Ars Longa, Vita Brevis

and we talk about dying.

2011-07-31T16:12:00.002+08:00

My weekend has been spent mostly watching movies. I can't find any way to waste my time and doing my backlog in work is quite tedious and frustrating. Whenever I see the paper works I throw a fit and I lose my head. Weekend is ruined and the cascading effect takes its toll on Monday. I don't want also to read books though I am already quite behind my reading. I just want to be lazy. Hehehe.

Last Eiga Sai, I only watched "Feel the Wind" and "Villon's Wife". The featured movie was "Departures" which sadly I haven't seen until now. Hehehe. Curious about the various comments I read in the reviews about its being a tear-jerker, I downloaded the movie to prove it first-handedly. Though there were scenes that were touching, it didn't give me the moment to shed a single tear which was quite frustrating. I was expecting too much perhaps and ended up denying the movie had already ended. Perhaps the big screen would be a great help. I watched it on my laptop. Anyway, the movie dealt about "departures", mostly about dying and separation like what happened to Daigo and his wife. And of course the joy and peace that followed after restoration. "Death is harder for those who are left behind."

This brings me to the second point, "What would you do if you know you only have few seconds to live?" Honestly, I don't know what to do. I haven't made my "Bucket List" yet. So many plans to accomplish and seemingly so little time. Death is such a short notice. When I watched the "Source Code" I couldn't help but wonder, "Yeah, how will I make every second of life count?" Be worldly? Influence others? Build more relationships? Be attuned with God? I know the answer but my doubt is hanging me on balance. I feel powerless at the thought. If only I could turn back time. But what would I do? I don't have any regrets in life except having just enough money. I want to be filthy rich, being able to buy what I want. Hehehe.

What if I could travel through time and manipulate the course of history? Perhaps live in the time of the great thinkers and steal their ideas? Or maybe travel to the place where you could be mistaken as a god and be served all day and night? Or travel through time and cheat death and live like an immortal traveling from one time to another? The only underside is not being with someone but yourself. Would I risk? I watched "Cyborg She" and I had this thought. What if I could cheat death? Be with someone over and over again. Monopolize the history by jumping from time to time and annihilate the icon of the era. Evil, just plainly evil. I remembered a movie where in someone traveled through time and became a millionaire after placing a bet on the winning team. He got the idea from a sports book. I know there will always be a consequence. Cheating was never made to be perfect. But you can perfect cheating by going back again and again to the same scenario. Hehehe. Still my super-ego is working. Hehehe.

Cheating death entails a lot of consequence. But having death under your control would be a brilliant idea. No.1 in my Bucket list for that matter.

eiga sai 2011 and my personal blah-blah.

2011-07-27T22:02:00.004+08:00

I always like how Japanese people talk. There's always this sound that makes me smile whenever the language is uttered. It was like the air is sending whispers of ticklish incantations in my mind. I always smile. This is one of the reasons why I like Japan. There's a rough edge at the sounds and then there's a mixture of innocence and candor in the way the sounds wave and mix in my ears. And I always like the mystery behind it. Japan, for me, is synonymous with mystery. It is like being entangled in a web of beauty, mystery and a hint of roughness. Cherry blossoms, samurai and kimonos are the tangible proofs, to name a few. Of course, there are the movies. The Eiga Sai 2011.

This year's Eiga Sai had been a frustration for me since I wasn't able to watch most of the movies. I managed to watch only the last two movies charged to lack of information. Last year's film festival was a remarkable one since Ms. Elna had been there. She was the culprit behind this. She had introduced me to Eiga Sai which schedule I was totally clueless. The film viewing that I had this year was "scheduled" by accident. I and my girlfriend were passing by the entrance of the mall when the notice about the film festival hit our eyes. Love at first sight! It was late already when we cleared our schedules. The first one in our menu was the movie "Feel the Wind" by Sumio Omori. We watched also the "Villon's Wife".

"Feel the Wind" was like running with the runners for the last 2/3 parts of the 133-minute movie. It was the "Chariots of Fire" of Japan only this time it tackles with athletes who need to battle their own issues and strugles in life. Haiji, wanting his own dreams fulfilled, organized a team of seemingly incapable individuals under the coach who I think was better be relieved as a coach. Sleeping in the middle of a competition?

Let me cut it short, the team did not win but had shown what real winning means. The Hakone Ekiden (marathon) had seen more than just marathon that day. As a viewer, I had seen the unfolding of patience and determination. The movie ended with the question, "What is running?" with which the answer was not given.

I remember one of the Nescafe commercial lines that goes, "Ikaw para kanino ka ba bumabangon?" It has the same appeal to me. It asks the most banal questions which answers can take us off-guard. Your depth of answer will tell the level of maturity that anchors in your being. The depth of answer will also tell our motives and concerns, particularly our circles of concerns. "What is running?" I can't basically answer this seriously. All I can say is that, "It is an infinitive." Why so serious? Seriously, that's how deep I am. Hehehe.

Anyway, the movies were really nice.

scheiße! scheiße! she was born that way.

2011-05-19T14:07:00.135+08:00

People are unique but it doesn't mean all are original. We are pieces of what we have in our lives; the people around us, the stacks of literature we read, the experiences that taught us. We are pieces of the portions put together like threads woven into a tapestry. Therefore, my point is, no song or literature is original since it may be an inspiration drawn from pieces preceding it. It may be unique in its own way but again, repeat, repeat, repeat, nothing in this world is original.

Let me get to the bottom of this. Lady Gaga's new album has created a hype since the time she has proclaimed that this is the album of the decade. Well, I got hold of the leaked songs (whether it is true or not, I don't care) and after ripping it and listening to it, the songs are scheiße good! Mostly electronic beats that drag you to the dance floor and a reminiscence of early 90's, the album presents also messages where everyone finds a place to fit in. Hair/Born This Way deals with freedom of expression, Government Hooker with freedom from censorship, Bloody Mary with religion, Judas with love, sin and contempt, etc. All the songs ride in the same motorcycle bearing the theme about embracing one's self, self-acceptance and freedom.

Personally, I like the Marry the Night, Judas, Hair, Scheiße (for the gibberish lyrics and bloody beats), Bloody Mary, Heavy Metal Lover, Electric Chapel and The Edge of Glory. Talking about BTW being an Album of the Year, well, it's Gaga's problem. I won't go up the stage with her when she gets the award, so practically, I don't care and she either. Lol.

Amidst the kinkiness and playfulness of the song lyrics ("I want your whiskey mouth/ All over my blonde south"), Lady Gaga again invests in filthy and sexy moans, theatrical vocals doused with electronic guitars, saxophones and whatevers. And I like it. For the past twelve songs, opening with Marry the Night, you'll find yourself drowned in an amniotic fluid of electric beats but will later end with a breather You and I and finally be born with The Edge of Glory sticking in your ears. That's how the album Born This Way was born. It was just born that way.

Comparing her with Madonna, for me, is already a cliche. As I've said, no one is original. Lady Gaga is unique in her own way. Staying on the uterus of her hyped album phenomenon and until its birth, she deserved somehow, just like any newborn, a pat on the back and a welcome on a comfy crib.

We don't care what people say. We know the truth! ~Lady Gaga, Bad Kids (Born This Way

the boy with the dragon tattoo.

2011-04-30T22:02:00.094+08:00

funny :)

It is like sex without being sexual.

The cinema has put it as R18 owing to the sexually-oriented parts which actually substantiate the story of the movie. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo deals with sex, trauma, and a lot of violence, with a touch of racism. I haven't read the book, though I'm wanting to own the trilogy, but I read some blogs talking about it. There are a lot of books that handle such theme yet the story here was uniquely crafted when Lisbeth Salander, a goth-pierced-here-and-there-with-a-dark-haunting-childhood, was suddenly put into context. Out of curiosity, she hacked deeper into the life of Mikael Blomkvist and was suddenly riding with him in his investigation. As a know-it-all hacker, she managed to uncover more than what Blomkvist managed to unearth, thus, making Blomkvist a symphatetic journalist. But Salander brought him his salvation. Murderer found. Libel case closed. Capitalist dead. Girl with a wig. Done.

It makes me want to read the book. And to have a dragon tattoo at my back. Fierce as Salander's. I had mine by the way which lasted weeks on my back. I didn't realize that my skin was as sensitive as my ego. The black "home-made" henna was replaced by red swelling. It's like the black ink was stripped off and VOILA! A red dragon!


the boy with the dragon tattoo (black version)

If you're curious about the red dragon tattoo, hmmm...Never mind. I'm on the process of healing. Hehehe. Anyhow, I hope I can have a copy of the trilogy. Weee! My birthday's coming.

doing things in a hurry.

2011-04-28T17:47:00.000+08:00

latest sketch. boredom kills.

aanhin pa ang damo kung hindi naman ako kabayo.

2011-04-21T04:20:00.001+08:00

At saka may kanin naman at ulam.

It’s Holy Week, particulary Black Thursday, again. Practicing Christians are deigned to abstain during this time from meat or any related food. The Church has ordered a restraining order for our mouths. Spell analogy. Most faithfuls today are spending much time in churches, or in their private places doing their penances and/or communing with God. Talking about hardcore practice of Christianity.

It is actually like an obligation to be out today and wear grim faces, not mentioning joining hours of processions and manifold forms of prayer. Christianity becomes an obligation. It becomes a routine. Its essence removed from the core, thereby producing timid, obediently blind Christians. We become incongruous to the real faith and even think that because of such display we can pursue heaven with our own efforts. Heaven is earned through God, through Jesus. This is supposed to be the essence of the whole Holy Week scenario. The picture shows that man can’t attain salvation without Him. Well, aside from not eating meat, we are reminded today to practice abstinence that deals with our own meat, our flesh so to say to sound human-friendly.

Our deprival of human comfort can be the key to destroy our human depravity. It’s a painful practice and we Christians call it sacrifice, penance, and whatever you want to coin it. The point is the flesh becomes our nemesis. But still we don’t do this as religion. “Because of love,” as what Father Martin in the Life of Pi said. Jesus’ performance in Calvary is a pure performance of love. And we, as Christians, do not just give him a standing ovation; instead, we go forth and deliver our own performances. Not as grand as what He had, but done out of love. Out of love.

Speaking of kabayo, I’m not neighing religious antics here. There is one, however, who neighs her own brand of religion. Rumor says that Lady Gaga is planning to release the video of her Judas this Easter Sunday. Hold your horses but Gaga will go spewing her music with Judas as her battle cry. I’ve heard the song. The techno-rock music was quite catchy with its ineluctable flow of lyrics, “Judas Juda-a-a, Judas Juda-a-a, Judas Juda-a-a, Judas…” Talking about smitten by Judas.

One question, “Do you know what’s the last name of Judas?” Hint: not Iscariot.

a leap of faith.

2011-04-19T00:40:00.001+08:00

I knew two meters of jump was an impossible one. But I did it, though I killed one cup on my way.

This was actually about a peculiar game that we had during our Teachers' Summit. The player had to cross a track filled with cups which had to remain standing until the player totally reached the other end. This was a group task designed to be done by one representative and the others as guide. The glitch here was that the player had to cross blindfolded with his group mates as his guide and the other players as obstacles, or shall we say the distractions. Easy? Come to think of more than a twenty distractions and tell me if your brain will not summon all the words synonymous to confusion. This was an understatement especially when you're there trying to dissect the voice of your group mates from the disorienting noises and the pumping and thumping sound of your heart. Talking about adrenaline rush.

