caffeine-rich and nicotine-based

rich

2008-04-02T12:56:00.000-07:00

smooth flavored nice things, lost in all absence of sensory connection.
Just one slide of a celluloid-based picture can make all that up.
Cigarettes that resemble hand soap for taste.
Everything may resemble soap.
or something pretentiously profound like that.
nice marketing.
anyway.
Cigarettes were hard to make fly.
But thanks to our dear people who flashed ads and funky jingle music,
we are all attune to it.
in the same way christmas is now all about carols.

-

the truth is in we are in some kind of spiral.
the apostrophe on this keyboard is absolutely malfunctional.
and the light coke on my left is jingling from my gestures.
and what of?
nothing.
just making silly thoughts fly.
and see which one sticks.
like how you decide which one is dirty underwear when the floors of your room is one big laundry bag.
give me something to munch on and i will start blabbering to you about the sweetness of food eating.
or something.

it is nice to not be able to connect instantaneously.
like i am deceived in the disconnection that exists for everyone.

can i write a song somehow.

and how much do i want it?

well, there are thoughts and there are actions.

and it is true. i desire a lot of things and wait for its release.

am i too steady?

maybe not. i contemplate with rage in my heart and attack with a calm mind and stomach.

no irascibility can exist in this world so hungry for consistency.

it is as if people expect to be the same people all the time.

like if i start writing this way i am supposed to finish through in the same manner.
but what if i say fuck you?
go fuck your cat or dog or if you have neither fuck a rat sleeping in one of your dirty cupboards?
or whatever?
what if individuality becomes a norm?
who becomes the rebel?
the one who makes an organization muzzled with conformity?
that would be interesting.
and then everyone once again will explode inwardly.
point a gun at everyone and then threaten everyone to move and become part of the norm.
and we will succumb.
because deep in our core, we tire easily.
and we listen to music to give us a re-taste of some experience.

we like everything. and we cannot admit it. because people pressure us to form misconceptions.
we cannot evade prejudice for ourselves because it is what we are taught and given.
there is no real idea of free thought.
and yet we struggle.
the irony is,
the struggle for free thought is an inward eating irony.
the oroboros is either good or bad.
if your tail sounds tastes funnny you munch much slower.
i am writing because i want to breathe.
we want to exhale.
we want to respirate with something.
and make up words. invent them.
and feel no shame for whatever we express.
fuck ourselves for thinking we have to stick to a form.
because the truth is, we do not have to keep trying.
or not.
or maybe yes..

Black and White

2008-03-21T08:14:00.000-07:00

The stroll in the park gave me a quiet peace he never feels anywhere else. Besides, I enjoys the Sunday people. Everyone has a story. This one, the father, he has 3 kids and where's the mother again? He probably has trouble playing the role of an earner and a prima donna. I couldn't help but give myself a slight snicker. Another one of those couples. Have they been together for long? Or are they just two people who met in some coffee shop a week ago? Or two strangers who bumped into each other in the shopping mall?

Colorful. Everything else is colorful. Except my life. I always hope these colorful sundays would make things better. I'm downing the cheesy stuff now. Partying Friday and Saturday nights just leaves my soul hanging in the morning. The booze and the drugs make me depressed while I take my morning coffee the next day. I'm a toxic fun-loving motherfucker. And I'm bored.

Black and white. I hate living in fucking monochrome. Every meal i take is like dog chow. Although i don't know how dog chow tastes like. At first I enjoyed working as a trainer in this hectic corporate world. I met a lot of women and I had a great time. Now I just don't care. Something's missing. I never knew what it was before, and now I'm having trouble finding it.

I walk back to my car with my head still swiveling. I've had half a pack of Reds today. But who cares. These are my lungs. I turn the keys and the engine comes to life. Maybe I'll drop by the gym and pump some negativity out. Maybe that would help. Or maybe I'd just another episode of Simpsons at home. Fuck, just drive you boring bastard.

Sundays are good for driving for one obvious reason. The streets are so nice. It's like for the rest of the week the whole place is reeking with automotive asthma and for this one special day we have of a breath of fresh driving. This is sports cars were invented.

Let's put this two-liter monster to action, shall we? In less than a minute I'm in full gear against Marcos Hi-way. My meter says 140 Kph and techno music is pumping in my audio system. Clean noise is what i call it.

For a long while i swiveled and swerved. Why not another smoke? I picked up my pack and fumbled for the lighter. Where the fuck is it? why do i have to lose my lighter whenever i need it? Fuck this curse. Hell, I'll use the car warming thingy here. I heat it up and place the flaming circle up against the lip of my smoke, i hear the tiny crackling while i swig on the filter, i puff and...

"What the...!"

BANG!

I hit the brakes a fraction of a second two late before i saw the red Honda CBR. Everything transpired in slow motion. I could see a sport bike spinning on the road away from me and a man rolling beside it: in full biker gear. My eyes wide open like some mystical experience penetrating my veins. Only in this case the sensation feels so morbid.

The hood of the car started to hiss and people are running towards the front of my car. Looking to see if the biker is doing okay. Nobody looked to my direction.

"Tumawag kayo ng ambulansya!" A man in a green t-shirt and crew cut screamed. While a lady with a bag of sunday shopping loot frantically dialed on her celphone.

"Wala bang Pulis o MMDA dito?" Asked another one.

I paused their for a long time. I never had an accident before. Not even minor ones that involved mere scratches. Don't smoke and drive. Now there has to be a slogan like that. The tobacco companies are gonna' be in trouble for this.

I opened the door to my left and heard the beeping of the car when the keys are still engaged. I stood and walked like a tipsy man towards the the motionless biker. The beeping ensued like a deafening alarm. I couldn't walk back and remove the keys right now.

The biker was sprawled on the floor while the onlookers buzzed. Some glanced at me sideways, as if I'm some murderer.

Sirens. Their approaching. I felt an urge to scramble. To where? How calm should I get? My heart is thumping. Boom. As if the techno music from my car left echoes somewhere in my brain.

"Tabi!" a paramedic wearing a rugged kit went weaving through the onlookers. He removed the helmet and paused for a while.

The onlookers paused their buzzing,too.

I know this guy, too. He was standing atop that Big 2008-Model Pick up truck during the campaign period of who's this mayor? Ah, fuck, Mayor Ilagan. Yeah, he was giving these freebies to the crowd while smiling a big one.

And now he's lying on the floor all botched up and banged. I feel so sharp, as if I'm experiencing everything with absurd richness- in slow motion, of course.

"Anong nangyari dito?" Said a man in uniform, with matching background audio: the murmurs of onlookers, the beep of the car door, the techno music, and the growling of the motorcycle.

Everyone looked at me. The whole world fell dark and a huge spotlight shone on me from the top.

"Kotse mo yan?" He said, looking towards me. He had a notepad in his right hand and a cheap ballpen on the left. Normally I would proudly say yes. Looking at my black Audi TT. It's fucking fast car. And a fucking gorgeous one, too. It would take an hour long documentary to describe its wonder. Now a fucking an hour to tell of my carelessness.

"Huy, sir, kotse mo ba yan?" The officer continued asking. "Layo nga muna kayo dito!" He said to the onlookers.

"Opo, sir, aking yang oto." I said, like a meek creature that is not me.

In my peripheral they started loading the biker into the stretcher. The murmuring ensued.

"Nabangga mo ung anak ng mayor sir," He said with absolute and blatant obviousness. We both looked at the car and its deformed bumber.

"Boss, aksidente ung nangyari, nakagreen yung ilaw ng stoplight tapos biglang lumitaw yung motor." The events coming to my head in clear view. In my absent-mindedness I realize I was still holding the Marlboro in my hand. But I hadn't puffed it ever since everything.

Everything plunged to reality again. I'm in trouble. I'm in deep fucking trouble.

I called my lawyer, Atty. Castigador, and then gave my statement on what happened.

------------------------

I took chug of light beer and bathed in the haze of my plasma T.V.

"Vincent, the son's mayor, is still in a coma after 1 week. The doctors claim that he is stable and with adequate care and treatment he will recover in due time. Several surgeries were performed due to internal bleeding and several broken bones."

The picture of the guy flashes on screen with his graduation pic, smiling like a proud and suave spoiled kid. In the next seen they flash the high-profile parents, the father in a suit and the mother in a dress adorned with pearls. Eyes red with crying and sleeplessness.

"Our son is in grave condition because of the carelessness of one man."

------------------------------

OOOOOMPH!

"Ano, kaya mo pa?!" Screamed one man at me as he kicked my rib with his steel-toed boots. "Putang-ina, kilalanin mo yung binabangga mo ha?" And delivers another one of his Muay-Thai kicks into my side. The pain crashing towards to the brain really fast.

The other four laugh as they had their turn barraging me. The other one just used his fists.

BANG. BANG. THUD. THUD. CRACK!

Blow after blow. I feel like a punching bag on the floor. Or like preserved beef being tenderized.

"Ang yabang mo ha? Akala mo makakalusot ka?"

I smell the reek of liquor smothering the evening air. The steam of my blood stings my nose. I feel the soil and some of it gets into my mouth.

They went at it for what seemed like an eternity. I lay there and the blood from my face seemed black in the evening sky. Each blow gives a flash of color to my eyes. Mostly I get red.

"THUD!" goes the steel bat against my back. Then against my legs, then my knees...

Then I feel myself going limp. I'm no longer a person. I, Sancho Dela Paz, or Sanch to my buddies, am now a vegetable.

I feel nothing anymore. Then I feel the men carrying me in each hand and foot into the trunk of an SUV. They tied me up and then closed the trunk. As a soon as the trunk thunked, the engine started and sped away.

Next think i felt was thud of the soil and the grass brushing against everything. The only thing I wore was my underwear and my bruises. I'm tired. I'm fucking exhausted. I'm a fucking vegetable. Even vegetables goes to sleep. Because they get tired...

I woke up in my bed with my Anne holding a glass of water.

"I'm glad you came back." I said, struggling a smile through the caked blood on my lips and cheeks. The air felt a bit dense and everything was in slight sepia tones.

"I'm here for you now, I'm sorry I broke up with you two months ago. But all I did was think of you. Wait, enough of the mushy stuff, drink this." She answered, smiling and holding three pills in her hand.

"Buksan niyo to!" Said a voice outside the door. Then there were banging. Violent banging. I hear rifle butts hitting the wood. The doorknob frantically turning clockwise, then counter-clockwise, rapidly.

Then silence.

Anne hugged me and cried with fear. I could not move.

A gunshot hit the doorknob and somebody kicked it open. Those same five guys. I remember them. Especially the bald one. This time they were carrying heavy arms.

One of them drew my crying girlfriend out of the room. She was screaming but I could not make out the words.

The bald one cocked the rifle and pointed at my chest.

Then he pulled the trigger. Three bullets flew and hit my chest like mighty blows of a tiny fist. I rattle from the impact. I see my girlfriend running back to the room screaming. The 5 guys laughing and leaving the room.

I see her crying. Then I hear her screaming…

"SAAAAAAANCH!! SANNCCCH!!!! SAANCHO DELA PAZ!!! Sancho!!" I hear her from my darkening vision. Then my slowing heartbeat.

