Saturday, December 20, 2008

(AM)

This is getting too much.
I can't stop thinking about you and by the looks of it I won't be able to stop.
If it's a bad thing or a good thing, only time can tell.
I hope the feeling's mutual.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Today Is The Day

I didn't want today to end.

It's one of those extremely rare cases when my day's going about wonderfully and all I can think of is for time to stop and freeze the day on its bloody tracks. The exact opposite of being fucked-up, the antithesis to depression, and the absence of abhorrence.

I've been awake for 29 hours straight already and have been awake for 23 hours out of the day's 24 hours. For some peculiar reason my mind's as if it had just woke up from a sound 8 hours of sleep, but I know that once I surrender to bed my body's going to shut itself right away to sleep. The feeling is profound and somehow my mind's as sharp as a Benihana chef's knife.

Goddammit.

I don't give a fuck what it all meant or why it happened, all I know is that it's been a long time since I felt this way. I feel extremely mighty good.

Spending time alone with YOU is beyond euphoric.

Let's do it again, ok?

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Fat

I was 30 lbs. overweight 4 months ago and about 50 lbs. heavier about a year ago and the fact made me intensely fucking sick to my fucking stomach. I knew I was tremendously out of shape because whenever I walk beyond 50 lousy footsteps, I'd be panting like a pig. I knew it was bad. I had to take some action. It was either Cardiac Arrest or Aneurysm that was waiting for me and I didn't fucking like the idea.

Today, I am 32 lbs. lighter and I'll try like hell to shed some 8 lbs. more within the next 2 weeks. Then I'm at my "ideal" body weight. Fuck beefy and tough-guy looking airheads who pump iron to get laid and develop muscles for show.

GET YE
R FUCKEN HEADS OFF YER ASSES, YOU DUMB ILLITERATE MOTHERFUCKERS. The health benefits of being in shape should not be taken for granted for pompous vanity reasons. Shit.

Now where were we...I have to run 4 more times in the next week and do the exercises I have been doing these past several weeks and hopefully, I can finally, FINALLY, sit back and finish my first fucking book already, that thing's taking too long to finish.

Ho ho ho.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Something Happend Today And For Some Change It Wasn't Fucking Gloomy

The day started pretty bleak today. Paying bills, having a severe hangover, and thinking extremely about this girl who kicked my ass so hard her footprint is still visible on it (figuratively speaking, of course).

I woke up at 11:00 a.m. today and I sincerely thought I'd die of a massive cardiac arrest. Me and my band Inside The Sun practiced for the first time in 3 months yesterday for two hours and my drummer/bandmate and I went on a walking road trip amidst the light albeit annoying rain. Getting yourself wet in the rain like a rag after perspiring like a pig for two hours is pretty tiring. The shit was harder on my part because at the time we got wet which was at around 4:00 p.m., I've been awake for like 19 hours already since I work the midnight shift (literally - my shift starts at 12 fucking o'clock in the a.m.).

Anyway, when I eventually got home, I slumped helplessly on our couch after changing in a clean shirt and shorts and in about a minute or two after resting my head on the couch pillow, I was completely knocked out. I woke up a couple of times to piss and by the time I took a piss at around 10:50 a.m., I was slowly waking up to start my last rest day of the week from work. Such instances gave me grand ideas of not wasting the day away. To do this, however, I had to fucking kill the slowly growing migraine I was having and the seemingly heavy weight that was crushing my chest.

I took an aspirin, got my shit together and took off. My plan for the day was (a) go pay some bills at a bank in Makati City and (b) after paying the said bills, hang out with my buddy at work, Jeg.

After I finished my business at around 1:30 p.m., Jeg told me he was playing War Of Warcraft and it'll take the motherfucker two more hours or so. Fuck it. Instead, he invited me to join this dinner-and-poker-night with some friends from work at around 4:00 p.m. and was quite persuasive with his invitation. I obliged and I said I'd just kill some time in some book store and have some coffee and meet him afterwards for the said dinner.

