chained

That Dark Damp Basement Staircase Leads To Your Head

2009-03-21T22:57:00.000-07:00

"This is one tough baby to write, I don't even know if I am making things worse by bringing this out and God forbid pushing someone into the door. Yet it's a weekend, and even then all dances with Hypnos come with daybreak and just last a couple of hours at the most. Time has been spent with the muse too. Which nevertheless still made me unable to sleep. And here I find myself, with a sink full of dirty dishes, an unmade bed, a pot of stale coffee and cigarettes attempting to make sense of it all."

It all started I think about two and a half decades ago. I had thought I was playing under the blankets with an older female cousin, which somehow turned ugly. What she did to me felt good, but there was a stirring in me that said it was ugly at the same time. I remember softly crying as she reassured me that it was all "perfectly all right". That it was where the nanny soaped really well so that these could be done.

That incident occurred some more times after that, until one day I came home from playing, I saw her boarding one of our cars and the household driver loading all her things into it. She got sent to Granny in the province to be exiled.I learned about the reason a couple of months after that. I was on my way to pee when I chanced upon my mom talking to one of her sisters. Apparently she had "unnatural appetites". Since she was an orphan then, there had been no other place to take her except to Granny's.

I remember racing back to my bedroom, the urge forgotten, my mind racing and my face flushed with shame. Was that what I was now too? Unnatural?

*To be continued.....

Three Mornings of Solitude

2009-03-21T22:32:00.000-07:00

Three accounts. Policy Administration. Property Claims Processing. Commercial Claims Processing. Five Countries that include two Mandarin speaking nations. Sometimes it’s so freaking fast you barely hear yourself think.

Three days in a quiet secluded enclave of the islands. Surf. Sun. Sand. A quiet hotel. Shake stalls. Nipa coffee huts. Away from everything. I didn’t even bring my laptop, wi-fi access and did not open my phone.

This is what weekends are supposed to look like. Long ones since the pay is just really for four hours of work everyday. That’s what the contract says anyway.

I really have to get this balancing thing down. And guess what? I think I’m finally starting to learn.

Supersize Me Please!

2009-03-21T22:25:00.000-07:00

know, I know. Thirty three and the body starts slowing down, so I have to watch the LDL and Cholesterol and blood sugar.

I get that. But…. I get this too.

Dig the new Wendy’s Baconator. Three beef patties and a generous sprinkling of bacon to surefire clog up those arteries like gonk on an engine.

I did two extra laps of the jogging route to compensate for my unfaithfulness to the diet. Hell, who am I kidding? I didn’t.

Yummy!

Polish-ies and Prose-ehh-Diors

2009-02-09T02:46:00.000-08:00

I hate being mediocre. I am so scared I am. Oftentimes I end up botching things because I worry too much and kill the proverbial soup.

Very few people get me, and those that do need clarification. I am vague according to most folks and I scratch my head. I've been accused a lot of times of being "sagey". Whatever the hell that means.

I am dull. Yet am working on polishing myself. There are quite a number of folks who have stayed too to do it. I wonder what they get out of it.

I love to write. I do'n't give a rat's bee-hind anyway if you don't agree with what I write. I smirk at the thought of someone shaking their fists. It means they read everything. Ain't that dumb junior?

I love the good things in life. Both free and expensive. Acquired the taste. Like for muscles. (was that a pun or was in topographical error? tee hee)

I'd poison you and your family's brains given half the chance.

I am arrogant. But never malicious.

I put my foot in my mouth. And enjoy the communal embarassment it brings.

I like to pretend I'm stupid. Then hit you with a BAT. Which means I'm violent, not intelligent.

I contradict myself and my policies. Whenever occasion and vice applies.

I have three offers from firms right now for a higher post than what I currently have. Six figures. I've been an *ss most of the time so I guess I am a lackey donkey. (again, for the dambass, hint hint)

MRT Commuter Files – What’s up with the Mad Dash to the Turnstiles?

2009-01-23T18:15:00.000-08:00

At the cost of the pain of admission, both literal and figurative, allow me to say that I am a commuter. For now; as I have not bought a new car yet. There is this phenomenon that I’ve noticed since starting to take the MRT to and from work. As the train glides to a halt the collective human body starts to stiffen, coiling like a spring and then launches with ferocity as the doors open. Braveheart could not have found a better rabble to follow him to the charge.

It has been a cause for amusement for me at first and then wonderment, which has now turned to plain curiosity. More than once this week I’ve caught myself almost tapping the person in front of me to ask why this daily ritual occurs. I maybe missing a huge portion of my life by mot being a part of it and it galls me no end. I end up retracting my hand and heading to my cave, dejected and disappointed. So here I find myself writing what I cannot ask, and maybe if one of the runners read it, would be kind enough to answer.

Here are my guesses to why this ritual occurs:

· It is a daily patriotic gesture, like the current fad of the sun and stars tee. The runners are imitating the great Andres Bonifacio

· There is a secret contest, the winner being the most consistent top finisher. The MRT honchos view the surveillance tapes and decide the weekly, monthly and annual winners

· It is training to join The Amazing Race

· As a part of cost cutting due to the current economic conditions, the companies the runners work for have foregone toilets and/or running water and hence, everyone is running home to pee or crap

· People want to catch Arnold Clavio or Noli De Castro or whoever supposedly non-partisan newscaster is on

· Manny Pacquiao is the contestant for “Dell or Noodle” errs…. I mean “Deal or No Deal” and it’s on permanent re-run

· There is a slap happy telenovela on the telly that’s taking the country by storm

· The Philippine government has allowed porn on free telly from five in the afternoon to seven in the evening

· People have taken the phrase “rat race” too seriously

· The runners were not really listening when “RUSH HOUR” was explained in class

· The runners have incredibly wonderful spouses….bed bed bed baby

· The runners incredibly wonderful spouses are having a romp with the wonderful neighbor

· In the absence of career growth, the mad dash is to exorcise all that unused competitive juice

· The last one is a rotten egg?

So You Think You Can Manage People

2009-01-20T22:30:00.000-08:00

You find yourself angsty about getting leapfrogged or you crashed on the interview again. Or maybe you can't get to the next managerial level. Or maybe you haven't felt like you have reached the trough yet, and wonder why your team is collapsing around you. Regardless of what people say and how we all say we are individuals we all fall prey to certain factors, that are generalized and if used effectively can lay the gorundwork for a harmonious team. Or at least a team you got buy-in from. So let's see; what do you do with -

A. Subordinate who talks the talk yet has poor quality or has slipshod work (doesn't have to be an agent, could be an RTA,QA Sup, Ops Sup, RTA Sup, Line Manager whose work needs double checking).

B. Subordinate who likes to do extended hours, but it's because the work is not finished in the time frame that is acceptable.

C. Subordinate who always complains about having a lot to do, when the workload is partitioned and accountabilities defined. Then applies for the next level.

D. Subordinate who isn't meeting key results indicators but is a kiss-*ss

E. Subordinate who is clueless (e.g. it's alright to go on AUX or to leave your post indefinitely, you get paid anyway)

F. Subordinate who raises hell about pay and appraisals yet has been lagging behind and is undependable

G. Subordinate who is dependable but is unbelievably learning handicapped

H. Subordinate who cannot speak straight english, never mind having an accent

I. Subordinate who had been previously your go to person but now cannot stand the sight of you

Coffee on the 25th

2008-12-25T14:14:00.000-08:00

So what's up? Everyone's, or most of everyone that is, may well be stone bleeding drunk or stuffed with food right now and in the middle of their after dinner cigars. Gaudy lights, merriment and laughter.

As usual with me, I find myself solitary which I like, as I've given my offspring time a couple of days ago and maybe some more time with the progenitor during the weekend. I told this person why I shunned making plans for these days and why I generally am a recluse after I've doled out the customary and obligatory gift giving. I will not expound on it here as it is too close to my heart to ever be said out aloud and we have to consider that what I said, I said to only one person ever.

I had made plans, and boy oh boy as I had expected, things fell apart What's new? Nothing. What's odd about it? Nothing as well. Why am I miffed? Because I hoped. Built around it, and canceled any plans the kids had made. To end up blogging at Starbuck's West Avenue was not in the plan at all. It makes me wonder sometimes why I even bother.

Anyway, in the spirit of it, a Merry Christmas to one and all. Here's to hoping you have your loved ones near and you have happiness in your hearts.

What I'm Running After

2008-12-25T04:15:00.000-08:00

Part of the quest for the lost talismans.

Hoping to buy it soon.

The Cusp Of Change

2008-09-08T04:41:00.000-07:00

Now I have a draft of a blog entry that I think I'm glad I did not post yet. I was mad at that time and was being my unpleasant bigot self. I actually enumerated all of the reasons why I wasn't "lesser". It's good that I held back. I was never lesser. Not the five unbroken generations of my family that folks take their hats off in the hometown whenever members of my clan pass them by. Not the ancestral home that stood when these testy folks that drew my ire were just toadstools and tenant farmers wishing the next generation could somehow get an elelmentary education. Wait I am going there again.

The items being: Yes I deliberately tore my life apart. Personally and professionally. Found out too that the world is full of judgmental bigot wannabees. Let me put it this way, at my poorest, I may have been still miles ahead. Funny thing, a person earns a penny and thinks it's a pound, gets an entry level officer position and thinks the world is conquered.

Here is the crux folks. I prove my worth to myself, not to anyone. I do not answer to you or anyone else except my maker. I write because I love to, I developed people as officers because I loved the look in their eyes when they start respecting themselves and learn to respect others too. I take long walks. I take long drive. I love having my passport marked. Because I do. Not because I need to fulfill some ardent urge to gain approval. As Amiel cleverly remarked one "eh, noveau rich".

Now I went back to the horse and rode it. Surprise surprise. So where does it lead us now? I let you sling and sling. I was levels apart when I took a rest and I was asked to "prove myself". So what do I get now? A plaque? Appreciation? Approval? What is that worth to me? Will it improve the quality of my life?

What do you do when you come across me again?

Wise folks hold their tongue. For all you know, the person you are cutting to the bone may have the ability to mess up things and just has learned that it doesn't do anything for him anymore. That being in the background lets him sleep better at night. That there is so much more than prestige, status, and wealth. That maybe he can say that because he had it, and still has it, only he doesn't want to go flaunting to give you your satisfaction since it's pointless. You don't count anyway. As I don't too.

In the end, if you can sleep at night and smile when you wake up then all is ok. What ever ruckus everyone outside does is irrelevant.

And in the end, the real friends say "I wish you well".

Stumped

2008-07-29T03:06:00.000-07:00

At the pain of being called a fraud, I'll put this in anyway.

I have six pages with me. Three stories and four album reviews. I was going to put them all in or at least what I could with what I have in my pocket worth of broadband time.

I ended laughing my bollocks off. Which I am still doing while I am laying this down, and without any intention of giving man birth to any of what I've made.

Oh f*ck this is so motherf*cking hilarious. I find myself so stumped and doubled over I am spliting in the seams.

What am I laughing at? Life. All i has thrown and it hasn't finished yet. What was it that Albert Mondiego had said? I think it's relevant at the moment; for the life of me I can't remember what it is. Tee hee.

From The Diary 07/08/2008

2008-07-26T05:03:00.000-07:00

Circuitous Events, The Hand Of Providence and The Guy Named Gerry

So there we were, at the cusp and bosom of yet another milestone. Eighths we call them for that is precisely what they are. Now I would really like to go all numerology on you but hey, the derck is a blogger however odoriferous the word may be.