"Sancho, Sancho, gising ka na ba? Can you hear us now Sancho?" I opened my eyes and this time I'm in a hospital bed.

My eyes were blurry and it screamed with pain from the flourescent lights.

"Sancho Dela Paz? That's your name right?" Said the nurse to me. "That's what we saw on your driver's license.

I nodded weakly, every muscle wept with weakness.

"Buti nakita ka ng jeepney driver sa may Highway. Umiihi lang daw siya nung may nakita siyang katawan sa may mga Talahiban. Dinala ka niya dito"

"Nasaan siya?" Managing two words out of my aching face. My jaws all broken and bruised.

"Umalis na siya sir. Takot yata na baka siya magbayad ng pang-hospital"

----------TBC-----------------

zs

2008-01-13T22:16:00.001-08:00

shifts

2007-02-04T02:42:00.000-08:00

I am simply lost and this is where I am. Not that everything I do has lost meaning. It's just that, so little in my life makes sense now. This log exists. For what reason, I don't know. But I look to this and realize my shifting states of existence. And that many of the things I do simply rotate around the fact that a lot things I do, I do simply because I am compelled to win. As if some absurd game that has no real rules but to beat the numbers and finish first.

Despite what I do, I miss something. I also come up a little short. This strikes me as odd because as far as I have gone beyond myself. I simply cannot exceed what I set.

This is another shift of my change of my mind. It is just that, in this moment of epiphany that I call now. I can push myself further. That although my axis of focus has converged into a discernable path, I still lose sight of what has to be done.

Let me not be lost by all the lyrical nonsense that surrounds us. Let me Discover my own strength.

Purge all the nonsense.

And let my life have meaning again.

matter of time

2006-10-06T07:55:00.000-07:00

I've had my head vigorously shaken too many times during the past few days. But i think I'm liking it. This bothers me to a certain extent.

This is technical support. It's a bit ironic, because I've always thought there is a conflict between the onslaught of technology and the lyrical realities I face. I might be mistaken though.

I've been taking calls for nearly three weeks now. I always say I'm having fun. There's a certain level of self-deception that transforms itself to reality.

What am I up to? nothing. I'm just transforming pixels in my screen into nonsensical rants about my unpleasant life and my job as a tech support rep.

Stop. I'm just swimming to and fro in a murky current. Oh, I think I had it in exclamation while back. SO this is what happens when a man sits down to write with so many distractions. Fragments of thought and language that make no coherent connection but otherwise related because there is only one mind thinking it.

I'm just gathering bits and pieces of myself now. But for someone reason, I feel some overpowering fuel come over me. I love this feeling: of being in control, of being a master of my destiny. I pray that What I have now won't be taken a way, I need this for now. My books offer a great remedy to my frailties, by the way. Somehow, because of the wealth of human company that working offers me, I miss the realm of my lyrical self. I want to retreat and be part of it again.

Maybe I should write poetry again, that would be cool again, I think. I walk around an I hear myself saying something or thinking something up, wishing I had a pen or something to write with, but then, there's nothing. So the inspiration fades away after an instant, sunk in the mud of my brain matter.

So, there. I should write more. I says.

sunday blues

2006-08-19T21:51:00.000-07:00

I was reading the Sunday paper this morning over some coffee and a tuna sandwich. I usually don't read the papers. Either I'm too lazy to read the way the news is written or maybe I'm just so sick and tired of all the shit marring our already forsaken earth.

But there I was, out of some mental clarity the morning has given me. Besides the coffee I made tasted so good I had to devour something for my mind too. The tuna sandwich wasn't bad, either.

So there was this affair up in the middle east, Lebanon, Israel, Bush, France, and the UN. Spinning around in the frenzy of their own element, war and charade-ish diplomacy. Oh, what's new? President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, the election hubub, comelec bullshit. More Lebanon. More politicians bitching around. Some going boohoo, some saying so much vehemently they might as well say fuck several times to demonstrate their point.

So that's why I am repelled by the news, it amplifies my bitterness towards the world I live in. It dawned on me that the only I reason the news is that I looked like some classy mature male taking enough time to be updated on current events. And the smell and sound of the newspaper has something pleasing to it.

Oh, I am not an absolute cynic. It's just that there's too much shit that you won't even notice there's water and porcelain in the toilet. Everything is just so covered with filth.

But there are journalist who write things that pique my interest.

Like, tomorrow it's going to be Ninoy Aquino day. I usually don't pay attention to holidays. Besides, during the time the EDSA affair took place I was still sucking my thumb and wetting my bed.

But something Max Soliven did catch my attention. Ninoy, he says, is one of the last romantics. Nice way of putting it, isn't it? He won a battle by dying. Now that's romanticism at its height. Great man he is. Isn't it the case that if a romantic dies, romanticism is ignited? But the case isn't really so, our age is now the age of reason, we say. Technology, information, and money is the real deal this time. Something about this paragraph is utterly cliche, but hey, this is my fkn blog so what the hell, right? It's just that the dread felt by the last romanticist of the nineteenth century are now becoming a harsh reality.

Let us embrace the nihilism. If we seek so much to turn our life into a lyrical masterpiece, then we put ourselves in the line of fire.

Or embrace the little force left of the Dionysian left in our world.

I for my part, am going to put on my dancehall riddims and just slide. It's a sunday. Let the nihilism cease for this one day. Let me submerge...

opus, labora

2006-08-12T08:21:00.000-07:00

I have to write before I dry up again. There has to be a break to my life-pattern. Wherein, when I start to experience some action, I stop writing. I tend to break off my other pursuits, and then suddenly find myself in a pool of lukewarmness. And that, as we all know, is sucky. Right?

SO here I am, a week into my work at Dell. Dell Philippines. Hell, you wouldn't imagine how over-eager I am to work there. I constantly have restrain myself lest I start looking like some overeager retarded first-grader. This is my liberation. I have gained freedom from this oppresive prison cell that I call my room.

How was it? Well, for one thing I discovered that my mind has been sufficiently warped after four months in captivity. I feel like my social skills have been crippled in a considerable extent. I think I lost the need to walk around being oh-so Mr. Friendly. Well, I won't be surprised if someone sees me as an egoistic and cocky asshole with an impressive sense of style. (shameless)

I have this feeling that I feed off other people's energies. That sounds wrong. But I guess I didn't mean it like I'm some parasitic mutant freak. I just feel surrounded by a strange energy when around humans, especially in a group. Or in an intense conversation. That explains my constant lethargy when at home, holed up in my room.

Work also serves as useful distraction from my self-destructive mind activities. It's unbelievable what a mind like mine can brew up in an idle state. It moves from profound to perverse to senseless to fantastic to useless to creative and finally to a drifting state that can be described by picturing a murky pool of stagnant water.

I have to say this. I feel powerful. I feel no shame in bragging about the size of my ego. It's just my ego, right? What's the big frkn deal. But anyway, I feel that this is another unique opportunity to be good, to perform and whatever else I am good at. I always consider it my personal mission to be the good in everything I do, which is of course no unique. I feel a terrible shame when I suck at what I do. I especially recognize the things that I am incapable of and I proceed with caution when getting into anything.

What now? Just an end to senselessness. Oh, I have discovered my weakness, again. It's just that I tend to forget. This particular weakness is a mark of people in our bloodline, so I'd best keep my distance. OR maybe I should play it cool, I dunno. For, now, distance is my best option. There's so much IO

post-bumming

2006-08-12T07:50:00.000-07:00

Bummin is officialy over for me. Which is a good thing. wait. It's a great thing!

I'm one who always walks around carrying fire in his chest. It's such a burden to stay at home in a state of constant inactivity. It's as if that fire that should be razing the world is in here, dying down, warming silently like ambers waiting to be extinguished.

A week into the training and I feel so intoxicated, but exactly intoxicated by the things they constantly stuff into our heads. What's great about being at work is the simple fact that I'm working. Work. And, I'm finally earning some cash. Moolah. YEah.

My ego has suffered too much in my state of impotent bummishness. These thoughts came to me this weekend, as there is no work. I feel myself in a constant state of lethargy. I found myself sleeping all day. Sometimes I wonder if this is how it really is. But then, maybe it is.

I remember a line from a book I read lately - Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, "The highest moral purpose of man is to exist."

To slink bank in a constant state of drifting in life would be such a shame to such a moral principle. I feel glad that I am, again, in a place where I can make choices and do something for myself.

regret, self-resentment

2006-07-28T09:44:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I do acts that are so irrational, so unfounded on any basis of what might make sense.

I hate my mind. I hate myself. I often do.

I was so angry myself and now it has degraded into a flooding regret, flooding my spirit like inky black water.

Some things can be undone.

I'm just clogged. And I am longing for forgiveness.

It's just beyond rational. It doesn't make sense.

I'm such an asshole.

This will never make sense.

rebirth

2006-07-27T16:59:00.000-07:00

I love my life again. I'm on track again. Again, I found my personal rythm. Or It's as simple as a rythm. Considering the complexities, I feel like I am once again the conductor of this apparently discordant orchestra called existence.

What happened? I cleaned up my room. I can sleep in it again without fear of wild creatures. I no longer am Cro Magnon, I am Homo Sapiens. I am back to my evolutionary path. I say prayers again. I can think about life and smile again. I feel resolved to fulfill tasks I have procastinated for more than four weeks now. I am no longer addicted to TV. I have expunged my feeling of shame. I feel capable of empathy now. I feel that my mind is alive again. I am so supercharged I can electrocute anyone I touch. I look at a mirror and see myself, not some grotesque blob of organic mishaps. I smoke even less. I bought a pack last night and I am not even a third through it. I wake up mornings now, not noontime. I can hear birds chirping now, not the resounding groan of my slumbering spirit. I found the lyric core of my being, and I can hear the world again. This is what I lost for the past two weeks, my personal security. I have lost so much time, but I feel no regret.

I have simply been dying. I have died again. And I was reborn again. And this time God was there to deliver me. The earth smiles, too, because here I am, a healthy child. I'm gonna do sit ups again. I'm gonna maintain the order in my room. I'm gonna catch up on my reading. I'm gonna begin my spanish studies. I'll try to get in touch with my friends whom I have exchanged for Playstation, internet and boob tube episodes.

The ashes have vanished. The fire now blazes. The storm has passed, although the thunder still resounds. Illuminated, enlightened. The ubermensch is just around the horizon.

My personal mission? Stay alive. I can't afford to fall ill again, to my slow dying spells. I'm sick of "AGAINs.' It's about time it stopped.

It's just about Fkin time.

living?

2006-07-24T12:04:00.000-07:00

When it's three AM and you still couldn't get some sleep. Take a shit.

It's just been slow. As if I have been dragging my whole ass to this minute of my life. It's not really depressing, but somehow, I can feel the oil on my forehead as vividly as the light of my monitor pricks my eyes. Yow.

I've been unable to touch smokes for three days now because of some nasty cold, from which I have fully recovered recently, so maybe I'm going to grab a cig or two. Make that three.

My lower back's aching. I've slipped down to this phase of mine where I hibernate, physically, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, and whatever human faculty I can put to rest.

