tupperware man in space
i don’t write by impulse.
may it be lyrics and other communication schemes that can brought out by ink or blinking cursor.i am too conscious that i may commit mistake that can never be erased.text that will forever be etched on the reader’s uncharted mindscape.when something blows up the monotony of my lousy itinerary, i don’t react. yes i was accused of being neurotic and i claim the title proudly.deadly neurotic i might add.but i just don’t write instantly.the wound may be fresh,it may distort whatever the real picture is.and I’m usually at loss of metaphors.every words would be scattered pieces of random thoughts that can never be glued as a cohesive whole.so i wait for days, weeks or even years till my breathing is again shallow before i dare visit the hullabaloo eons ago.
will that make me part of the tupperware party? maybe.come as you are,cobain sung.
but think about it,maybe i’m just being me.deadly neurotic, that is.
"A Lack Of Color"
(death cab for cutie)
And when i see you
I really see
you upside down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you
around
Turns you around, turns you around
If you feel
discouraged
That there’s a lack of color here
Please don’t worry
lover
It’s really bursting at the seams
For absorbing everything
The
spectrum’s a to z
This is fact not fiction
For the first time in
years
all the girls in every girlie magazine
Can’t make me feel any less
alone
I’m reaching for the phone
To call at 7:03 [and] on your
machine I slur a plea for you to come home
But i know it’s too late
I
should have given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay
This is fact not fiction
For the first time in years
*** i am currently writing this blog by impulse.yet i’m not giving away anything.yeah yeah tupperware man is on the roll.everything in my life nowadays are contrived and mean so fuck off.
everything it seems are meant to be analyzed basing on who’s bitter,who’s the lucky one, who’s being left out, who’s friends are they or them now etc., we tend to forget why the hell are we in a situation in the first place.so i just zip the hole because no one really listens.thinking about it,the switch on/off button is just one click away.but who dares reach it?
fuck honestly i don’t even know what i’m talking about now.
i just don’t write by impulse.but i am doing it now because this writer is such a likable lad.so likable,everything in his world is a fruitcake.one bittersweet bite then left alone in the ref,never bothered again.
the only question in my mind now is: when was the last time i had an effect on you?
i’ll put it in replay mode.and ill play it in the cinema of my mind til i relearn its art.
but i guess i’ll never know.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)… the greatest thing since peanut butter?
it’s a shame
that i can’t talk trees
in times like today
when people are simply not
making sense…
Uncategorized | Comment (0)HERE COMES THE DOLDRUMS
I am more of a lyrics guy. Ever since these ears learned to decipher lyrics as not just words to accompany the beat, I have been obsessed with cassette inlay cards. For me, one criteria of analyzing if the band want the fans to be part of the whole album experience and to be one with the message is when the lyrics are scrawled all over the liner notes. -Think (almost all) the albums of rivermaya and eheads, guns n’ roses illusion I & II, third eye blind’s 1st album, Nirvana’s In Utero etc – these are important albums that have big themes and had led the alternative nation into some barrier breaking sing-alongs. of course there’s the catchy opening riffs and melodic build up that may regulate the importance of lyrics but you’ll know that a song has staying power if the words are served right between those pauses and rhythm.
Last Saturday was the loneliest Saturday I can remember. Ever. My so-called new life has begun on that day. This room which I rented for a measly 1300 was actually my door to a future of quiet uncertainty. Pink walls. Fake blood stains. Locked windows.Shady lighting. Perfect. or so I thought.
As I unpack my bags and left my things clattering from the floor through my uncovered mattress, I felt an unexpected urge to cry. And I did. So much that my sobs echoed through the walls. And I can’t seem to switch the damn thing off. A sudden rush of senses. It has been awhile you see, since I reach out for that lever and let it run freely. To distract myself, I got a hold of my ipod (which was connected to two dusty computer speakers) and set it on a shuffle mood. Funny coincidence that these two songs played instantly along as if this electronic device had a deal with the murky afternoon to make me feel extra miserable. I appreciate the hilarity of the moment and wept along as the words brought me to new heights of self introspection.