Well the day had been going completely bonkers for me up to that point of the day. There were a couple of minute bright spots and that was that. The princess had gone through a pretty hellacious patch herself. A very big patch. Almost like a blanket. So the birthday card and the first letter in a decade were mailed to her-who-should-be-called-mom, the venerable office of crooked lawyers cleared m, and we were currently crossing the abbey road in the starting rain, bereft yet happy.

A voice pipes out from the multitude and I snap my head in its direction. There in the not too far off distance was one of the more interesting petite young woman I've known. She had someone with her, the long talked about him I was guessing. One of those alpha-males I've been told. We join them and after the hugs and light banter of hellos and introductions, find ourselves dragged to lunch at Gerry's.

The meal we got treated to was a hoot. That's putting it mildly. It never ceases to amaze me how good things have the potential to become infinitely better when shared. The food was great, the conversation albeit somewhat awkward was honest. If there was a curve where everyone relaxed, it was hard to tell. It was just the frankness and openness that maybe took things to where they went. Truth be told, it's been sometime since I was that loose around folks. Goodbyes were soon given, handshakes and hugs doled out. Damn cool for people who planned for happy meals. Providence rolled out way happy ones.

I don't mean to be prophetic here, but I just may have found Charlie Runkel. The "whadup Runkel?"

The Marce too.

Makes you stop and furrow your brows doesn't it?

Tick - Tock or Finger Tapping in the Waiting Room

2008-07-23T04:06:00.000-07:00

The paper bundle keeps getting higher and higher. I am starting to get blisters from all the writing I do. Pauper that I am though, am unable to get them sorted out yet. Or to get the thoughts across yet. There is time for all of it. I will come out in one piece. It shall all pass as all does. I will rebuild; I am rebuilding.

Having fun despite all of it. For the first time in a long time I feel I am alive and that there is a purpose for being here. I think I've reached something infinitely precious with my kids that I didn't really have before despite our closeness.

I dance and run in the rain again. This time without tears.

On House Inquiries, Tycoons, Conscience and the ability to sleep soundly

2008-07-07T07:19:00.000-07:00

Now I told myself I would not join the bandwagon. We grieve for the deaths, the senseless ones when that Sulpicio ship sank during the typhoon. We are outraged at the undeclared pesticides that would ruin livelihood and destroy nature if it ever leaked into the sea.

This will be short. F*ck everyone who is finger pointing now. Please be reminded that there may actually be a God when you die, He may not willingly accept the confession you did or the donation you gave to the church or the people that you helped because buddy, you reaped more from it.

It was teeth grinding how Hon Suarez and Fuentebella were grilling PAGASA officials on the news earlier. Need anyone be told that it is actually these comedians that pass the yearly government budget. If they really wanted to, why not appropriate their pork to it instead of grandstanding on the telly?

Everyone one knows we are pathetically antiquated technologically. We can't even defend our country from a school of fish if they wanted to attack. To hear someone say on the news something to the effect of "You sent it through SMS. Are you joking?" is damned sick. YOU are the one who is joking buddy. You and everyone else who keep calling inquiries that just waste the tax payers money. You know what you can really do, so why don't you just go do what you were voted for? Oh yeah right. Were you voted in at all? So much for public service ey? Pinoys always fall for the grandstanding. Bleh.

Now for the ship owner. Why don't we just be people and stand up to our accountabilities? Buddha on a spiked wheelchair you knew where the ship was going, where the typhoon was and sure as hell know what your ship contains. Or at least someone under you. I am a cruddy manager but even then I knew all that went on under me. I made it a point to. You mean to make us believe that no one knew? Really? Take it in the chin and say it's your fault. Everyone agreed to be bought off by 200,000 pesos anyway. Oh yeah, there may be class action suits.

Finally. For the regular juans out there like me. When are we going to put a stop to the cycle? When will we say enough to all of it? To crooked politicians who we allow to buy our votes, to a crippled justice system that strangles the under privileged, to businessmen that do not have an ounce of civic duty and accountability in their veins? To the cycle of greed and abuse? It stops when we say it does and when we do what it takes. Only then folks, only then. Or we could wait for Christ to return and let ourselves get raped until taht time comes.

Downtrodden

2008-07-02T07:21:00.000-07:00

Hmmm... News from the front. Second week of no carbs on the diet. Working out a lot. Have Collins, Desplechin and Marquez on the plate it seems.

Have a couple of stories and a hell of a lot of reviews for posting. Made me sure of this too.

I can't write at all with old school tools. My fingers and my psyche demand a keyboard. I have a lot of pages with me and I so do not feel like typing them back on the screen. One birthing process is enough.

Actually at a cafe. It feels so alien to go and work here. Meaning, to post my thoughts using this computer.

Life's a bitch aint it? Do I sound disjointed? Well I actually am. This feels so weird. I went here hoping to post some stuff, and now I find I can't do it.

Anyone with a broken down run down piece of crap pc that they don't want anymore? I'll take it. I'll take it even if it's a Pentium Plan. Pun intended. F*ck.

Morning Glory

2008-06-26T07:22:00.000-07:00

Hokay. So for anyone who ever cared to read the garbage I spew here, we all know that I had let my life explode to smithereens. Yes I did. I tore this page apart too and well, it hasnt been the same since. Now if there were queries if I have come to regret any of it, the answer is - NO.

Bumming right now, the vacation is well...wait....four more days to officially make it a month. Lost all of what folks said was important, and realized that all of it was superficial. None of it made any more sense to me, and I felt so tired about all of it. It held no meaning for me anymore. So what do you do then? I got up my desk, and walked away.

Been sleeping a lot and looking around. Haven't picked up a pen although I did dawdle. Ended up with a lot of incoherent phrases. So I didn't. No net no phones no nothing. Fall off the edge of the planet, and do it literally. Kept taking notes though, so if anyone thought I was spent, oh baby you should see the axe I keep sharp at the back of my door. I just don't want to go chopping just yet.

There are stories to be told, of here and there. Enough of the wandering soul. There is a tale to be told here, and I believe there will be a lot of hate when I start opening my mouth. Then again, I've made a lot of enemies and false friends too. Funny how people can be so strong when your back is turned to them. Oh yeah, please remember why you couldn't really go toe to toe with me, because well... I think I've turned nice. But I am still vengeful. Yeah nice. But not a saint.

Why am I resurfacing? There are a lot of tales. Of places. Of occurences. Of people. Of love. I am a writer first and foremost. I write and I blab. Now if you don't like me, have never or will never, here's what I tell you with a smile: "You may bite my brown hairy butt."

Now go on to the other more substantial bloggers out there. Shoo!

An Evening In The Dark Room Room Everyone Refers To As "Life"

2007-10-20T19:32:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings

By M.A. Martin

The Matt and Ivy Show

An Evening in the Dark Room Everyone refers to as “Life”

There was a small light on the nightstand that would not waver. It stood there, sure and steady against the expanse of darkness. I stretch and groan. Hurt is nothing new. This is but an extension of it. They say that a man is made or unmade by his choices. I hope there isn’t an ounce of truth to that, since I may be vying for the top seed in the bad choices and judgment department.

People oftentimes have the tendency to hold on when the carousel stops. They know it has, but acceptance is often more difficult, and denial the easier path to take. I should know, since I have been living with these kinds of pain for my whole life. Thee is a certain courage and clarity needed to go after real happiness, and a lot of us find it convenient to use pain, hurt, or instability and chaos (i.e.lack of order) as a shield. So as not to acknowledge the real challenge – fear. All encompassing fear.

So I changed courses twice today. Altered decisions I had made. The person I am waiting for is still not ready to live. Or to leave. For everything she had wrought in me, she only had lived vicariously through – as I found out with mind numbing certainty. She got left behind, and is tottering in indecision. Am I to remain in the shadows? Yes. I was to go and lay my cards so to speak. To ask point blank/ She felt it and knew. Then shut herself in. It was to be done in all of two minutes. I recoiled; not stung. Wary. Warned. Do I leave? No. Do I wait? Yes. I have been waiting for the better part of the decade anyway. Will she ever come around? I do not know. Are we soulmates? I think we are so God help me.

So back to the light on the nightstand. It seems steady and sure. Look a little closer and see that it flickers. Then it hits you, that Light is fighting with all its might, against the encroaching darkness that always threatens to engulf it. There is uncertainty in that light. There is doubt. There is fear. That the next wave or volley will be strong enough to kill the spark forever. That light hang on in desperate hope, not knowing the strength it draws from hope.

That light needs to know these truths: The strength is from hope. Buried and acknowledged. The wait has long been over. If that light but opens its eyes and looks dead center, there is another one in that dark room. One that heard its silent pleas across the darkness and fought blind to seek that one that sent it; one that understands and patiently waits; for the moment when that light finds the courage to open its eyes..

That light has not been solitary for sometime now. For where there was once one. There are now two.

to you and then some

2007-10-06T18:11:00.000-07:00

thanks for dropping by and reading my stuff. there are still a couple of posts in the pipeline including the six stories i was bragging about no end. i may post and may not.

see there are some things i need to work on that have been put on the back burner and i realize they have to be taken cared of immediately.so i will not be around and i will miss the interaction very badly.

plus i guess you were correct. this is going to be a battle with fate. there are more than a couple crawling out of the woodwork. so it will boil down to trust.

ok? thanks.

and for everyone, thanks for taking the time to read. i hope i didn't bore you to sleep most of the time.

Soundtracks

2007-10-06T18:07:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings
By Michael Martin

The Matt and Ivy Show
Soundtracks

It was thirty minutes to three in the morning. The rains had stopped hours ago, but the air was still damp with moisture and the asphalt roads were still soaked. The skies had opened up with full fury earlier in the evening causing horrible traffic jams and a couple or more accidents. I almost thought I would not be able to reach Ivy today. Time, fate and chance had granted a reprieve. I have been hugging her for the past five hours.

The evening had been fine. We are both tortured souls to begin with, and laughter is not a daily luxury. Well laughter is easy. What I am talking about here is the laughter that comes when you eyes laugh as well. We both are the toast of the common circles we have. We drive people of the wall with mock meanness, idiosyncrasies, and our penchant for doing the unexpected. Which prevents most folks around us from looking at our eyes and seeing what’s there. Come to think of it, few take the time to.

Conversation was sporadic, mainly from me needing a lot of shut-eye and feeling like whenever I am with her, I have just arrived from a very taxing journey. I was also feeling a bit awkward. Up to now, I haven’t really adjusted to having Ivy this close to me. We were sitting across each other, when I decided to break this fear. Although these would be another story, suffice to say that we ended up with her almost catatonic from a lengthy foot rub session.

We had popped our head out about five minutes ago. The coast was clear, and the hunger pangs were becoming irresistible. We took the car out for a food run and went to one of Ivy’s favorite low cost haunts.

The place was bustling considering the weather and we took our usual seats on the right side of the establishment. We were both famished and pigged out, talking animatedly while our mouths were full. We do not need the intricate social dances and masks when we’re together. Then suddenly she stops, mouth agape and eyes twinkling with mischief. My breath holds, expecting the worst. She stares at me, slowly forming a smile. I get what she’s driving at and lose my focus on her. The song! It was a sappy local song bout a granny telling her grand daughter she got screws loose because she’s in love with a guy who doesn’t look good and is poor to boot.

I look back at her with questioning eyes, and she can’t help it anymore. She breaks out in gales of laughter, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Honey she’s singing about you.” There was kindness in her eyes and mischief as well. “Honey you ought to have your hair cut. I didn’t notice it earlier, but you look like a pineapple.” I was smiling sheepishly, a bit embarrassed as we were attracting everyone’s attention. Her laughter dropped down to a wide grin as she fought to control herself, when the song got to the chorus again. She glanced at me, and couldn’t hold it, now with the “I’m so sorry honey!” mixed in between breaths.