"Mike, can you jump?", I heard Ms. Jeni's whisper. "Yes, of course," was my immediate reply.

"Can you jump about two meters?" I thought I just heard my nervousness playing a fool out of me. "HUH?!" "Yes, can you jump two meters, Mike?", Ms. Jeni asked and this time there was conviction on her voice and there was the Jabberwocky in my heart. Two meters?!!

I remembered the movie, Jumper, in which the characters did nothing but ran and jumped. I thought maybe I could use that kind of exhibitionism. The only difference, though, was that they had powers and I got only my legs; my short, stout and unexercised legs. Jumping two meters was like breathing with one nostril, not impossible but highly improbable. Was their faith on me as long, or rather as short, as my legs? Or was my doubt as high as I could imagine my jump would be?

I closed my eyes although the blindfold was already hugging me in darkness. "Ms. Jen, I think I can do this." My doubt was resonating far across the lofty and cold mountains of Dahilayan. They reverberated dubiously masking my faked conviction and blended together with the laughters of my co-teachers. "I could do this," I told myself.

And I jumped.

And my heart jumped. The world jumped with me. I was deaf for a while when the laughters vacuumized the sound around me. There was laughter everywhere and there was me butt-flat on the ground unsparingly sitting on the oblivious, white and broken cup. I nearly did it but the cup took my victory away. Getting even, hahaha.

Our group did not win this game but the fun was worth more celebrating than the win. Sticks and stones may break my bones but jumping two meters (almost, actually) will always paint a smile on me. This was my leap of faith. And my teammates as well.

book review 2: i love more the books than the movies, until now.

2011-02-23T23:53:00.002+08:00

There's always the bad taste of much expectation. I Am Number Four by Pittacus Lore had been sitting in the shelves of National Bookstore for quite sometime. It was the sole copy but such an eyesight for prying eyes and reading enthusiasts who thirst for such genre. I kept on returning to that same shelf hoping to get hold of that copy. Until one day it's not there anymore. I checked on the computer cataloguer. It's not there. Sold. Out if stock. After few, or more months, it's back on the shelf and I did not have the second thought of getting a copy. It remained dormant inside my bag for some days until boredom tells me to read it. Actually, it was because of the movie that I finally decided to read it. Out of curiosity, and probably of frustration from the past incident , I finally finished it.

Here's what I found out.

It was a boring book. And I was sure of that. The start was a good kick off until it wore out towards the middle and finally died at the end. Although some parts were quite interesting, my reading cells were not aroused. My curiosity's paid it in dear amount, of another frustration and lack of sleep. It came upon me that the movie might be as boring as the book for, you know, some movies can be frustratingly beautiful or imaginatively crappy.

Here's what I found out.

The movie was good, visually impeccable, at least in effects. It's like watching a mash-up of contemporary superhero movies. Makes me think of Smallville, X-Men and the likes. Actually, The movie house was rather filled with "cute" sighs when the dog whimpered after its fight with the Moggy Beast. Apart from that, everyone's quiet, as quiet if I may say as my room when I was reading my book. But to tell you honestly, I like the last part when it reached the climax, the effects were at its peak. This was rather better than reading the book. A little bit disappointing but better than the frustration I got from reading the book. Sigh. The price of being a bibliophile is worse than a movie lover. Sigh. Sigh.

I love more the books than the movies, until now. But I will always be a book lover. Hehe.

read towards the end.

2011-02-21T22:11:00.000+08:00

you touch my lips and i
feel the warmth
of your service, that
lavishness your embrace
hugs tight in your bosom
warm is what
welcomes me
satisfying,
invigorating,
my nerves pulsating
this clutch will tell you of
what is my longing all
about
my mouth grasps for your
curves
ever perfect yet ever cold
smiths of wonder may
have mold
yet this touch, this grip
you'll ever surrender
ever giving, your body
yearning
my touch, this stroke
this caress you silently
spoke
in the past,
unleash your coldness
and embrace my heart
warm in my heart
cold in my hand
we bond.
yet you never spoke
of love
must i be caught here
dreaming?
yet your surrender is
quite tempting
silent yet welcoming
cold yet enduring
goaded yet willing to be
a masochist for you
a sadist i am of your
indifference.
you're my,

spoon.

a spoon of fun.

2011-02-16T21:00:00.005+08:00

I need a breather after days of work and a series of sleepless nights reading a book. I have finished reading the first two books of the Mortal Instruments. And although I started reading the third book, I'd rather take a break because the book is literally suffocating me. It's thick and the plot is so simple, yet it's worth a read. After scarring my wallet, I spend days trying to destroy my eyes. Reading under a poor light and actually almost everywhere where prying eyes are not present. I prefer to read in McDonald's 'coz literally the place is jam-packed of people who mistakenly think it's a library oozing with caffeine and burgers, so camouflaging with your book is effortless. Anyhow, I digested two books and I'm reserving the third book for dessert.

Lately, I can't help but be allured by books. The last purchase sent me thrilled and baffled. I just bought "I Am Number Four" by Pittacus Lore. It's lurking inside my bag waiting to be stripped of its dignity. The busy schedule and the endless excuse of eye fatigue will temporarily put me under the shadow of reading hiatus. And blogging hiatus? The latter is actually due to laziness. I don't exactly know the reason behind this, but my mind seemed to be at focus when I'm snuggling with my blanket. It's like there's a spontaneous firework of ideas and I'm too lazy to stand and get my journal to jot them. Random ideas seemed to flock incessantly inside my mind like a cafe filled with morning coffee drinkers. Restless and volatile. When I try to make a mental note, I will just wake up frustrated trying to catch the last thread of my memory. I need rest. Life is a mixture of poison and antidotes. I need the antidote side of it. I need fantasy. Life is too real that I need to dilute it with fantasy.

I need to watch a movie.

I watched Burlesque. It's a story of a small-town girl dreaming something big and suddenly had the biggest break of her life when her talent was accidentally uncovered. Well, as the line in the movie went, "every opportunity has a shelf-life", Ali (Christina Aguilera) grabbed that opportunity and went to a series of ups and downs and literally the movie ended like a fairytale. Watching the movie was like watching an anthology of Aguilera music videos with the special participation of Cher. The grooves of half-naked girls, brazen colors and the striking lines somewhat paid off, putting life between boredoms. Stanley Tucci and Cher tandem pulled it. Tucci’s acting, for me, is nostalgic to The Devil Wears Prada, minus the awkward scene between Tucci’s character and his lover.

There were scenes in the movie which were actually confusing as to where did they get the inspiration to include such parts. The seduction part, although sexy and naughty, was an example. The business part was cliché yet its importance was revealed at the end. If you opt for the intellectually challenging movie, then this movie is not for you. Burlesque was just my right type of antidote.

I want to watch it again ‘coz it’s like watching a flimsy yet colourful musical, not serious but not boring. When your life is ragingly toxic, even a spoon of fun is worth it.

worm.

2011-01-21T22:00:00.000+08:00

This is my first post since new year came. The start of this year has been good so far. Personal life is good. Love life is also good, in fact superb. Career ( I like to call it work) is also good, except for some stressful days which I think is really inevitable.

There has been so may things happening to be in a grateful mode and mood. Hehe. Anyway, the year that passed had been a fruitful one, in all aspect that is. Although there were periods of passiveness, it was a productive one.

Anyway, I've been busy with my journal. Hehehe..I will just post later about so and so. Hehehe..Here's a poem that I made. Care to comment.

ode to the worm

the worm,

silly, newly spawned

somewhere else

crawling on the immaculate,

floor oblivious to

its surroundings

mindful of its struggle,

struggle to self

the selfish awakening

its milky innards

beckoning the dangers

of oblivion

of Death

whose sinister smile

runs its sickle on its head,

the squirming body.

the humans,

silly, spawning everywhere

crawling on their bellies

with thoughts

of greed,

malice,

discontent,

pursuing, corrupting the

ever-changing world,

immaculate that was

humming in their universe

the sound of its end

beckoning the Armageddon

their bodies writhing

pleasures of

ungodly treasures,

malicious ventures,

atrocious behaviours,

crawling their way

to their graves,

with Death sweetly

smiling its embrace

coldness on its shoulder

staring in darkness

standing near the door

holding on its sickle

slicing through their heads.

Yet redemption.

best reads of 2010

2010-12-31T02:51:00.002+08:00

the books I enjoyed reading this year, though I really didn't start on January

Thanks to ms. blooey of Bookmarked! for giving me "The Monster of Florence" as a Christmas gift. Finally, something to add to my growing collection of books. Wish granted!

Thanks to my Honey for giving me "Lamb" by Christopher Moore. Biff always brightens my day. Hehehe.

My year has been an adventure as I flipped those pages. Happy New Year!

book review #1: lamb: the gospel according to biff, christ's childhood pal

2010-12-29T16:02:00.008+08:00

You may find yourself asking why it's the first book review. I've done quite a few already. Well, I'm going to start it this new year and I like to have an inventory of the books that I read. Reading is a passion right now, not just a hobby or whatsoever. And to start the new year with a bang, I also chose a book that will surely make a big bang of laughter out of you. I enjoyed reading this and it made me laugh the bejeezus out of me. Well, it's a "Gospel" to start with. Can there be more strange-sounding than this? I'm laughing.

Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal (phew, such a long title) is written by Christopher Moore. The book talks about the missing link in the life of Jesus, the in-betweens when he was seven and the time he started his ministry, as was told by Biff, his seeminlgy all-knowing, sexually-crazed but loyal friend. You would wish to have such a friend as Biff. Well, there are ten things that I like to point on this book which are quiet interesting.

1. Biff, the titular character, and Joshua (Jesus is the Greek name)

Their friendship is like a Yin-Yang, a balance of naivete and smartassness (correct me please). Where Joshua lacks the knowledge on one area, it is there that Biff tries to fill. Theirs was a complete riot. Biff becomes Joshua's window to sinly human nature as Joshua tries to discover more about sin and his way of becoming the Messiah.

2. The angel Raziel

The stupidest angel (another book by Moore) who loves soap opera and was disappointed by not meeting Spiderman. He loves wrestling and thinks that everything in the TV is true. He resurrected Biff, dead for 2000 years, and commanded him to write this gospel. His is a halo that Biff describes as "stupidity leaking out of his head". Makes me laugh everytime I remember that.

3. Angels do have sex. And Raziel left his sex organ in heaven. Makes me imagine Biff's face, his reaction.

4. Balthasar's 8 concubines.

Tiny Feet of the Divine Dance of Joyous Orgasm, Beautiful Gate of Heavenly Moisture Number Six, Temptress of the Golden Light of the Harvest Moon, Delicate Personage of the Two Fu Dogs Wrestling Under a Blanket, Feminine Keeper of the Three Tunnels of Excessive Friendliness, Silken Pillows of the Heavenly Softness of the Clouds, Pea Pods in Duck Sauce with Crispy Noodle, and Sue.

Their names are amusing but Biff manages to call them by their short names. Sue is for Susannah. Huh?