Learning to Hunt (Guided by Voice)
You were a child reaching out brave and true
for big things in the next room
and I couldn’t step into such open sky
where on the crest of uncertainty you loom
I’m learning to hunt for you
I’m learning to hunt for you
Say that you’ll never run too far away
Even with all the answers out there
where it’s brighter but no one will care
half as much as I care about you
I’m learning to hunt for you
I’m learning to hunt for you
Little Motel (Modest Mouse)
hope that you like it in your little motel
And I hope that the suite sleeps and suits you well
Well I can see it as time and a sight through smell and
Thats why its nice to be by yourself
Cause thats what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for, aren’t I?
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for darlin’
We treat mishaps like sinking ships and
I know that I don’t want to be out to drift
Well I can see it in your eyes like I taste your lips and
They both tell me that we’re better than this
Cause thats what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for, aren’t I?
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for darlin’
We trade tit for tat like that for this
And I don’t think that there was an insult that was missed
I can see it in your eyes like I taste your lips and
I’m very sorry
Cause thats what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for, aren’t I?
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for
That’s what I’m waiting for darlin’
It rained and its over a shooting star
Landed directly on our broke down little car
We fold and we had made a wish
That we would be missed
If one another just did not exist
Cause thats what we’re waiting for
That’s what we’re waiting for
That’s what we’re waiting on, aren’t we?
That’s what we’re waiting for
That’s what we’re waiting for
That’s what we’re waiting for darlin’
That’s what we’re waiting for
That’s what we’re waiting for
That’s what we’re waiting for aren’t we?
give me the fuckin pill
does anyone here feels that you are to blessed to feel this depressed and yet you are?
and whenever you came up with theories and medical bull (that may sound absurd but what else could you use to explain it? blame me for being a psych graduate) to justify such phenomena,people nudge their head or roll their eyeballs as if you’re trying to sound intelligent and all they can answer is "aaa ok" or not even dare to return a text reply?
you feel like a phony ’cause you can’t define it nor comprehend the demolition happenning on the squatter area in your mind called the hypothalamus but you feel it, ’cause it’s so fuckin real? it’s just so fuckin real.
and maybe someday you will this funny urge to drop the ball?
if you do, call me.
ben gibbard hushed me to sleep last night and before the bittersweet taste of liqour in my mouth fell dry, i heard him mused a prayer " love is watching someone die.."
i hope music can save our soul.
Uncategorized | Comments (3)the wallflower forgot to bloom
everything is so emo nowadays.the radio isn’t helping too.how many more whiny kids with sideway gel hairstyle gonna bleed their hearts out over crunching fuzz out guitars and stacatto drumbeats. but then again i would want to add that someday in my resume.no not the sideway gel wearing whiny kid part.just crunching guitars amassed in my emotional wrenching. *crunch crunch crunch - chug chug chug*. and who knows radioshit too.
or maybe bleeding heart? but enough. i have been a poster boy of such cruelty. and people don’t seem to get it.but bleeding sometimes could be fun. just to know how red is red. *bleed bleed bleed*
another day is dawning.and the only way i can fake a public image worth wearing is by adding smiley emoticons on every electronic messages i send then voila i’m a fucking happy mascot.
guess i’m made for this shit.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)testimonial of a wallflower
I constantly find myself talking to walls. Walls that appear to be breathing but don’t have a red light indicator to assure me I am getting across. Maybe a sudden nudge or even lame pyrotechnics would do. Maybe a simple beep that this electricity surging on every fall of syllables is not lost through your hardened surface. It seems that I am just another static, a muffling sound of authority that was never meant to be taken seriously.
Now I wear this smile like a strait jacket. Now I wear this life like a shotgun to my paper heart.
Everything today feels like a funeral march.
Uncategorized | Comments (3)
cheese factor set to nth level
***this was my stupid entry for that stupid Valentine Play list contest in the PDI’s Wednesday edition. Damn I could have sworn I can smell the rubbery scent of the prize in my nostrils already weeks before the deadline: a 2GB IPOD Nano. Too bad some stupid couple won it because they presented their list in a stupid PowerPoint presentation! So that was exactly what they mean when they stated: creativity is a plus. Anyway I’ll just post it here so it will get the exposure it deserves. yabang no? I say stupid too much.