She rarely laughed this way, with her eyes lighting up the way it did. I may have fueled it with the way I looked, because every time she’d look at me, the peals would start again. We finally stood up and walked to the car, when another song came in, this one about a guy who kept running from the woman, only to go back begging on bended knees because she was the love of his life. I could hear her braying from inside the car as I proceeded to walk to my door on the other side. Oh brother, this was so damn mortifying. But honestly, if it was just to hear her laugh? It would be ok to dangle.

Dissembling

2007-10-04T00:05:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings
By Michael Martin

The Matt and Ivy Show
Dissembling

My inbox lit up. The number 1 highlighted, bold and italicized Yes mister, you have mail. I stare, breathless in anticipation. It’s a new day, and I am trying to get used to a new concept in my life. One day at a time. The premise is simple. You take what is given and you live in the moment. None of the planning and the worrying that goes with it. None of the mapping out of courses, of plans A through G.

There was no other choice. If Ivy was to stay where she is, where we are, which is for all practical intents and purposes – in limbo. I had to learn to deal with it in this manner. We had no future. But we have the perpetuity of the present. There was nothing to be done about it anyway. We both have lives to lead, and we have built separate roads before meeting. In this lifetime. Yes. I say that with all certainty. In this lifetime.

There has been this constant nagging feeling since I met her years ago. It slowly bubbled up to the surface of my consciousness. She seemed to pop up everywhere I turn. Be there by my side during the most trying of times, although I never told her about it. It made things bearable. When we had our first real talk, it was like talking to myself in a manner. It was easy. And I consider myself a mass of contradictions in the highest order. She had a way with me, of being able to simplify the most complicated of matters, and vice versa. From the look of it as well, I had the same effect on her. Although I was not arrogant enough to accept it and verbalize it, so it remained there hidden and unacknowledged. Until the dams broke the other day and altered the realities we lived in.

I have a different Ivy with me now. She’s a freer one, unbound and unrestrained. I’ve felt a sense of calm too. All my searching is finally done. Everything else has fallen into place and the questions have been answered. So this is where it leads us, surprising as it is, she feels the same way as I do. Then we both end up with the “we can’t” which of course is the crux of it all. This is not the lifetime for it. There will be another, and I will be damned if I don’t find her. I found her now didn’t I? Despite the odds of it all. Four continents and twenty-eight years. She was right under my nose since a decade ago, and I missed her, when I had been free. Free to offer myself whole if she wanted me. I believe it was simply because we were not ready for each other then. There is a season for everything under the sun as the saying goes. It’s our time to find each other, but not the time to be with each other.

We’ve made peace with whom we are. There is a sense of quiet finality to it, to what it will be or will have to be now. We are, but for reasons of how we built our lives, we cannot. On the other hand, there is no running away from it. Our roads lead to each other. So that’s why the great love stories are all tragedies. We hope when there is none. We are unbelievably elated and irrationally scared at the same time. The sureness of it all is frightening, and for one time in your life everything stands in sharp focus. You know, as sure as you are that there is a higher being. And you know that there is no way for both of you to be together. You try to fight it and follow what you know is right. Which makes it worse. Because you cannot bottle it up. You’re screwed either way. But if you’d ask if they would rather not have it to make the roller coaster go away, I think you know what the answer will be. No way.

All this before I open my mail. I’ve been ruined by love. That’s what it is. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. The happiest I’ll ever be. Until tomorrow comes. Isn’t that right Ivy?

The Circle Closes (Ivy Speaks)

2007-10-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings (Ivy Speaks)
By Michael Martin

The Matt and Ivy Show
The Circle Closes

The few times that Matt and I actually spent together outside of the circle of people we normally go with, we spend it talking in ernest. The conversations are about where we are presently in life, about the people around us, about the sh*t heads who make our lives difficult, and all the things in between.
Tonight its different. Tonight, as I sit across him on the veranda of this well hidden cafe, I found that for once, in all four years, we do not have anything at all to say to each other. Not that its uncomfortable, I think, I believe, that it will never come to that between me and Matt. But after I found him again, there seemed to be nothing more to say. It feels like everything has come into place for once. He's there in once piece and I am satisfied and that's it.
He, on the other hand looks like he's having an internal battle once more. Matt is this stubborn guy who would never let anything just pass him by and go with the flow. With him, its always, "what if?" and "then what?" and " and then?". He looks way too far in the future and cooks up a worry storm along the way with it. I often remind him of a line in one of my favorite movies "You are so hell bent on making things work that you miss out on all the fun when they don't"
I decide to take charge of the conversation because, quite frankly, we would just stare at each other if I don't. Matt seems intent on just sitting there and studying me so i guess I'd better go get into the heart of things. Hm. And I think i have just the right question to get him out of that stupor. "So you still can’t look at me huh, Matt?", I asked. Leaning forward and putting the my elbows on the table as if making a point. I guess that got my point across coz he looked at me like I doused cold water on him. "you can't huh?" I asked again and found the look on his face too funny. I just had to laugh.
He shakes his head, as if amused that I had the balls to ask that question. He took a deep breath and same time as it started to rain, he releases a torrent of emotion I never really thought was bottled inside for the longest time.
"You know why? You’re within sight and my whole universe turns upside down. You’re this close and all I can think of is shoving this table away and taking you in my arms to kiss you. I look into your eyes and I get overwhelmed by how heartbreakingly beautiful you are.It tears me apart, you know? I tried to stay away the past year! I did everything I could to forget you. I moved jobs, uprooted myself and to what merit? My world goes quiet for a second and you re the first thing that pops into my head. After all my efforts, one message from you and everything comes crumbling down. You know why I came? I came to tell myself that I am over you. That I can live my life and come back to you in the in the only way you want me. As a friend. To sit here now and accept that I couldn’t. I can’t."
I was left breathless with this revelation. I never really thought it would be like this, that I affected him this much and that I would have this much power over a person's life. For the first time in all four years, I am speechless. All I could do was stare at him, at this tormented soul in front of me. I've always loved Matt. He's the dearest friend that I could ever have. Once upon a time in our lives we were almost the best of friends, he is my knight in shining armor, the person who once stood beside me and helped me fight my battles. Although to let you know, there's always this thing at the back of my mind that knows. That says it is so. That understands and fights it like he does.
I tried not to show how shaken I was with his revelation. I know I'm good at that. I was a stage actress for god's sake. So I said the only thing that popped into my head and the very words that I said were the same words that surprised me. For until then, I was at a loss myself.
"You kept running away Matt. I was waiting for you to stop fighting it.”
After that, the rain slowed to a drizzle and eventually stopped. We were both quiet, enveloped by the cacophony of sounds around us. The hum of the disco music from the next door bar, the laughter of the group of boys practicing guitar a few tables next to us, the siren from the fire truck racing below and the murmured conversations of students with their heavy medical books behind us.
I look away, into the night, into the sea of lamp lights and the general traffic below us. I can't help but smile myself. At this revelation. At the silent assent that just happened. Yet at the same time, I know this is another cruel test of fate. Because as I much as I want to, I know I can't.

The Illustrado Experience

2007-10-02T21:35:00.000-07:00

Until about two years ago, I had been just another ranting blogger in the web. I just got back from wandering the parts of the world I had access to. Well, wandering and working to be frank. I went back because I miss the motherland, and would definitely prefer it to the fatherland that is for certain. I did miss the opportunities afforded me by being abroad but we can’t have everything right?

I found my niche in the BPO industry when I got back, and my nerves sort of got soothed a bit. See I was hoping to make a difference somehow, and the small way wherein I made a change in someone’s day meant a lot in terms of personal satisfaction. I quickly rose the ranks and the dream of making the difference played into the bigger picture. I now had the chance to make a wider impact and I did not waste a moment of it. Developing people, imbibing the sense of pride not in the fatter paycheck but in the pride of a job done with passion. Somehow though, there still seemed to be gaps somewhere. See I had always written before. Nothing formal and no formal training on it. It was mainly for myself. Journals, stories, poetry and all that rot, which made me escape or helped me escape the pitfalls of daily life.

The net afforded me that. To raise my voice and talk, despite my innate shyness. There are some authors who read my stuff and that was a blast, but nothing prepared me for Mon and Lalaine. I did a review of a horrendous bar my workmates and I went to, and lo and behold I had gotten a reply telling me she enjoyed reading it. She then proceeded to hand over an invitation. Not to be an employee but to be a part of a group of friends. What was I to do? inadequate as I felt, I went forward to clasp the hand of destiny.

I’ve learned a lot being around Mon and Lalaine, and being around the Illustrados. I’ve found I could write. For real. And what I needed to do, to be able to write the way I want to – which is to make a difference. Illustrado is made up of people whom despite their aversion to credit due to them, is making a difference. Illustrado’s existence is a difference in itself. It represents our values, our ideas, our brilliance, which is often overshadowed by our own fears and insecurities as a people. The Illustrados stand in the face of that and shout; nay rage against all that. Before the team stood there though, there stood Mon and Lalaine. With the dream. And the courage to make it happen.

So yeah, I do bar reviews. Then again, these people I am around, they are brilliant. It makes me so proud to have been invited to be a part of it. To be a part of something that changes the views and challenges the perception of not just Pinoys, but everyone who would leaf through Illustrado. You learn through them and bask in their brilliance. You sit and quietly drink the conversation during the times you get one or some of them across the table and realize the process. You get strength from the passion from the resolve, from the simple and humble these individuals carry themselves.

There might have been a lot of disbelievers. I wasn’t really there, but from what I know the birthing process was a long and the labor hard. It’s all moot and academic now. There is a legacy here. Not the ones you often see about Pinoys becoming filthy rich abroad, but a bigger one. A more lasting and important one. A legacy that will remind all of us, regardless of where we are in the world. We can make a difference. We can make ourselves and others stop and think. We are. More importantly. We can. May everyone never forget that. If we only allow ourselves.

Hats off to you chief. Gratitude springs eternal.

Go your own way

2007-10-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

There’s this friend of mine see. Kind of new in the circle. Wait, that statement may be a twist of the truth. I am the one new to her circle. I was not welcome before, and it was a difficult and embarrassing road to say the least. We didn’t start off well. That’s an understatement. It could rank as part of the all time worst starts ever. Maybe even be good enough to be a loser movie plot. I leave it there as saying more might make either of us uncomfortable. That’s something I want to avoid. Plus I don’t really now how she’ll take this.

Here is the thing. For anyone bored enough to read this. People are supposed to live their lives. As they see fit. If they don’t need your hand to feed themselves or make life bearable then “shoo!” it is none of your damn business maggot. Hustle along, there’s nothing for you to see here. It’s a constant wonder how people keep needing the misery of others to convince themselves that their lives are ok. Get a f*cking grip please. And then blame others for your whore mongering. Jeez. Give us a break.

So lay off and stay off. If you want to have something to occupy your time, then go and do something crazy yourself, instead of sitting in your chair and passing judgement.

As they say “those who can, DO. Those who can’t, REVIEW”. Every other person is a frigging critic.

This is for you tigress. Keep the faith. Live your life. We do not owe anyone anything,

Ivy Speaks

2007-10-02T00:01:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings (Ivy Speaks)

The Matt and Ivy Show
Rediscovery

I stepped out of my door that Friday night and I immediately noticed how humid it was. hm. It'll prolly rain again tonight. good. Perfect weather for coffee, smokes and good conversation. Speaking of which, there he is. Standing beside his car, looking at anywhere else but me. *sigh* When will you ever change Mattie?

