
"A few more feet, just around the bend."
His circle fondly calls him eccentric. Ditching work at the sight of the first droplets falling at his windshield, he decided to go for a long walk instead. Soaked to the bone and loving it, he rounds the bend.
Right smack into his future.
III
Cathy saw the oddball as she turned the corner. In the split second before he slammed into her, she caught herself wondering what the hell this guy was thinking, walking around in the rain. Then she realized there was no sidestepping, and braced for the impact.
He was chuckling at his good fortune; something about the rain gave him comfort, made him happy, kept him sane. The Big Guy upstairs really knows more than we think. As he looked up, he found himself face to face with a striking woman who looked both puzzled and surprised. And she was on a collision course with him.
"Right after I sing you praises" was his last thought before the inevitable.
IV
She lay sprawled on the curb, her things scattered all over her. She shook her head, dazed from the impact. Droplets clung to her hair and he thought her maddeningly beautiful. He caught her eye, and the burning stare shoved him from his reverie.
Him:" I am so sorry! Are you okay?"
Her: "Do I LOOK like I am OKAY?"
Him:" I really am sorry, let me get that."
Her: "You’re getting my stuff soaked!"
Him: "Look, I said I was –"
Her: "What’s your glitch anyway? Walking around in the rain like some psycho –
Wait. I am sorry too. I’m not usually mean, it just this day –"
Him: "I know what you mean, how about we get out of the rain?"
V
They found shelter in an outdoor deli/resto covered by a makeshift tarpaulin roof. They had coffee and exchanged pleasantries. She called in absent not too long after. She found him arresting, this man in the rain, or Andy as he was known. He wasn’t in the "make you swoon" department in the looks category, but he was definitely interesting. In a weird, off kilter kind of way.
She was not arresting. She was radiant. Looking at her earlier, huffing and puffing while she glared at him, she seemed a goddess. Implacable and destructive. Seeing her now, seated across him in the gloomy morning sky, with her hair damp and tangled, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And she was here. Now. With him.
VI
The smell of the rain still hung in the air. The sky was slowly turning blue; the sun was still hiding. He had offered to walk her home and she had accepted. They were silent as they walked beside each other. She had noticed, for the first time in her life – the droplets caught in the blades of grass, hanging on the leaves of trees, the smell of the air after the monsoon rain. She felt like the world was renewed; and her along with it. Is this how he felt? She would ask him next time. Next time? That made her smile.
Time felt like it was stretched disproportionately. Then all too soon they were at her front door and he was handing over her stuff which he helped carry. Was this all there was to it? Fighting the fear of rejection, he scratches his head and blurts out:
Him: "Cathy?"
Her: "Yep?"
Him: "Well I was wondering if you were, I mean if I was, what I meant was – "
Her: "I’d like that. You may stop stuttering now."
VII
She peeked at him through her front window and her smile turned to giggles when he jumped with his fists in the air. So like a victor, so like a man, and so like a boy. She stepped into her room, and went into the shower; radiant like the most beautiful woman in the world.
He couldn’t contain his joy. He was exultant. She said yes! He had her number! As soon as he felt he was politely out of sight, he let his feelings engulf him and he shot out into the sky with his fists up, feeling like he could fly.
You never know what’s beyond the bend do you?
-end-
Monday, June 12, 2006
Janus?
as those who have visited the philippines may have ascertained after a few hours of being here, the homeland is ripe with dualities, much like a person with multiple personalities. closeted, ultra-conservative and mainly catholic.
i still do not have the guts to publish the entire transcript. not until i get the demons banging at my gates to stop, or at least until i reconcile myself to their existence.
here's what i can tell you:
Joan settles down comfortably across the table and flashes a smile, brimming with confidence. She has recently turned nineteen, has dropped out of college and has since found a job in one of the nation’s top outsourcing companies. Before restarting her life, she spent the last two years being the quintessential party animal, bum, and nomad, to her parent’s and older siblings utter consternation. "Imagine how’d they feel if they found out I had pimped myself out for kicks too" she says. "And how wicked it makes me feel."