Most people see music as merely a background or sort of a dispensable wall paper to their daily grind but not for me. As a matter of fact, music through thick and thin had been and still is a major part of my romantic life. This is our Valentine Playlist, oury top ten personal soundtrack (which, in part, recounts a modern fairy tale in a century filled with primetime cows and political bull!)
Guilty Party:
Ahmad: A half-Filipino geek projecting a rock star’s persona
Djai: A loud-mouthed artist with a sultry sexy star aura
1. “Secret Smile” (Semisonic)
Funny how she would steal glances and do an obvious turn whenever my lanky stature casts a shadow on the corridor. I was in turn trying to project composure of cockiness as I constantly blessed her way with a shy sideway glance. Our eyes speak volume. But we were contented with us being course-mates for a while.
“Nobody knows it but you’ve got a secret smile
And you use it only for me..
So use it and prove it
Remove this whirling sadness
I’m losing, I’m bluesing
But you can save me from madness..”
2. “ Another day “(MojoFly)
It was not long before I found an excuse to ask her out (I was the editor-in-chief of our student publication and she was applying for a writing position…aaah, the advantage of power.). Our first date was merely a walk around the city and our conversation was somewhat endless. And surreal. I never yawned in her presence that night (and that rarely happens). Then, “where’s your class tomorrow, what room? I may errr.. drop by” ,she beamed.
“I think i’ll go home now, it’s been a perfect day.
Thank you for shedding life to my fantasy.
Throw me a wicked smile, the one like yesterday
That threw me up and away.”
3. ”Akin ka na lang” (ItchyWorms)
)
I was with someone else but why the hell was I itching to go home and text her? “So officially, kayo pa?” she asked with a disappointed undertone. It was an awkward silence.
“hindi naman sa sinisiraan ko ang pangit na yan;
Wag ka dapat sakin magduda,hinding hindi kita pababayaan
Akin ka na lang
liligaya ka sa pag-ibig ko”
4. “Homecoming” (Rivermaya)
In my boarding house, a cheap stereo rang a familiar tune and that resurrected the Romeo in me. I asked her to dance. She obliged. Rico Blanco’s word echoed across the room with the song that stalked us ever since: “…lover, come home.” Yes, we were home…
“while the sun is out to play,I look back
and I just say I can’t be wrong
it’s you who I want to be with
lover, come home.”
5. “Come what may” (Ewan McGregor& Nicole Kidman)
This is love. Sweet poetry in motion. Just like her psychedelic paintings of perfect blue skies and warholian reveries. My days were just not enough without her childish, tickling charm. Friends would playfully scorn us “ginagawa mo namang baby si Djai!”
“Never knew I could feel like this
Like I’ve never seen the sky before
I want to vanish inside your kiss
I love you more and more
Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?
Telling me to give you everything.”
6. ”Everyday” (Barbie’s Cradle)
When college life became another migraine, she was my pill. Thesis-hell, Speech Recitals, Band Practices, she was a part of everything I did. A true partner-in-crime. Writing buddies. Friends with extreme benefits.
“When I brush my teeth
Oh when you drive the car
Sweep me off my feet
Take me very far away
Far away, everyday”
7. “Upside down” (Two minds crack)
But sometimes jealousy kills the spark. There were shouting bouts and endless debates but settling each other’s differences is not a walk in the park. She would only sob. I was plain dumb.
“Every time I hurt you
Well it’s hurting me too
Don’t know if I could really stay here tonight
Tired of thinking of you
And everything that you do
Tell me what am I supposed to do?”
8. “Walking after you” (Foo Fighters)
Despite the in-your-face realization that happiness is not synonymous to following composite dreams, there was a rule not to let a fault live overnight. It was all senseless babble of unresolved issues and philosophical nonsense, but we have always survived.
“If you’d accept surrender, I’ll give up some more
Weren’t you adored?
I cannot be without you, matter of fact
I’m on your back
If you walk out on me
I’m walking after you.”