I approached him and I managed to catch "Hello" just under his breath. I missed this guy a lot. It's been awhile since last saw him and all he managed was to give me an almost inaudible hello? jeez. So I went up to him and hugged him tight. There. That's better. I like giving my friends hugs. Tight ones. Its my touchy feely side at work here and there's no escaping that this person is one of the closest people in the world to me. So a formal hello is never good enough. Not for this guy.

Like I said, I like hugging so I couldn't help but smile after I let go. Then I noticed the uncomfortable look on his face like he wants to run away or something. I looked at him, brows furrowed, wondering why he looked freaked. I guess he noticed. "Ok. So. How are you?" he asks. I tell him I'm ok. Finally got the chance to ask how he is but then there he goes spacing out on me again. Wtf? What is he on tonight?

He finally looks at me again and asks (more like chokes) if I'm ready to leave. So I get on the passenger seat still wondering why he looks so uncomfortable. This is the first time that he gets to drive me around in all 4 years of our friendship and quite frankly, I really thought he'd flake out. Mattie's been acting really weird since that last december evening we went out for coffee. Been trying to reach him, sending sms messages and calling whenever I can but I cannot seem to find him. So finally, I got through, already worried like hell that he jumped off a cliff without saying goodbye or something (yes. he does have that tendency. My friends are all crazy) and he, the social butterfly that he is, said that I got a confirmed appointment with him. Finally. Frankly? I'm just happy he's still alive and that I found him again no matter what state he's in now.

Again I play the role of the navigator. The men in my life seemed to be navigation-challenged and they all claim that they lived in the city all their lives! Passed Quezon Ave. going to Tomas Morato, we both noticed two girl-wannabes-walking on the side street. Instinctively, I look beside me just in time to catch Mattie's eyes on them creamy skin and short hem lines. Men. I smirk and then asked him to guess if those are women or not. Bewildered, he looks at me and says he doesn't know. I gave a quick analysis that if you are a woman, that tall, with figure and skin and hair like that, wearing that, you'll prolly want to ride a cab right?! He looks at me like I'm someone crazy. Noticed the sarcasm on my face and realizes that I'm playing around with his head again.

This feels familiar in a very very good way. Its been a year since I last saw him and through that span of time, nothing seemed to change between the two of us. I was actually scared of the changes. You know the saying, change is the only permanent thing in this world. I was wondering if we're gonna babble about like complete morons, making small talk, waiting unbearably until the night ends and we decide to just go home.

He seemed happy though. Even with the seeming disorientation and the fleeting moments when he seemed to want to run away. It was a short but happy ride on the way to the coffee place. A few moments before we discuss the turmoil that our lives turned out to be. I know this is gonna be a night of revelations, resolutions and of course, good conversation.
I can almost smell the rain. Dunno if it's gonna dampen my spirit or if the breeze would refresh my already tired system. But I'm happy I found Matt again. Finally.

From Dreamland to Dreamland

2007-09-30T23:52:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings
By Michael Martin

The Intricacies Of Matt’s Universe
From Dreamland To Dreamland

It’s getting dark out. She unceremoniously woke me up with a call. Which incidentally woke me up from a dream. Where I had been having a very pleasant conversation. With her. I suppose you are asking yourself now why I seem disappointed? Well I am frankly. In the dream, we were under the cover of blankets, and we’re facing each other while our cheeks were scrunched against our pillows. Mother earth was gently weeping outside, and the air-conditioning system, although antiquated had kept its droning to a tolerable level. The old geezer finally got its hint.

We were at home. Our home. Had neither the trappings of the rich and famous, but the gentle welcoming aura of a domicile. Where you’d know people in love with each other lived. There was a small den downstairs filled wall to wall with books. You’d find Hemingway, Dostoevsky, Maupassant, King, Rice and you’d even find Sheldon, Deveraux or Virgil and Homer if you knew where to look. It had a small coffee table in the middle stacked with magazines, Time, Newsweek, Cosmopolitan and what not. There were throw pillows strewn around. If you didn’t know the couple, you would think it was haphazard, not the controlled chaos that they loved.

One side of the living room had been converted into shelf space, holding cd’s from The Pretenders to Dawson’s Creek OST. It also housed their movie collection that of course included Shrek, much to the male’s disdain. There were frames around, from old movie posters to representations of Renoir and Van Gogh. Curiously there was a poster of a goat as well. In one countertop, there were three frames. One housed the first article the man had published and the other, a copy of the first book the woman had published. The middle one was a photograph of them. They were sitting in some harbor front, with Kirin Ichiban on the table, the man seemingly ruffling his hair and the woman on the verge of laughing. They were stylish in their low key, off hand manners.

The kitchen was stacked yet orderly. They had a full sized one complete with an oven good enough for a whole damned turkey although they rarely cooked. They enjoyed spending time with each other and had fun cooking, but it was too intense because of the wait and usually ended up making out on the counter top that they forgot about what they were cooking. Nobody likes munching on burnt meat anyway, so they had foregone it a long time ago. They still do make out in the kitchen while they boil water for the fun of it. The kettle whistled endlessly like an eternal siren while they laughed and kissed.

There were three bedrooms upstairs of which only one was in use. They had no offspring yet, as they were enjoying each other to the fullest. There was time for a family. They were both young. The time now was for each other. For kissing in the rain. For walking on beaches while the sun set. For meeting in provinces after their itineraries have been met, each of them driving like madmen to the rendezvous point or for connecting flights before they went back home together. For midnight burger or ice cream runs. For browsing for books and scented candles and other trappings they fancy.

They never spent a waking day without speaking and never ended it without. They made time, found time and/or bent time. However much they loved their work, they knew when to drop everything and run. To each other’s arms.

It was the end of a long day. The bedroom was still bathed in a dim glow from his bedside lamp. The thick curtains were absorbing much of the light, and he liked it this way. With her face turned towards him in this kind of light she was a goddess. Well she was, in any light. He smiles, knowing that wherever she is, it would be what he called home. She purrs, almost claimed entirely by sleep and snuggles closer to him, her knowing hands embracing him. His mobile phone rings suddenly, and he reaches for it, wondering what the hell could be wrong for someone to call him in this ungodly hour. He picks up the line croaks a hello and gets confused when he hears her voice on the other side of the line. He looks at her again, and she gets swallowed in a swirl of colors.

She talks again and I’m finally awake. “Matt. I’m sorry. Were you sleeping?”

Ogre And Son

2007-09-29T19:32:00.000-07:00

I hate hate hate green. Not really as much before as I do now. But I had been forced. By my daughter. So I had to. We all had to. Had a bunch of fun though. Went outside to smoke and Nick followed me. Had some time to nail a couple of pics. We had fun, although I was freaking grimy at that time, I could be called "His Oiliness". I miss my family. I ought to have more of this. I should should should. And I will make make make time.

Lost And Found; The Rain Dance

2007-09-29T19:25:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings
By Michael Martin

The Intricacies Of Matt’s Universe
Lost and Found; The Rain Dance

I am in my car almost butt naked. Almost. Wanted to start before I change clothes. Maybe it’s a bad idea. I am dripping all over the notebook. See it’s a quarter to six in the morning and the day’s about to break. Not in a particular hurry, since my ride is heavily tinted.

I was supposed to be at work around eight hours ago. Ended up somewhere else where I had found good conversation, a kind heart and a warm embrace. Almost a kiss. But not quite. I went so near to losing my head tonight. Reason prevailed mercifully plus my unattractiveness helped as well.

Left at around three thirty and since the rain was pouring like wanted to drown the world, I missed the left turn leading to my street and went all the way to somewhere else. I finally lost my head. Arrived at a quarter past four to a nondescript house with a nondescript gate. Inhabited by an extra ordinary woman.

Her veranda lights went on as I parked, and there she was jumping into my arms as I got out of the car. Into the rain and into my arms. She pulled back and looked into my eyes, eyebrows questioning. She tilted her head to one side and gave me a kiss. I stepped into it. She had this tender warmth to her, yielding in a manner that told me she missed me like crazy. Or maybe relieved that I decided to pop in. I let go and stepped into it, giving myself over to the moment. Did I ever need this? Yes. God help me, I did. I do.

I pulled away and looked into her eyes. She had a soft questioning look to her, her eyes visibly moistening despite the drenching downpour. Had I broken her? I didn’t want to think about it. I hope not. I held her hand and squeezed tight. I cared, yes. But I can’t tell her I loved her. Because I did not. I turned and walked away. She was beside me in a heartbeat, her hand in mine. The streets were still deserted, general humanity was still tucked in their blankets, unwilling to give up R.E.M. from the cloak of the monsoon. We continued walking as the rain poured on, making conversation difficult, and making me comfortable. She cuts me off suddenly and I find her lips on mine. I give in for a second time. This one lasts longer. Our hands explore each other oblivious to the openness of our surroundings. It was still dark anyway.

We broke off after what seemed to be an eternity. We were both out of breath, and her voice broke as she sought to speak above the din. “Will you stay? Have breakfast at least? Please?” The touch of her hand was pleading. I almost gave in. But I didn’t have anything to offer. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to be somewhere else. I did miss you.”

She hung her head and would not look at me. “How about I walk you home now? You’re soaking wet.” I tug her hand and she reluctantly budged. She went for one more try. “You still have clothes with me. You ought to change too.” I chuckle despite myself. “You know there’s at least three spare sets in my trunk any given time. I promise, we’ll find time within the week. The whole freaking day, just with you.” A smile breaks in her face. “You’ll ditch work? For me?” I shrug. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” She yelps a laugh and hugs me. “I was beginning to think I didn’t matter anymore. I love you.” I smile and hug her back. I loved somebody else. Who also could not allow herself to love me back? Life is a bitch. I tussle her hair and hold her close. “I have to go.”

I caught her look back before she went in her house. Her eyes were unsure and doubting, since I didn’t give her a reply when she laid her feelings out. I could not. I would not. Lie. Anymore. To anyone. My heart belongs to someone else. Who might crash it against the rocks in the seas of time and fate? But I am hers. Hers alone. Whether she wants me or not. This makes me feel so evil, asking for a measure of intimacy from someone I could not love back. I look at my rearview and my eyes throw me a return look of loathing.

I should stop writing now and change. Light is just around the corner and the world is waking up. I’ll see you all soon.

Glare

2007-09-29T19:24:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings
By Michael Martin

The Matt and Ivy Show
Glare

Rain was steadily pouring outside, the steady pitter-patter a constant humming sound. Nature’s song, and she was singing it in all her splendor. For the world. Or for this island in a backward third world tropical country. To the lovers inside the four by five walls of destiny however, the song is for them and for them alone.

“It’s raining like crazy outside.” Ivy had been spread out languorously on her stomach as she lay on her bed. Her eyelids were heavy and drooping. Her hair had an oily sheen to it, from the perspiration brought by the humidity earlier. Her fan had a slight clickety-clack to it, maybe from the lack of an oil job. The sound was a nice accompaniment for Miss Nature’s singing.

“Uh-huh.” I was lying on my side, with my head propped by my elbows. My other hand was toying with strands of her hair as she tried unsuccessfully to fend off sleep. She had been smiling from time to time as she waned in and out of consciousness, somehow sure and surprised to find me there beside her. She turned off the lights in her room, but the door was open letting in light from the living room filter in. God she looked stunning, with her hair in tendrils cascading her high face and her cheeks crushed against the pillows. She looked stunning even when she didn’t mean to be. I could stare at her now, now that she has her eye closed. I promised not to kiss her. Under these circumstances though, this is one promise I would have a hard time to keep.

