How Long is the Night?

The irony of finding the “One” is discovering in the long run, another version of you encompassed in somebody else’s anatomy. A perfect prototype served in a supposedly golden platter. It’s beyond our hands. Besides, we can’t really help it. Read your physics book, people.

Cosmic Law: Like attracts Like

There. Almost a textbook trajectory of masochism. But even a narcissistic asshole wouldn’t think it’s funny for long. So whenever your calendar dictates the perfect day, you will eventually uncover the wrong spots. Again it’s beyond our hands. Surely you will bite your tongue for sometime. Then it won’t be too long that you will find yourself lashing her for being your own worst enemy: a “You”. At the same ground, you bruised yourself more. It’s a 2 way knife to the heart. As you let her falter on her feathers, you crash and crumble deeper, clipping your own wings in the process. Usually without an audience other than your sanity. You became each other’s high. Each other’s scar. Each other’s tragedy. An echo. And the funny thing is whoever chooses to lock the coffin, in some form of astral hang over, you get buried too. Same molds. Same dirt. Same hell. Escape is an illusion.

I’m tired.

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Disaster but Disco

As much as I would like to believe that I am born to be a rock and roll star, my body is just not up for the lifestyle that goes with the show. I drink. A lot actually, but only when circumstances calls for it. Never in the “fuck the world, let’s bathe with alcohol like there’s no tomorrow” sense. And there’s the 8am monotony call the day after. So when Matt (our new kick ass drummer) forced the band to go booze some more after our gig (which ended at 2am), I know my nerves are on the line for more beating. But we agreed since having a new addition to the family and knowing the works of a male psyche, these could be an invitation for some great bonding process (am I breaking with a brokeback fever or what?). It was past 4am when I finally eyed my road back home. A much welcomed blackout ensued.3 hours after, I’m floating my way to my office. I swear I hear Black Francis chanting that enigmatic line: “where is my mind?’. Very apt.

Anyway, yesterday (August 31) was a great show. Small crowd but great nonetheless because most of the students (well I assume they are students since they’re not yet, you know, big. is it some optical illusion or are people really getting shorter by age bracket?) are clapping along and doing that devil rocker sign (thinking about it now, that was weird.hmmm.). Then someone requested for our song “Pyrotechnics”. That’s from somebody we did not know so wow, a small victory in our part. You need to be in an indie band trying to break into mainstream consciousness to feel the grandeur of that moment. And the 3^rd set was pure pure fun. Since only two tables were drunkenly occupied (nice adverb! Hehe) and the bar is on the verge of closing already, we just jammed like we never did before. Did some OPM classic on-the-spot (lakas tama,banal na aso,senti,pabilog nanaman ang buwan, inuman na etc.). The funny thing is everyone was enjoying it too. Nothing like a show where you make mistakes yet everyone feels its all part of the show. All pyroctechnics.Yeah, rock n roll.

P.S.

Pepsi Paloma Experiment gig sked

Sept 2 – BombayBlues,Naga City

Sept 4 – Chick In Resto Bar, Old Albay

Sept 8 – Bamboo Concert, Albay Astrodome

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school boy ramblings: Tapsilogue

*** had been clearing my head lately.like a sponge coughing its last drop. bloating to some old relief. and the wife is right.i need to write again.it was like what 2 or 3 years since my hands weave tales without guitar chords threading the same straw.
anyway,found these in some domain.little silly treasures.my beloved goods from my long forgotten life.maybe there’s still a whole lot of me who is itching to be humiliated by my careless school boy ramblings. i won’t be biting my nails now if this doesn’t make my heart do the tra-la-la. well, there goes my drama.here goes my head.

Blue Light Dinner

Mincing the words gently
as I hush rainfalls
in the room,with every
strum
on this six stringed sanctuary.
You welcome the silence
as if it
was a long lost friend.
The gaze you’re bitching
seems to blend very
well
with the fried scent of our dinner.
It was contagious.
Inch by
inch,
the space became defenseless.
deflating….

I heard
the
neighbors recite their prayers.

Blue Flower Dress i shouldn’t be here. but nobody i repeat nobody would dare utter an excuse against the soft,warm nudges of the morning after drifting to swollen glands and more familiar things or,exchange humid saturday naps with your blue flower dress gleaming as the world birthed no tomorrows in thoughts sending tremble to my limbs. words just appeared too wordy to be invited unfleshed. sleep is not the sweetest thing in the world tonight for every time your eyes blink, stars fall.

p.s.
more of my buried magic to grace these pages.soon.man am i bad on colors or what.

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the chiming soundtrack of this shimmy chimmy bloke

HEAVEN KNOWS I’M MISERABLE NOW

                               

(the Smiths)

 

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I’m miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I’m miserable now

In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die ?

Two lovers entwined pass me by
And heaven knows I’m miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I’m miserable now

In my life
Oh, why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die ?

What she asked of me at the end of the day
Caligula would have blushed
"You’ve been in the house too long" she said
And I (naturally) fled

In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I’d much rather kick in the eye ?

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I’m miserable now
"You’ve been in the house too long" she said
And I (naturally) fled
In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die ?

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Enter: the Dugong

Been nagging myself to start something productive. Could be good for me. I’m only 24 yet I’m already secretly digging for a hide away where I can hibernate and eventually burn out. Probably I’ll die by artistic combustion. It’s actually happening now. Well, probability isn’t my thing so I’ll state it with a period and in present tense:

I am dying of artistic combustion

.

That’s a given. But then I won’t allow it now when there’s a lot of love I can share (annihilation of harmless species is more like it).My neurons are getting deep fried by thoughts of music channels’ lack of good music and harsh craving for bulastogs.

I wish to write the saddest song that one will doubt its credibility.

Like when you made something real but you know it’s too good to be true and people who’s too preoccupied with preoccupation of unreal stuffs starts dissing you. Smile. Big big smile.Like you mean single curves and shine of it.

Smile because you’ll have your names lining up with the likes of Lennon, Warhol, Hendrix, Van Gogh etc. before you hold you last breath. Or maybe after the last gasp.

Aaah the dream. But for now, I’ll settle with this.

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