I constructively spent a good 15-20 minutes in this second-hand book shop near the bank I went to, browsing through the paperbacks hoping to find a good read (which didn't happen). I eventually got a caffeine fix at a nearby coffee shop after the book store window shopping and wasted the time away to reach 4:00 p.m., which I diligently spent reading the local papers for the day.

Jeg and I met at a branch of Shopwise near his place some minutes past 4:00 p.m. and we went on our way to our friend's pad for the dinner.

The dinner itself started sometime past 8:00 p.m. and there were 9 people present including myself. Included in those people is the girl who for the longest time have been occupying my mind. She, for some arcane reason, is the girl I'm thinking of whenever I listen to "Big Me" by the Foo Fighters. Now, this is a song about a guy who's into a girl but the latter doesn't care about the former's feelings about her. Or something like that, shit, that's my interpretation of the lyrics (song).

Anyway, the night ended beautifully and I learned something quite valuable. By heart, I am a pessimist, a gloomy motherfucker who'd rather have things in Black than in White. This is a disposition I've been trying to use in my advantage all the time, basically life in general.

Then something profound happened. Something that usually happens in a comedy film and the ending doesn't quite equally sum up the film's parts.

Knowing that all is well.

Tonight was profound simply because I discovered that rejection and indifference should not define and build my character.

I've been rejected, dejected, humiliated, and utterly ridiculed but all of those things somehow made me realize that fuck it, life's not fair.


But...

It doesn't mean I have to lose Integrity and Altruism along the way.

Can't fucking help it.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Aftermath Of The Inferno

The cinders were alive
It wasn’t really surprising
To know that the burnout
Turned out to be pretty interesting

Self-respect stoked the flame
It withstood the pits of being pathetic
The inconvenience of being taken as a joke
The embarrassment of being too “serious”

All is well

The ashes have settled to their final place
Burn like a combustive bad memory
Burn like the hottest cinder ever
Burn

Indifferent cold motherfucking witch.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

The Arsonist In Action (Burn Notice)

The sound of a new bridge creaking
Is the sound of failure in its early stage
Self-respect has been taken for granted
Took a back seat to a Past
That’s replete with neglect and hate
The gas and matches are at hand
Let me burn a relatively new bridge
That connects opposite traits and intentions
Sincerity and Doubt
Altruism and Contempt
Kindess and Cruelty
I started on the right foot but things went wrong
Somehow
Something
Went terribly wrong and now I can see clearly

The smell of burning wood, rope and memories
Is the smell of being free
Freed from thinking about
Rejection
Desolation
Disappointment
When the smoke clears and the bridge turns to ash
Completely
Then it’s evident
That everything is well and good
With myself and yourself
Your head and my heart
My head and your heart
Your indifference and my sincere intentions

Godspeed, you cruel and unforgiving monster.

Parasite Love Song

Suck and suck. Suckin up all you can suckin up all you can suck.
Workin up under my patience like a little tick.
Fat little parasite. Suck me dry.

My fruit is bruised and borrowed. (You thieving bastards.)
You have turned my blood cold and bitter,
beat my compassion black and blue.

Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
'Cuz this is what you’re getting.
I hope you’re choking. I hope you choke on this.
I hope you’re choking. I hope you choke on this.

Taken all I can taken all I can, we can take.
Taken all you can taken you can, we can take.
Got nothing left to give to you.

Blood suckin parasitic little blood suckin parasitic little
blood suckin parasitic little tick
Take what you want and then go.

Suck me dry.


Is this what you wanted?
Is this what you had in mind?
Is this what you wanted?
Cuz this is what you’re getting.
I hope, I hope, I hope you choke.


- “Ticks and Leeches” by Maynard James Keenan (Tool from Lateralus)

This song is my current soundtrack right now. I’m listening to a whole lot of Darkthrone albums this past week but I always see to it that I put Tool’s Lateralus album on whenever I can and be blown away and be comforted by this song.