9. “You and Me song” (The Wannadies)
It was never a question to ask: we knew from the very start that this was it. Then came the fateful day our dream, Dylan was born. We signed the papers yet never wore a ring. We knew that forever is etched deeper in skin (but a tattoo-ring will do, we reckoned.)
“You tell me I’m unreal, try to look impressed
And not very convincing but I know you love it
I know we watch TV ‘til we fall asleep
Not very exciting
But it’s always you and me always
And forever.”
10. “I’ll follow you into the dark” (Death cab for Cutie)
We tend to glimpse too much in the future. I am simply fascinated by how our existence will define another generation of hopeless romantics and geeky rock stars. Then there’s death. This may be blasphemy but I do worry about how life will turn out if ever one of us does reach for the light earlier than the other. This song reminds me of the “’til death do us part” section on our vows. Yes my babieeeeh, I will follow you into the dark.
“Love of mine, someday you will die
But I’ll be close behind
I’ll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnel to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If there’s no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I’ll follow you into the dark.”
Uncategorized | Comments (5)living noise in the metropolis
i’m a person who likes finality in my own terms.selfish nosy chap, you might say but blame the internet for making me feel smarter than i really am.i even preach generalizations to poor subjects within earshot and sometimes this tongue just can’t stop twirling some over-the-top theories that offends normalcy and ethics.so it’s not rare for people to label me a little-loose up there.
taking psychology as a major has its backlash after all.
but hey, i honestly believe that i have something to say. something new.something different.
so there goes that word again: NORMALCY. as opposed to being unique,being different.
how will you define it if in one way or another, everything becomes a trend.is it just a matter of time?
think : retro dance fever.90’s grunge explosion.the color black.butterfly hairstyle.koreanovela.bisexuality.the emo look.
what is normal anyway?
whatever comes out from this loud contemplation this afternoon,i would just like to emphasize this thought:
KURT DIED FOR YOUR SINS.amen.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)Me and my Beer Belly
Before you can groan and guess the typical modus operandi of an article with such intro, I would like to state that you are absolutely wrong.This is not about me whining “why can’t I have Marc Nelson’s bud” or an endless request to Dear-Macho Man-help-me-bring-out-the-LouFerigno-in-me”.Bo-ho. It is not even close to that.
I have a special attachment to my beer belly. As a matter of fact, I strongly attest my beer belly is the charisma I have been missing to achieve a charmed life. You read me right. I fancy myself to be the local equivalent of Homer Simpson. And this is going to be my year because of THAT.
I achieved this seemingly perfection after almost 5 years of glorious tirade with IQ scores and computer graphs in a full stomach. Contrary to the term, my belly was seldom washed with beer because of the lack of companions to share the bill. It was more of indulging to a gluttonous streak of homemade pasta, longganisa and cheese cupcakes from a carenderia just across the street (but calling it “food belly” or computer-hacked tummy” doesn’t sound quite right so there…). My belt began disrobing its fake leather skin right before my eyes. My 31” waist line accumulated an additional 3-inch. What was disturbing is not trying to fit on my remaining slacks and some of my favorite shirts without looking like a walking graduated cylinder (with opposite rims). I was alarmed. It became apparent that change requires a lot of discipline and a strong will for acceptance. So I opened up. And yes, Utopia.
I quit my tummy tuck program after a day in the gym.
My wife was furious and tried to pull me out of this pitfall. But I could care less. Though I can see where she’s coming at. My poor wife. She can not welcome the golden age of my self-proclaimed redemption without going against the superficial notions of the world. That a light bulb figure is the LOOK for yuppies with the attitude (that is why I’m sporting it). That being a primetime couch potato is ultra sexy (that is why I’m exhibiting it). I feel like Neon (with a mid-body furball) who unearthed a reality everyone choose not to believe.