I fumble for my recorder’s button and I see an odd glint in her eye as I desperately try to recover my bearings. I let out a sigh of relief as I hear the friendly click that tells both of us the session is about to begin. She glances at the floor, takes a moment to compose her self. When she looks back up, the game face is on.
While I grapple with my demons throughout the process.
Here’s the transcript:
*effderck convulses and faints*
heehee.toodles.
i still do not have the guts to publish the entire transcript. not until i get the demons banging at my gates to stop, or at least until i reconcile myself to their existence.
here's what i can tell you:
Joan settles down comfortably across the table and flashes a smile, brimming with confidence. She has recently turned nineteen, has dropped out of college and has since found a job in one of the nation’s top outsourcing companies. Before restarting her life, she spent the last two years being the quintessential party animal, bum, and nomad, to her parent’s and older siblings utter consternation. "Imagine how’d they feel if they found out I had pimped myself out for kicks too" she says. "And how wicked it makes me feel."
I fumble for my recorder’s button and I see an odd glint in her eye as I desperately try to recover my bearings. I let out a sigh of relief as I hear the friendly click that tells both of us the session is about to begin. She glances at the floor, takes a moment to compose her self. When she looks back up, the game face is on.
While I grapple with my demons throughout the process.
Here’s the transcript:
*effderck convulses and faints*
heehee.toodles.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
the dance as you know it is dead
more than a month since the last one. here goes nothing
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I distinctly remember telling myself to go clean with the woman who owns the other pair of the ring about it after it's done. How could I not? This was written to be read. It might mean my manhood in a pickle jar ( I am not gifted mind you) but hell, the temptation was too much to pass up. I had to. Now to everyone else whose hackles I would inadvertently raise - @#*(@#!
Everything stemmed from an offhand remark in a conversation while having coffee. My brows furrowed and struggled with the question, have we really become libertines? Aliens in monocycles, are we? With the flame of the quest for the truth burning I set out to accomplish my task. First I had to get all the tools ready. Spiffy black car with a sunroof (according to Bruce Wayne chicks dig cars), check. Credit card, check. Toothpaste and mouthwash, check. Good looks, che---- now wait an effing minute, there was no way I could squirm out of that one. Wait, wait – uh, Charm and Confidence, check. I'll have to try and get through with what I have.
Now where do I start my search? Somewhere safe of course. I found myself connecting to the internet. So nicknamed as “effderck” I went henceforth to get my answers. There were a lot of nice young women on the net, and let me discredit the notion right now, I did not meet one single gay man posing as a woman (they must have their own chatrooms eh?) I quickly found myself earning friends, which was hugely enjoyable since I am an introvert and also because I was conversing with intelligent articulate people.
There were the sprinkling of pervs and hate filled entities of course, but in general the experience was smooth. The topics were varied, from economic to social to entertainment and of course, bedding habits. I said to myself, “Are they outspoken because of the veil of the net?” So on to the next part. I went out to meet my newfound friends. I was shaking while driving to where I would be meeting this “young woman” for coffee, with a thousand questions racing in my head. When we did meet, the butterflies increased a thousandfold. She was a young woman, tall, good looking, smart and was still a student. Didn't her parents teach her not to talk to strangers? Oh yeah, I am a friend. So we get to know each other more over coffee, and I am pleasantly stunned to find that she is as outspoken as she was on the net.
I ask her all sorts of questions, and her brows furrow on some of them, like a person examining something they have found odd. She replies and throws a barrage of her own, and the dance begins. The thirty yearold man and the teenaged libertine. I can just imagine how weird we should have seemed. Looking around, I saw that no one was even noticing. I can't decide which was weirder. She found it interesting that I saved myself for marriage (i.e. No one except my wife had been interested enough), or that I find it extremely awkward to sleep with someone I did not love. She actually laughed at that, and then looked at me like I was some lost puppy. So I found the answers and yes, all the preparations went out of the window, I was way in over my head.