MAybe this is what Zen feels like. For a minute. I have no ambition, no desire, no sorrow, no pain, no regret, no hunger. Just a nagging feeling to take a shit. So maybe that's what I'll do.

Then the Zen will fade away.

I'll pay my credit card bills tomorrow. Without a job, it's not that pleasing a task. Whatever.

cycle

2006-07-08T21:33:00.000-07:00

It's not easy to deserve,
But tis so easy to desire,
To flame with passion and want,
To pursue with abandon and foolishness,

And yet not deserve,
What parameters are there?
Why am I so parched?
When I am already drowning?

Why do I have to smash
Everything I create?
Why do I throw up?
When I ingest something delicious.

And yet why do I still desire?
And yet the answer is so simple,
So painstakingly clear,
I ask too many fucking questions.

Idle Humanity

2006-07-07T08:17:00.000-07:00

This is it. I'm at the most dangerous phase of being a bum. I'm actually starting to love my life.

GAAAH!!

For one thing. I always have the feeling that I have dried up myself, but the truth is, my heart is so brimming of things to engage in but not enough things to engage in. It's a terrible feeling. It's like lighting a cigarette and then realizing you have actually lit up the filter.

I don't want to sound to whiny at this point. Because there isn't really much to whine about. There isn't much to whine about because there isn't much anyway. Sometimes I whine about not having much to whine about.

But I'm not to the part where I actually like this bum lifestyle. One of the few drawbacks is the fact the I'm not financially gifted. It's difficult to go out beholding all the commodities laid before me! It's like standing in front of a hot hot naked supermodel and not being able to make it stand up. (the analogy police will get me for this.)

Well, the fun parts? two weekends ago I was at Batangas. It was the most fun I had since a veeery long time. I don't just mean just recently long. I mean long long. That much fun. I also consider the fact that it was not a fun that lasted for a couple of hours only, It the kind of fun that's extended. Like, you get there Saturday morning at three, stay up, get into the fiesta slash parade thing, drink lots of booze, get wet, get home in the afternoon all tanned up(or maybe not tanned up for my case, I'm all browned up like some barbecued pork), chill out at the garden porch thingy, chill out till night, have dinner, sing some Videoke, and then fall asleep at the sofa.

To put it simply? Great food, Groovy people, lovely place, and unlimited booze.

I'd love to dive into the details but seriously, I've written too much already.

I've recently lost appetite in reading in writing. Which scares me a bit because at this point in my writing my heads already whooozing about, yup, that word has three O's on it.

On another note on, I have fallen in love with reggae. yeah. There's something about the music that makes my soul reverbate. The beats don't make you loop around, all you have to do is sway from side to side, close your eyes, and try to comprehend that sweet african-carribean english accent. Dig. The music speaks to your soul, and you feel it.

I also started swimming this past week. Swimming is sweet. I mean, it's wonderful to be in the water, especially in our kind of climate. And another thing, there's something in the wonder that just makes me feel different, it's like being in the womb or getting a snapshot of the evolution phenomenon. There's something about being in the water that I cannot fully articulate, the feeling is simply sublime when I glide through the water. Plus, I'm staying fit. Only this leisure has been cut short by my wallet getting stolen in the shower room at that pool. The details to that are gritty I still cringe at the thought of how it was stolen. And that's why I'm back to lifting weights again.

I see a lot of action, considering my status as a BUM. Like, one night I was at a bar with my friends, having the time of our lives! What we did this time was just drink and eat our time away. We ordered every drink on the menu. When it was time to pay the bill, i drew my credit card out of my wallet and handed it to the waiter.

And then my smile was wiped from my face faster than I wipe my ass.

My credit card was DECLINED.

Good thing we were regulars there, so we made some sort of arrangement that saved our asses.

The scariest part of all my Bumming days? Is that I'm starting to like television. I'm not kidding. I used to abhor the boob tube, the idiot box, or that rectangular device that gives off mind-absorbing radiations. Now, I check out the TV schedules to check out what's good and I know the time slots for my favorite shows! GAAH!

And I'm having one too many thoughts about romance. In all this bum-laden turmoil, midst all this freeloading, I feel exceptionally lonely.

Idle Humanity is the birthplace of many evils. And of world class GRoovin' too!!! oh yeah!

So tomorrow I'm off to Batangas again to eat drink and celebrate with my friends. Well, specifically, RJ with Kim and the rest of her family. so there.

street beats

2006-06-12T10:22:00.000-07:00

That aft Earth spoke to me in beats.
I closed my eyes and I listened,
feeling the rythm of the streets

Sunday, I joined some new friends in a percussion jam at baywalk. I'm writing this and my head's still bobbing sideways, up and down. The sun was setting and there they were, lost in percussion, the acolytes of the beats. This might be the same kind of music that the ancients danced to. Warriors may have thumped this music as they waged their battles. I felt so many things just by listening to the alchemy of percussions and beholding a display of apparent frenzy. It felt so profound the world consumed me.

It's always nice to have a sense of harmony, with no anger, pain, regret, and no flaming passions. I just feel the real nature of my body, being fluid. The whole world dissolves and there every conflict that exists simply turns into a paradox.

I just helped a friend of mine transport his stuff from Manila from Fairview. We walked, talked, and enjoyed a cheap yet thoroughly delightful dinner.

Afterwards, we watched this horribly crappy british parody of the Gladiator, the Gladiatress. Well, the crappiness may be it's humor factor. Take this, a woman named Aboutworthapig (or something like that) gets her head cut off by a gladiator and her two sisters rescue her from the underworld through some tunnel. The Aboutworthapig ends up at the same stadium where the her head was cut off and encounters the same gladiator. She defeats the gladiator by biting of his balls. The three sisters knock out other fighters by dancing some turkish dance, hypnotizing the men, and bonking their heads on the warriors, who just fall to the floor. I haven't seen anything this slow. It just makes me weep for all others that may be unfortunate enough to encounter this film by some horrible circumstance.

Ten pm, I started my commute home. On my way home, somewhere on my way to UP, I rode on a tricycle. Well, it might have been okay, if it weren't for the several times that I almost fell off my seat, which was composed of haphazardly welded strips of steel. From UP, I got on a jeep. Well, nice ride, except that I had to dangle from the rear of the ride because I'm luck enough to reach the station at the exact moment when the seats of jeep were already full. From Katipunan, I got on a jeep driven by someone who might be on the cast of the future FAST AND THE FURIOUS movie that would be shot here in a Manila. Everytime the driver hit the brakes, I found myself moving a foot away from where I was sitting.

And the music!! The Horror of it!!! Imagine the exact beat and melody of the song MY HUMPS by the Black Eyed Peas. Now fill it in with the lyrics "anghang anghang anghang, ng sile," or "sometimes, anghang anghang anghang ng ulam." The next songs were equally horrible. It's just evil. I think these songs were spinned by some musical brainwasher of a devil for some dark purpose. I dare not speculate what.

Getting off the jeep and starting my walk home was exactly like finally getting some water after 48 hours without water.

I'm supposed to feel exhausted now, and go to bed feeling bad about my day. But like I said,

That aft Earth spoke to me in beats.
I closed my eyes and I listened,
feeling the rythm of the streets.

That's what I call harmony: having a nice time then going through shitty experiences, bitchin bout it, laughin bout it and let every event, good and bad, become a like a thump on a drum on that sunday afternoon.

After I write this, I'm gonna turn on my chill-out music, grab my Marlboros, sip some tea, close my eyes, recline on the couch, and let the world embrace me as I drift off....

sigh.

(methanks pulela, who introduced me to the drumjam. :)

forward

2006-06-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

Here's a scene.

My head's nestled between two soft and fluffy pillows, thinking happy thoughts. I have been trying to get some sleep for almost an hour now and I think the flight scheduled for dreamland is starting to take off. Somehow, I feel my spirit smiling with peace. The constant hum of the airconditioning is lulling me to sleep as if nature and technology united to comfort me tonight. Yes...

AND MY CELPHONE F!%!NG RINGS! a message. a text message. text.

I place my celphone underneath my pillow because I use it as some kind of head-buzzing alarm clock in the morning. Well, I got a message for somebody. Maybe It's a friend saying goodnight. Or someone I have crush with.

And it's just some measly quote. "Life is whatever blahblahb...love is like whatever .... whoever you love whatever eat cheese or shit or cute or WHATEVER!" sheeesh.

And because I have a beef with these forwards, the plane to dreamland has just crashed, leaving no survivors.

What is the deal with forwarded messages anyway? And why do I hate them? Well, for one thing, they're just forwarded! What's the point? There is no point. These people just forward messages in a mad frenzy thinking that they'd get the most of 50 pesos that they paid for to have 5 days of unlimited text. Some just think it's something thoughtful, 'maybe he'd appreciate it.' That's nice. Well, to a point, it is nice. But this thoughtfulness isn't even true enough! Celphones these days have people-groups that can send to 20 people at once! YAY. shit.

And the mindlessness of it all! I mean, it may possibly some touching quote about love or life that will absolutely have no impact on me. I'd appreciate more the funnies, but it's mindless, still. And the horrible CHAIN MESSAGES! like, PASS THIS TO 10 PEOPLE and something will happen to you at 4pm tomorrow! f%#%ng right.

WHAT has this world come down to?

I might be some ungrateful asshole, but I've already told these people not to send so much, 'please remove me from these groups.' But no! Some of them even feel wounded that I don't appreciate these gestures. AHm, sorry, but, I ain't that touchy feely about electronic gestures.

Yeah, I 'll admit I've laughed to many forwarded jokes and maybe read some of these quotes. But there are times when I'm commuting, reading my favorite book, and trying to get some sleep that I just can't appreciate messages like this. Most of these I just erase right away, I seldom read them.

horses and camels in hotel bars

2006-05-31T07:37:00.000-07:00

Question. Which one runs faster?

An arabian horse?
Or a camel?

These are the kind of things I've been stuffing into my head lately. I've spent two days this week hanging out at the Richmond hotel in ortigas with my father's friends from back in the academy. It's quite fascinating.

I sit there, in an ambient lit room , sipping light beer and munching on cocktail food midst high-rollers dressed in fine-tailored barongs and suits. So much for a high-powered atmosphere. Oddly, I feel so comfortable there.

You won't believe how many times I hear the introductory phrases, 'At the end of the day,' and 'When all's been said and done.' And then I heard this so many times, 'You gotta earn your keep.' Or, 'What sets apart ordinary mean from great men is the willingness to go the extra mile.' And papa's favorite, 'It's not about dying for a cause, It's about killing for a cause, and what better cause can you have than to kill for a friend,' now don't take it literally, but that's some heavy shit right there.

These are men at the prime of their life and have gained a substantial amount of hardcore street wisdom. There is no better lecture than to sit with these men, my father and his buddies, and listen to what lessons they have to preach to me. An I just sit back, drink, munch, and smoke while I nod my head perceptively and absorb the wisdom of the streets, or as Lito bluntly puts it, this 'f***ing crazy world.'