5. While Joshua learns how to multiply the grain of rice through the Divine Spark (the Holy Ghost or Spirit, as we call it), Biff is so busy learning the ancient knowledge of Kama Sutra (LOL) and manages to have a banter with Joshua (who also learns the Bhagavad Gita).

6. The 3 Magi, Balthasar, Gaspar and Melchior, have been actually searching for their own personal desires which is the reason why they travelled to see the Messiah. Joshua finally found them and sought help on how he can become the Messiah. He gave them lessons instead.

7. Joshua loves drinking coffee. And is a contortionist. He fitted inside Biff's satchel, a backpack. He can also become invisible, which he learned when he was a monk under the tutelage of Gaspar. And he, together with Biff, battles a demon named Catch. What a catch that is. He had a comic language banter with this demon, while Biff infuriated it by peeing on it.

8. Joshua doesn't like sex at all after the incident when he saw Biff lying together with a toothless old woman. To be safe, his view of sex changed after this incident. Remember, Joshua was still learning the anatomy of sin so to say. His instructor was actually Biff who had carnal pleasures with different women so to describe this to him. As I say it again, Biff is the smartass while Joshua maintained his naivete.

9. That the Sermon on the Mount was actually planned. The Beautitudes. Everything was written as was dictated by Jesus and some suggested by Biff. Let me share to you an excerpt:

Biff: "Seven"
Jesus: "Not enought. We need one more. How about the dumbfucks?"
Biff: No, Josh, not the dumbfucks. You've done enough for the dumbfucks...
Jesus: Blessed are the dumbfucks for they, uh - I don't know - the shall never be disappointed.

Biff: No, I'm drawing the line at the dumbfucks. Come on, Josh, why can't we have any powerful guys on our team? Why do we have the to have the meek, and the poor, the oppressed, and the pissed on? Why can't we, for once, have blessed are the big powerful rich guys with swords?"

Makes me laugh all the time.

10. Judas was killed, rather strangled, by Biff who killed himself by jumping off the cliff. The smartass died by suicide but later resurrected by the angel to write this gospel.

The anachronism is quite interesting and so is the sarcasm. I love everything about the book, especially the humor between Jesus and Biff. Christopher Moore played well with the reader's imagination about the characters, the setting, about everything in totality. I can't recommend it enough. Read irony. Hehehe. A caution though, if you're a chuckler, then at least do not read this in public. The languages are funny and some parts are quite disturbing especially for "Pharisee-ish" mind, close-minded that is.

4.9 stars out of 5 (I'm saving the 0.1 for the air, I'm running out of it while reading). Seriously, 5 out of 5 for the good humor. Curiosity is the beginning of wisdom, or sham. Read the book to see it for yourself. I'm reading it again.

"A never one, a never two, a never a nechur sing, a never a nechur sing, a never a never a nechur sing..."

2010-12-25T20:26:00.004+08:00

"A never one, a never two, a never a nechur sing, a never a nechur sing, a never a never a nechur sing..." ~ Neighborhood children having their carolling

Christmas is the most highlighted celebration of the year. Children and adult from all walks of life are always eager to celebrate this. Gifts, the noche buena and the family get-togethers. But it is the carolling that I'm excited to listen to. Just this morning, I was awaken by children singing at the top of their voices the jingles they just learned perhaps from hearing others. I can't help but laugh. Mind you, I'm still humming the lyrics in my head until now.

Carolling reminds of the childhood that was. How I ran together with some cousins and sometimes with classmates as we trod the streets bringing our homemade props and instruments. It was a nostalgic fun, not to mention the adrenaline-inducing dog chase and neighborhood feasts. My pocket was never empty during Christmas. Oh, by the way, extortion was acceptable at this time. My uncles and aunts' pockets were always ready in case the need arose. Singing a one-liner jingle equated a consideranle amount. Well...

Carolling reminds me of the start of Christmas. Like the cutting of the ribbon in an inauguration thingy. That sort. When the cold wind is already entwined with the tinkling and twanging of the instruments and the guttural sounds of the singers' voices, then I know that Christmas is just around the corner. It won't be long before you experience a throng of people attacking your vicinity. Nah, fret if you want but it's as if they're granted with some kind of immunity to just invade your peace and impale you with songs after songs after songs and conclude it with a "We Wish You a Merry Chritmas" antic. And you are rendered powerless.

Carolling reminds me of the jolly Christmas. The oppurtunity of giving. This is the only part, I guess, of this celebration that brings you a connection with other people aside from your family circles. It reminds me that this certain neighbor of ours actually exists. The baritone of the oppurtunist. But then again tis the season of giving, so let it be. I'm not the Grinch nor Mr. Scrooge but sometimes people are just plainly making this season a big business. Carolling's a business.

Anyway, Christmas precedes all that is human. This is suppose to be the case. Christ is the true message of this celebration which I hope resides in every heart of the people that walks this planet. Although Christmas is a time of giving but let us not digress from its true meaning. Merry Christmas to all. Someone's singing again. "A never one, a never two, a never a nechur sing, a never a nechur sing, a never a never a nechur sing..."

monster are real. really.

2010-12-07T21:50:00.002+08:00

I bought the book The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey and immediately read it. Obviously, I haven't finished it yet and although I'm not really a fan of grotesqueries, I find it intriguing and somehow informative owing to the fact that there were some information from scientists and authors in the first leaf of the book telling the existence of Anthropophagi. I really don't know if these things or foul creatures exist but to read their description in the book will give the same reaction Will Henry had. It's tickling my gag reflex. Monsters are real. The back cover said so.

I paused to think and ponder about it. Yes, it is true. Monsters are real, while human beings live. I am not contemplating on a self-righteous theory but you will agree with me when I said this. People nowadays are inclining to be monsters and worst, we recognized them already, but we just appear to be oblivious, or I don't know, maybe plainly we just are indifferent. We feign awareness. We see the corruption and the vile deeds of our fellow Homo sapiens but we still choose to be ignorant of these blatant facts. Blind. Yes, we are blind.

There are monsters lurking everywhere, it may be your seatmate now, or your date or that poor grocer at a distant. Picking orange. The point is monsters can even be our very own selves. I know you know what I mean. The clock is ticking.

For the mean time, got to finish my read. Ciao, ciao.

narnia: the voyage of the dawn treader.

2010-12-06T23:55:00.001+08:00

This was the second time I had a 3D movie experience. It was not a bad movie. I can vouch for that. :) C.S. Lewis showed again how human frailty could bring the end of everything and how everything can be redeemed through trust, hope and love. Each character has to face their weaknesses and learn how to overcome them. It made me realize that mortals will always be mortals, that human beings will really fall but there's always redemption.

The Voyage's plot is simple, to look for the seven swords of the seven lords to save the world of Narnia. Each adventures unveils the characters' flaw, such as vanity, greed, cowardice and haughtiness. For a book-loving creature like me, the "Book of Incantations part" amazed me. I want to own one. Hehehe. Just imagine reading something and you can conjure anything that the book contains. When Lucy read the book, the snow just brought the nostalgic memories of the first movie. I liked the Chronicles of Narnia. I don't know if it's the childish feeling in me or I'm just nostalgic to the feeling of being child again. Either way. Hehe. Eustace was quite annoying for a boy unlike his dragon counterpart which was quite useful and adorable at the same time. I like his unusual friendship with Reepicheep. There's a touchy part at the end when Aslan appears dramatically, again. He always comes out in all the installments like that with his famous roar. Narnia movies are never complete without that roar, at least for me. :)

There were some parts though that were reminiscence of some movies. The blue star for Stardust, not to mention the snow of LWW, Lord of the Rings? Lol. I just remembered Gimli. Oops.

"There's a Place for Us" by Carrie Underwood is the perfect ribbon to wrap the whole movie. The movie was entertaining, although not that gratifying. I don't know why I'm sad after watching the movie. Maybe for Reepicheep. :)

bbc's 100 books to read before you die.

2010-11-29T15:48:00.001+08:00

Speechless.

Every time there's a topic or raucous about books, I can't help but be teary-eyed. God knows how I love, oh no, how I adore books, any book for that matter. Any genre. Any form or any format. And all the time I always find myself disarmed by these whenever I am in a bookstore. The books seem to be talking. My version of "The Confessions of a Shopaholic". Taunting me. Inviting. As if faced by an Eve-in-the-Eden situation, I can only do nothing but succumb to this wanting.

There's one thing I want to say actually. Forget those blubbers.

I LOVE BOOKS. And when BBC released their list of the books to drool upon, I just can sigh. Pooh!!!

Here's the list:

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
The Bible
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
Complete Works of Shakespeare
Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
Middlemarch - George Eliot
Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
Emma - Jane Austen
Persuasion - Jane Austen
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe - CS Lewis
The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne
Animal Farm - George Orwell
The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Atonement - Ian McEwan
Life of Pi - Yann Martel
Dune - Frank Herbert
Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Jurassic Park - Michael Crichton
A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
The Secret History - Donna Tartt
The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
Fear of Flying - Erica Jong
On The Road - Jack Kerouac
Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
Moby Dick - Herman Melville
Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
Dracula - Bram Stoker
The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
Ulysses - James Joyce
The Inferno - Dante
Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
Germinal - Emile Zola
Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
Possession - AS Byatt
A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
The Color Purple - Alice Walker
The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
Charlotte’s Web - E.B. White
The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
Watership Down - Richard Adams
A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
Hamlet - William Shakespeare
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

I read some of them. And I will definitely read all of them, that if I still can manage to. But I think I will. And also collect some of them. Weee..Something to look forward to next year.

2. sketch. i called him "jake".

2010-11-27T19:04:00.000+08:00

sepia, edited via phone

raw sketch, work in progress

I don't know if I can sketch that good, so I pick a random pic and challenge myself to do it. Surprisingly...

Is this a good t-shirt print? What ja think?

scanned "jake"

of clothes and comfort.

2010-11-23T22:14:00.001+08:00

Arrange your life like this.

Life is like clothes, at least for me. As I open my clothes cabinet ( I do not exactly know how to name it, it's the zipper-type thingy), I realized that my life is like the clothes I am wearing, or the pile of clothes I'm having. I'm not into clothes, although it pains me to look at the malls and sometimes in the Lookbook for some dandy suits and posh clothing. Who in this world would not want them? But then again, truth will hurt because I will still get the same old shirt I have, the comfortable hugger, and go outside and shrug the trains of thoughts I just have. And life will be the same life again, always, minus the sophisticated picture I just framed in my mind. I am a dreamer. That's it.

My clothes are like veils of confidence. I always wear my mood together with them. I can even remember when one student told me, "Sir, you wore that shirt like last week." I can just flash a bashful smile and retort, "But what you have now is what you wore a day ago". And we will just laugh. I wore what I considered to be my confidence cloak. I was not mindful, even if I wore the exact thing again and again and again. It's like staying in my comfort zone. And then I realized that my life was a patch of comfort zones. My life comes in and goes out in the same door and I just care less about it. Sometimes I ask myself if this is just sheer indifference or just plainly going-with-the-flow habit. And I would just ignore these thoughts because I don't know the answer either.

I prefer comfort, that would be my defense. But it won't hurt to digress sometimes. I always have that thought. *grinning* Always.

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

One child asked me,"What's the most comfortable thing in life Sir?"
Me: "To defecate."

i.design.my.shirt.who.designs.yours?