Apparently talking about and having sex was not taboo, and I am still of the opinion she would have given Nancy Friday a run for her money. They still had rules, and those rules are way, way more lax than what our society leads us to believe. Don't get me wrong though, it is still a choice. She makes the choice if, when and whom. But she and most of those I had talked to aren't too afraid of the fire and brimstone hullaballoo like us of the previous generation. A lot of it stems from the staggering amount of information the generation has access to.
In the end I got tested. Maybe the thought of corrupting someone older was enough to overlook my lack of good looks. Maybe the idea of opening me up and stripping me of my so-called inhibitions? Or it may be as simple as showing me it is okay? I took a raincheck each time and got a soft shake of the head in return. And a smile. Whoever thought a man would say no eh? I kind of thought I was wild for my generation.
I still talk to her and see her occasionally, and that holds true for most of the people I have met. I do not know what I feel but it is certain that we need to have a reckoning and stop being hypocrites. About ourselves and about our society. On the outside looking in, it looks like you're with a conservative bunch of people, and that the church is holding sway. Once you step into the circle, it is an entirely different ballgame altogether. Now excuse me while I go and explain matters to my boss.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I distinctly remember telling myself to go clean with the woman who owns the other pair of the ring about it after it's done. How could I not? This was written to be read. It might mean my manhood in a pickle jar ( I am not gifted mind you) but hell, the temptation was too much to pass up. I had to. Now to everyone else whose hackles I would inadvertently raise - @#*(@#!
Everything stemmed from an offhand remark in a conversation while having coffee. My brows furrowed and struggled with the question, have we really become libertines? Aliens in monocycles, are we? With the flame of the quest for the truth burning I set out to accomplish my task. First I had to get all the tools ready. Spiffy black car with a sunroof (according to Bruce Wayne chicks dig cars), check. Credit card, check. Toothpaste and mouthwash, check. Good looks, che---- now wait an effing minute, there was no way I could squirm out of that one. Wait, wait – uh, Charm and Confidence, check. I'll have to try and get through with what I have.
Now where do I start my search? Somewhere safe of course. I found myself connecting to the internet. So nicknamed as “effderck” I went henceforth to get my answers. There were a lot of nice young women on the net, and let me discredit the notion right now, I did not meet one single gay man posing as a woman (they must have their own chatrooms eh?) I quickly found myself earning friends, which was hugely enjoyable since I am an introvert and also because I was conversing with intelligent articulate people.
There were the sprinkling of pervs and hate filled entities of course, but in general the experience was smooth. The topics were varied, from economic to social to entertainment and of course, bedding habits. I said to myself, “Are they outspoken because of the veil of the net?” So on to the next part. I went out to meet my newfound friends. I was shaking while driving to where I would be meeting this “young woman” for coffee, with a thousand questions racing in my head. When we did meet, the butterflies increased a thousandfold. She was a young woman, tall, good looking, smart and was still a student. Didn't her parents teach her not to talk to strangers? Oh yeah, I am a friend. So we get to know each other more over coffee, and I am pleasantly stunned to find that she is as outspoken as she was on the net.
I ask her all sorts of questions, and her brows furrow on some of them, like a person examining something they have found odd. She replies and throws a barrage of her own, and the dance begins. The thirty yearold man and the teenaged libertine. I can just imagine how weird we should have seemed. Looking around, I saw that no one was even noticing. I can't decide which was weirder. She found it interesting that I saved myself for marriage (i.e. No one except my wife had been interested enough), or that I find it extremely awkward to sleep with someone I did not love. She actually laughed at that, and then looked at me like I was some lost puppy. So I found the answers and yes, all the preparations went out of the window, I was way in over my head.
Apparently talking about and having sex was not taboo, and I am still of the opinion she would have given Nancy Friday a run for her money. They still had rules, and those rules are way, way more lax than what our society leads us to believe. Don't get me wrong though, it is still a choice. She makes the choice if, when and whom. But she and most of those I had talked to aren't too afraid of the fire and brimstone hullaballoo like us of the previous generation. A lot of it stems from the staggering amount of information the generation has access to.