The lyrics do it for me. Hearing Tool singer Maynard James Keenan spew forth the venomous bite of his lyrics is nothing short of a transcendental feeling, a spiritual release. Like a deer caught in an 18-wheeler truck’s headlights on a breezy October evening, wondering about the what-could-have-beens become useless when the WHAT-SHOULD-BE becomes staggeringly apparent.

Surprisingly, I didn't have to go down completely in The Pits to get a firm hold of myself. I just needed to stop and think carefully, weigh the loss accurately and use my fucking brain for a while. And then I knew I was going to be A-OK.

Choke.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Rolling Eyes To The Tune Of Maddening Sighs

My band that's immensely influenced by Black Sabbath (first 4 albums) and Mastodon (all albums) was supposed to have a band practice RIGHT NOW, 1pm to 3pm, on this lovely sunny Sunday afternoon but at around 12:55pm, I received a text message from my guitarist bandmate saying he and our drummer (they're brothers) won't be able to make it because of some last minute family affair they had to attend.

Fuck.

So here I am at the internet cafe where I printed my thesis back in 2005. The band practice space my band uses is just above where I'm at right now. I've been awake for about 19 hours now - and counting - and my brain's too fucking fried to think of anything remotely progressive or constructive to do. About two months ago, I've read somewhere that normal human beings use only about 10% of their brains in everyday functions whereas the terribly shrewd fuckers, like Albert Einstein, use (or in Einstein's case, used) about 15% of their brain's potential. That is some fascinating and frightening information. First, come on, if that wasn't fascinating, then Michael Jackson is indeed white. Second, it's scary because if normal humans only use a tenth of their brain's capabilities in their lives, there's a whole lot of untapped possibilities that's being left wasted.

I wouldn't want that to fucking happen to me. Being ugly and destitute is one thing but being a fucking dumb piece of shit is quite another. I'd like to use at least 12% of my brain. Ha.

The day is still young and I am not yet on the verge of a nervous breakdown because of sleep deprivation. There's still a lot of possible constructive shit to be done.

(a lightbulb flashes on top of my head)

I'll go home.

Drink black coffee.

Work on my my zine IA's issue #8's layout while listening to Bad Religion's late 1980's to early 1990's albums.

Then I'll think about the girl I've been thinking about these past several weeks and wonder if she's thinking about me, too...What a fucking loser, huh?

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Broken Thoughts

I've just finished listening to Iron Maiden's Killers album the other day when a string of vicious facts hit me hard: I was (A) not dating any woman, (B) I'm ugly (which is greatly correlated to fact letter A) and (C) I'm terribly broke (which in itself greatly affects the previous two reasons).

Simply put, I'm a fucking loser. The funny thing is, being a loser all these years has afforded me the convenience to relax a bit. I don't know about you but listening to music, a whole vast of music, brings therapeutic effects on me. A solitary activity that, err, does not attract women. I couldn't help thinking about it. As much as I'd like to just chill out and shit, I couldn't make myself to do so. Completely, that is. I'm slowly threading my way through it successfully and I think making zines, writing, and music will eventually help me swallow the Vicious Facts easily.

Busrides


Riding buses in Metro Manila is an interesting experience. It keeps you grounded. You get to ride with people that's extremely different from each other, from bank tellers to hard labor workers, to call-center agents to bored 9-to-5ers, a busride somehow acts as some sort of an equalizer to a palpably unequal society.

The weirdest shit I've seen during a busride happend early this year, around late January. There was this female call-center agent who got punched in the head by the female bus conductor. First of all, female bus conductors (those who sell tickets) are rare. Second, the physical commotion happened moments after I boarded the bus which was on the corner of Taft Avenue and Gil Puyat Avenue in Pasay and Makati's border.