She rouses again, tries to open her eyes in vain and is unsuccessful. She settles for a smile instead and wraps her arm around me, pulling me nearer. She smiles and mumbles, “I love you” in a manner only she can deliver. It sounds like how honey would taste the first time it touched your tongue. Or the way your eyes react the first time you see dawn slowly break and set the sky afire. Am I really here? Is this a dream? I bury my head in her neck and feel her warm steady breath on my cheeks. No, this is not a dream. She is there all right. I am here as well.

I look at her and find myself surprised. It’s like I’ve known for all of eternity. I know I’ve seen her like this, in some deep dark recesses of my memory, I know this look. The look of peace and serenity etched in her face. Woken up with it before, although this is the first time I saw it. She had always been a whirlwind. Passionate, driven, angsty and on perpetual overdrive. She tones down when she’s with me, like feeling comfortable in the passenger seat for once. Now she’s asleep. Here’s where we are right now. I don’t have to talk. Murmurs though are there. Some humming sounds from the deepest of slumbers. Hugs. The world is at peace. I murmur back and the rains swallow it. Does it matter? Did she hear it? I don’t know. But she smiled a bit and held me tighter. Is there anything better the world can offer? I think not.

The Circle Closes

2007-09-24T22:51:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings (From Matt’s Universe)
By Michael Martin

The Matt and Ivy Show
The Circle Closes

Coffee never tasted this good. Cigarettes never felt this wonderful. Unless she was there with me, sharing time. The world felt like it was in equilibrium. Everything and everyone was a dreamy haze, except for the woman sitting opposite me. She was all that mattered. Blinding in her radiance, awesome to behold. I talk about her like she is a goddess. Maybe in that respect she is. When someone has that kind of hold over you without meaning to, when you give her the wrecking ball to do with as she wishes, while you cringe and smile, terrified of what she might do, yet thankful that she bothered to stay anyway, then she is a goddess. Yours anyway. Or mine to be specific.

Don’t get me wrong I didn’t succumb at the first instance. To be plain, I went down kicking and screaming. I had to be dragged by the roots of my hair by time, fate and chance. That led me here. Hopelessly in love with someone who will never be mine to hold.

The air is pregnant with moisture as they are in this season. It makes everything seem of the verge of change. We’re sitting at the second floor veranda of a coffee house, looking out at the hustle and bustle below us. Somehow it seems different. I’ve known her for four years. There’s a shift within her. I cannot figure out what it is though. She seems older too, wiser and more in control of herself. Makes me love her more. She’s maturing into one hell of a wonderful woman.

She makes a huge deal out of it, looking intently at me while I construct my thoughts into coherent half sentences. The strain is not yet at a point to matter but it is distracting. A knowing smile now and then and an almost imperceptible nod of the head, which is what I call her let’s see how freaking good you are under pressure mister or the I feel like screwing with your head now because I can, then she throws the “So you still can’t look at me huh, Matt? ”. Which of course sends me mentally sprawling on the sidewalk.

I shake my head and try to regain my wits. She laughs. It’s one of her short chuckles that speak volumes of amusement. I could wait a lifetime to hear that again. “You can’t, huh?”

I decide to lay it on straight. No mustard.

“You know why? You’re within sight and my whole universe turns upside down. You’re this close and all I can think of is shoving this table away and taking you in my arms to kiss you. I look into your eyes and I get overwhelmed by how heartbreakingly beautiful you are.”

She stares at me blankly. Does she always have to be this difficult? She could just say “Fuck off Matt.” Then it’ll be done. She never gives a hint if what I say even reaches her mind. It always feels like it falls on deaf or indifferent ears. Yet still she would not dismiss me. A reaction would be nice though. It isn’t a dream to talk to statues. No matter how crazy I seem.

Damn. “It tears me apart, you know? I tried to stay away the past year! I did everything I could to forget you. I moved jobs, uprooted myself and to what merit? My world goes quiet for a second and you re the first thing that pops into my head. After all my efforts, one message from you and everything comes crumbling down. You know why I came? I came to tell myself that I am over you. That I can live my life and come back to you in the in the only way you want me. As a friend. To sit here now and accept that I couldn’t. I can’t.” I choke up and look away. I can’t do this, I cannot allow myself to live like this. I was planning to get my shit together and then take her home – a head on my shoulder, and a hand on my arm. “You kept running away Matt. I was waiting for you to stop fighting it.”

The world goes quiet. Silent. Still. I feel a steady humming in my skin, and become aware that the sky had opened up. I tilt my head just a bit, tentative. My cheeks find her there. The stillness feels like it can stretch for eternity. I close my eyes and smile. So this is what writers write about. The moment. The decision. It’s breathtaking to feel this, when you are at an age to really appreciate it. The jump. Or when you open the door for the first time and walk inside. There is a timeless wonder to it.

I am not sure why, but although I can’t see her face, I can feel she’s smiling. But her eyes remain so sad. The circle has closed.

Reaching The Final Bend

2007-09-24T22:48:00.000-07:00

Monsoon Midmornings (From Matt’s Universe)
By Me

The Matt and Ivy Show
Reaching The Final Bend

She stepped out of her door into the humid tropical evening. I fought hard to keep the world from swimming out of focus as she smiled at me, signaling her re-entry to my world. I felt my heart lodge in my throat as she came fully into view. She was not the most beautiful woman in the world. But for me – she was. Is. Will be. I would hazard the word forever here. It’s that strong.

All I managed to do was give a quick wave and croak an inaudible “Hello.” Ivy walked into my space, my air, and I struggled to keep conscious. I found myself enveloped in her embrace and it was all that I could do to turn my back and start to run away – as fast and as long as I could.

Damn, it’s been a year, and all that she had to do was be within vision and the freaking universe stopped ticking. She broke my heart and my world. Which after my supposedly worst debacle, I said I would fight tooth and nail not be exposed again. I would never allow myself to be vulnerable again. Until she came along. Her, this destroyer goddess, who didn’t even know what she’d done most of the time, blissful in her ignorance. Four years worth of ignorance to be exact.

Then it was over. She had let me go, and was beaming with her inquisitive child baby doll expression. “God.” I groaned inward, when was he going to be over her? Was this ever going to end?

I forced myself to speak as I exhaled. “Ok. So. How are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“Uh. Ok I guess.” My halves were in animated discussion during this, and had come to blows. If that was even remotely possible.
“I told you we shouldn’t have gone Matt. You’re a sucker for punishment aren’t you? You give her the bat and tell her to repeatedly hit you in the head with it. What are you trying to do anyway? Be the pioneer inductee for Masochists Are Us?!”
“Shut up.”
“Loser!” Chirping in the most annoying singsong voice he could accomplish. “Loooseer!”
I opened a door in the caverns of my mind. Shoved that half in and locked it. “I’ll deal with you later.”

How much time did I lose? Did I blank out? I found her eyes and nodded at her.
“Shall we? Go, I mean.”

I drove quietly as she gave directions. It was excruciating to have her near, and even that was an understatement. A left turn here, a right turn there and not long after, we were out in the main road heading towards Quezon Avenue. Ivy broke the silence.
“I had been trying to reach you. It’s good that you didn’t flake out on me this time.”
Did she actually say that? Tried to reach me? What? Did the world fall of its axis while I drove?

“Matt, I was. Kept sending you SMS messages. I was wondering where you fell off to. I had been worried sick about you.”
“I said it was iron-clad. I would see you no matter what.” I kept repeating a mantra inside my head like a protective prayer. “Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it.”

The drive went by like a blur. Everything is this way when I’m with her, that it is a wonder I even remember anything at all afterward. I know we had talked. I have a vague remembrance of it. It isn’t healthy for me to have her be this near. It’s the first time I had driven her around too. This was the first time she was this near physically. I caught myself wishing I didn’t have such heavy tints. The illusion of privacy was slowly making the tension I felt unbearable. Then again, no one ever felt more correct in the passenger seat than the one who was there now. No one, except her; who was trying her damned best to screw with my head right now with her mischievous grin and body language. Didn’t she know that she was under my skin already?

I am happy though. To be within her sight again, to be this close to her. If she continued to break me, I would scurry and lick my wounds, then come back for seconds. That much I am sure of. It isn’t her fault anyway. I’m the obsessed lunatic here. Not her. I was here of my own volition and had allowed myself to dangle. I had been startled to find myself turning the engine off. We stepped out of my car and into the evening of resolutions. Maybe I have a chance to be free after all.

Why? It looks like it’s about to rain in a while. Call it my element of luck

Ivy's List Of Facial Expressions

2007-09-23T15:44:00.000-07:00

This character is from the series Monsoon Midmornings. Ivy is in her early twenties, about five feet four inches in height, has jet black hair (most of the time), fair complexion (she does get tanned a lot), almond eyes and high cheekbones. She is extremely intelligent and articulate, outgoing, carefree and sensible. She has been inadvertently a recurring character, although it was first planned as, well there would be around four women to share Matt’s dysfunctional universe. Each would have their definite characteristics to draw and fascinate Matt, and the woman he ends up with was still a toss of the dice.

As things progressed though, Ivy has turned out to be Matt’s great love, his soulmate, his companion through eternity. Which is a pleasant surprise. Here’s how I found out: I have snippets of phrases to delineate expressions and emotions. I didn’t include happiness or joy. Matt prefers to keep that to himself right now.

Looks (Like how her eyes and facial expressions combine):
• Incredulous (slowly widening irises, both eyebrows rising in slow degrees)
o I am trying to convince myself I didn’t just hear what you said.
o Maggot! You didn’t!
o Please explain it to me like I was a six year old. Why did I let a retard like you in my life?
• Mischief (lips thinly curved in a wide smile; brows furrowed together, face angled downward and eyes up. This is more scary than wrath, Matt has decided)
o Let’s see how freaking good you are under pressure mister
o I feel like screwing with your head now because I can
o I have a fun game in mind, it’s called let’s play with the Maggot
o I have something for you. Come here.
• Disappointment (downcast eyes)
o You can’t?
o You won’t?
o Reconsider?
• Wrath (almost like incredulous, only one eyebrow is rising while lips start to purse ever so slightly; this is where she is most dangerous; Matt really gets scared when she crosses her hands on her chest and starts drumming her fingers)
o I’m trying to decide what to hit you with
o I’ve decided what to hit you with, I’m just not sure how hard I’ll hit you
o Oh you’ve gone and done it now
o I am evaluating what the loss of you may mean to me. Right now, I am almost for it.
o How about I break a bone to even us out?

• More Wrath (with a finger pointed at Matt; this is way dreadful and very rare)
o You do not know what hell is Maggot. You are about to find out.
o My finger is about to turn you into toast.
o I weighed the consequences of murdering you. I think I can live with it
o Run.

Jack Daniel's, Friends from out of the past; One Unforeseen Conversation

2007-09-22T23:28:00.000-07:00

I had gone out to meet a friend I haven’t seen in quite a while. It was to be one quick meet-up with pleasantries and then we’d be done. What I didn’t expect was bumping in to someone from a distant past. So well, despite all the near misses I found myself face to face with Jack. Daniel’s to be exact.

After one shot too many this friend of mine suddenly decides it’s not to be a happy reunion and starts dumping his repressed sh*t on me. At first I was like “Get blogpage and rant there man.” Then I thought, well maybe my buddy didn’t have that luxury, and there was no one to turn to.

So my friend starts his diatribe about how unbelievably screwed up his life is. The family business is in shambles, and he’s dead broke. His family hates him of course, and he lost his kids. Rather, lost their love. The dinner table is hurt unimaginable. The family does not pull any punches in reminding him that this is not their life as mandated by the Lord Almighty.