Muscularity as criteria for sexiness is stereotypical therefore passé. There are many that dared to undress before the public eye into a form most people considered unpleasant and yet, they still triumphed against these standards. They proved the whole populace wrong, letting them drool on their exploits. A probability can even be drawn that this kind of physique breeds royalty. We have the King of Comedy, Dolphy who was a ballooning Cassanova but a Cassanova nonetheless. Elvis was bloated before he died but no one questioned this Rock n Roll Majesty because he was simply on fire when shaking those oversized hips. And yes, the undisputed king of the masses Erap who once have it all: The presidency, mansions, swooning young women, cozy prison cell etc. and his famous beer belly (only by this point that the term is in context). And the late Pope was well, the Pope.
Though I haven’t had my break, I can feel it coming soon. I have developed an optimism along the way that this was all for the better. My friends still calls me the human kangaroo. But who knows, I might be the next rock star in an inflated flab.
Footnote: According to his wife, this poor writer is undergoing the tedious stage, which we call “denial”.
Uncategorized | Comments (4)Office Lobotomy
Monotony can kill.
You don’t have to be hairy Einstein to figure it out. One just needs a quick tour to my office and they will witness this epiphany. Unless you are Obsessive-compulsive or plainly stoned, humans need variety for intellectual exercise. Routines can be synonymous to stress-free work but hell, your IQ will crash down to nil before you can even convince me that tomato is indeed a freakin’ fruit.
I know I’m in trouble.
I got my head on the rope 4 years in a row. Smart-ass that I am, I’ve always manage to escape the wrath of mental overkill before it can tighten the knot. This requires me to do a Houdini before the claws of this lobotomy strikes back. I would entertain myself with unauthorized trips to record bars and magazine stores and unlimited free net surfing at the grade school library (errr…2 hours would solicit malignant glares from co-workers so it’s quite inappropriate calling it “unlimited”) within my supposed working hours. The adrenaline rush of these escapades was enough to keep me enthralled for a year. It all came with a price. I forgot all about the evaluation forms and work merits! Though I still received a fair mark, the most dreadful thing occurred: I grew a conscience. Now how tedious can it get?
Psychometrics was a 3unit yawning marathon back in college (no offense to my eherm…generous professor…). I was just never big into theoretical and technical jargons. I have sworn to my achy-breaky heart not to be entangled with any occupation flavored with these hazards. But I was more afraid of unemployment. So when a School Psychometrician position became vacant, I transformed into a zombie and took the job. I was suddenly a living paper stack. It was all about administering, checking, graphing and feedbacking. Almost always in that order. Luckily, with gentle persuasion (credits to my mojo!), I was given a stint to be the Counselor of a level in the Grade School department. At least, facilitating homeroom classes has this cathartic feel that somehow rejuvenate my nervous system. Yet still, Microsoft Excel does not have much animations or even colors to excite me for the remaining 420 minutes.
You see office work seems fun at first since, well, the sound of “working in an office” was delicious enough to pass up. Fun in its entirety fades when paper works became all there is to inhale. Thank goodness my officemates were not as robotic (as I presumed) to add to the tragedy.
I am not bitter. That’s too deep an emotion for such pretty singular condition. Oddly, I can still boast about my job. Learning that I front a rock band too invites awe and couple of ribbings, which I satisfactorily consume as flattery. And I guess my hiatus here is still worth it in the sense that you witness human metamorphosis in progress (and that my friends, is such a wonderful sight…). But then at times, that too became monotonous as well. But look at the bright side; it’s better than being outnumbered by numbers (another known allergy of mine!) on the Accounting department.
By this time, your brows will be knitted like Mr. Pringles’ moustache, muttering helpless blasphemies on my behalf before thundering for the eternal inquiry,
“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST SHOT YOUR HOLE AND RESIGN?!?”
My friend, we are living in a third world country. Economic instability is simply not an option. Not even for a few days. I never intend my daughter to feast on instant noodles immersed in the ever-tasty MSG for the rest of her developmental years.
And before you can even suggest it, Call Centers may have more zeroes on their salary sheets but believe me, it’s a brain-diminishing program. More like the Operation: Iraq of our poor neurons. (I often wonder if this booming trend is all the doing of international terrorists…you know, making us dumber for them to dominate the world easily…and damn it’s working!)
Give me a few more Mondays then look me up on the Obituary page.
Uncategorized | Comments (3)