Anyway, the verbal tussle between the female passenger and female bus conductor apparently started when the former was insisting she had paid her fare already. The latter was vehemently denying this and was creatively cursing in Filipino, curses which I honestly think don't have any English counterparts but them curses were very very intense in meaning, if you get my drift. Then the bus conductor began giving the female call-center agent a beatdown, an intense one. It was bad. I couldn't believe the other passengers were not doing anything about the situation. Maybe they were just minding their own business. As impossible as it may seem, I think there could have been at least a witness to the situation if the female call-center agent had paid her fare or not but no one was stepping up to alleviate the tension. Eventually, I've had enough of the uncalled-for violence and I tried to pacify the bus conductor and told her to calm down. After about a couple more punches, she miraculously stopped.

The female call-center agent then began telling the conductor that she had indeed paid her fare already and the former flashed her company/employer's ID to the latter to prove that she has integrity and has paid already. But the bus conductor wouldn't have any of it. On a side note, I think the call-center chick had lost her ticket already, for some reason.

Two blocks or so later, the call-center agent left. Minutes after she had left, the bus conductor was still as pissed as shit.

I paid my fare moments before the aforementioned confrontation occurred. When I finally arrived at my stop on Ayala Avenue in Makati, the bus conductor asked me if I had paid my fare already. I showed her my ticket and she looked at it with distrust screaming from her face. I left the bus unscathed from any violence, verbally or otherwise.

I think a degree of injustice happened that day.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Synapse

I took this photo using my friend's SONY Cybershot digicamera which I borrowed for Magrudergrind's upcoming late-June grindviolence Phillippine onslaught. I'm in no way an expert - let alone an aficionado - of photography but sometimes I like shooting at things just for kicks.

I shot this picture last week when I was on my way home at around half past midnight. It's the intersection of our street and United Nations Avenue in Manila. I didn't knew what got into me but I just pulled the camera out and shot this. After seeing the picture afterwards, it occurred to me that there was something about the street lights and traffic lights; they looked liked auras (like the shit in Stephen King's book Insomnia). Or vibes. Negative and positive, focused and incoherent.

Same shit, different day.

Monday, June 9, 2008

A Dose Of Junkie Blues And A Girl

After my band's practice yesterday at around 6:00PM, I went to Malate to do some errand for my mother when I passed by someone from our neighborhood, someone who I really didn't know personally but knew by face. I'll just call him JC.

JC used to look remotely normal and good, in fact, he was supposed to appear as an extra in some local TV show back in 1996 but he didn't like the idea of being an actor and didn't bother attending his screening for the part. How the fuck did I knew about this? It's because I had this feverish crush on his younger sister that's why.

JC is about 3-4 years older than me and I can safely guess his sister's right about the same age as I am (25). When you're 13-14 years old and extremely smitten with a girl in your neighborhood, it's automatic that you learn things about her, about her interests and of course, her family. I guess that's all I have to say about that.

JC didn't look his age. He had hair that looked liked the one Mel Gibson had in Braveheart sans the dread-like parts (shit, I'm not even sure if those were dreads). JC's appearance gave away his smell and it screamed intensely rancid. The funny thing about seeing him yesterday was that I didn't recognize the motherfucker right away which is very not like me as I remember faces of people very clearly. He was sitting on a plank across the base of an electric post on a corner in Malate and he was actually the one who greeted me first and it probably took me about 3 seconds to recognize him. I was surprised that he greeted me but I wasn't really surprised when he asked if I have some loose change. Being the thrift fucker that I am, I quickly said I didn't have any (that's why I was walking) and he nodded morosely then followed his question with another one: where was I going? Thinking quickly, I answered him I was on my way to borrow money from a friend. An expression between disappointment and sadness peppered with a lethargic glee came across his face.

I knew the drugs have gotten him. Whatever his drug of choice was, it certainly did its job wonderfully.

After my brief encounter with JC, the thought that got stuck on my mind like a fly to fresh dogshit was his sister. I haven't heard the term back then but now I can describe that JC's sister to whom I've had the hots for was drop-dead gorgeous. Drop-dead fucking gorgeous.

After I remembered her, I silently hoped to myself that she's doing well and good. The Past sometimes has a wicked sense of humor. The thought brought a smile on my face and quite admittedly, smiling is something I haven't done a whole fucking lot lately.