In the end I got tested. Maybe the thought of corrupting someone older was enough to overlook my lack of good looks. Maybe the idea of opening me up and stripping me of my so-called inhibitions? Or it may be as simple as showing me it is okay? I took a raincheck each time and got a soft shake of the head in return. And a smile. Whoever thought a man would say no eh? I kind of thought I was wild for my generation.
I still talk to her and see her occasionally, and that holds true for most of the people I have met. I do not know what I feel but it is certain that we need to have a reckoning and stop being hypocrites. About ourselves and about our society. On the outside looking in, it looks like you're with a conservative bunch of people, and that the church is holding sway. Once you step into the circle, it is an entirely different ballgame altogether. Now excuse me while I go and explain matters to my boss.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Love and Machismo in the Modern Age
here's something fun. for me at least. it got me two shirts, a swimming and sauna gift certificate at the dusit hotel, 300 smackaroos worth of phone credits and a 1000 smackaroos gift certificate at Max's. nice? the price is. the fact that i was picked was better. hokay hokay it is not a pulitzer, but hey, i am not the kind of writer you would pay to read eh? plus the other works were enjoyable reads as well. victory is sweet. hope you like it. and in case you're wondering where this wonderful place is, click here.
LOVE AND MACHISMO IN THE MODERN AGE
Traitor. So like St. Nick. Cupid sold himself out to the organ grinding machines of capitalism. While we are at it, the guy who we got the name of the day from is probably jumping up and down and tearing his hair out in an apoplectic fit in heaven (he ought not be anywhere else right?) every time the day arrives. Okay, hold on to your horses, if I had in any way deflated your blossoming state of amorousness. No need to get those condoms in a bunch. While you are at it, go and swallow the pill that’s in your mouth.Love. It is a word so grossly commercialized it has become cliché. You love your skin, you love your hair, and you love your freaking white armpits for heaven’s sake. So great, everyone is making a killing off the day, from the debonair bachelor who you are about to sleep with for the first time, the flower vendor, the upscale restaurateur, to the sleazebag motel owner (I do hope you have enough sense not to make a video of yourself and make the friendly neighborhood pirate’s coffer overflow with moolah). People ought to have enough sense not to go anywhere during that day, since even the most private and secluded spots (i.e. hotels) are a veritable ground for impromptu reunions. I had seriously begged off after we saw my female companion’s classmates all clutching numbers for the waiting list. That was eons ago dearies, before our population well, exploded.
The word is not something to be trifled with; else it loses all its power. You utter it and it means commitment, and sacrifice as well. When you love, it is never 50/50. You go all in, body, heart and soul. You compensate for what is needed and accept what is and not there. Love is supposed to make you and your partner free, not shackle you in a corner. Take for example when we men meet someone – a free spirited woman. Dresses up nice right? Shows some skin, is nice to talk to (she is nice, after all you’ve just met and she doesn’t mind talking to you), during the conversation, you are of the opinion she is smart apart from being sexy. Plus she is confident, has lot of male friends and revels in them. You grow to like her a lot, and she grows to like you as well. You date and sooner than you expect you wake up next to her. Now, instead of the world being okay, the walls creep up on you. Was I number three or number four (sure as hell I was not the first)? Why did she like me (and what happens if she meets someone she’ll like as well)? Does she really love me?
In the process of hanging on, we ask the other person, to change. To change from what we fell in love with, to something no one wants to fall in love with. Why? It’s so that the better-looking guy with the bigger banana and the Porsche does not run off with her. Here’s something I learned – try not to transpose your fears. Do not use it as a weapon to make your partner feel bad. Being in love is supposed to make you happy, it supposed to be your rock, to be your center. It’s supposed to make you confident and keep you free. Free to celebrate who you are and your love. So please before you go out today, think. You at least owe that to yourself.
view from a bus window
here's one of those numerous snippets that i have, unresolved and unfinished. written on a bus ride home the eve of the last valentine's day - i got really dizzy and it reminded me why i do not read or write in a moving vehicle. 02/13/2006
Nine fifty pm. Good thing that I didn't take my car today. Gives me time to write. The city is in transition, in the clutches of halogen and gaudy neon lights. It never really sleeps does it? As I make my way home, tired and drained as a lot of the other passengers and some of the people I see, there are those who are about to start their day. Until about two weeks ago, I was part of them - nightcrawlers.