And, oh, I just came from an interview. Well, to place it in a more colloquial way, 'sisiw.' I am such a cocky bastard. And tomorrow I have another interview. This time this is the money shot. Wish me luck.

So, which is faster?

In a 100 meter race the horse will no doubt win.
But in a 3 mile race, the camel will prove victorious.

Now, you might say this current parable-slash-question is flawed in the animal planet sense of it, but the lesson just makes up for that flaw.

transient lights

2006-05-16T05:35:00.000-07:00

(just another sad poem... words, however, still defy this profound moment. a futile attempt)

Head nestled in a soft soft pillow,
My mind was getting ready for dreams,
But the words I heard from your lips,
Banged inside me like gongs,

Nicotine couldn't snuff it out,
Neither can melodies of love,
And Night invited me to share,
With her Sublime melancholy.

I stepped out the back door,
Looking at plants that were once green,
Vaguely colored with nocturnal shades
While they gave off that nightly smell.

And then I cheered when I saw,
A throng of fireflies swirling the mist.
I skipped my way towards the lights,
Thought maybe I'd catch a a glower or two.

Maybe I'd hold one in my hands,
And let her warmth engulf my chill
She'll bring delight to my eyes
And perhaps a tad bit of peace

But daylight came to my utter dismay,
And the glowing swarm flew away,
My hands empty as I stood there,
Melting in the heat of day.

:(

cliche

2006-05-15T18:12:00.000-07:00

Now for a cliche topic. Love. Amor!

I just had a thought about it. Why are we so fascinated by it? Why are we drawn and attracted to people in such an insane way? Well, I have this theory...

That if we find ourselves in love, we discover or find comfort of some kind. Being with someone that we love gives justification to whatever past events that may have led us to the arms of our beloved. It erases all regrets from the past. We find joy in the fact that everything that took place, be it horrible or sublime, took place because there is the illusion that destiny inexorably brought us together with that person. Everything is justified, even the whole history of mankind. We start to think or feel that if the Spaniards hadn't colonized us, we would find this person that we love, or maybe if that guy did not eat out of my lunch box in fifth grade, none of this would have taken place...

Yeah, you're right, I just saw one of dem chick flicks. I can't believe I'm writing this. :)

this blog will self-destruct in five seconds

2006-05-12T12:03:00.000-07:00

Good food, good movie, good place, and good crowd: how can the night possibly go wrong?

Let’s start with the good food.

By some divine providential force, my cousin has gotten hold of 1000 pesoses worth of Haagen Dasz Gift Certificates! Haagen Dasz! Ohhhhh. My mouth still waters when I reminisce that ice cream soooo creamy, utterly rich and divine! Most of the experience is indescribable. I had 2 scoops of blueberry cheesecake flavor. It touched my mouth as if I the whole creation blossomed inside my mouth. Or maybe I’m exaggerating.

For the movies, we got a bag of Doritos, a bag of Lays, and a bucket of popcorn for all four of us to share. We only got halfway through each of them.

Then the movie.

This one gets rave reviews for me. Screw the critics who keep claiming that this film has performed below expectations! What would you expect from mission impossible? I mean, would someone really expect an intelligent film?

The stunts were just stunning. It literally kept your heart beat like the hooves of stallion on cocaine! There were several parts in the movie when I said, “wow.” I kept nudging my cousin at my right, just to reassure myself that I’m not so easily amazed. This one really pushed the envelope on extreme action. I saw things I’ve never seen on an action film. And I’ve seen lots of action films. This is more of a stunt flick, than one of those karate-wushu-kickbox-streetfighting movies. And oh, you’ll have more explosions than the pops that your popcorn would take. Think of all the expensive things they blew up! The action is almost eye candy, or maybe eye spice. Whatever you call it. After the film we kept on relishing our favorite parts, “Hey, you know that scene where…” and then “Yeah! It’s so cool!” And yeah, we were still brimming with action after it.

But there were several points in the film when it just seemed too silly. And I think they really screwed up with the name of Ethan Hunts agency: IMF. What does it stand for? Impossible Mission Force! Give me a break! Impossible mission force. For the love of whatever we hold dear!

So yeah, I got what I just expected from mission impossible: pure, explosive action. It’s not so memorable as to give me profound life realizations, but it sure is as entertaining as a rollercoaster ride! Once in a while we all need ‘just fun’ films. I’m kinda’ tired with all the serious stuff I’m watching.

Damn, I’m so sure MI3 publicity people will pay me good money for this one. Hehe. (I wish)

And more good food.

Before we went home, we had a stop at Fazoli’s for some Italian and had a nice intelligent chat.

On our way home, a horrible loop in our head played the Mission Impossible themes song! Wahhhh. LSS! “dun dun dun dundunun dun dun dun dundunun, tenenen!” Over and over and over and over. It drove me wild. We were actually chanting it. Insane.

growing molds on my body

2006-05-11T19:24:00.000-07:00

I'm a bum.

This fact makes my spirit weep. When I first walked the earth, it was instantly obvious that I had fire and wind in my soul. They kept thinking I had worms on my butt, or something. I was always itching for something. I'm a restless spirit. And right now, I think I have been put in peace for far too long.

I graduated march 25th this year. And what's the date now? March 13th. I couldn't help but think how unproductive I am!

Now why am I thinking this? ahhhh. right. because I have no money. I have no bloody freakin money, no moolah, no honey from the pockets, not a drip of blessing from mammon, not bit of sweet sweet rustblood-smelling paper, NIL!

I haven't left home in four days. Now that's a terrible thing to befall someone like me. This is some world class ranting right here.

But there's another devil whispering into my ear... "enjoy it Adrian, It's for the greater good, for the salvation of your poor body, enjoy it. Surf all day, read less, watch tv, eat a lot, don't exercise, MWAHAHAHA!"

I guess by now you notice that I have just went up a notch in the 'retard-O-meter.' Spawning imaginary friends and ridicilous-sounding and ear-whispering imps.

but that's cool - like some thing I heard from a James Bond film, "The line between genius and insanity is drawn only by success."

hospital drama

2006-05-10T15:44:00.000-07:00

We visited my grandfather yesterday, my dad's dad, at the Philippine Heart Center. A already saw him last weekend when he was still up north at tugegarao. He was recently transferred by ambulance from there because, hell, he won't last longer if he stayed up there, for lots of reasons.

Last I saw him, he was already recovering. Which is good. Or I dunno. He's already 79 years old, I always exclaim that he has gone a very long way in life. People in my father's side of the family tend to reach a very long age. My immediate family ain't really for aging, we're more of be successful and die young types.

Anywhooo... the hospital room with my grandfather in it throws me into an awkward mood. When he greeted me with his toothless smile, I smile back. But maybe I do give out this awkward vibe because I was thinking in overdrive inside that room, full of pointless ponderings. He looked so sickly, so frail and so helpless. I don't mean to feel sorry for him, but males in our clan tend to be mighty and vibrant, and you could really feel that part of him drained out.

But something bothers me. Aren't I supposed to pray that he get well and live for a couple more days or months, or perhaps even more than a year? Aren't I suppose to pray that he be able to do stuff again, and get out of the hospital? I'm confused because I'm in this mood of acceptance that somehow he would die in one flash of a moment, he has already done so much with his life, soo much that he would leave his family a mammoth of legacy. All efforts to revive him and prolong his existence will leave people a memory of him being utterly frail and perhaps partially handicapped. I seem to find that hard to bear. So there, I don't wish for him to survive this ordeal much longer, neither do I wish for him to die. I just stand by and think... whatever may come shall come. I feel sorry for him also, in a certain way. As a child, even until now, I always fantasize our clan being a tribe of warriors. And seeing him like this makes me sad. Because warriors don't want to perish in a soft bed reeking of antiseptic, they want to fall in the heat of a mighty battle- figuratively, of course.

and oh!-on a much lighter note. The nurse who's assigned to my grandfather's a girl from my distant past. Someone I knew intimately and is now the girlfriend of a friend of mine, my batchmate actually.

Sometimes, the world can just shrink so small... it becomes smaller than my balls.

So yesterday, I saw the guy(yeah the boyfriend) and we were both on our way up, him to fetch his girlfriend whom I knew intimately before, and me to see my grandfather. We both saw the girl at the nurse's station as we passed by, and there!!!!! And the award for BEST AWKWARD MOMENT GOES TO...

I'd rather not go to details. You get the picture. hehehe

procastination and global warming

2006-05-02T02:19:00.000-07:00

The blogging continues...

I've been a whole lot these past two weeks. I've been to Baguio for almost three days and to Tagaytay for a day. The whole lot of what I have experienced seems too overwhelming to blog it all.

Should I blog everything that happens?

hell no.

But I sure am a great procastinator! First class five star procastination is my talent.

I've been putting off blogging and everytime I put it off it seems to grow into a burden, when it's really not.

Everytime I put off something I take a step backwards. And I'm back where I started.

Procrastination and Laziness. Is it the weather?

BTW. Fuck the weather.Fuck the motherfucking scorching hellish ovenbaking microwave-ready hi-octane race-car exhaust burning hot magma weather.

Shit... my head hurts. And I'm cussing too much. I might have a toothache again soon.

I am now departing to my antartic fantasy... see yah!

friendship and sunsets

2006-04-19T15:21:00.000-07:00

For so long in my life, I have taken people for granted. Seldom have I been really there for my friends when they have a problem. Seldom do I really keep in touch for the sake of preserving that bond. Seldom have I sincerely listened. And one by one, they're leaving the country. I was born and raised as a transient. And so I have the very little ability to develop deep relationships. But this does not discount me from being a true friend. How little have I given back for the beautiful moments that my friends have given me. The sound of my friends' laughter, cheers, tears, interesting remarks, corny remarks, hi-decibel screams and the rythm of conversations resounded inside me somehow, this morning. As I kept my heart and mind silent for a while, I heard the symphony it played in my soul. I feel regret for all those friendships I have allowed to slip into the shadowed corners of my memory. And at the same time I feel renewed strength to preserve what I have now.

Now I realize why sunsets are beautiful. As the sun slips away beneath the vast horizon, we realize how beautiful the day is. Our last glimpse of that amber light all at once brings the memories of days past. At the same time, as it hides beyond our sight, we appreciate it more because it is bound to disappear.

The dreadful night fills us. And makes us ache for the day.

And then there's the sunrise...

unbearably "konyotic"

2006-04-17T05:24:00.000-07:00

Been out the whole day, went to Quiapo to check on the digicam I had repaired(which was not yet fixed), paid the credit card bill and renewed my NBI clearance.

It was just another urban adventure day, really. Another pleasing and fulfilling day, when...

I was on my way home: tired, but happy, riding the FX. Then there's this guy (im assuming he's male but not necessary masculine) who paid his fare and asked something in this fashion:

"Manong, magkano po papuntang junk-shun, chooweny, oh choowenyfayv?" (20 or 25)

Gimme a fkn break! Wasn't he supposed to say "junkshon, tuwenty, o tuwenty fayb?" or say, "twenty, or twenty five?" What's the deal with that? Why try so hard to sound sophisticated and end up sounding utterly ridiculous.