2010-11-22T22:24:00.000+08:00

I had such a busy weekend and here I am again meeting another one. The Saturday that passed was a blast since I finally did something for myself. Something that I really like. Something that was productive and not boring. Hehehe.

Remember the post-it sketch I made? Yes, that one. One blogger suggested or commented that it can be a good t-shirt print (I added the "good" here). And know what? I took it seriously. And I was goddamn serious about it. Really, so serious about it.

I have no tools for this kind of job. Job, the t-shirt printing thingy. Isa lang ata alam ko and that was I have my hands and they are more than willing to try this thing. Hehehe. And the result actually was not disappointing. Hmm...

Tadaaaa....

Comment? Hehehe...pasensya na sa mala-emo na print. wahehehe..can't help it.

il bel far niente (the beauty of doing nothing)

2010-11-06T16:12:00.004+08:00

I wrote this last Tuesday. Just want to post it. Hehehe...Wala naman atang papalag?

This night is the last night of my stay here in Cagayan de Oro, having my week break from work and other work-related brouhahas. The night is so calm and all I can hear as of the moment is the silent whirring of the ceiling fan and the silent orchestra of the keyboards and my heart, not to mention the snore of the sleeping neighbor. Tomorrow I’ll be heading for Davao and be stomped again by papers and neck-breaking backlogs. But that is work, and to face it is inevitable. Sans the mention of stress and the constant consumption of patience. Oh boy, I hope there’s a 24/7 store for this patience. Anyway, the rest is over, which is quite disappointing and nostalgic, for the fact that for the past 8 days of staying here I felt so at home with the knowledge of doing nothing. Yes, the idea of staying at home and waking up at your face slapped by the midday’s rays. Yes, the idea of “Il bel far niente” as what Eat, Pray, Love mentioned. Yes, it is the beauty of doing nothing.

But let me be defensive in this matter, it is doing nothing but accomplishing something. In my short stay here in CDO I have met friends and I have shared precious and meaningful time with my honey. I came to love the fact that I allotted myself ample time to appreciate the pointless things in life (as what I have might think of them or perhaps you yourselves) and find values in things so mundane. Things like walking under an umbrella with your special one during a cold, rainy three o’clock afternoon, reading your new book which was quite stressed outside but so fresh inside because it was not touched nor even read, pigging out on a pizza and ice cream on a drizzly afternoon, lying on your bed with Andrea Bocelli on, and dumping inside the bathroom sans the hurry (since there’s no pressure of work). And another one, staring at the ceiling fan and trying to argue with yourself that it’s turning counterclockwise. Such a reckless waste of time as one might say but such a time of recollection and peace as I might so consider.

I remembered before when I was in high school or in my earlier days of college, I was myself a nazi for time consciousness (not the management though). A single minute wasted is a mortal sin and an hour of squandered moment is a hell. That was a time when I was hard of myself. Currently, I think I overdo it though. Well, you can’t blame me for I am battered by work for almost five years already. I deserve this modest amount of rest. No worries. No guilt. No work. Pure rest, miles and miles away from work. That is what I called pure bliss. You know, the likes of waking up one hour before noon and drinking your coffee with the music on and with your underpants only. If this is a crime, I say then that I’d love to be a criminal. This pleasure of doing nothing and enslaving time is quite addictive.

But everything will have to end. Few hours from the moment I write this, I will be already in the bus for Davao. Attraversiamo. Let’s cross over. I have to cross over from the pleasures of guiltless self-indulgence to the stressful realities of work. Again, attraversiamo.

written on November 2, 2010, 3:09am

eat nothing, do something. 12-hour famine campaign.

2010-11-06T13:03:00.003+08:00

Hunger has always been the twin of living. While someone lives, someone survives the everyday pang of hunger.

Today the World Vision Philippines is doing a 12-Hour Famine campaign which invites youth to voluntarily fasts for 12 hours to increase global awareness about this undying problem that the world is experiencing. It starts from 9am and goes until 9pm. For more info, click.

"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat. " ~ Mother Teresa

mused with life.

2010-11-05T21:12:00.001+08:00

"Life lives, life dies. Life laughs, life cries. Life gives up and life tries. But life looks different through everyone's eyes."

It was a busy afternoon. Everyone bustled on the streets and the long dreary sun threw streaks of hatred and blood-curdling heat. The wind was blowing long dry gust of seemingly desert air with wisps of barbecue aroma and morning sweats. Each individual nailed on his own affair without the mind of turning their burnt necks. A misshapen lady was busy with her trade amidst the bellowing jeepney drivers. The clamoring market cradled themselves around shadows of disheveled piles of clothes and draperies. A total scene of morning business which I knew was a signal again of a long and tedious day.

I turned around the bend with thoughts mesmerized by those random musings. Well, life was quite a simple complication of things. Sigh. Phew! Another day of uncertainties. "Hey, where are you heading?", asked a rather mused "konduktor" (the driver's assistant) at my lost-in-translation look. "Thanks, but no thanks. Be just in the corner." I stopped first sighting those big trucks running and leaving only traces of black dusts and smokes. The lamp post beside the road must have been a pathetic witness of these city bustlings. My vision tried to scan all the angles of these and then there I saw her. She was rather bludgeoned by long and lonely years. In her eyes mirrored a thousand woes of uncertainties and dubious thoughts. Her body outlined with deathly stabbed of hunger. Her coat rather unkempt which left her with a look of a miserable old witch.

With eyes full of emptiness she crossed the street and there on one corner I stand watching her closely. All the world must have been an audience of this misery but ignorant enough to do anything. She crossed the streets still with all the grace that was left to her. But when she was about to finish that long exodus, a screeching sound hollered from nowhere and send her reeling on the streetside. A painful ghastly sound of shouts was heard from the people around.

The people gathered around and I was one with them. There she lied down with blood sputtering from her mouth. With one last strength and with all the hopes remaining in her, she cried "MEOWWW..." Then she died. Painfully. A cat.

small things.

2010-11-03T21:18:00.000+08:00

Be faithful in small things
because it is in them that your strength lies.
~Mother Teresa

___________________

Small things can open up to great realizations. It did mine lately. There's this funny quote, "Money talks but mine said "goodbye!". I can't help but flash a smile for it is rather a sad truth. *smile* Well, I just realized that small things or those considered lowly are but the faithful ones and remains within your limitations. Well, I just look at my cash and I realized that "Jose Rizal" seemed so loyal to stay within the perimeter of my urgent needs. But "Escoda and others" and "Ninoy" just pass by and nothing ,even a memory, is left. Blimey! hehe..

Christmas is coming. Let's celebrate its spirit in the small things that we have. After all, the lowly ones were the first recipient of that joyous news. Let us cherish the small ones that we have. Be contented. That's it. Be contented.

let the hunger games begin.

2010-10-11T20:32:00.003+08:00

This week's a busy one, so reading a book was like stealing Mona Lisa. Lol. Anyway, although busy, I have not given the thought to finish at least a book per week or at least have a glimpse of the pages. Hahaha. I have read the Hunger Games Trilogy and the experience was quite overwhelming at the same time disappointing. Overwhelming, in a sense, that this was the first time I collected the complete books of a series. Collecting was like an addiction. Can't explain and can't contain the excitement altogether. I became an instant bibliophile. I have been collecting books lately and some of them became instant reads and some became instant depressants. Bedside drugs, I call them. Disappointed, especially with how the book ends in the Mockingjay, the 3rd installment. Anyhow, the first book, The Hunger Games, let me talk about this thing.

The Hunger Games deals with Katniss Everdeen, her struggles, her story, her fate and her game for life. A post-apocalyptic scenario which requires young blood to vindicate a rebellion. It's a YA fiction so it doesn't require a dictionary to aid you in case you meet a nosebleed-inducing word. Fast-paced. It's like watching a mash-up of Gladiator and Tournament, but this time with younger participants.

There are things which I found unique and intriguing in this book.

1. The book cover. Simple yet meaningful. The bird, which was actually a mockingjay, became the theme of this trilogy. You can find the same bird in the succeeding books and the bird did have a role in the story. The Mockingjay and Katniss. Hmm...Read please. By the way, what's a mockingjay? Mockingbirds exist, but mockingjays? Hmmm...

2. Muttations. At first I thought this was a typo error but actually it does exist in this book. This is what I like with authors. They can freely alter anything and create anything, all for the sake of fiction. And boy! Suzanne did her job well. Muttations or mutts are experiments gone awry (at least as I perceived it until I read the last book). Mockingjays are the cross-breeds of mutts and an ordinary bird. It's actually more of a mutation with a touch of sinisterness.

3. The fashion before death. The tributes (selected children from each District) have to undergo a beauty regimen and fashion showdown only to be murdered by each other in an arena. I mean, will I still care on what I will wear when at the back of mind I can see my dead and mutilated body afterward?

4. District 13. Its existence is as mysterious and intriguing as the fate of District 12. Only 12 districts were mentioned so far and what is District 13? The Districts were assigned with varying job roles with the District 12 as coal miners. The Capitol, being the head, bitches them all, getting various supplies from each of them. The Capitol initiates the Hunger Games to teach the other districts who's the boss of them.

5. The funny names. Enough said.

6. Avox. Vox in Latin means voice. If Harry Potter has the house-elves, then HG has the Avoxes. Except for the fact that Avoxes swallowed the remote control switched to silent mode. Kidding! Their tongues were cut for their treacherous deeds for the Capitol. So they're rendered silent for the rest of their lives. Katniss met one in the Capitol.

7. The Chocolate at the end of the Cornetto. No ice cream in this book. Hahaha. That's how I described the end of every chapter. Every chapter ends with a wham line which redirects the flow of the story and keeps my interest high for the next chapter. The beginning of the Hunger Games welcomes you with this.

Now if you want a good read, grab one. I'm not a fan of romance so I focused more on the survival game and the subtle violence. In as much as I like Harry Potter books, this one's a good catch also. The violence's not overkill and the characters are not boring. Although Peeta is sometimes.

One thing, I am so happy that Hunger Games did not end like Breaking Dawn of the Twilight. Brrrr... Indescribably disappointing. They should have lift a finger to kill Bella. Annoying.

There...Done with my homework. Hehehe
Next: Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

busy. sorry.

2010-10-03T22:04:00.001+08:00

Been busy with the school's foundation day. Phew! Acting busy actually. Lol.

By the way, I had the 3 copies of The Hunger Games Series. Done reading. Post later some reviews. Although late, but who cares? Lol.

See yah.

The Invitation that I made. There was a slight change though, but the new one's more likely the same with this.

Ciao, ciao!

a major major drawback for filipinos

2010-08-31T22:46:00.001+08:00

No one's to be blamed.

Although we would like to point our silly fingers to anyone just to satiate that feeling of "I-would-not-do-that-gosh-that's-a-shame-for-Filipinos" stance. In the first place, we would never know what would happen in case we were in that muddy pool where the hostage-taker was in. We could only blame because we thought we could do something but we couldn't. The media and the police failed but their situation could only offer as much as our minds were mangled in the thought that something better could be done. We sat there on the edge of our seats dumbfounded, grief-stricken, angry, repulsed by the thought that a fellow Filipino had done such but we could only air our concern, the retribution strategy we're planning, in front of the television. We could just sit there and do anything but help in such crisis.