I had been oblivious, reason why I am happy I commuted today. The woman in the dark blue pant suit passing by like she was floating, as graceful as a swan. Her hair looked like it was still damp, I wonder what scent she uses. The young couple ambling along the sidewalk, looking like the world was theirs alone. The ambulant vendors with their toothless grins and sunken eyes, still managing to be cheerful in their impoverished state.
I sometimes get so wrapped up in the foibles of my own existence that I forget to live. It's now eleven twenty and I am still stuck in this traffic jam's hellacious death grip. I live just a stone throw away from where the city's florists are, and since it's the eve of Valentine, well everyone is here.
I had been oblivious, reason why I am happy I commuted today. The woman in the dark blue pant suit passing by like she was floating, as graceful as a swan. Her hair looked like it was still damp, I wonder what scent she uses. The young couple ambling along the sidewalk, looking like the world was theirs alone. The ambulant vendors with their toothless grins and sunken eyes, still managing to be cheerful in their impoverished state.
I sometimes get so wrapped up in the foibles of my own existence that I forget to live. It's now eleven twenty and I am still stuck in this traffic jam's hellacious death grip. I live just a stone throw away from where the city's florists are, and since it's the eve of Valentine, well everyone is here.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
grounded
Been stuck in bed for two damned days. I hate being sick. My kids have been driving me nuts about how it may be bird flu, and then my son developed a new one today. He told me my bird's got the flu. Tee hee.
I have some things swirling in my head right now, including making a new blogpage, for my politicking. Somehow it does not feel right, but then I said anything and everything right? I'll try and figure things out. Also, how do I put just the initial paragraph on the blog entry? How do I put the "want to read more?" Been meaning to ask Patricia Kirby how she does it, but it always escapes me. I have dial up internet see, and by the time my tortoise like connection gets to where it's going, it is a wonder I still am able to have any coherent thoughts at all.
Anyway I was holed up in my room channel surfing and I come across ANC's (ABS-CBN's news arm) Top Story. They had Professor Winnie Monsod as guest and I found myself glued. After the subsequent accusations that the network had been overboard in delivering the news, I would say that having one of the most respected and level headed people in the country as your guest would more than make up for it. And Professor Monsod, you are correct, Filipinos are not stupid!
I have some things swirling in my head right now, including making a new blogpage, for my politicking. Somehow it does not feel right, but then I said anything and everything right? I'll try and figure things out. Also, how do I put just the initial paragraph on the blog entry? How do I put the "want to read more?" Been meaning to ask Patricia Kirby how she does it, but it always escapes me. I have dial up internet see, and by the time my tortoise like connection gets to where it's going, it is a wonder I still am able to have any coherent thoughts at all.
Anyway I was holed up in my room channel surfing and I come across ANC's (ABS-CBN's news arm) Top Story. They had Professor Winnie Monsod as guest and I found myself glued. After the subsequent accusations that the network had been overboard in delivering the news, I would say that having one of the most respected and level headed people in the country as your guest would more than make up for it. And Professor Monsod, you are correct, Filipinos are not stupid!
Monday, February 27, 2006
An Open Letter
For all of you out there outside the ocean that frames my country, CNN has probably broadcasted the sensationalized version of things – brought to us by the network giant I was talking about in my last post.
Now here’s something from the inside, from someone who lives a stone throw away from the palace.