His wife gave him the runaround. Ran off with a wealthier and better-looking man. When it didn’t work out, she came back to him. Since, all of it was his fault anyway, he took her back. The kids believe that she ran off because he was a womanizing bastard who squandered their wealth and that’s the reason their mother went and blasted their family to kingdom come. Now she’s back from the dead and halleluiah, they’re happy again!

In defense of this friend of mine, I know that he never spends anything that his spouse does not know about. He’s old school. Gives everything to the wife, and gets a metered allowance good for a week. He could not have done it. I think she still abuses him and he allows it because at the root of it all, he believes in his heart that none of this would have happened if he had been the man he should be. All of it is his fault. Whatever anyone says, at the heart of it, he has that as a truth.

Why? There is one thing to complete the puzzle. He met his soulmate. Or whom he believes is his. I chuckled at that. What kind of whacko believes in that mumbo-jumbo anyway? As I listened to him, I almost did accept it. As gospel truth. The way he described her, the way he felt for her, is something that I dream about as a writer. He turned from a despondent hopeless man, into an inspired hopeful poet in the blink of an eye. You almost thought of the woman as a goddess by the way he talked about her. Then came the ensuing crash. Yes he’s married. The vow holds him fast even when the time comes that the love may have died. She’s about to be married herself. He’s a wreck of a man. A ghost of what he was before. If ever they did find a way, he would just be a burden to her. He loves her too much to even want to go near. For fear of poisoning her life the way he had his.

Therein lies the crux of it all. It’s his fault. Why would life do all of that if not for atonement of some dreadful sin he might have done? He asks me. “Do you know how it feels to want to continue to be hurt this way? So I could forget about the one that is about to consume me?” I shake my head and he plunges on. “You may think I’m crazy. But I am not. Not yet anyway. I might though. If I allow myself to dwell on it. On the pain of having her so near yet so far. Of reaching out in bed and wanting to find her there and knowing that she won’t be there. Of waking up to each damned day of the rest of my life hoping to see her smile. Of wishing I could hear her laugh today? She taps me on the shoulder and my whole world spins. Of trying to get over it so I can live with at least a semblance of peace? Because she can’t love me and she won’t love me, and if ever I would not even allow her to!” So he needs the pain too. If only to forget that the life he leads has and from then on will always be a lie. My heart goes out to him but well, it’s his issue to resolve.

The are two statements he left me with that gave me a leaden feeling in the pit of my soul:

He said, “I am resigned. To receiving intimacy and warmth in the embrace of whores; once I can afford them. There is no harbor for me in this lifetime.” There is death in his eyes I didn’t notice earlier. The wide expanse of emptiness only sadness brings. I should know. It’s been part and parcel of my life too.

He said, “A home is a dream. A dream. Yes you can have all the houses that you want. It’s all a matter of how much money you have anyway. A home is an entirely different case.” He says he’s found it. But he’s always going to be outside the window peering in on the party going on inside. You know what? I think he’s correct. I drove home with the stereo off and in complete silence. I hope he finds his way. Maybe forget everyone as well. For his eternal soul’s own good.

Upheavals; Deathbeds and Cowardice

2007-09-15T17:04:00.000-07:00

I find myself here. Lunchtime. In the Northern part of the island of Luzon. I went running off to someone's deathbed yesterday afternoon. Apparently I was being called over and over again. Would not allow death to lay claim before I arrived. I came but could not enter the driveway.

These are the clouds in the horizon. Coming nearer. The time of upheavals. I am being called to close out certain matters and to come full circle on others. Can I? I'm not sure. I hope to go down later and finish this out. God, knows the person needs to go back to the Creator and I am the only needed to finish the business.

I am delaying. Half hoping death won out before I arrive. So I can cry and rant about being too late. I am such a coward.

Discretion is the better part of Valor; the Joy and Terror of Capitulation; an Unforeseen Confession

2007-09-10T22:19:00.000-07:00

The wheels of fate have been turning yet again. I have hinted previously about preparation. For a moment. A time of reckoning. This is mine. For the entirety of my being. It has not been an easy life, but whoever said that life would be easy?

All that happened in the past now seems a funnel. To steel and temper for the coming…how do I put it? Test? Storm? Tribulation? Or a combination of all that. I see and feel the thunderclouds gathering in the horizon. I know the lines will come into clear focus anytime soon. The question will invariably be asked of me. “Will you cross the threshold foolish mortal?”

I believe it will be at least two lines. Each determines a course of fate. Therein lies the crux of my questions in life. What I’ve found learned and what I hold dear. This entire running around, this searching, these silly quests have now come to an end. So I wait in bated breath for the conclusion. I may find myself in a rocking chair surrounded by grandchildren, but the time is at hand. This is the deal for the whole kit and caboodle.

I have found my Great Love. The One. The Bearer of Tragedy and Unspeakable Pain. And of Untold Bliss. Right beside me. It has been a slow realization, as I was fighting and kicking all the way. I did not go down easy. So do I capitulate and surrender to it? I know that acceptance is the road to destruction. Humans are not allowed to be that happy. It is reserved as a reward for the afterlife.

I keep saying there is no chance. Hoping to convince myself that we will both guard ourselves. I am torn between letting everything blow up into a thousand pieces and keeping the status quo. Now I know why I was imparted with self-esteem issues. Else I would have gone and grabbed the sword by the hilt and let everyone else be damned. I am able to use my inadequacy as a shield. Of course the other person has choice, but the answer is not always a “NO”. But I will not let her have a say here. For if the answer is yes, we destroy everything else. I have half a mind to shut it down completely and kill my soul in the process. If it comes to it, I may choose that, if only to keep her safe. From me. That is the first line. Do I gamble for an “our happiness” or stick with “her happiness”. There are no guarantees either way. The second will render me dead, but I hope I have the strength to choose it. It is the only logical recourse. I am seriously considering it as I write now. God help me, it’s so damned difficult, but it may be the only way for everyone to be safe. And anyway at least I have my answers. I have had my questions answered. Without room for doubt.

The second? Close friends and family have been seeing omens of me this year. Walking out of a production floor when I am a hundred kilometers away. Passing by without my head. Passing by while I am spoken to on the phone. Those kind of things. People have been burning the lines every time. I still draw breath and try to push it out of my mind. If the contract is up, there is nothing you can do about it anyway. I have had a brush with the reaper early this year, I can’t remember if there was a deal on lingering here. So now that my most important questions have been answered, does it mean I am to leave? Now that I’ve said it aloud? Will the choice matter? Yes, I may find myself surrounded by grandchildren. I am alive then. Although with a shell of an existence brought by the choice of the path drawn by the initial line. I will be dead either way.

I guess I have to close it out now. I am contemplating deleting all blogs. It’s all resolved anyway. All the reasons for their presence is moot now. Or maybe I’ll keep them. Haven’t really decided yet. All the next ones if I still decide to do this, will be of an entirely different vein. Yes I am happy. How could I even feel despair now?

So there. I think this is goodbye. To the searching me. To the unbalanced me. To the unsure me. There is tomorrow. Yet I think I’ll stretch today as far as I can. Tomorrow is still too far away.

This is goodbye to you too I think. So this is what sweet parting means. To give up. Knowing that who you love will be better off. Without you. There will be no one else after. Be happy and be safe. We’ll always have rainy evenings. I don’t even want to consider it, but if it’s the same for us, then expect me in the next lifetime. I will be your man.

Sunroof and Stone Boundaries

2007-09-10T12:48:00.000-07:00

Took a twenty kilometer side trip across fields this morning. Which finds me here at home blogging just right after the song I popped in had concluded.

Ok so it was totally inappropriate for the situation. Hmmm...wait I'm disjointed. Lemme back up a bit.

Went out at seven am. Opened all the windows (my baby is heavily tinted) and popped the sunroof. Took a chance on a random playlist and hell baby - betterman! Yeah right, the song's underpinnings maybe off kilter. But hey, this is Pearl Jam, harbringers of angst and despair, at their poppiest. Perfect.

Found myself singing along and flooring the pedals for all the baby was worth. Surprise! I found myself smiling when I peered at the rearview mirrors. Hey stranger. Haven't seen you in the last decade. Why? I wasn't the one smiling. Or rather, it wasn't just a smile. My soul was happy. I and I mean that whole, was happy. Wait AM happy!

So I kick the baby a bit more and did a u-turn at the next barrio's boundary. Uh-huh morning folks were craning their heads at the car that was driving a bit too fast for comfort and blaring a song they probably have not heard before. I was tapping the steering wheel as well while I sang, wondering now why I didn't lose control. This is one of those rare days and I mean to get the most out of it while it's there. I even smiled at the usual morons on the road.

I still feel the gleam in my eye as I write this down. These are days you dream about and live for. Imagine that huh? So I am sappy. So it is weird. So what?

I am happy. Go figure. If you can't. Bite me. Or go find your own happiness.

Crash Into Me

2007-09-09T23:32:00.000-07:00

The pieces start to make sense. Like colors coalescing (did i spell that right?). From way back. Like a preparation for a moment. Of utmost import.

Is it?

All these years, all things known. To be funneled into one moment. When all truths come together. Is there such a thing? Really?

I just came back from a walk in the rain. This feels so much like home. Or what I thought home would be.

So yes. Crash Into Me.

Achtung Fraulein, Blank Spaces and

2007-09-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

Rains again. In the evening. Yesterday and yesteryears. How time flies and maps turn into antiquated brown pieces of paper. Still, infinitely useful.

Ruminations. Permutations. Queries and answers. Hidden in lines so vague yet clear as daylight. Overhead vollies. We've learned.

I've kissed death full in the lips. Thought I had come full circle.

To discover this; this. This. Unspeakable. Unutterable. For my lips will be held. Both for my sake and yours. I have lived with my heart on my sleeve. I keep it now. For both our sakes. It kills me to to bite my lips when I want to shout. To be sure when there is no solid ground, to stand though I stand alone. For it will never be.

Too much water under the bridge and too many souls in between.

Blank spaces for all we know, and can never say. Blank spaces. As it is all I can offer. Which is literally none.

This is yours and you very well know it. Yours as sure as I draw breath. In the clear white expanse, I leave my soul. Only to be read by one who can unlock it. Volumes in silence. As I keep my piece.

I am ____________________________________________. And I am so damned sorry.

A Particularly Nasty Ride Home

2007-09-06T14:33:00.000-07:00

This is one for the ages. Been quite unstable this morning before I went to Alabang, and had been deathly quiet on the drive to Santa Rosa. I thought I would be ok after, that this belongs to the “it too shall pass” moments in my life. Then the storm inside the car. It just came flooding like a monstrosity lumbering with inexorable force from a denuded mountaintop. I broke. Wracked with sobs while hurtling at 100 kilometers an hour. I couldn’t stop and I hated myself, for carrying this with me. For my soul being the way it is. For my inability to consider real happiness as an alternative; for realizing how pathetic being this pained feels like, and for still being here.

Here I am now. The coward that I am. With eyes swollen. Attempting to make sense and perhaps reconcile myself with the incident.

What am I? A sucker for pain, torture and the proverbial up the chocolate chute screw job? No I am not. I detest it. Yet still it always leads me here. Yeah Paul McCartney. To the long and god damned winding road.

Emily Ann Meily I wish you were somewhere near right now. Maybe you could’ve help make sense of all this.

I’m too torn to write anything more. I leave you with this instead. It was on the radio when I almost decided to end everything for good.