Blaming the media for such an unwittingly airing of the hostage crisis will just slap us the fact that this is their job first and foremost. Although there was a major backfire, but everyone's just doing their job, the police on their part and the media on their own part as well. There is an issue of regulating the media coverage in cases such as this. But where will we draw the line? How will we draw the line? And then we will all return again to the blaming habit. It is the government's responsibility and we will all end blaming the Head of the State. But Pnoy can only extend as much help by excruciatingly uncovering a solution from the deepest recesses of his brain. It's not that nobody cared and nobody did something, but it's the fact that it's what the circumstance offered and all we need to do is to learn our lesson now. We can blame as much and care as less but this will not solve the problem. I hope this crisis will not escalate our sickening habit of blaming the likes of Rolando Mendoza, a fellow Filipino, even when issues died down. This would soon pass. But the shattered pieces of our faith to our fellow countrymen will take some time of mending. I hope that we can show as much faith as the other nationalities showed sympathy to us amidst this national tragedy.

Again, this will be a matter of choice for us. We can choose to blame or not. But the solution should always start from us. And this I think should not be a matter of choice.

silence and my lolo.

2010-08-08T21:29:00.002+08:00

This was once a story that I always tell my friends or whoever it is that I came across with (and whenever opportunity knocks). From this, I sometimes concluded that melancholy and silence were my close comrades ever since, although sometimes I was in denial. This happened when I was in my fifth grade, and somehow the memory lingered and the experience seemed fresh. During the time which I mentioned, my Lolo died. This was my first experience of death involving relatives. And though my Lolo was such, I never encountered the idea of grieving, or the idea of crying for someone. We were not that close, albeit I bought cupcakes for him and somehow rendered my service to him. I was contented with the idea of grandfather-grandson relationship but there was no fuss or involvement of love. I was just a grandson. But never a loved one.

My grandfather’s wake was like a closed-door meeting. If his death hadn’t been the reason, then probably his children won’t be there that time. My uncles and aunts were a mix brood of austere disciplinarians and probably advocates of boredom. Their grief was nothing but a poignant show of lack of interest. And with which I felt sure by that time was slowly crawling inside me and seem to echo in my mind. What was present in their minds and in that house was everything but silence. Drinks. Food. Some were playing cards. My cousins were running around. All seemed to be in a chaos. Chaos and grief mixed at the same time. I didn’t understand that well how this two could be mixed. I want silence. This is impossible inside the house but I’m too timid to go outside. And so, amidst this raucous scenario I decided to disappear, at least. So I look for a cozy place but every room seemed to be an accomplice to this ironic festivity.

I found a place. Finally. It was under the table, totally covered by a thick carpet-like cloth tarnished with old age smell. At least the smell was tolerable. But this table was not just a table; for on top of this, was where my grandfather’s coffin laid. It was there, a mute wooden casket which seemed to me the only witness of my unbecoming attitude. I respect my Lolo like the way I did for my father. But I respect my peace more. And if to hide under this table was the sole manner I could achieve what I ached for, then to hell with that coffin. And my Lolo seemed to like this idea. He was there above, inside the coffin. Silent. With the last glimpse of my Mom crying, I crept under and be engulfed with the silence I desperately wanted. The tablecloth, which appeared like gigantic curtains to me, was my sole cover and my wall to this unexplainable enmity. And for the first time after five painful hours, I silently lied down there on the bare wooden floor, smiling, closing my eyes. I was alone. I was with myself.

From then on I befriended silence. I was not a loner though. I hate to be alone. But I want some time to be left alone. And this is a matter of choice. And now, sitting here with a laptop in front of me with the noisy background of honking cars and beer-drinking people, I drank again the intoxicating experience of silence, of peace. But only this time, I chose it to be swimming across a sea of wonderful noises and sounds.

And I kinda like it.

do not bother me. please.

2010-08-04T00:02:00.001+08:00

drawn on a post-it, when everything's so boring.

art.

2010-08-02T01:49:00.003+08:00

Left to right: Ms Nholl, Ms. Eva and Ms. Elna

Ewan ko ba bakit wala akong nagawa ngayong araw ng Linggo - as in totally wala - except the usual routine of doing laundry. After that I slept, and the rest of the afternoon was a painful drag of hours coupled with routinized daydreaming and planning. These series of events carefully laid - that is - inside my head, yes, in my mind with my body on my bed. Maybe my mind was just so preoccupied with so many things that my body froze. Haha. Another excuse for another lazy Sunday. This was like one of those days where in being productive sucks both ways - either you're trying way too hard or you're doubting the credibility of your toil. There's no competition though - at least I believe. Anyhow, I don't want to feel any pressure, at least for the time being but I don't want to slacken also. Aargghh...

Better forget this.

Anyway, last Friday night, right after we had some Coke float slurping and senseless conversation, we headed to Ponce Suites to tour a friend. We deserved this - a just compensation, as I call it -to end our rough weekdays and to begin a hopeful-restful weekend. Yes, to my belief - and relief - that stress could just be sucked through that straw - and be finally flushed out as urine. How I wished it could be that easy.

The "sepia-toned" streets, as what Ms. Elna fondly called them, proved to be a good host for another array of conversations- at least this time they were sensible and dramatic, and funny. Contrary to the noises on the streets adjunct to these, our giggles were the only disturbing decibels on this neighborhood. Except, of course, for some few honking cars. We cared less though - after all this was our night - and their whims or concerns would just aggravate the reason of such behavior. We had a common purpose - to watch the gallery of Kublai. And this walk, our ticket.

This was like the fourth or fifth time I was on this place. And the works of art would just give me the same reactions- amazement, envy, and inspiration. The mute boredom inside me seemed to echo in those arts. Gradually convinced, I'd resolve to do a work like this. Again. And again I would forget it upon leaving the shadow of the eagle graced upon its entrance. Those monuments beside the streets just before the entrance were the silent witness of the visitor's purpose: to be lost in art or maybe just to kill time. In any ways or means, these arts will always leave something - and at some point - will be crucial to one's life.

sense and insensibility.

2010-07-31T17:43:00.002+08:00

Sometimes I wish to be whisked in a different place like I will just tap my shoes, and, voila!, I am in France or Mt. Fiji. Anywhere my head takes me and my mood transports me to. I want to get lost in some place. I want to be alone. But it seems it's only in my thoughts that such a penchant wish can take place. Hmmm, even my mind is nothing but a tapestry of betrayal. I am losing my senses. Getting numb minute by minute, drinking the subtle poison of a stressful life believing that it will be blissful to indulge in such a futile effort of excellence and fecundity. Almost to the point of drying up my soul and my art. Hating is an understatement, but being pretentious could be a caveat for self-preservation.

My inner sanctum is shattering and I want to put back the shambled pieces. The squalor of hypocrisy is taking its toll but I don't want to be enslaved. Who would want anyway to prostrate one's self for something superficial, self-deprecating compliment, a tap-on-the-back ritual? Such benediction for me is but a malediction in package of immaculate mockery. Ostentatious show of benevolence but it's actually a parcel of insensibility.

How can you preach the pleasure of your senses when you are numb and working juxtaposed with your leprotic honesty? It becomes sensible your sensible senses sensed insensibility.

I just go with the flow.

That's cliche.

good times gonna come

aqualung

i am melting.

2010-07-29T21:43:00.001+08:00

A smile for a day counts a thousand melted frustrations.

There has never been a day that I don't feel frustrated inside the classroom. I don't even know if I am just pushing myself too much and dreaming of too much perfection. I tried to achieve with most of nerve-cracking effort to convey the concept or precept of discipline to my students. I resort to different methods and each seemed to be an entry for frustration. It's almost an illusion. It's doable, I believe. But sometimes nearly impossible. Crying seems to be my last succor, my shelter. Yet, every time they come to me, with sweaty faces and carefree innocence, I can't help but rationalize my worth as a teacher. Frustrating, yes, but fulfilling and ethereal also. Teachers are masochist I believe. Or shall I say, I almost believe. Not in an evil sense though.

All the day's problem seem to be vacuumed by that invisible vortex created by their hugs and smiles. Many times I have been tempted to stop teaching, but each attempt will just prove that their pure comfort and heartwarming (and sometimes hair-raising) embrace are more powerful. And then I forget that I have problems, concerns. I learn to play. I become a child again.

I do not love teaching, to be honest. But there's something far more magnetic in this profession that made me stay for almost half a decade. I am still in the process of discovering things. I don't know teaching that much, albeit years of experience, but I know that I still have the greatest teachers in my midst. I know the children are there. And their smiles reassures me of this fact. Everyday.

And I am melting again.

eiga sai 2010, japanese film festival.

2010-07-26T02:35:00.008+08:00

I thought I was watching Twilight again.

The titillating screams and estrogen-filled cinema were few things I could recall from the deep regions of my brain. Deja vu? Sure. The wet-dog smell of the cinema carpet just accentuated my memories, but only now with different movies. The Battery Future in Our Hands made me remember the jam-packed place with screaming girls spewing the name of Edward. It made me wonder all the time why the movie house had this ambiance whenever cute faces, thick eyebrows, countenance that rounded off to a girl's were flashed on that omniscient and oblivious white projector screen. Dumbfounded and annoyed at the same time, I can do nothing but just breathe a relief; for having such an experience was better than staying at home. Added to the fact that I will be wasting most of my day doing nothing, except in my mind. I don't cry for spilled milk though, but it'll be a waste.

The Eiga Sai 2010, Japanese Film Festival, showcased exquisitely-chosen and tasteful films which, as far as my poor memory's concerned, had been ranked in my fave and worth-spending movie list. Only instead this time, I spent not a single peso. Literally saying, not a single hard-earned and fleeting peso-seso-sesoses. It's free. Nowadays, movies for free appeared rarely like the Lochness monster (if there is). So it's an up-for-grabs thing and people like me don't just let it swim away. Just sweet. So sweet. After all, it's Philippines-Japan Friendship Month Celebration! Kampai!

I watched most of the films although I missed Frantz Kafka’s A Country Doctor and Miyori in the Sacred Forest. Most of the films were thought-taunting and deeply-moving which made me appreciate them more. The Bandage Club and the Tokyo Tower: Mom and Me, and Sometimes Dad were my favorites. I Just Didn’t Do It was such a good film that I didn't bother to finish it. The rotten judiciary system which was a touchy subject made me reflect on our own system. Watching the whole film made me uneasy. It's like watching a familiar Philippine scenario but only this time with Japanese characters and a facade of foreignness. It's haunting. Revolting. Tormenting. And very honest. The Glasses aired tranquility in ambiance and simplicity and wonder on its characters. Until now, I am still wondering how that shaved ice taste. Hmmm... Such a treat for one's weekend.

Kampai!

i still have time to read. and to blog.

2010-07-21T22:17:00.000+08:00

I acquired the book of Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind, and I was thrilled. I devoured the book at hand and managed to finish it (after periods of interruption and frustrations) after two days and a night.