I seem to be some monstrous, trying-hard social critic, but c'mon, who's not pissed off by these socialites who speak some hybrid english-filipino pseudo-dialect, be it rich, filthy rich, or pretending to be rich? Sure, we comprehend, that's no problem. But why speak that way? See, there's no such thing as taglish. It's just plain irritating how they pronounce these words intentionally. And the way they speak Filipino as if there tounges were tagged with "Made in the USA." But then again, maybe its not there fault, maybe it's their parents who were under the illusion that when their kids spoke in such a manner, the children'll sound, sosyal. Total crap.

So there, I just needed to release that tension eating me. And to that guy, whomever you are, I'm sorry, I've just been keeping this issue inside me long enough. And try to speak proper Filipino, because seriously, you'll get nowhere pronouncing numbers like that, and neither will you get anywhere speaking the vernacular like that. Wait, maybe you'll get admittance into the Filipino United Club Konyo .

Sometimes I feel evil.

dies familiae

2006-04-16T09:42:00.000-07:00

Official family day. All seven of us drove up to QC to have lunch at my grandma's home. The whole Crazy Bunch.

We got there and we ate, pronto.

For me, the highlight of our visit was our grandmother.

And there she is. My grandma. Why did I post her picture up here? Why is there a water cooler at the right side? Is that the kitchen? what are these questions for?

She thinks I'm still in the seminary. I went up to her and I did that 'mano' thing, which i haven't done in a long time, and she whispered to me, "Pagkatapos ng apat na taon ako ng magmamano sayo."

I was chilled to the marrow. In order to keep her happy, some of my kin convinced me to keep her from the fact that I have gone out of the seminary. Hell, I've been out for almost three years now. My conscience bites me like a rabid dog! But what of her tender and fragile heart? Everyday she goes to pray that I'd be priest someday, since her three ex-seminarian sons went off and had lots of kids. I'd be her only hope, in some way. That me being the priest might uplift our hazy clan to salvation. I'm just speculating.

Today's easter sunday. And I felt God knocking at my soul... i sat for a few minutes and pondered... I fell into some serious deep-thinking spiritual hole. I felt a spiritual reawakening of sorts... If there were only more space in a blog that it would be bearable to read.

And to the lighter side of things! :) and there we were, at grandma's home. Did I mention they have a sunroof at the dining room? suhh-weet!

And there was food. lots of it. I didn't have my monstrous appetite with me though... I wonder why.

Here are my two little sisters(andee and alex)! Two mischievious, spoiled, bratty, and totally adorable little sisters!

I think the younger one(alex) is still watching nickelodeon at this hour. Insomniac, just like kuya.

And there they are, posing wide mouthed and ready to gorge on a luscious chunk of kuchinta, is that how it's spelled? Maybe that's kutsinta. or Koochinta. or whatever.

HEY! is that my father sleeping in the background? Yup, that's papa. It ruins the moment a little bit. But hey, that's my father, I can't just photoshop him out at my whim!

There...now don't forget to chew those hideous-looking treats, alex! hehe.
(I should have asked papa to move a bit. hehe.)

And that's me!! goofing off! alex does appear to be annoyed... Well, she is! (hehe)

And that's my younger bro. goofing off with alex! Aren't we one big bunch of goofballs?

And so we goofed off a little bit more. Us grown-ups also had a little chitchat about certain affairs about the family, religion, government, career prospects abroad, and a couple more interesting blah-blahs. When the time came when 6 out 7 Arugay family members were yawning, we knew it was time to hit the road.

On the way home, we decided to hit the supermarket. Boy, the two little girls and I made such a racket!

"I think we need more tequila, and some salt."

It's sad how the media influences kids these days. Look at that, my sister's thinking of eating ice cream through her eyes!

WAAAAAAAAAH. Free us from this crazy sibling of ours!

We went to the cash register, chaching, drove out, went home, ate something, and all went ZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Except me. I feel perked up today.
I read up a bit of Kafka, juice up my dying brain a bit.

I love my family. :)

marathon time!

2006-04-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

My eyes are bleeding, but im having one helluva relaxin' week.Paradoxical, ain't it? I've put my dvd player and tv in overdrive. So much that it spontaneously turned itself off at one point. Scary part is, Ive grown an extra pair of eyes right one my forehead, so that i can watch while the other pair rests. I've consumed caffeine with a syringe. I have binged in-between screenings. And I think I've grown a substantial amount of blob.

So far I've seen fifteen movies, an impressive number by my standards. I've literally upset my body rythm: sleeping at 6am, waking up at twelve, bummin around till the evening, sometimes playing tekken5 in the afternoons, then going back to the movies round late at night.

malena
skeleton key
perfect catch
25th hour
assasination of richard nixon
coach carter
just like heaven
paradise now
adaptation
chronicles of narnia
wasabi
the constant gardener
zathura
the siege
the birdcage

my favorites? malena, 25th hour, coach carter, adaptation, the siege and the birdcage.
I'd love to review every one of these movies. But hell, who would care to read it?

Am I turning to a movie geek? nahh. I don't know the actors and actresses names by heart yet, but maybe sometime soon, cuz they keep turning up in every movie!

next on the list? breakfast at tiffany's, paris when it sizzles, and the instinct.

Then we'll have an anthony hopkins marathon, then a Godfather marathon, CSI marathon, then if we're still alive, maybe we'll dig into the Akira Kurasawa collection.

Shit, I forgot, I'm supposed to go to the bank, look for a job, and take a trip to quiapo by this monday. So I'll guess I'd stop with the next three movies on my list.

staying indoors @ subic

2006-04-14T12:09:00.000-07:00

Last week at subic with the family. We stayed at subic homes somewhere in the higher part of subic. It was a cozy house with central air conditioning.(sweet!) So what did we do? For starters, we had some world class food fest up there. Food till your throwing up and taking a dump at the same time(Frankfurters, hashbrowns, pasta, barbecue, shrimp, pineapple rice, garlic rice, beef and potatoes and a hell lot more). We decided not to hit the beach because the temperature was scorching hot and the beach was so crowded it look like sea lion mating season on discovery channel! So we thought of other things to occupy ourselves while staying in. We've been to subic a thousand times and going around won't be that much fun anymore. We skipped karting though. Here are some things we did...

For instant, camwhoring. :)

Here's an action sequence. (with my younger brother, Andrew)

some horror movie scenes. :p (With my younger sister, Audrey)

indoor running...

and stuffing cigarretes wherever...

so there. We also engaged in normal people activities, such as... (don't we just look happy right there. :) [clockwise, me, Andrew, Audrey, Matthew(my Cuz)]

And folding tons of origami cranes...

It was not a total photo coverage. And we had tons and tons of embarassing photos. Maybe I'm just too lazy to post more.

We also went to a local party down at the docks, then we hit pier1 @ subic, where I happened to bump into my ex. (Pleasantly awkward moment, if i may say.) The bands there were so lame, we enjoyed mocking them. I had a crush on a promo girl too.

I just can't imagine i tried to hold those cigarretes with my eyes... I wasn't drunk at that time, just plain bored. plain, crazy bored.

Today's good friday, holy week, maybe next blog I'll post all the movies I've rubbed eyes with. I've watched more than ten since monday. :)

caffeine-rich nicotine based day.[based on true events]

2006-03-27T12:26:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the advice trish! And for the comment too. I'm gonna get right to it!

Well, yeah, simple things. It's amazing how a day can go crazy when you go out. :)

instead of writing my usual bullshit about life and existence. Which, by the way, borders on meaninglessness. I decided to go on about the details of my day. It's amusing. Although I hardly expect anyone to read this in full, It's still worth readin! I have to apologize in advance for some grammar lapses and omitted words --- I am tired and the caffeine has worn off.

here goes.

9:49 AM

So tuesday, I start the day off at around 10 pm. My head's swimming in murk and I have to jumpstart my head real quick.

How do I do it? CAFFEINE! They don't call this thing up in my head a caffeine-rich nicotine based mind for nothin!

What to do, what to do... Grab that tall thermos mug, scoop three teaspoonfuls of instant coffee(nescafe-think 'sunshine song'), get 3 teaspoonsfoools of shu-gah, (and what! no cream? no cream? no mffffkn cream? -- hell, I'll do without it.) Get a dose of warm water, close the lid, and go shakin'! I open the lid and sniff that aroma... Aughhh! Get's right to the back of the eyes! That's when I know that's the real shit right there. I tip it to a certain angle towards my mouth, and heeeeeeey, that's some hardcore coffee right there. And it ain't complete without a smoke(Marlboro), lit of course, with my ever trusty zippo and a conversation with My mother. Mornings can be so nice. Oh, crap, I dodged breakfast! oh well.

-moments of morning to noon chillin'- then...

I shower, pack up, draw my trusty undies, pull up my ultramegasuperfavorite pair of linen pants(coz the're ultramegasupercomfortablistic!), wear a yellow golf tee, wear my favorite sandals(which by the way should be replaced because the soles are so worn out that when I step on something hard on the pavement, it pokes the balls of my feet), put on my pair of amber/orange aviator sunglasses and leave that junglewastelandsmokeymountainpayatas of a room.

1 PM

Which brings me to the first major event of this monday. On the way to UST, I have to return seven videos we borrowed from Video City (Y tu mama tambien, cidade de dios, hotel rwanda, some crappy oriental film, 76 seconds, the longest yard and some film I don't remember.)

This is the point when I think I had too much caffeine.

Ma drops me off somewhere near video city (hmm, maybe 26 strides away) and crashhhhhh. seven videos lie out on the floor like some quiapo-recto-greenhills raid! And since good fortune comes to those who are perenially clumsy and oaf-minded, Ma's car runs over one the CD's. specifically the crappy oriental film(yup, I'm a severely harsh critic. )

Naturally, I keep my cool and not stand over there with my mouth agape with both hands to my mouth. I just smile a bit pretending the episode was a candid skit, and pick up the CD's like I was picking mangoes in a harvest. My mind, however, is totally spinning round the thought of the run-over cd! I am so ballistic I say 6 cusswords in 7.8 seconds. whoa.

So I look at this crappy oriental film CD. The case is so busted the CD case looked like some skinny fellow got mauled by Mike Tyson's monstrous punches while the champ is on steroids. Suprisingly, the CD is still in one shape. And I smile again. I sing the Hallelujah chorus in my head.

I stack the cd's and walk 19 strides more to the video store. I hand over the merchandise, the guy at the counter looks over the CD's casually, I hand him my membership card, I chat him up about the crappy integrity of the CD's, he comments on how customers malignantly handle them, I agree to what he says, I ask him If the CD's I returned are okay, he says yeah, I leave the place with a totally amusing grin in my face.

Moral lesson : Only watch original Videos. They stay in shape after getting run over by a car.

1:30 PM

Off to manila then. Ride the FX, alight the FX, get on the train, alight the train, get on a jeep, alight the jeep, and walk towards UST.

Nothing to do in UST really: Just inquire at the office and ask about some boring technicality that may change the course of my life.