The First Cut is the Deepest
Sheryl Crow

I would have given you all of my heart
but there's someone who's torn it apart
and she's taking almost all that I've got
but if you want, I'll try to love again
baby I'll try to love again but I know

The first cut is the deepest, baby I know
The first cut is the deepest
'cause when it comes to being lucky she's cursed
when it comes to lovin' me she's worst
but when it comes to being loved she's first
that's how I know

The first cut is the deepest, baby I know
The first cut is the deepest

I still want you by my side
just to help me dry the tears that I've cried
cause I'm sure gonna give you a try
and if you want, I'll try to love again
but baby, I'll try to love again, but I know

The first cut is the deepest, baby I know
The first cut is the deepest

'Cause when it comes to being lucky she's cursed
when it comes to lovin' me she's worst
but when it comes to being loved she's first
that's how I know

The first cut is the deepest, baby I know
The first cut is the deepest

Wake Me Up Before You Go-go (08/31/2007)

2007-09-01T00:48:00.000-07:00

Had a hell of a tiff today. With everyone around me. Drove off and lost steam in a Shell Station; consequently fell asleep there for almost two hours after I sent the last sms.

Needed to talk to me also. Not nice forcing yourself to look at a mirror. To see and acknowledge all the shit you are going through and why you allow yourself to sink deeper into that quagmire.

It defies explanation why she remains standing there. Very much correct. I never lost her. I was always the one who left. Here’s the thing, I don’t know what makes her happy. I do know a lot of things that make her sad. I am Mr. Melancholy. Why stick with me? I need to rework that statement. She defies explanation. What good does she see in me?

So I tell myself to get a grip. To believe I can be chosen for who I am. I am so desperate for comfort and yet unwilling to trust the hand that tries to soothe me. To give up that pathetic feeling of distrust and lack of self worth is so difficult. It has been with me for so long I feel like it is one of my limbs. Hey I’m not in denial. I know what I lack. It’s just that I am afraid to go out and hope, only to get crushed underfoot again. But hey please wake me up before you go.

oh f*ck! and interrupted weekends

2007-08-25T21:03:00.000-07:00

i was browsing through blogpages today. i was cooped up in the boondocks again, having had my joyful rural/suburban (where does that mix? ask me, i might be nice enough to tell you the secret) drinking session unceremoniously cut off by morality and family values (this is the first oh f*ck). so what gives right? well i guess i am that kind of guy, too torn to function normally as a profligate wanton male, and too unlucky to break even at certain intervals in life (this is an eternal oh f*ck).

so what do you do? drive breakneck at 120 km/h and get your hormone levels to crash. a cold shower might be nice too. or a woman to talk to. maybe hold. well there isn't an option if you're like me (another oh f*ck). and what the f*ck am i writing about here, i'm supposed to be married and contented (prolly the biggest oh f*ck). the people who know me know about the questions i ask, and the alleys i either peer or go headlong into and i guess they understand (it's their oh sweet f*ck there goes mike again). maybe i ask to many questions and wont live life the way it's handed down. maybe that's the root of all this trouble.

i always get my answers to feed my mind.

i never do get, an answer that makes me smile. i end up more ground up than when i came in.

so here i was browsing through blogpages and happened to pore over this one, argh! i think i was the one mentioned in the conversation. or rather i was the one she was conversing with. wanted to help me out? sold her soul? errr....i know i had read it ages ago, but it does leap out right now in a way that it never did before. i guess it was more sh*tty than i ever imagined.

and hey. forgive me for dreaming. i didn't mean to push. which is the crux of all, the nexus of everything around me. if there is a recurrent theme in my life it would be "never meant to be".

that's for everyone. including the WWoftheS. although she's fighting hard to be here.

On Boredom And A Consistent Lack of Funds

2007-08-10T04:15:00.000-07:00

This is precisely what happens when the statement above holds true for a prolonged basis. As one of my buds would quip, “at least it’s consistent”. So what do you do when you have nothing to do and no cash to burn? Go crazy baby. Or go get yourself strapped on a hospital bed in an institution basement with a thorazine drip on your wrist. Pretty nifty eh?

I chose the go crazy route, as I still have souls who depend on my sanity to get through the day. Yeah I know I’m ugly but this is for my benefit and not yours. Besides haven’t you grown tired of all the good-looking folks who flood the tarps in EDSA, who fill up the covers of magazines and dominate the boob tube? Now come to think of it, since everyone’s gone flat screen, does the term need to apply? How would you like your woman mate? Oi! I was asking you!!!

I went around and around on my final three liters and took a damned long walk. Which is beneficial considering my faulty ticker. Wore shades that exaggerated my flat nose and hid my eyes, which according to people who have no financial stake with me are the only decent part of my person. Someone told me that happiness is a state. I consulted the map and couldn’t find it. Anyway what’s to lose? I tried smiling under the cover of my glasses and true enough I was fooling myself into feeling better by the time the hour ended.

Quite content now. Why? I told someone to go f*ck off and slide his you know what in his you know where. So much for positive thoughts eh.

Six Packs, Marlboros, Credit Lines and Laptops

2007-08-10T01:36:00.000-07:00

It’s evening of the same day. The wire transfer didn’t arrive as scheduled and I’m pleasantly stuck in the boondocks. Good thing I have a running credit line at the local grocer. Got myself an ice-cold six-pack of San Miguel Lights, a pack of Marlboros and a fully charged iBook. Isn’t life grand? Yeah I know, bad for me, but considering everything that’s going on now, it may just be a good idea. See I haven’t been pounding on the keys that much since I moved to a new post on my daily grind and I miss it badly. It was nasty trying to make time.

So I’m finally grounded with nothing to do, and as far as I know everyone who I love has something better to do with their time than to spend it with the king of melancholy. It’s been a long time since I’ve been really alone, and it’s twisted. See there are a lot of people around me, but no one’s paid attention to be honest. I just go on my way since no one cares as long as I deliver the goods. Mr. A-ok family man and all that rot. The recent two years have been an absolute whack job for me, filled with short rises and very long troughs. Been in and out of emergency rooms with a steadily declining health. To be brutally frank I do not expect to live past forty. But I still believe I have enough time, with the Creator willing, to set everything in order for those I love. It’s scary and exhilarating at the same time, this race against time. Well we know it from childhood, when death first visits our family’s doorsteps. We put it on the back burner till we get a missed call from the ever-pleasant reaper.

So that’s that and maybe nothing more, if I die as boring as I lived. Wait, I may still have time enough to complete my book. I’d like to be printed posthumously though, to spare myself the shrink freak psycho-babble analysis of anyone of anyone who’d care to read and criticize the work. I think I’ll cut it here and stick to the beers. They’re a fine companion during these times.

A Different Kind Of Heaven

2007-08-03T05:29:00.000-07:00

The air conditioning system is quiet for its age, and the only light in the room comes from the television bolted to the wall. The channel it’s on has long since signed off, and the crackle of static is all but left. There’s an empty beer bottle, an ice bucket, a small ashtray with a couple of butts, and an empty glass sitting on a silver tray beside the bed. Surreal. Very.

My back is killing me as it usually does nowadays, and I’m too damned poor and chickensh*t to seek treatment. There are days that I find it unbearable to sit or walk, but that’s just part of the chocolate chute screw we get for being people. The pressure of her leg as it drapes over my back is welcome pain, and a smile dawns on my tired face. How long has it been? Almost four years to this day I reckon. I still tear myself up thousand different ways when she’s near me. Now she’s here, finally. After all this time, she’s here. She went to where I was, without knowing the way. She found me, in her unerring sense of the true north. She tosses again, complaining about her inability to go back to sleep after I disturbed her slumber a few minutes ago. I have all these queries and probably no tomorrow. Of course I’d bother her.

“Let’s take it one day at a time. I am here, will be here, only because I want to.” She said that in the most offhand and confident of manners that I choked despite myself. True, it’s her choice to make, and I am but a fortunate spectator in the events unfolding before me. Makes me wonder where this will lead. I’m scared out of my wits, but can’t and won’t tear my eyes off. I’m way out of my league and sinking fast. Happily drowning just to be perfectly clear. With my bad heart to boot, I know I’m treading on eggshells.

“If you want me, then you have me. I say when it stops. After all, I’m the one with everything to lose.” She threw that out casually too. Made me shudder at the strength of character of a woman who says that to your face. I, in my usual stupidity as a human male, thought the statement to be purely physical in nature. The fact that we’re still clothed dispels that. I’m such a dumb*ss. She is here though, no mistake about it. That we’re snuggling, is more than I had ever dreamed of. I was running my fingers through her hair moments earlier, breathing her intoxicating scent. This is way better than what my Neolithic self had predicted earlier.

If you ask me if I knew her reasons, or maybe had inkling as to her intentions, I think I’d shrug and scratch my head. That’s why I’m committing these thoughts to words, in the hope of finding a rhyme or reason. It’s been elusive so far. I gave up the ghost already, accepted that I was beating a dead horse, and that it’s what my friend told me a couple of years ago. She was to be my “ungettable get” as she so succinctly pointed out. To find myself with her in these early morning hours that I hold dear is well, confusing to put it lightly. Maybe the earth has fallen off its axis sometime during the month.

I have Billy Corgan steadily droning as I type this, his melancholy and anguish a perfect companion in this forced separation. I try and ram my head against a wall and feel blinding pain. Stars flutter in the expanse of darkness and I’m sure I’m awake. Is this what the person who coined the term “intertwined souls” meant? So this is a different kind of heaven. Fate help me, I know I will never be able to let it go.

The Lot, The dream, Close calls and Hospitals 01/23/07

2007-02-26T03:36:00.000-08:00

I think I'm fairly detached to deal with this. Here I go:

So I did jump. It felt like the sound of a wrench falling on running gears. The last conscious morning was the day of the last blogpost. Woke up with IV tubes attached to my wrist and ECG nodes all over. Nice. Now I am definitely screwed up.

The ticker went rotten earlier than expected. Around twenty years ahead of schedule. Well you stand against the onslaught of life; that is, you do, until life decides to throw something the size of a buick. Makes you realize how futile everything is.

There was a huge abandoned lot. There was an equally immense yet crumbling structure in the middle of it, a squarish stone edifice which may have been a school or a factory; it's paint was stripped, windows smashed, and stamed on it was an aura of disrepair. The lot itself was filled with junk, garbage, weeds, grasses and undergrowth, the chicken wire fence rotting or had completely disappeared altogether in some places. It was a lonely, desolate place and my heart sank underneath its shadow.

It was odd though, how it did not feel deserted. Usually these places were shells. This one did not seem at all dead. Rotting maybe. Dead? Not yet. I was getting major league goosebumps. Having had the most disagreeable experience of seeing and talking with some dude who died on a road accident through the rearview mirror on a midmorning drive home, I was of course concerned about them. The goosebumps I had before that dude popped up was peanuts compared to this.

There was no sense in waiting outside. If you ever play RPG's you know what I mean. There is a door or a path which inexplicably, is better lit.

I can't clearly recall everything that occured inside, as most of it is a haze, focusing with crystal clearness in one instant and swirling into a mist of jumbled colors the next. I've always been particular with using doors, halls, windows for verbal imagery when I write. They stood clearest in recollection.

There were doorways; yet only tattered splinters of wood attached to rusted hinges remained. There were people inside, milling; like after periods or during voting time. It felt so much like a school now, it seemed organized by age.

I went around and around the decrepit moldy halls, with its chipped paint and dirt caked walls. As I progressed deeper, the floor slowly turned from cracked tiles to mud, and one with a sickening stench. It felt colder too. Damp and foggy but I was still able to see clearly. There were rooms still, and people inside. And rats. Almost as big as cats, scampering and squeaking about.

