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!

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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---