And so I do inquire with a yawn, at which point something interesting happens again! Well, it's something of personal interest really. There's this priest there who has totally forgotten my name, and whose name I have forgotten too. He asks me how I am doing, I tell him I am doing fantastic thank you, he goes on and tells the other office staff that here before thee is a bald kid who is 'intelligent.' Imagine, he calls me intelligent, a domincan priest profesor! Oh, my ego blows up so much I might pop.

3 PM

I then go for a smoke and move on to my next agenda. I have to have this digicam repaired. I could not go into detail about what bothered my digicam. All I can say is that its busted, and when shaken violently, it works for a while, which would then need to be shaken again for it to be used again. Eventually all that shakin' and bakin' reached its limits. Which brings me back to my agenda. I have to to have it repaired.

First I check SM manila. I bring it to the appliance center and i get nil. Since we did not purchase it there, anyway. I am such a brimming genius. I bring this gadget to a service center that does not even sell such an item. I am such a freakin' genius. This part should be funny now. hehe.

So to nurse my wounded intelligence I go to the arcade and hit a few games of TEKKEN. I'm a rehabilitated gaming addict, but often, I tend to slide back to this shameful vice of mine. So I spend 39 pesos to have my ass kicked in my favorite game. Yes: I play and I don't get to kick any ass and instead have my cute ass kicked, by a freakin' kid!

To nurse my wounded gaming pride, I decide to choke up some ice cream. (yay)

What ice cream?

THUMBS UP ICE CREAM! There's this little stall that sold ice cream in five bite sizes. Kiddie treats! hehe. I get to choose five uber yummy flavors : strawberry, Avocado, bubblegum, triple choco madness, and melon. Oh the flavors are so vivid! I can still feel them in my tounge, like tasting these treats have gained me insight into some arcane wisdom. (Exaggeration 101)

3:45 pm

Next stop : Quiapo : a quasi-urban-paradise for me.

Naturally, I stop by the DVD zone first. Hog as I am, I buy 9 DVD's. (so much for piracy)
--capote, inside man, good night and good luck, rumor has it, get shorty, the three burials, the world, paradise now and derailed-- This is gonna be some movie fieeestaaa!

I walk through the crowded streets and stop by the smith to have my old zippo repaired. I flip it around so much I go back almost once a month. As usual, they fix it for a very low price. I smile and move on to my real goal. Have the freakin' digicam repaired.

I once dreamed of creating a map for Quiapo.Why, It's a terrible labyrinth! Literally! I walk around and often find myself in the same spot that I have been mintues ago! Thanks, however, to the friendly direction-giving vendors, I reach the camera zone of Quiapo, that's somewhere at the back of SM Quiapo.

I find a man who'd fix it for a whopping PHP1500!!!! TEchnology is sooooo not cheap. 1500 for a Freakin' measley repair?! I try to haggle but it's no use, I'm too well dressed. I leave the cam with Mr. camera-repair guy and off I go, back to the campus.

5:00 pm

Clark's been texting. He's inviting us over to his new place for some real deal chillin'. I decide to meet up my other friends at the campus. I wait around and chill at the field. But it's just too terribly hot. And my friends decide not to meet me at UST and instead just go directly to clarks place. Utterly convenient, considering that I have no idea how to get to Clark's place. He gives directions like some fancy cable-tv cooking show host!

God moves in mysterious ways: Hazy as my motivation may be, I attend mass instead. Cool my overheated body, and warm my frozen heart: sounds like a deal to me. And guess who presided over the Eucharist? The same priest who commented earlier on my intelligence! Well well well. I think I wasn't able to finish the service though... bad bad bad adrian.....

6PM

I chill some more.

Sitting at the benches, I spot Kat. I say, hey kat, she waves back and says hey, I ask her if she's on her way home, she says just one more walk-and I'd be off homeward, I say okay, you take care then!

Then I spot, lloyd, friend of mine and former classmate, together with Noknok(well that's what we call him, If you want you can call him Noel, cool, but that'll be awkward for me). They are on bikes. Lloyd's on one that has a sidecar designed for deliveries- one that has a cage with no roof. Picture it?

Well, I hop on Lloyds sidecar and we go for a spin. Literally.

See, there's this hump on the road. I'm sitting at the rear end of the sidecar. This is when I make a startling discovery - when pedicabs hit humps on the road and your sitting at the rear end, it tends to topple backward, having you thrown off the sidecar towards the floor. The velocity of the fall would be such that if it hits the sweet pavement, it freakin' hurts.

So there I am, prone, ass on the floor(Sir Isaac Newton must be giggling in his grave.) For a few seconds I contemplated my startling breakthrough in modern physics. I stand up, and behold my lovely and giggling audience. To save myself from complete embarassment, I raise my hands in a V-shape, as if I have one the World Boxing middleweight title. And walk on. ohhhhh, I can feel the giggles of the crowd on my nape. But, hey, that's entertainment!

Slightly injured, I move on.

We decide to grab a few pearl shakes to chill of our parched throats. So, we go there to ZAGU(somehow, mentioning this brings me a feeling of slight embarassment)

round 6:20 pm

Guess what happens next.

We look at the seminary building, and there it is.

FIRE! The smoke's so thick it looked like a gang of chain smoking titans. There was no blaze visible from where we were at though.

Yeah, I'm not kidding, something is burning. And it's burning pretty mad.

My two buddies came running and I followed suit. As it turns out, the quarters of the chauffeurs of the priests was the blazing building in question. Lloyd was afraid it was his freakin' room. There were firefighters galore! That episode was so action packed I felt like watching Saving Private Ryan in full 3D. oh, make that Ladder 49.

Soon enough the blaze's put to a calm and we decide to part ways. The show's over. I feel the need to print on my shirt - "I've seen the fire, ask me about it." Then I'll fill in anyone who asks on the details with a bit of my own flavor. hehe. Universities rarely catch fire like that, so i guess that was eventful, indeed. I must say though, that it did feel a bit petty. Too much fuss, I guess.

7PM

Night falls and I take a ride to Clark's place. I got there and I think the place's really nifty. Compared to his previous place(Where I had two traumatic toilet experiences, one with shit threatening to swim of the bowl, and the other when there was cat shit on the bathroom floor.) this new place is might nice. It even smelled good. And no demonic landladies.

And glory of all glories, It has a roofdeck. Check it out. It's the ultimate chill place. I get there, join the gang, get a a whiff of the wind, and light a smoke. We then have a meal of chili-mansi pancit canton back at Clark's apartment and chitchat some more, Interesting conversation about stuff us friends talk about when getting together and have nothing sensible to do. I stay there till twelve and I pack. It's time to go home.

1230am

The trip home's quick, just as I want it to be.

1:15 AM

To cap off the night, I play a few rounds of Tekken with Matthew, my cousin(with me kickin' his ass, off course), have a meal of beef stew in mushroom sauce, have a few cookies, have a smoke, chill in front of the TV, and write this horribly long blog entry.

IT's 6 aM!!!!!!!! - television is EVIL . evil i tell ye!

hell, I need some sleep.

preview..... publish post..

reader comments:

'What's this crap your writing?" - anonymous coke junkie

"You're own deranged kid" - Stephen Hawking

"Hell yeah" - the Hobo at the gates.

"my presshusssss" - Gollum

"You may have a knack for autobiographicationism!" - Adrian

Angst Vocab

2006-03-26T11:15:00.000-08:00

my new favorite word. ABSURD.
runner up? PATHETIC. but I'd rather spell it - pathetique.

I've just graduated! yay!

I'm just surprised. I'm supposed to be whooping with joy.

then there's another word : EMPTY.

I should have known it would be like this. For a long time I relied only on myself for joy.

Then suddenly I decide that this person can bring my happiness as I have never known it.

Then there's sorrow. Sorrow that's not even inflicted by the other person, but SELF-INFLICTED. Brought about by thinking too much. If only she knew how much it would mean. How I could slide back to myself and be, once again, a proto-monster.

Funny, but somehow I feel I needed this dose of agony. I've written 3 poems now. all equally tawdry. now comes the stage of SELF-HATE.

And beyond everything. beyond all these dark forces, I am forced to smile. A smile that is almost villainous. I feel tingling comfort inside my being. Because deep inside I know that all this is necessary for my own experience of the SUBLIME.

to Summarize : ABSURD. PATHETIC. EMPTY. SELF-INFLICTED. SELF-HATE. SUBLIME.

oh, did i say I just graduated? YAY again! well, seriously, I find it hard to feel the joy when sitting in a room stifled with cigarrete smoke.

( Oh Adrian, Grow up and stop being so angsty! :P )

poetry from the gutter

2006-03-21T18:39:00.000-08:00

ahm. just another poem, I guess. Falling can do so many nasty things to you. and suddenly the mind becomes a spawning pool for metaphors, AS if everything that happens in the universe is just part of that little event in your heart. or whatever it is... don't be harsh! amateur here. and oh oh oh ,,, wait, try to use your minds eye with a tad bit more effort.... like, the whole picture, like all the senses... sound, sight, etc...

'stella maris'

When I am swimming in melancholia,
And the mighty sky is engulfed in darkness,
All I see is vast expanse of obscurity,
the silent ocean right beneath it.

At that moment before dawn,
when the stars are no more,
and the sun's staggering beneath the horizon,
The sky is just a vast sheet of sable.

The silence bears me down, smothers me,
The chilling air stabs me like poisoned daggers,
my feet give way, my knees bend,
my eyes cast to the firmament,

I cry one tear and pray for salvation,
I groan for a a snapshot of cheer,
But silent heaven did not answer,
And mighty sea did not budge,

Then, I looked a little closer and there you were,
The clouds reveal you, in your majesty,
A bright star beneath the merciless sky,
Defying everything in its presence,

Though it did not illuminate the entire sky,
It cast light upon my darkened soul,
Glowing like fireflies in a frenzy,
So bright i could see light beneath my eyes!

And though it did not make any sound,
Midst the silence of that moment,
It played the music of angels in my heart,
So beautiful i noticed not my tears,

So beautiful I noticed not,

My tears...

...................................
it actually makes me sad now. see, how things like these are like an hourglass - sand flows, right? HOWEVER, if you tip it, you'll discover that the other hand has a big hole in it... and it might eventually drain out the sand (of your feelings) and someone needs to tip it again, terribly. If this one slips away again, I might turn to my old self, for those who know my old self... yeah, I know... IT's not good..

sorry...

2006-03-15T17:22:00.000-08:00

Just two things that kept bugging me lately.

how much control does God over have over lives? will it ever curtail free will?

The answers that Aquinas offer does not satisfy me.

The implications are enormous!

Perrenial problem in philosophy, so difficult to reconcile with the Scholastics.

Don't get me wrong, I totally believe and love God.
******
just another piece of Philosophy. sorry again! -
--
Peace is accepting that life is filled with chaos and suffering. Once you are able to embrace this fact, life will suddenly become so beautiful it becomes one sublime story. (reading of Paul Ricoeur and Nietzche) hehe.

Of hakuna matata and mass graphomania

2006-03-15T16:38:00.000-08:00

I JUST HAD THE FINAL DRAFT OF MY THESIS APPROVED!! w00t!!!

just three more matters to attend to and it will be all good. I'm in for a run of HAkuna Matata. I keep hearing it in my head like some angelic mantra whispering to the depths of my soul, 'hakuna matata, hakuna matata.' Timon and Pumbaa be my guide! yeah!