This blog is apolitical. APOLITICAL dammit! So will you politicians please for the love of your own souls please quit the grandstanding! Everyone in the country has enough troubles already for you to muddle waters with your ulterior motives. The majority mind you, is not with you, regardless of how you cry to the heavens. If you really had wanted the best of our people, if you really had the heart – we should have seen you over at Leyte, helping and comforting the victims of the landslide. But noooo, you just could not pass up the chance to use the People Power anniversary as a cover to stage your plans. Maybe you forgot in your pride that it was the common people who EDSA belonged to, not you. Yes you reaped power and glory, but it was the masses that turned it around. Why need to go to Fort Bonifacio to pray? Pray somewhere where there are no cameras and maybe God will hear you and make things better for us. Besides, it’s an open secret that politicians in power get rich from illegal logging. Why go there eh?
Perhaps you were expecting the EVAT law to be a backbreaking burden? Well it is. Then again our economy is growing stronger by the day, and so is our peso. Afraid of what happens if the country has a miraculous turn around? You ought to be, all of you have been in power at intervals after Pres. Marcos was deposed. You weren’t able to do a damned thing except grandstand. The country does not believe you anymore. Please accept that so we all can move on with our lives. If you really want what is best for us, work within the framework. Fight the battles in the House of Congress, show us your passion, not just of being correct, but of wanting what’s best for the country. Allow us to believe again. Allow us to hope for the better, not by your bickering, but by your galvanized actions in an understandable platform. Work like you obey the rules and find a solution without throwing tantrums like a spoiled child when you hit a corner.
Aren’t you wondering why the people with jobs, the dreaming, the hoping, the ones fighting silently for a better tomorrow through an honest life, the family building Filipinos are not out in the streets? Why the millions you keep insisting that are with you do not show up? It is simply because we do not want to. Granted that Pres Arroyo may not be manna from heaven, we have chosen you before and you have dismally failed. What else do you want? You are a self righteous and conceited rabble. We know by now how you change bed partners by necessity. The nation is not stupid you know. So please give up the game. If you really want to help us – THEN HELP US. Not yourselves.
Now here’s something from the inside, from someone who lives a stone throw away from the palace.
This blog is apolitical. APOLITICAL dammit! So will you politicians please for the love of your own souls please quit the grandstanding! Everyone in the country has enough troubles already for you to muddle waters with your ulterior motives. The majority mind you, is not with you, regardless of how you cry to the heavens. If you really had wanted the best of our people, if you really had the heart – we should have seen you over at Leyte, helping and comforting the victims of the landslide. But noooo, you just could not pass up the chance to use the People Power anniversary as a cover to stage your plans. Maybe you forgot in your pride that it was the common people who EDSA belonged to, not you. Yes you reaped power and glory, but it was the masses that turned it around. Why need to go to Fort Bonifacio to pray? Pray somewhere where there are no cameras and maybe God will hear you and make things better for us. Besides, it’s an open secret that politicians in power get rich from illegal logging. Why go there eh?
Perhaps you were expecting the EVAT law to be a backbreaking burden? Well it is. Then again our economy is growing stronger by the day, and so is our peso. Afraid of what happens if the country has a miraculous turn around? You ought to be, all of you have been in power at intervals after Pres. Marcos was deposed. You weren’t able to do a damned thing except grandstand. The country does not believe you anymore. Please accept that so we all can move on with our lives. If you really want what is best for us, work within the framework. Fight the battles in the House of Congress, show us your passion, not just of being correct, but of wanting what’s best for the country. Allow us to believe again. Allow us to hope for the better, not by your bickering, but by your galvanized actions in an understandable platform. Work like you obey the rules and find a solution without throwing tantrums like a spoiled child when you hit a corner.
Aren’t you wondering why the people with jobs, the dreaming, the hoping, the ones fighting silently for a better tomorrow through an honest life, the family building Filipinos are not out in the streets? Why the millions you keep insisting that are with you do not show up? It is simply because we do not want to. Granted that Pres Arroyo may not be manna from heaven, we have chosen you before and you have dismally failed. What else do you want? You are a self righteous and conceited rabble. We know by now how you change bed partners by necessity. The nation is not stupid you know. So please give up the game. If you really want to help us – THEN HELP US. Not yourselves.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
On Life and Survival in a Third World Country
My country is beautiful. My countrymen are beautiful. Let me say that before I start the process of disassembling life here.