I watched the movie first, if you remembered. The movie was after all an almost faithful recreation of the book, with the characters brought to life solidifying my imagination and enhancing my memory as each pages were procreated as flitting and well-befitting as the concoction of the words that were used. The book was a mediocre work of a god, that if you know what I mean. I was merely (an understatement) drawn by the words which were as clear as they were colorful, as they reverberated in the inner recesses of my brain. If Grenouille was so intoxicated by virginal scents, I was allured and drugged by the wondrously harnessed texts. I forgot I was just a reader. At least temporarily. The story was a perfect work of a genius with Grenouille being a perfect murderer, a sublime image of a psychopath, a personage worth hating and loving at the same time.

I definitely gave a thumbs-up for the story, the plot. The movie, however, still could not contain the delightfully macabre description of everything that was on the book. Don't fret for the movie though. It is as volatile as the book, and to watch it is blissful as reading the book, however with certain degree of homage to the book.

Spoilers. The movie salvaged 12 virginal scents with the addition of the final scent, that was Laure's, to complete the perfect scent that Grenouille concocted in his mind. However, in the book, Grenouille needed 24 sacrificial virgins and Laure, to perfect his gallery for the creation of his infamous perfume. A major modification? That's why sometimes movies suck. And we who watched suck the most. So read! Lol. Click.

oh really? i don't even know him.

2010-07-21T20:43:00.000+08:00

I write like
Chuck Palahniuk

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I haven't even read any of his books. But I've been constantly haunted by them whenever I pass among the shelves of NBS. Hmmm...

and then i don't like fridays at all.

2010-07-02T21:52:00.002+08:00

My Friday was suppose to be the "crème de la crème" of my days, enough for me to say at my wit's end, "TGIF!". But as of the moment, I merely vomit at the thought of hearing that Friday's coming. I love my work Lord. God knows how I love it. But to the point of killing myself (I felt like exaggerating now), and mustering all my effort of self-preservation and girding my patience, all I can say is "give me liberty or give me death!". I can hold it but NOT now. This is the very moment when all I want is for the earth to swallow me up. In fact, gobble me up.

It baffles me sometimes if I am still attuned with myself or the whiner in me just squeals too much. I don't know whom to reach and to air these concerns that were boiling inside me. It's a denial, but I don't want to reach a meltdown. Am I burning out? Stress becomes my lover now and I coy at the slightest indifference I want to show. I made love to stress everyday, and I don't know if I am still reaching climax. Flaccid. I want to rest. Deadlines meet deadlines and my sanity's hanging at balance. Breather. Breather. Breathe. Right now, I am staring at the monitor with nothing but a poker face and a carte blanche to complain. I'm trying my best not to whine. Let this blog be the sole witness.

The spirit's willing but the flesh is weak ~~to complain~~. As I've said before, I did my best to muster patience and to pocket my litany of complains. But the pocket's shallow and it overflows. Sigh. Sigh. Help. Help.

busy busy busy

2010-06-26T19:43:00.000+08:00

tagged.

2010-06-16T21:25:00.003+08:00

Blame this to Sendo! I felt compelled to do this! Lol.

Instructions
1.) Copy tag to your own notes and start modifying it.
2.) Omit existing answers.
3.) Write your answers and tag as many as you want.

Rules
Use the first letter of your name to answer each of the following questions. They have to be real. Nothing made up. If the person before you had the same initial, you MUST have different answers, strictly NO carbon copy in that case. You cannot use any words twice. You cannot use your name for the boy and girl's name questions.

Questions and Answers
1.) What is your name: mjomesa
2.) A four letter word: mike
3.) A boy's name: miguel
4.) A girl's name: mathilde
5.) An occupation: microbiologist (i want to be one)
6.) A color: maroon
7.) Something you wear: mossimo blah blah
8.) A food: meringue
9.) Something found in the bathroom: my towel, hahaha, seriously, men's shampoo..lol
10.) A country: madagascar
11.) A reason for being late: making a post for my blog
12.) Something you shout: mwahahaha!
13.) A movie title: men in black
14.) Something you drink: mango shake
15.) A musical group: maroon 5 bleh!
16.) An animal: mongoose
17.) A street name: mabini st.
18.) A type of car: mustang
19.) An internet site/blogsite: mjo-mesa.blogspot.com/
20.) A song: monster by gaga
21.) A President's name: magsaysay, ramon. ayoko nung isang m!
22.) A cartoon character: marge simpson
23.) Name of School: mindanao state university
24.) A sport: martial arts..wahahah
25.) A Latin word/words: "memento mori." remember death!

To whom will I pass this? I don't know. Maybe, it ends here.

this is what i call "the last supper and the rest".

2010-06-13T20:17:00.013+08:00

The Last Supper. A subject of many paintings. The real 'Last Supper'.

And the rest.

Girbaud fashion

The Sopranos

Shucks, The Simpsons

Lost

Battle Star Galactica

House

some leather event ad in Folsom Street

gamble ad

rat killer ad and a LS-inspired zombie drawing

See how the world digressed from the real essence of the message imparted by the Last Supper.

a night with the bitches.

2010-06-12T23:36:00.007+08:00

There are just so many bizarre things around that I hear and see. And one, to end my day, was this video of Lady Gaga. What should I say? FIERCE! FIERCE! FIERCE! Gaga left me stunned again. "Alejandro" evokes something beyond music with those nun costumes, seemingly gay Nazis, rifle barrel bra, the goggles, the Templar costumes, the cross and rosary, the costumes that defy fashion norms. Bizarre. Just plainly bizarre. I was a Bio student before, and looking at Gaga with her feminine form with those male muscles adorning her background, it was like a shot of morphine. Watching Gaga's video was like analyzing morbidity and mortality at the same time. It's seeing disease, letting it contaminate you and allowing Death defy and molest your still-abled body. The end part made me flinch. The wigs made me cringe. Gaga's trademark is here, and that's the gist. Whatever video she makes, it will always leave the touch of Gaga's reality and surreality, which the public is having a hard time swallowing.

DIGRESS.

Another bizarre thingy.

Anyway, I was with whom I call "The Bitch" and Ms. Nholl a while ago, and we passed by a Korean hair salon. Seeing "The Bitch's" hair, the legendary locks that could usher the fall of even the most sophisticated and trusted hairstylist, I decided to inject her the thought of Hairspray. Get my point? No? I even call that thing, her hair, a horse tail.

Me: Bitch, look (pointing the 1,500Php hair bond treatment signage), I think your hair needs it.

The Bitch: Excuse me. No. They need my hair. (sabay taray)

Me: (silence)

The Bitch (again): Sir, gusto ko mag-watch ng World Cup. I called Sir P. and he said we can watch daw together. (kinilig ata ang Bitch kasi may crush nga sa matandang Sir P. na yan, anyway...) Sir, of course, libre yan. May food yan.

Me: At ano naman?

The Bitch: Of course, di nya maaatim na naka-tubig lang ako, tapos siya iced water. Dapat mag-order siya ng ice. For me.

Hahay. Why did I talk to that bitch? By the way, she proposed we'll have our Book Club daw. Book sharing over a cup of coffee. I hope so. Lol.

Giddy. Goodnight. Hmmm..It's my birthday this June 19th. My picture greetings, send to exodia_mike@hotmail.com. Salamat. Lol.

fidel castro x batman x etc.

2010-06-11T22:37:00.001+08:00

Fidel Castro met Batman?

What if? Just what if superheroes were present during the pressing moments of our history? Agan Harahap, Indonesian photographer, captured the moments in the imagination of his camera. I couldn't help but giggle with the pictures. Browse When superheroes come alive.

i'm on a reading spree. stop me.

2010-06-10T21:58:00.006+08:00

Remember my Moleskin journal? It's slowly feeling the pressure of my comments, lambasting whims, criticism brouhahas, juvenile censorship which were actually in some way or another cushioning the repressed emotions I broil inside me. A wannabe writer? A frustrated poet? Name it, I don't want it. Lol. I'm just on a reading spree and I'm knocking the books on my shelf one at a time. And God, how they bleed. Lol. Without further ado, I present to you the parade of books I just chewed and digested.

The Hobbit (JRR Tolkien)

What could I say? This book is quite a good read if you opted for adventures, dragons, goblins and dwarves and all those swashbuckling so-and-so's. Need I to mention the Lord of the Rings? Enough said. JRR Tolkien is really a storyteller and a good one.

Makes me want to read the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I'm currently scavenging for a copy. *sigh*

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (Mark Haddon)

Story of an Asperger-inflicted 15 year-old child. Interesting? Absolutely. If you have watched "Adam", then I bet you will understand that this book is quite interesting as it was uniquely narrated at first-person perspective by a savant. The chapters were numbered using prime numbers which was quite a catch for me. I was like, huh? Do I really need to read this? If you were to hear from pundits, then some would say this book would be a boring recipe. But, acknowledging the fact that this deals with Asperger's, I'd rather shrug the idea. No mistake, it was a good choice. The plot was like induction-induction-climax-climax-denouement-denouement-drooooppp! That was actually the flop side of the book. It ended immediately, robbing me of the element of self-reflection, rather harassed by the element of surprise.

The Client (John Grisham)

Courtroom drama turned action with a child-lawyer relationship riveted by mafia intervention. That would suffice I think. Heheh. Anyway, this was actually a re-read book. I just don't read the book again if I don't find it entertaining and educating, the latter one being the main ingredient of a good book. I consider this book my first major addiction. A Grisham work of genius.

Plan of watching the movie, but I'm afraid it may ruin my already-fossilized impression of this book. Suggestion?

Twisted 7 (Jessica Zafra)

She's the bitch you'll meet in Hell and you'll be proud you meet her, but sadly in Hell. Actually the book shares the twisted ideas of Jessica Zafra. I got hooked of her Twisted series but since I was still deciding whether to buy them, I've contented myself with rigorous and patient skimming, rather reading of these in National Bookstore. The read's for free. Haha!

Gone for Good (Harlan Coben)

This one's on my menu every night starting last night. The reason why I got those Edward Cullen circles under my eyes. Deal with it. Haha. I'm currently reading it. Can't get the whole point yet, hey, I'm still on the second chapter but my friend said that this one's a good catch. Want to prove this firsthand. I'm on a reading spree really and I'm eager to devour this book.

Haven't you noticed I don't give lengthy summary? Excuse me señoritos and mademoiselles, spare me of your homework! I don't want to deprive you of your firsthand experience of the book. I'm not a sucker for spoilers! Johnny Reader, keep on reading! By the way, my Moleskine book journal's getting filled. I'll show someday. Ciao. Ciao.

i will defy gravity.

2010-06-09T22:47:00.003+08:00

Three days before classes set foot in the threshold of my being, I watched different shows in PC. This was actually not a matter of entertainment but of pure delight to kill my time and of course to stir chaos in my malign and lazy mind. I felt so helpless because of boredom. I said to myself that this must be what they call boredom suicide. You feel the suffocation of boredom pressing your wits to death. Aside from this fact, I also felt the urge to be lazy. Like huh? My system seemed to be rejecting the chance or opportunity to be productive.

Aha! I got the CD and played it on the PC. Glee Season 1. I was thrilled by the songs particularly, and not the cast, although I found their bunch interesting. Hmmm..It's not like everyday you can see a show like this where races unite and break their vocal chords to the delight of the audience. What inspired me was actually the song, "Defying Gravity", sang by Kurt and Rachel. This was suppose to be their "diva face-off" which obviously cue a ridicule in Kurt's part. Now, which is which? Which one is Glinda and which one is Elphaba or the Wicked Witch of the West? I like the Wicked Musical Version although the richness of Rachel's voice has the edge. Lol. The choices of songs in this show was one stroke of brilliance and good taste. It's remarkable to be exact. It's really defying gravity, defying expectations and defying norms. In one way or another, it's also implying to us to gamble and give up being a lima loser (of course, though we don't leave in Middle America). We can defy gravity though the likes of Sue Sylvester hinders our way or extreme obstacles like what Glinda and Elphaba experienced happened to us.