***************
Shout out. my profound gratitude extends to mr. Emmanuel Batoon, my thesis salvation. He is the very reason why I am graduating this semester. For a another rare instance in my life, I had someone believe in me, and pushed me further to achieve my goal. thanks sir, you have been more than a thesis adviser to me. You are an angel manifest. I'm sure you have helped a lot of people like me, and let me also thank you on their behalf.

***************

Right. I'm here to engage in another session of sick graphomania. The shame.

I just re-read a passage from Kundera's book, "The Book of Laughter and Forgetting." (He seems to have, often, a profound insight into the darker and humiliating side of humantiy-why we sometimes give misery to our loved ones, for instance.) He goes on and tells about graphomania. Everyone of us bears a potential writer, he says, 'politicians, cab drivers, women on the delivery table, mistresses, murderers, criminals, prostitutes, police chiefs, doctors, and patients.'

The reasons is that "everyone has trouble accepting the fact he will disappear unheard of and unnoticed in an indifferent universe, and everyone wants to make himself into a universe of words before it's too late"

Now, picture this. Everyone writes and declares himself to everyone and shouts and cries and laughs and declares even more. EVERYONE.

What a terrible world. Armaggedon with words. Everyone wants to be heard. Everyone else will be deaf to everyone else, and all there will be is the need to be heard. Mass graphomania.

The illiterate and the dumb will be a gift to mankind. Because only they would be oblivious to this horror our intrinsic egoism has wrought.

And this all boils down to one thing for me. I need to listen more.

2006-03-08T09:15:00.000-08:00

Hmm. I'm in a very precarious situation.
I'm all at once happy, anxious, nervous, impassioned, and mystified.
**
Plus, I'm great compelled to speak politics but such matters seem pointless to me sometimes.
**
Thesis is almost over.
Semester is almost over.
I could very well possibly graduate.
Why do I feel so secure.
So secure that I feel that something very horrible will upset it,, AGAIN!
**
Sometimes I get to spend time with a person I have known for years.
And I realize and think why haven't we tried to get to know each other before.
But the realization is not of regret, only an act of wonderment.
But then, it's very possible that if we had been together before, things would have turned out fundamentally different.
And besides, time bears no real meaning when the moments that pass constitute little eternities: little wonderful eternities.
**
I told you this is precarious.
**
:)

ubermensch

2006-03-06T16:18:00.000-08:00

yup. I finished the first draft of my thesis in an effort that possibly bordered on superhuman. I never knew such a feat was possible. But I did it.

Thoughts of conceit still flood to my mind.

But more than that, I thank the Lord for giving the strength and the intellectual endurance that enabled my feeble human mind to achieve such a herculean undertaking. Ironic, the philosopher was an anti-platonic-christian philosopher. But I just realized that God still guided me because the path I am taking is leading me to authentic faith. That no matter what rational effort you try to pry the faith off o' yer heart, it just ain't possible. whoa. that is something I never wrote about before. Now I feel I cannot cuss on this current blog. THat's okay.

ANd just a few days more I'm on the brink of graduating. Lord help me.

Graduating. Graduating. This has never felt so good! I have never felt so good! now comes the impulse to repeat everything I say. Now comes the impulse to repeat everything I say.

Credits also go to my remarkable cranium. I have finally proven that having a large frontal lobe(malaki ang NOO.hehe) does have its pay-offs. Who's laughin' now, aye? hehe.

But it's not over yet. I know my optimism is of a dangerous kind. But I just cannot dodge myself, I feel so good!

And here I am, listening to the music of Ray Charles and 50cent while I type away and finish everything else.

There is no greater drive than the will to greatness. The will to succeed. The will to rise above and be ubermensch, the overman, the superman. Overly proud my aims may be, at least I see a light at a distance. I've grown tired of hunting in the wilderness, all I wish to do now is tread the paths of those who have come before me, and reach the summit - where the clouds will brush my cheeks and the whole world will be within my eye. Everything that I behold right now will just be a dot on the horizon. God forgive me...

Must... not... .. read.. Adrian's nonsensical blog.... NOOOOOOooo. (that's a no in slo-mo)

2006-02-28T19:52:00.000-08:00

The original plan was I'd finish my thesis in like, seven months time. Yup, mucho tiempo. I had another semester ahead of me. Ahhhh, sit back and relax, life is a lovely idyll.

BAM!

The next moment I had to finish it in 49 hours.. that was yesterday. right now... I have 31 hours more, more or less.

I now eat, breathe, taste, feel, think, talk Nietzsche. I have now dedicated all my cognitive and intellectual faculties into having a complete understanding of his now apparently useless aesthetic theory.

And my mind is already all jarred up, terribly (considering also that my mind's supercharged with caffeine and chocolate) Hell, when I close my eyes, I feel all the veins on my forehead throb!

What I am doing writing on this blog? Hell, we all need a break! And my mind's breaking, so now I'm taking a break. (crap, I just made an awful pun.

And to release my tension, I now string random words with no connection to anything whatsoever :

CARABAO PEN PRINT ROCK PAPER SCISSORS HAIL SNOW CD-R KING CUBAO MAKATI DIRTY ICE CREAM NICOTINE GEORGE BUSH METHUSELLAH BABYLON PLUTO THOR LEATHER SOCKS ANCHOVY BURGER PIZZA DONUT PAINT ZIPPO CLUBBIN EMINEM FIFTY CENT COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE WITH FECES BITS SUBWOOFER DVD DVD DVD DVD CHESTNUT TREE PEANUT BUTTER AND CHEVY HAMMERHEAD SHARK ORGASMIC BLANKETS KUNG-FU BEAVER HEY ARNOLD and lots and lots of smileys - :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

I'm a mess. I'm a blundering neurotic mess.

At this juncture, I recommend some books (which most probably drove me further to this point of mental dysfunction. THE CRAZED (by Ha Jin) , THE COMA (Alex Garland), The Island of the Day Before (Umberto Eco) , Archie Comics, Pupung Comics, And all those lame newspaper funnies that reflect the decline and the shallowness of our culture.

This is what I call mental despair. Throwing words all around everywhere keeping on keeping on just making no sense and creating words simply for its own sake.

Whatever does not kill me makes me stronger. - FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE

neurosis. pyschosis. halitosis.

2006-02-27T21:17:00.000-08:00

I noticed, the less activity I have in my life, the more I write; The more activity I have, the less I write. Writing and living are indirectly proportional. Of course I might be wrong.

MY life no longer has a routine. Something which I should be happy about. But my animalistic/instinctive tendencies drive me to create a life pattern, a schedule, that might somehow establish an equilibrium and drive me to boredom. yeah, uncool. I always say that my life has been less exciting, but of course when I say that I am lying: life is so far from boring. I only have two class days in a week. That makes for five days unbridled. Imagine that I have to make decisions everyday and choose not to be bum and slink back into the trap of my own sloth.

Funny, I even attempted to create some rules that I have not(unfortunately) been able to follow:

some NO's
NO TV,
NO PORN,
NO Mindless wanderings into space,
NO excessive online time and downloading useless stuff,
no excessive drinking, -
a bunch of NO's;
no boundless human attachments.

ANd some do's -
Excercise,
Research,
strengthen human relationships,
know how to speak a bit of spanish,
take a bath daily,
go to church(uhmmmmm),
research some more,
be a zippo ninja,
read a book a week,
go out at least once a week,
eat a balanced diet,
and more.

I discovered that creating such parameters are often bordering on futility for a person like me.

Another vicious side effect of losing routine is absent-mindnessesesses. FOr a neurotic thinkier like me, things are bound to happen: forget to zip my fly, forget to shave, brush teeth, forget all the rules mentioned above, forget why I am at a certain place at a certain time(Arrive at a place and say, "Why am I here again?"), mispell my name, forget my signature, leave valuable objects behind(i.e., phone, sunglasses, hankerchiefs, shoes, socks, clothes, etc.)

And another thing, I feel utterly lost, isolated, alienated, frustrated, unsatisfied, uncomfortable, claustrophobic, in other words, all the existentialist horrors drawn together to create an inner phantom designated to haunt my once-idyllic existence. Yeah, THERE IS NO FREEDOM FROM THE SYSTEM. The poetry of the perennial angst! Such nutritious substance for inciteful philosophy!

Did I mention I often lose sight of what I do things for? Which is good sometimes because it keeps me focused at my current mode of being. BUt sometimes I just need my soul-fuel: dreams. And It's very easy to lose sight of it when everyday life is just passing with things that you chose to do and want to do.

This is romanticist. hehe. Shit, I just found that exclamation funny. Shit. See how sick I am? I laughed at the lameness of it!

I also go to a perenially pressing issue : CASH. Now that I am a FULL TIME STUDENT(which is very difficult to really claim because technically I am just a bum who goes to class twice a week and pretends to study during the remaining five days, two of which I spend time debauching.), It's hard to live on my parent's money, considering we're not filthy rich. During the time that I was a FULL TIME PAID TECHNICAL SUPPORT PHONE WHORE, I seldom worry about cash, in fact, I never felt I ran out of cash. Now I have to scrimp and be my old self again. Yep, that's why I am losing weight. And the sadness of partying out without cash! The tragedy!

But hey, the simple things in life are the best, and the best things in life are free. So yeah, I'm still happy. Now I am able to engage in humane enjoyment with only little help from mammon. A really comforting improvent. A salient proof that money may provide COMFORT, but not HAPPINESSIVITY.

An Intellectual's mortal enemy is TELEVISION. NO, that statement is not a show of bigotry or backward-mindedness. whenever I watch TV and get glued to it for 2-5 hours. I stare into myself and wonder what glorious events might have transpired during those hours, what activities I might have engaged in instead of uselessly staring into those diode tubes with audio visuals transmitted from satellites created by mindless capitalists and shallow artists. And I end up bickering at the rapidly accelerating decline of culture and intellectualism. I end up a social whiner.

Wanna here a 'hey-look-at-me-i-am-stupid' story? Well, three days ago, friend of mine texted me, (This happened after MIGGZ's wedding, congratulations MIGGZ! mr. husband-man! and by the way, great wedding, something that future weddings may take as a model.-dig the 'butterfly effect', too.) :

"Sorry for the late notice, things happened so fast- Please come to my civil wedding at venue on the February 29th. Hope to see you there. "

And for two days I've been telling everybody that a friend of mine was getting married. I was genuinely excited that I congratulated her several times. And just yesterday, I discovered one painful and insulting truth, THERE IS NO FEBRUARY 29 2006. SO, there I was, pondering the ultimate realities of existence, theorizing on the birth of human consciousness, on the duality of understanding and feeling, on humanity's tendency to self-mortification, on the darkness of reality, on the profundity of art, on the justification of existence, on perennially oppresive systems of control, the necessity of tragedy, the pretentiousness of amorphous introspection that passed itself as culture. AND FORGETTING THE FACT THAT THERE IS NO FUCKING FEB 29th! ehem,, sorry.