The game show tragedy, the stampede that killed almost a hundred and injured scores a few weeks ago was appaling to say the least; yet despite all the clamor for ABS-CBN's proverbial head on the platter, have we thought about what drove these people into such a frenzy?
Yes it was 20,000 PhP or roughly 400 USD. Let me ask you now, would you kill for it? Will you at the minimum, be willing to risk life and limb for it? Or ask a relative to do so? Then what,why, how?
Yes we are poor. There are a lot of us who work overseas to help our families. There are families who migrate in search of greener pastures. Those who have remained try to eke out a living, those unlucky toil to salvage self esteem and what is left of their pride.
We are a proud race. We may have been bound to slavery in the past and servitude in the present, but we have a quiet dignity in our suffering. We keep our humanity, and we keep our sense of self.
I could not help but shed a tear as I saw the footages on television. Then it turned to anger as I saw people unwilling to leave the scene, hoping to somehow still win the prize money for being one of first three hundred to enter.
How have we allowed it to go this far as a people, as a society? To be desperate and destitute enough for our compatriots to allow themselves to be debased in such a manner. No, my dear friends the fault does no necessarily lie with the network giant. It resides within what we as a nation have allowed ourselves to become, what we have allowed our leaders to steer us into.
The collective desperation is nothing new, there have been innumerable poor everywhere since the dawn of time. Hence the irresistable lure of fortune and wealth. There might even be some who will argue using the pyschology and mechanisms of mobs. Then again, why did it become a mob in the first place?
We need to address the growing sense of hopelessness that was centric to the issue. We as a nation and a people need to wake up and become more accountable.
I am no fan of the show nor the host, but hey, they were honestly trying to help. Before everyone goes asking for crucifixion, have you asked yourself what you have done for your neighbor lately?
I have tried to keep this blog apolitical - I failed.
The game show tragedy, the stampede that killed almost a hundred and injured scores a few weeks ago was appaling to say the least; yet despite all the clamor for ABS-CBN's proverbial head on the platter, have we thought about what drove these people into such a frenzy?
Yes it was 20,000 PhP or roughly 400 USD. Let me ask you now, would you kill for it? Will you at the minimum, be willing to risk life and limb for it? Or ask a relative to do so? Then what,why, how?
Yes we are poor. There are a lot of us who work overseas to help our families. There are families who migrate in search of greener pastures. Those who have remained try to eke out a living, those unlucky toil to salvage self esteem and what is left of their pride.
We are a proud race. We may have been bound to slavery in the past and servitude in the present, but we have a quiet dignity in our suffering. We keep our humanity, and we keep our sense of self.
I could not help but shed a tear as I saw the footages on television. Then it turned to anger as I saw people unwilling to leave the scene, hoping to somehow still win the prize money for being one of first three hundred to enter.
How have we allowed it to go this far as a people, as a society? To be desperate and destitute enough for our compatriots to allow themselves to be debased in such a manner. No, my dear friends the fault does no necessarily lie with the network giant. It resides within what we as a nation have allowed ourselves to become, what we have allowed our leaders to steer us into.
The collective desperation is nothing new, there have been innumerable poor everywhere since the dawn of time. Hence the irresistable lure of fortune and wealth. There might even be some who will argue using the pyschology and mechanisms of mobs. Then again, why did it become a mob in the first place?
We need to address the growing sense of hopelessness that was centric to the issue. We as a nation and a people need to wake up and become more accountable.
I am no fan of the show nor the host, but hey, they were honestly trying to help. Before everyone goes asking for crucifixion, have you asked yourself what you have done for your neighbor lately?