The other show which I got hooked on was Queen Seon Deok. When I was watching this, I can't help but have a thought of her being a jest of misfortune. It's like, "nung umulan ng kamalasan sa mundo, hindi lang niya sinalo lahat kundi hinigop pa niya ang tubig." But again, she's still a living proof of someone who defied gravity. I actually just learned that this was really a real history of a Korean queen. Amazed, inspired and awed were my impressions.

We also have our moments to defy gravity and this happens everyday. And when this happens to me, I will snag opportunity's pocket and crack its head. But for now, I'm going to defy my urge for laziness. Huhuhu...

defying gravity

wicked the musical

my moleskine.

2010-05-31T17:59:00.002+08:00

Some people said that boredom could kill. Then I should be probably wandering now across the limbo, or meeting God in heaven, or perhaps lashing my woes in hell. But no, I'm perfectly alive, though a little bit insane and feeling creative at the same time. I finished reading "The Hobbit" by JRR Tolkien and somehow my spirits lifted a millimeter higher. Thanks to the over-the-counter drug they fondly called coffee. Lol. How should I summarized the book? Hmm..it was all very well to say that I was quite pleased by it and therefore understood the beginning part of the movie, The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring. I have so many books in line for me to explore and direct at least in the realms of my imaginary movie studio. Blame it to the qualms created by those inferior movies investing on visual ambiguity. However, I'll talk more about The Hobbit some other time. I must not tarry now, for knowledge is dull when you feel the pang of hunger.

I also had now my new Moleskine Passions edition. I got the book-themed moleskin and it was nice. Journal. Journal. Journal galore. Pictures shown. Bye for now.

i am done, smoking gun, we'd lost it all...I AM THE ONE.

2010-05-26T18:10:00.012+08:00

After sleeping for a long time and letting the other artists reign on the music realm, the Queen Bee has finally unleashed her fangs and boom boom vava voom voice. It's like,

"RELEASE THE ~~KRAKEN~~ GLAM DIVA!"

Thanks to the limitless power of technology bestowed on my fingertips. I can just easily download the music, in fact the whole album, and sit back, relax and listen to the killer beat of the music of Christina Aguilera. It was like WTF moment for me. Why did it just dawn on me that I can just easily download the list of songs as an album rather than scan the whole universe of YouTube, hoping some random guy uploaded the music. Waiting for the leak? Nope. Hahaha...

Last night, it was like whoa! I downloaded the whole album and copied the songs in my phone. Christina Aguilera, or shall I say Xtina, has emerged again with powerful vocals in her latest album, BIONIC with "Not Myself Tonight" as the first single. The songs were not a disappointment, if you may ask me. A tasteful mix of melodic acrobatics and superb vocal performances. What caught my attention (and as well as my LSS) were the songs; Lift Me Up, All I Need, I Am, and You Lost Me. Literally, I was lost when I listened to these the first time, mentioning again You Lost Me. In fact, as I was typing this, this was my background song. A cathartic dose for the catatonic atmosphere I was in right now. The underside of this album is just it's full of sexual implications, the overdosage of electronic music and some lyrics are not meant for underaged eardrums. If you're apt for a fresh music with beat and musicality that is out of this world, then I recommend you douse your cochlear desires with this.
List of tracks

1. Bionic
2. Not Myself Tonight
3. Woohoo feat. Nicki Minaj
4. Elastic Love
5. Desnudate
6. Love & Glamour (intro)
7. Glam
8. Prima Donna
9. Morning Dessert (intro)
10. Sex For Breakfast
11. Lift Me Up
12. My Heart (Intro)
13. All I Need
14. I Am
15. You Lost Me
16. I Hate Boys
17. My Girls feat. Peaches
18. Vanity

Gaga vs Xtina? I can't comment. Cue "Absolutely Zero" by Jason Mraz. Ciao!

a vampire's diary

2010-05-26T00:24:00.002+08:00

Another poem from me, inspired by immortality and vampires.

thought you're reserved coz i knew for sure
your raiment, the way you looked, so pure
unblemished, i cared not to understand
to stare at you is an experience grand

but i discovered something, made me sad
to tattle-tale for me was just so bad
rather i beckoned my mouth to silence
endured the pain, did the penitence

constricted, the pain within my soul
grief-stricken, i was under your control
fooled, bereaved, my heart's a beating dead
to you i succumbed, your blood was my bread.

alas, your hell descended upon me
your chastisement yearned me to be free
i'm your Faust, your moment's finality
my maker, my death, my immortality.

here comes the king

x-ray dog

jejemons versus the DepEd. maganda 'toh.

2010-05-24T22:15:00.013+08:00

I made a promise to myself in the premise of being good that I will not say anything against Jejemons (again), but opportunities and issues around me prompted me to say something about them. Har. I overheard from Ms. Anna about the Jejemon vs. DepEd thingy and, I'm sorry guys, I promised myself I won't sleep 'til I blurted out something regarding this touchy subject. Wahaha...Click HERE.

Well, if you do not come across with Jejemons, it's either you're on the other side of the world, a foreigner, an alien, or just plainly an ignoramus walking on limbo or covered by the darkness of your own cave. Hello, wake up, read the papers, glue your eyes on TV, or just plainly Google the word for a help. To be left behind these days is the last shameful thing that could happen to you. Read blogs. They flood their roster of posts. But for the sake of informing you, Jejemon is a cognomen for those godforsaken people (previously emos before, I think, gosh, they evolve so fast) who are fond of shorcutting texts or words or the exact opposite, exaggeratedly elongating the words by adding the letters in h,w,z. It's tedious to dissect their anatomy, so please spare me from the effort, it's your homework. Google Jejemon. Now na!

Bloggers were obviously against these misspelling perpetrators, and have seriously wage wars against them. Raising my hand. Lol. Now, they increasingly alarmed everyone, even our pedagogic vanguard, the Department of Education. It's like a courtroom drama now, Jejemons versus the Republic of the Philippines, er, the Department of Education. What can I say, this subculture's ravaging the current spelling and reading populace to the point they become imbecile and phobic to words with mediocre spelling. They meet a new word, and it becomes a "Night in the Elm Street" scenario already. Jejemons are ruining what our forefathers or ancestors tried to collate and piled in what we call now dictionaries. Shame on them. Pokemons are cute but Jejemons are not, and should be happy to stay in their own "Malice in Wanderland" world.

Anyway, we can always loathe them, but at the end of the day, we can just close our eyes and hope they will change. Before they infiltrate the system of the Pentagon. Char.

not myself tonight

christina aguilera

angels and (demons) devil.

2010-05-23T15:36:00.000+08:00

Maybe I was just so bored that time that I made these creations. Delectable? Detestable?


ANGELS and MICHAEL

DEVIL and MIKE

Ahhh.. I was just inspired by the ambigrams flaunted on the cardinals' chests on the movie Angels and Demons, a book by Dan Brown.

"Whoever the leader is, let's help out, huwag na tayong maging pasaway."

2010-05-22T23:01:00.001+08:00

As was said by Rico Blanco, a former member of Rivermaya and a member of the hopeful voters of our Philippine Incorporated. Click HERE.

The message was lucid as it was conspicuous. We, Filipinos, rely too much on our national leaders for the progress of our own country. It's as if the whole managerial functions are solely the work of the national leaders, particularly the President. When everything goes smoothly, we are all heads-up in praise; but when things go the sloppy side of the hill, we end up acrimoniously batting our blames to the officials (which sometimes are true, *bitchy*). I can only nod my head in approval on what R. Blanco had said, and shudder at the same time for the self-awakening truth. We can only point our forefingers and blame blah blah blah, yet forget to look at the other fingers pointing furiously at us. Fancy that! I just don't know where we got these genes of precariously blaming someone and fault-finding. From Spaniards? From the Americans? From the Japanese? Or from the monkeys? Nope. The monkeys will certainly retaliate, "Have you seen a monkey blame a monkey for a failure? Have you seen a corrupt monkey? Have you seen a monkey raped a monkey?" The monkeys will think us as abominable creatures if we decide we descended from their "noble" lineage. Kraaa..kraaa..kraaa.

R. Blanco, like most of the Filipinos, hopes to see a glorious Philippines with his fellow countrymen helping each other in building the nation. Is it possible to have the "Golden Age" of the Philippines? The answer is not found on the brains of our incumbent or future leaders (nor in their pockets), rather it's in the hands of us, Filipinos. Even if it's the Pope who's already in Malacañang, as long as the people are selfish thieves, then the dream of utopian government will just be a mockery.

The beacon of progress lies in the hands of the Filipino youth, plebeian, worker and any Filipino that strives, dreams and believes that a peaceful and corrupt-free Philippine government can exist.

Election Update: To those who did not concede yet, please spare your ego. Concede now. As in, now na!

superman is puny! superman is puny!

2010-05-20T02:27:00.001+08:00

I love everything that's real. The only surreal things I believe are the ones on the books and movies which are constantly the preys of my sarcastic innuendos. Nah, I'm not a fan of sarcasm but my other side gloats for it. Lol. I don't want to repress my emotions and attempt to be a prude or a good boy. That was so 1990's of me. Embrace the 2000's. Hehehe. Or so to say, and I quote, "RELEASE THE KRAKEN!"

I have not posted something worth reading lately. I'm reading, and mind you, I am doing my homework. Hmmm..You just wait. Lol. By the way, thanks for the people who constantly read my blog (or just write something on my Cbox), you are a cushion on my ass, a comfort, an inspiration. A million and one thanks to all of you. Summer's ending. *sigh*

By the way, immortality is true. I love immortality. Hmmm...Click HERE.

If Justice League were true, then they would appear puny compared to these marvelous creatures. I was surprised to see that tarsiers (oh, those 60%-eyes-compared-to-body creatures) are included. They are real and not freaks, unlike with those X-Men's.

Click HERE for the list.

Ah! Superman is puny!

one pose to rule them all.

2010-05-18T13:28:00.001+08:00

Do these posters spell something to you? Hmmm..

Uhuh..Books of Nicholas Sparks.

Worked by one movie poster company? Hmmm...

Click HERE.

Last one. Lol.

i love showbiz. remember irony?

2010-05-17T13:49:00.001+08:00

Willie's head's been pumped with too much gas...

Comment people, please, comment. Thank God I've been on my Info Rehab.

did i laugh? ha!

2010-05-16T14:33:00.000+08:00

A stroke of brilliance or idiocy? Hmmm..

Brilliant idea for a parody but trash of lyrics (literally).

terry richardson x grotesquely tasteful.

2010-05-14T12:27:00.005+08:00

WARNING: Not safe for work. You've been warned!