The Patient (Part 1)

the wait
is something i can tolerate

the wait
is something i knew was coming

the wait is long
but i still went on with it

i knew the possibility
was a resounding "slim-to-none"
but i still went on with it

the wait might have been long...
but the regret of not trying would
have been longer.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

A Very Hot Minute


Sometime in the scorching summer of 1997, a good two months before junior high school, I borrowed my friend Jeff's cassette tape of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' One Hot Minute album. It was the only music I would listen to for the next 4-5 months. Shit, I think it was the only album I listened to for the rest of that year.

I don't know, I might be a complete fucking retard for liking this album but I do. Still do. In fact, I listened to it in its entirety today before going to work. Twice. No, it wasn't the same cassette tape I borrowed from my friend - I have a CD copy but the weird thing is, the last time I listened to this album was way back in mid-1999 but for some reason, after 9 fucking years, I can still sing along to every fucking song from the album, word for word. Weird.

Hearing "Aeroplane," "One Big Mob," and the terrific album closer "Transcending" still makes me grin in aural sarcasm. These songs were the shit I was into 11 years ago and their potency still remain to this day. One Hot Minute flopped but who gives a fuck? Many fans of the band hated Dave Navarro, who played guitar on the album, but I think it's beside the point. The band made their darkest album of their career - lyrically and musically - and I relate to it very much.

Yes, I listen to this kind of shit when I'm not listening to hardcore punk and grindcore.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

The Summer Heat And Then Some

The Philippine Summer is here. Its heat is cruel and unforgiving. It scorches the rich, the poor, the ugly, the beautiful, and everyone in between. Since I get off my shift at 9:00AM, it's a given that I get the sun's wicked fury everyday. It is maddening. I try to get my shit together and most of the time, I get home alive. Barely. The experience is priceless, though.

To sleep soundly after work means I've got to be extremely lucky. Sleep at night is one thing, sleep at daytime is quite another. With my shift at work starting at midnight, I usually sleep at 1:00PM-2:00PM only to wake up 30-40 minutes later with the temperature reaching red hot microwave-pissed intensity. I woke up the other day cursing as loud as I can, with the electric fan pointed steadily at my shirtless yet sweat drenched sorry excuse of a body. I thought I was going to bust a vein somewhere in my head and die instantly. My head was so wet I thought a water pipe busted somewhere in our apartment. The heat was honest to goodness intolefuckingrable. My hatred for being awoken from my sleep was completely misdirected at nothing. It was funny and serious both at the same time.

Getting up sometime between 9:00PM and 10:00PM to get ready for work gets me in Search-and-Destroy mode, instantly. The thirst for life and disdain for sweetcoated bullshit gets magnified tenfold and I start to unload unneeded baggage - both mental and emotional - and count my blessings carefully. For someone who has less than nothing, I couldn't afford to be ungrateful for what I have got. I make do.

Living is not about enjoying life or basking in the glory of its good things. Life is all about appreciating being alive even if it means you're going to fry yourself under the sun.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Gratitude

I've been through a lot of extremely heavy shit lately (and in the past 8 months, actually) and the only thing that somehow made me completely grounded and barely sane was the support and love I've received from friends.

To Andy, the timing of our conversation during the lowest point in my life made the wounds I've had heal fast, I am eternally indebted to you, man. To Jeff and Richard, my best buddies who I've taken for granted at the middle of this decade, you two motherfuckers are the best and the music we play, as chaotic and fucked-up as it may be, is extremely therapeutic. To Jepoi and Gio, thank you for being cool friends even if we hardly hang out that much. To Ron and Jack, your apartment, as evil and cramped it may be, is a true source of friendship bonded by puke, blood, sweat and tears. To Melvin, I feel your pain, brother. To Steven and Jeg, thank you for the patience and advice you two have shared to me, it definitely helped.

To anyone I forgot but should have been mentioned, sorry if I forgot about you...I'm still a disheveled reprobate.

Life's too short for shit and negativity...mad props to each and one of you, brothers.