This is neurosis. This how my mind spins in my waking life. Yeah, It's fun sometimes, but there's no turning it off. It drives a person to the point of paranoia and borderline schizoprenia.

And oh, special cheers to my buddies out there! thanks for being alive! I would like to post your names one by one, but in doing so, I might miss out on someone and cause some level of contempt that I am in no position to deal with.

Shit, Why do I always have to say things in a complicated manner? IF life were to be summed up in one meaningful and realistic non-romantic way, it'll be :

SHIT. Because it happens a lot and it must happen.

And I now leave this post with a word(a word that's not really a word officialy) that people like me use a lot, A WHOLE LOT. this is not in the dictionary, some really cool guy just made it up. and hey, most of you guys know this, just keep using it! :)

cognitive displaysia - The feeling that you are going to forget something important once you have left your house.

(NOTE: IF YOU SEE ANY GRAMMATICAL OR TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS, just ignore 'em, I usually write stuff like these in the same way I take a dump or pick my nose.)

I'm alive! I'm Alive! w00t! w00t!

2005-12-09T06:35:00.000-08:00

Life is churning. And my heartbeat is racing like a steroid-blooded horse. Everything is pulsating. I'm alive!

But I'm still insane. Socrates said that the "unexamined life is not worth living". Now, I'm saying , "The over-examined life leads to a distorted living."

Not that it's something negative. Fact is, I dapple in the eccentric. I say, fuck mainstream, live life, and like this one philosopher whose name I cannot recall, "Down with the herd!" My version? Fuck the heard! (oops, I did not mean to imply bestiality here, come to think of it, I think Ihave to reconsider this one. hehe)

The distortion eventually leads to something aesthetically pleasant to highlight the diversity of humanity. Of course, I still admit that we all are, inevitably, subject to systems of control. The simple escape is consciousness, that is, realizing that everything around us is some subliminal leash that bonds us.

Our only freedom is the mind. Look at history. How were the feelings of the revolution incited? It all started with ideas. For a long time, a huge percentage of our ancestors did not realize that they were being oppressed, until their minds were opened.

Seek diversity, to seek freedom.

THen we live.

Which brings me back to the current events : I am now enrolled (W00t! to that) and am quitting my job (more W00t to that!).

This is a tremendous turning point in my life. Which brings us back to the opening of my entry. I am now leaping like wild fire in a great ocean. Oh, the poetic beauty of it all! If only everyday there is a defining moment, a feeling of incitement that makes our heart beat like a steam train! If only something could drive us so that we can speak and write and think in exclamation points! Life would be so overflowing I might internally combust and blow up the entire Luzon area!

But of course, this is not without difficulty. My current struggle is bringing matters into focus. I'm having an extra hard time focusing on reading philopshy. By the Way, I'm working on Nietzche for my thesis right now. And I have to realign my mind and my passions. The tediousness of it!

Damn this job! I hate multi-tasking, Fuck multi-tasking! Do you know that it slowly deprives us of a very powerful mental faculty necessary for performing mind-breaking tasks? Yes, people, wE are losing Concentration, FOcus, Attention, Call it whatever you want! Imaging your mind as a camera. If it's not in FOCUS, it'll take shitty picture right? Can you take a Quality picture while jumping up and down? HEll, even pros need Tripods, right?! Multi-tasking entails a compromise of tasks performed, distributing mental power to differing activities!

ANd sleep deprivation. Sure, sleep deprivation is a heroic task. "Wow, I stayed awake for more than 30 hours! Ladies and GEnts, meet Hercules!" Fool. Do you know that sleep deprivation zaps brain cells that can NEVER be brought back? And performing tasks while in a state of sleep deprivation will eventually lead to more or less not so excellent results. Whatever myth started it all, Fuck it, We all need sleep.

I'm sorry. How does this relate to my current affairs? I can't Fkn do things right because I'm always sleepy! I drink coffee, sure, my mind is hyped, but it feels so much like a coral than a sponge!!

Well, I have to get back to my books now. I have to Focus. I hope prayer can save me from myself.

my one new keyword is. FOCUS. FOCUS.Because it defines my existence : Our acts define our being. MY current act is Reading. ANd our calling is the perfection of our being. THerefore, I must perfect my Reading activity! (YAY! I'm Starting to be LOGICAL, HALLELUJAH![strangely, sadly, this reminds me more of BAMBOO{the rock band}, than Church] )

hmm. I think I got that from Heidegger...

depraved minds. sweet!

2005-11-25T13:04:00.000-08:00

I love counting the hours of my vivid existence, the marathon of my waking life. Although there is no real pride to be found in it, I still have to mention it since I have this feeling that it is a momentous occasion,

So it begins round 10AM November 24. I wake up and my friend texts me that he needed some help on some birthday gimmick he has for his brother's kid. So I went. Spent the whole afternoon somewhere in fairview photoshopping. THen fell asleep for 45 minutes. Cool.

I then moved on to the workplace. Makati. I really would like to take a moment here and laud the MRT for bridging geographical distances and making two seemingly distant places so near, chronologically. Spent the whole night boppin' around and somehow taking calls and reading webcomics.

Lovely night it was. Twas' thanksgiving day in the US: that meant less calls for us. Hell, I was sitting on my phone and I almost heated my phone for 20-30 minutes waiting for someone of getting the privilege of metting my phone acquaintance. Sweet. I love work days like this. Working but not really working. And it led to a huge amount of crazy stuff and rather interesting conversations. The amount of calls coming in were so measly that they were actually forcing us to go home. And I say, "To hell with that! I wanna' earn money and I'm gonna sit on my station and excrete money from my ass long as I can possibly can" YEAH. It's just one of those days when you can sincerely say that you love WORK. love. hehe.

And so work is over. I move on to the next episode.

Schoolwork : There's this Philosophy Student's Congress in Philosophy held on De La Salle and I signed up to take part of the said event days ago. Although my mind was waning in its ability to think coherently, I had to go, since we also had faculty sponsorship.

OH crap.

so, cut the long crap shorter. I stayed up and went to work. 8PM to 5am. slept - 6am november 26. Monumental sleep deprivation. awake , 10AM. november 24. went to bed 6 AM november 26. I get dizzy and confused just thinking of the hours. Oh hell, another late blog.

My life is sinking. And Exhilirated! Weeeee!

pinoy birthday sunday

2005-11-20T11:20:00.000-08:00

Sunday : we were all gathered in the living room right behind the front door. Most of us were tingling in anticipation on how she would react. The kids, well, that includes me(haha) were holding party poppers filled with confetti. The dining table's brimming with lechon, lumpia, spaghetti(but opkors, what is a pinoy party without spaghetti or pancit?! right? hehe) and, naturally, the candle-stabbed cake.

And as Momma's car rolled into the driveway, everybody looked as if we were about to pounce.

Momma opens the front door and....

SURPRISE!! (insert popping noises, confetti, tears and shocked expression of my momma, and hugs and kisses here.)

We had one hellluva feast! And what can be better than a nice smooth smoke after a very sumptous meal?

It turned to be a lovely lazy sunday afternoons. Food was pinoy perfect in the Goldilocks food chain sense of the word. I almost spent four hours chatting with my mom,dad, titos and titas about just any topic.

Well, it started off with religion, the da vinci code, conspiracy theories, whales evolving from wolves, ely soriano, religious cults, space aliens and gods, the monkey prince, ukay ukay stuff, and a whole lot of other things that you really can't talk about everyday. This simply means that it turned out rather interesting. Everybody wanted to say something. Intelligent conversation is bliss.

Yep, we threw a surprise party for my mom: my personal hero, and the fuel of anything nice in my heart, my source of inspiration and my armor of fortitude. I might go on a litany here, so maybe I'll just reserve that for her. My heart just wells up with love and tenderness whenever I remember everything that she's done and is still doing for all five of us hell-raising kids.

I LOVE YOU MA.

disjointed utterances of color

2005-11-19T13:00:00.000-08:00

take a white canvas.
place a neat dot in the middle
splash ink for a purple sky

paint me a yellow ocean,
with mermaids in spandex fintails
jumping up and down the aqua

daylight stars shining in red
like acne in this purple
high noon on a bleak sunday

then cast this image upon my cranium
move on to screw my sanity
then skew my sobriety

colors have never felt this disjointed

ghosts

2005-10-02T14:01:00.000-07:00

Disguised behind poised appearances and comfy smiles are the corpses that we struggle to conceal. But our dreadful memories are like the undead, some ghastly spirit will somehow exhume those graves and bring them to be the restless dead. NO matter how candy-coated and chrome plated we create our world, saltwater and sunlight will melt everything away.

The world that I live in finds shame in revealing our inner core because it signifies a fundamental weakness. We are not allowed to strip down our armor for beneath it we are mere mortals with soft flesh. There is always something on the prowl ready to render us shattered and fallen.

But then, it is only in mortality that we will discover our humanity. We can only vividly feel our existence in the experience of bleeding and hurting. We can only discover our courage in experiencing fear.

I have shunned my humanity to seek a false pretense of strength, joyful in the deception of myself. Drowning myself in this sick illusion of seemingly profound but fleeting wisdom. I have indulged in a wasteful self-glorification that bred fiendish imps that took control of my spirit.

NOw I am picking up where my shreds of humanity have fallen, shoving buzzards feasting on my decaying carcass. I am naked once again. I will not deny myself any longer.

And yet, I will be forever cursed to conceal, I know no other way of survival.

whooo. oh, is that my head?

2005-10-01T08:42:00.000-07:00

I'm barely four hours into my shift and I already feel my head swimming and my mind is already clapping with thoughts. It might be something great for me, but the sad thing is I'm unable to get my thoughts straight, They're all shooting at random. I have actually started this blog five times in the past thirty minutes. Until I finally wondered what was wrong with me. Why I kept on rewriting my thoughts and then somehow coming up with the same thing anyway.

Perhaps I owe it to the fact that I am sleep-deprived. Sleep deprivation is something I do not really dread. Sometimes, I feel that sleep deprivation brings my mind a high. The haze clears most of the reality I can make out with my five senses

The remedy is simple : Caffeine (yes, I had to capitalize that.) I have somehow deified caffeine, this oh so amazing stimulant. Wonderful, I am substance addicted. And I love cappucino. Cappucino without sugar. Just cappucino flowing with froth. woooww. I feel like Homer Simpson drooling for Duff, or Donuts.

But all we have here at work is instant coffee. shit. But I drink it anyway. Caffeine is caffeine. And when you get only two hours of sleep because of some compelling book that you buy at some flea market for the price of a snack, you'll definitely need something to keep your mind from shutting down. The book lay around for a long time and I finally read it, it was nice, ( "The Emperor of Ocean Park : Stephen Carter.) I never heard of Stephen Carter, and I was not sure why I picked up this novel. I enjoyed reading it since the protagonist was a Philosophy major graduate who became a lawyer, who also happens to have an influential father. And I see myself becoming someone like that. Besides, I'm almost done with the philosophy major part.

And my day [night rather- I work the graveyard shift] goes on smoothly. ..

well, so much for my first entry on this new blog.
Writing is addictive. Im addicted. and I am blogging.