Tom Ford's SS-2008 collection, photos by Terry Richardson

Do photography and porn have to cross at a certain line? It startles me every time I see photos of scantily-clad men and women for the sake of art, beauty and fashion? Well, we can never blame them for that, since I think it's really their destiny (photography, art, beauty and fashion) to be deeply intertwined. How about moderation? Guess that's impossible. Though I'm really a fan of haute coutures and classic art. Bleed baby, yeah.

Human body as a raw material, though, has to be treated with utmost respect and owing to aesthetic regard, one should always consider the consumer or viewers' welfare. Did Terry Richardson think about it when he had his shoot for The Journal? Click.

This was just beyond photography and porn, this was trash at its purest and vilest form. T. Richardson has graced so many models in various designer labels and magazines with his witty, candid and provocative shots. But The Journal is inexplicable. Disturbing.

The Journal by Terry Richardson

1. sketch.

2010-05-14T11:01:00.001+08:00

Bored. So I did some sketching. Comment. Boost my ego. Or destroy it.

post-election analysis.

2010-05-12T13:12:00.008+08:00

The election is over, though the malaise of violence and deception still lurks within the contours of our brain matter. Who can shrug that idea? The numbers are still ramming their way up as the counting goes on but we cannot set aside the fact that the Philippines Incorporated is preparing its carpet now for its newly appointed CEO, Mr. Benigno Simeon "Noynoy" Aquino. Forgive me, I still can't call him President. I'm following my conscience's behest.

Do I have to submit (to the new CEO)? The answer will be an undeniable affirmation although my synapses are sending the opposite reply. I can hear the applause now, and the banners raised with the signage in bold yellow letters "Hindi pa ako magnanakaw!". I can hear them. Yeah, really, I'm trying.

As I read the papers this morning, I found out that Manny V. has finally conceded to Noynoy. I cant' help but be really teary-eyed. Blame it to the hot choco from McDonald's. Nah, really, I was moved by Villar's triumphant acceptance of the election's result proving that advertisement has been downplayed once again by increasingly visible and knowledgeable voters. Promising politicians, change your strategy as early as now! Manny V., as I have said "I was moved" but that doesn't mean I'd congratulate you for that.

These observations will not escape unscathed from my eyes (yours also, I bet):

1. 8 million Filipinos still hopes for the deposed J. Estrada to be their next President. My body's numb to think about it. Seriously? If it were not for "humba", I'd forget I'm a Filipino now.
2. About 40,000 Filipinos believed in JC de los Reyes. Do they really know him? Or they just happen to shade the wrong oval which calls for the touch-move rule. Just a thought.
3. Do we have to celebrate for J. Binay as early as now? Is he serious about his "Ganito kami sa Makati" campaign? Do I have to babble the phrase, "Ganito kami sa Pilipinas" now? Hmm..it takes time to practice you know.
4. I'm happy M. Defensor-Santiago's still in to do the Senate's household chores. Oops. She's really working. R. Revilla's on lead which means we still have a heartthrob-slash-hunky senator on the seat.
5. The Marcos' grandeur seemed not tarnished at all. Their defamation sneered. Imelda won a seat in the House of Representatives and her only son Bongbong M. appeared victorious for the 24-seat Senate. Oh, the Filipinos are forgiving. Or, we are just too scarred and calloused to feel and hear the woes of our past history. Oh, the Filipinos are forgiving.
6. Advertisements don't work anymore. Filipinos are intelligent voters now. Yeey! They use their hearts, not their minds. Hah!
7. Automated elections worked. Except for some regions. Do I smell tilapia here? Hope not.

Now that Noynoy Aquino will be the Philippine's next Commander-in-Chief, the next pinball of defamatory remarks and issues, the remedy for the pining Filipinos and the hope of the masses, let us just cross our fingers that he will be as strong as his deceased parents and not as debilitating as the most hopeless proletarian.

philippines incorporated: the next CEO.

2010-05-09T00:45:00.009+08:00

Who will you vote for this Monday?

This afternoon, we had a chat with our boss, who practically started the fire on this conversation. Talking about conflagration of thoughts at its purest form. We're inside the van on our way to the airport for our boss' flight. 8 of us. The inevitable topic which I think was the most probable topic of any human being there exist in this country, be it a child or an adult, would be the election this Monday. Aaww, the long-awaited day for our hopeless Filipino countrymen and the super-duper excited officials and wanna-be officials. Brother Eddie popped on my mind. Duh?

This day will be the busiest day in the entire history of the Philippines, not mentioning, of course, the previous happenings of the previous years. Set them aside. You might think they contribute, nah, for now the country's so busy prepping itself for the impending doom (or in better terms, the resurgence, our glory). The people nowadays don't care much about their history. This day will mark the day of infamy for those who have fingernail fetishes. Hahaha. Your nails will bathe themselves with that indelible ink, an obvious evidence of maybe-the-best or maybe-the-worst decision you will ever make in your godforsaken life. Who would care if you vote though? Bless your self because you will bestow upon the worthy (or imbecile) his ticket to his position. Cringe if you want, but that's the truth.

"Who will you vote for this Monday? Let's talk about this." Our boss seemed to be in his aggressive mood.

"I'll go for Noynoy. I think he's the only one with the heart to lead the people. What will we do with good credentials if later that President will just betray the trust of the people?"

Does he mean Gibo? He has good credentials, compared among the rest.

"Well, I'd go for Villar. I think he has the ability to lead the country given the idea that he has the experience, both as a Senator and as a businessman."

"Kaya nga, he is a businessman and has brought his business even in politics. Nakasabit yung C5 sa name nya eh. Pero ngayon pa naman siya nasira ng ganyan, 'di ba?"

What about his issue that prompted him to be removed from his office as the Senate President? Shall we give him an excuse? Excuse me, I have to be the President coz I just plundered my own cash here to reach this glorious position which only earns P60,000 a month. Beat that! Why, oh why?

"Ah, it must be Gibo. He has the credential. Read the articles about what he has actually done. Although there were minor issues about him but he had managed to clear his name from these."

"No, you should vote for Noynoy. I have this gut-feeling that he has the integrity and the right heart to lead. 'Hindi ako magnanakaw.' He has the promising legacy of hope that we Filipinos need in this dark hour of our existence." Schmaltz!

"Bakit naman tayo boboto sa kanya? E, as a Senator, wala nga siyang nagawa. If we are in a company, convince me why will I hire him if his previous record suggested that he has done nothing. Will I leave my Philippines Incorporated to someone who doesn't even work? By the way, may naipasa ba siyang batas? Kung di dahil sa parents niya, malamang nandiyan pa rin siya sa puwesto niya at wala pa ring ginagawa."

"At least hindi siya nagnakaw. Wala siyang issue ng pagnanakaw."

"But di ba parang pagnanakaw na din yon kasi hindi nga siya nagtrabaho. Kung ganoon man lang, si Dick Gordon at Bayani F. na lang iboto natin, kasi visible na may nagawa sila, di ba?"

Silence. Silence. Deafening silence.

"I think it will be Erap who will win, kasi when I asked the cab drivers, sabi nila pera naman daw sa sugal ang ninakaw niya. Yung kay Gloria, pera ng bayan."

"Brother Eddie can lead but he can't be expected to do it in a government. I admired him as a church leader, but to see him as a President will be debatable."

"Basta ako, ang iboboto ko ay si Jamby!" And everyone breaks into laughter.

This Monday, we will mark the start of change. Or is it? We can only cross our fingers, and our toes, (that if you can) as we begin to unfold another chapter in our Philippine history. As you let the ink flow into your fingers, let us hope that whoever you vote for will be the candidate of your conscience and not just the pulse of the media advertisements and surveys. These things should not be your benchmarks. The change lies in your decision. Not mine, coz I will not stain my fingernails. Sneer at me. Ciao!

perfume: the story of a murderer (a movie review).

2010-05-08T02:02:00.007+08:00

In my quest to find the movie that could be both boredom-killer and mind-blower, I came across with so many books (not movies, my mood shifts so sudden) with which I found disappointing until I came across with a book written by Peter Suskind. I didn't know how I came across with such. Pardon me with my memory, they became picky sometimes. The title caught my interest. It was like fireworks display during Holy Week. I tried to find an e-book of this title but the luck seemed to be dodgy that time. I tried to satiate my bloodthirsty excitement by scanning series of videos from YouTube and I was not disappointed to see that there were installed parts of the movie. Do I sound cheap? Get lost. So click and roll!

But my happiness was just few reels away since I found out that it was not complete. Damn that pathetic creature who uploaded the first few parts only. Bet he's spending his life like a troglodyte now. Selfish brat! And so continue my mind-wrecking quest to find the whole copy of the movie. Since this movie was quite not popular, I had a hard time finding the legendary copy of this. That was when the world of torrents did not open itself to me first. So shy. It was a year ago. HAH!

Anyway, I have a repertoire of taste when it comes to movie. They range from the cochlear-busting-slash-techie type of films up to the grotesque-slash-epic movies which were all docile to the whims of my mood. Such movies were all slaved by my own criteria. You see, I have my own yardstick with which I gauge the movies I watch, whether they are just another waste-of-time piece or an epic one. Some considerations to see were as follows (you can plagiarize mine):

1. The actors or actresses are not make-believe like some sort of once-upon-a-time story with which the characters are too perfect to be true that even the strands of their hair look like Venuses intertwined. Movies should be realistic. Or almost.

2. The story is a spark of wit, struggle, beauty coupled with brilliant eloquence. It should be a banquet of rich storyline and not just an hors d'oeuvres of CGI effects and gadgetry (although this may pass for an eye-candy).

3.The movie haunts your deepest psyche and thus leave you, if you're in a cinema, dumbfounded; or if you're at home, insomniac after you've already watched the movie 3 times in a row. It becomes a topic for a week.

Going back to what I mentioned a while ago, I downloaded the movie from a torrent and watched it with my friends. I'm sorry I can't find it in any movie shelf since last year. Waiting until now was way too much for me, my ego's bleeding. But patience was always rewarded. With Smeagol laugh, I could finally ravaged "my preciousssss". So click and roll!

The story revolved around the brilliantly gifted and grotesquely obsessed perfumer, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille who performed a morbid experiment to preserve the scent which could bring the world at its feet. The narration was flawlessly delivered and the scenes perfectly executed. Wait. I won't summarize the film for you coz this will render you imbecile relying too much in my shortchanged compendium. Just a tickler though. Naked bald girls. Homicide. 12 + 1 scent = ultimate perfume. A modest orgy. A cannibalistic ending.

Let me share a piece of it to you (a narrative excerpt towards the end):

"He still had enough perfume left to enslave the whole world if he so chose. He could walk to Versailles and have the king kiss his feet. He could write the pope a perfumed letter and reveal himself as the new Messiah. He could do all this, and more, if he wanted to. He possessed a power stronger than the power of money, or terror, or death - the invincible power to command the love of man kind. There was only one thing the perfume could not do. It could not turn him into a person who could love and be loved like everyone else. So, to hell with it he thought. To hell with the world. With the perfume. With himself."

You'll be surprised to hear that familiar twang of Alan Rickman. Remember Snape of Harry Potter? You'd wished you'd been circumcised twice if you'll not watch this.

Jejemon song

2010-05-07T16:48:00.004+08:00

Oh c'mon! And they got a song now? Bet this one will make Julian Felipe and Jose Palma rise from their graves.My eardrums screaming "Drag me to hellllll!!!"

Still a Jejebuster!