I have tried to keep this blog apolitical - I failed.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
An Annual Midmorning (Excerpts)
Here's something that's been stuck. It was supposed to be something dark and sick - keeps turning out cheesy.
I hope I made you laugh today at least.
Act 1 - The circle opens
January 2
So here it is anew, another year and his thirtieth on the planet. Andew finds himself torn on a myriad of issues sorrounding his life, the implacable dreamer and romantic still waiting and beginning to lose hope in setting out on that great adventure, the unmitigated coward shivering in the corner, telling himself that he is content in his bondage.
An aspect which pervades all aspects of his life, his version of Jeckyll and Hyde. It makes him hard to live with and love - and he can't give those who stayed to keep loving him credit that is due to them.
Intelligence? Introspection? What good did it ever do to him other than keep him wandering inside his head, mapping out labyrinths that get more convoluted with time.
January 6
Raindrops splash across the windshield in sheets, making lamposts and rearlights look hazy. He shudders, yet is unwilling to turn down the airconditioning.
"So", she said earlier, tone bordering somewhere between incredulity and exasperation, "Would you mind repeating what you just said?!"
"I am in love with you!" He blurts out, hating himself at the same time for sounding like a love drunk teen. She laughs, so much like bells tinkling, stitches her brows together and regards him speculatively.
"So you say dearie. Thank you?"
He stares at her, dumbfounded. Embarassing is an understatement. The scenario did not play out that way in his head. Why in Sam hill did he ever go through with it? Too late.
The brakes screech as he stomps on the pedals, muttering angrily under his breath at the idiot in front of him who did not have the decency to beat the red light.
This Cristine business is going to get him killed one of these days. There she was, still running around in his head, beckoning him to keep up, her black hair billowing in the wind. Andrew shakes his head, guns the gas, and fades into the rainy midmorning.
I hope I made you laugh today at least.
Act 1 - The circle opens
January 2
So here it is anew, another year and his thirtieth on the planet. Andew finds himself torn on a myriad of issues sorrounding his life, the implacable dreamer and romantic still waiting and beginning to lose hope in setting out on that great adventure, the unmitigated coward shivering in the corner, telling himself that he is content in his bondage.
An aspect which pervades all aspects of his life, his version of Jeckyll and Hyde. It makes him hard to live with and love - and he can't give those who stayed to keep loving him credit that is due to them.
Intelligence? Introspection? What good did it ever do to him other than keep him wandering inside his head, mapping out labyrinths that get more convoluted with time.
January 6
Raindrops splash across the windshield in sheets, making lamposts and rearlights look hazy. He shudders, yet is unwilling to turn down the airconditioning.
"So", she said earlier, tone bordering somewhere between incredulity and exasperation, "Would you mind repeating what you just said?!"
"I am in love with you!" He blurts out, hating himself at the same time for sounding like a love drunk teen. She laughs, so much like bells tinkling, stitches her brows together and regards him speculatively.
"So you say dearie. Thank you?"
He stares at her, dumbfounded. Embarassing is an understatement. The scenario did not play out that way in his head. Why in Sam hill did he ever go through with it? Too late.
The brakes screech as he stomps on the pedals, muttering angrily under his breath at the idiot in front of him who did not have the decency to beat the red light.
This Cristine business is going to get him killed one of these days. There she was, still running around in his head, beckoning him to keep up, her black hair billowing in the wind. Andrew shakes his head, guns the gas, and fades into the rainy midmorning.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Landscape
I dunno.It looks beautiful.
But it's creepy. I half expect Hansel and Gretel to appear in the horizon, and the Wicked Witch with them.
At the same time, almost divine. Like hallowed ground.
Maybe it's what makes it eerie - the textures and colors are all skewed. You could not tell what happens next.
Then again maybe you could.
Imagine!
But it's creepy. I half expect Hansel and Gretel to appear in the horizon, and the Wicked Witch with them.
At the same time, almost divine. Like hallowed ground.
Maybe it's what makes it eerie - the textures and colors are all skewed. You could not tell what happens next.
Then again maybe you could.
Imagine!
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