All of a sudden there were two kids on either side of me striking up a conversation. The girl on my left side had dark brown skin an curly hair which was tied up neatly with a ponytail and she wore a green and white dress that looked like it could be a uniform. The other kid, a boy, had fairer skin and was wearing tattered shirt and shorts. They were chatty and curious the way kids usually are. I stopped cold when I realized they were leading me on, the conversation a ruse to keep me walking.

I turned and looked back, wondering how deep I was inside the building. The girl (I'm not sure if she told me her name) tried raising her voice to drown my thoughts. Something about a need to go on. That did it. I started to walk, then trot, and finally broke into a dead run. It gets hazy here; both kids kept pace without effort, gesticulating fiercely about how I needed to rethink.

This memory is clear: A focused glance at the rooms revealed what should've been obvious before I entered the building. They were all dead! A child with eyeless sockets in one room, and one with half her face scraped off in the other. That's why it didn't feel empty! I was crying by then, how could I be so stupid as to walk in? The kids were still beside me when I finally reached the door. For some reason, their eyes held immeasurable sadness when I walked out. And fell. Fell a little longer.

And woke up screaming. Kissing tubes. Electrodes on my chest. Scared shitless.

Blur - Song 2.

2007-01-21T10:42:00.000-08:00

how mothereffing appropriate. the song is - well you know slow build up, mach 2 chorus and back to 2kph all in the blink of an eye.the band's name is too. ever wonder how that would feel? i don't anymore.everything is a swirl of colors and i am spinning so fast i don't know whether i'd like to hold on or jump. jumping seems to be a fun idea mind you, just to see where i'll land.

isn't it amazing how just at the precise moment you tell yourself you are ok. that you will not get torn apart by gazing at that person's eye or feel their breath inches from you, the karmic gods decide to play one more cruel sick joke on you? and you feel like you'll empty your stomach and your knees get all wobbly. and oh f*ck here we go agaiiiin. honestly someone ought to shoot me one of these days to get me out of my misery. jesus h. christ in a bicycle.

if you have heard anything, it's probably true. i'm off somewhere in limbo. away from the maddening crowds and away from the bustle of city life. this is one of the precious moments though when i get to hear myself think. dammit, time's too short it's a surprise to see myself waking up. so you're now wondering why it isn't a slow down groove? why don't you walk into my door? it's really cold outside, but i think you'll find it warm in here. what do you say? dance with me one more time, for old time's sake?

Horizons

2006-12-19T17:44:00.000-08:00

It does look so far does it? The light beckoning from the horizon.Will have a lot of stuff to talk about - but not now. Everything's in quick thaw and sooner rather than later the hammers clang again. I got my wish. (Or will) Wanderlust and Challenges both as a writer and as a line manager. Oi vey, let's talk after christmas.
Princess of the Frozen North, I'll be seeing you asap. I miss you rather badly.

Tonight Tonight

2006-11-03T04:33:00.000-08:00

Halloween passed in a secluded hamlet of a town. With seven good buddies and my son Nick. Undisclosed quantities of bourbon was of course consumed by the good folks in recess. The evening was as merry as any alcohol catalyzed evening would be. Before we knew it guitars were out and so were other stuff I will not mention for our collective peace of mind.
I'll leave you with this instead, courtesy of Billy Corgan:

Tonight Tonight
Time is never time at allYou can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youthAnd our lives are forever changedWe will never be the sameThe more you change the less you feel
Believe, believe in me, believeBelieve that life can changeThat you're not stuck in vainWe're not the same, we're different tonightTonight, so brightTonight
And you know you're never sureBut you're sure you could be rightIf you held yourself up to the lightAnd the embers never fade in your city by the lakeThe place where you were born
Believe, believe in me, believeBelieve in the resolute urgency of nowAnd if you believe there's not a chance tonightTonight, so brightTonight
We'll crucify the insincere tonightWe'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonightWe'll find a way to offer up the night tonightThe indescribable moments of your life tonightThe impossible is possible tonightBelieve in me as I believe in you, tonight

we're on!

2006-10-19T04:26:00.000-07:00

i am guessing the gag order is now off, since Illustrado has been launched. hold on and strap yourselves in people. we are and by jove we can. whoweee!

too bad i couldn't join the opening festivities. oh well.

dazed

2006-09-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

"peace is when i am six feet under." dammit it may be true. i am a hair's breadth away from coming undone, unglued, unhinged. name you "uns" baby and it may very well fit me like a glove. i can't think straight, can't do sh*t, can't even write for my own pleasure.

so yes, it would not be life if it was not an arduous and extremely lengthy assf*ck session would it? yet, is it so bad to work for a little bit of sanity? for the life of me, i cannot just drop it. my adult life is like a slow motion disassembling (forced mind you), and i have caught myself hoping a lot of times that it would just explode into innumerable fragments. i have done it a few times in the past. to no avail. life has congealed, coalesced again into something horrible.

it always has been like this. im too old and too freaking tired for this sh*t. and still i climb into the treadmill like an obedient hamster.

oh yes, i have a lot be thankful for. i cant remember what they are though.

merry f*cking christmas in advance to the rest of you miserable humans too.

emptiness is a four legged word (06282006)

2006-09-09T23:20:00.000-07:00

We were out this weekend. I was being the usual couch potato, lounging and basking in the cloudy midafternoon sky. Loved the hint of rain brewing in the horizon, and reminds me of why I prefer to stay here.

Out of the blue, I hear meows. Wtf? I look down and Aira is busily gathering four kittens like a doting mother. The insane fact about it? Aira's a shih tzu. Crazy owner, crazy dog.

Amused to the end of my wits, I return the kittens to where she got them (there were still two left in the litter, and I traced them with their cries), to Aira's obvious consternation, as she was alternating whimpering and doing that agitated face she does so well.

The matter settled, I go back to my chair to idle away the rest of the afternoon. Although she had sullenly trudged back with me, Aira was clearly distraught. To the point she wouldn't even want to jump in the pool when it started to rain in the early evening, she just kept looking at me with the "you are one humongous *sshole" look in her face.
With the Saturday pretty much ruined for both of us, I did not go back to Manila this Sunday. I spent (or rather we) the day looking for a suitable breeder. I left her there to satisfy both her amorousness and her desire to have offspring. It's been three days now, and they've been terribly lonely.

screaming spots

2006-09-09T23:07:00.000-07:00

harbors.beaches.cliffs.a lonely stretch of hardtop. anywhere isolated.

pebbles. and my heart.

i have prevented myself from going completely bonkers in the past through it. wherever life takes me, the first placethat i look for - a screaming spot. have a few of them scattered across the unfathomable miles. some i have not seen for years, but still a part of my soul, and a part of me.

i had to one to talk to, or no one that understands before, and that became the spillway which i still cling on to, up to the present, whenever there is something i cannot say. there i let it all out, mostly ending up panting and out of breath, on allfours, clutching the ground and blinded by my tears. i have gone there with someone only one time in these almost three decades of being in this planet, although there have been a couple of people who have thanked me for bringing it up, according to these souls, having their own screaming spot kept them from the edge as well on a number of occasions.

how does it work? the two main ingredients are in the first two lines of the entry. then find time, or rather make time. ditch.play hookey. it would be good if you had a journal or the like. each stone represents whatever you want to say or get out of your system, and you hurl it with all your might as you scream your want, your intention, your hurt, your pain. it might and it will feel awkward at first, remember though that it is your time and your hurt. let it loose. let it go.and do not cheat yourself. oh by the way, cliffs might not be a good idea if it is your first time, i would not want you to jump off it if you get too intense.

so scream.and scream till there is nothing else. scream until you are empty.

Supernova and Argh!

2006-09-09T23:03:00.000-07:00

never thought i'd go back to being a tv junkie. this contest got me hooked. never mind that it was rock dinosaurs looking for a frontman.

this woman got me. and got me good. too bad she got cut one day from the final day.

will alway be a fan. a STORM LARGE fan!

Yisrayl Hawkins

2006-08-27T02:03:00.000-07:00

oh this is dandy. i was surfing around technorati, when i stumbled across this blog. for all of you doomsday soothsayers to use. click here to start your fun.

get your sandwich boards people!

the break from the twilight zone

2006-08-26T21:59:00.000-07:00

yeah so i finally got my break and i found out i had a way with women.

and they were all dead. every single one of them.i knew it was going to be a fun vacation when i walked into my room and saw someone lying in bed. it would have been the sweating, panting kind of fun, well in retrospect it also was, the only difference was the woman on the bed was translucent. yes translucent. like you see right through her kind of translucent. i have always been an advocate of having the guts to open up, but this one really went off with the "be the ball" mindset.

and then the crying lady.

then in the pool. good thing she didn't ask me to put lotion all over her back.

i finally gave up and slept early.

there was no way i could write; i am all gloom and doom but this is from the other side of the lake. i would have ended up with stuff from king.

after talking with the caretaker; now this takes the carrot (and all the beta carotene that makes your eyes sharp - and sharp enough to see things you ought not to see) the lady i described was the one who took her life a few years ago. the other ladies seem to be from some distant time because no one knew their story but have been glimpsed from time to time.

the caretaker was asking me if i saw the kids. good thing i didn't. the grisly story is something that makes my hackles rise.

i don't even want to write it down.great resort huh? i ought to put it in my review.

memoirs 09/16/05

klutz-capades

2006-08-26T20:01:00.000-07:00

such a klutz today.

i have a lump on my head the size of iowa, after i bum rushed my gate to go buy bread for paulinne(my daughter). there was a loud bang, and i found myself floored and dazed and pau with that concerned look on her eyes while she chuckled madly.

and i keep dropping stuff. i was a one man gag reel for my kids, and suffice to say, they got more than their money's worth in laughs. too bad i wasn't acting eh?

hahaha..turned out to be a fun day. hope the bad luck ends tomorrow.

oh yeah. i had a photo shoot this evening as well. i was the subject. how's that for laughs?

from the memoirs 01/03/06

farewells

2006-08-26T19:58:00.000-07:00

maybe you think i've finally turned mean.
that i refused to care anymore.
i do. i did.
on the other hand, bear in mind as well, i refuse to drive myself
insane.
hoping,waiting, for crumbs to fall where i stand.
no way jose. not anymore.
i vehemently object! to everything!
no more meat grinders. no more waiting in the wings.
i may not be mr. man, but i do not really care anymore.
i am free and will live free.
and damned be everyone else.
my heart is not your toy.
and yeah.fuck you and anyone else who thinks they can still walk
around my head unrestrained.
i've been a dishrag too long.
it stopped yesterday.

from the memoirs 01/02/06

ground zero mid-mornings

2006-08-26T19:56:00.000-07:00

took the leap.
went to see the princess in metrowalk this morning.
pressed for time. and for a place to hang-out.
i left a girl and came back to a woman.sitting across the table.ah time.
and follies of inane men too stupid to know.
or to hear. or listen.
i am thankful i went.

from the memoirs 11/20/05

convu-"f**king"-luted

2006-08-26T19:55:00.000-07:00

bite me.

everything around me is falling apart. or crumbling. whichever way you look at it, it isn't a happy sight. to top it off, i am falling apart in the seams as well, and it is causing the stress levels to go to stratospheric heights. so yeah there are far pressing problems in the general vicinity of the universe today, but who gives a flying f*ck anyway? we deal with what we got and bend over eventually (we don't necessarily like it) then take it up the tail pipe.

the world is indeed screwed and the good people finish last. the likeable harmless young man gets to be the freaking sponge but never gets the woman. oh yes dearie you are a nice friend, and it is great that you stay constant and are always there when i need you, but hell, you are too boring to consider spending a lifetime with, much less sleep with. (he might be there because he yearns for you too, and if you cannot love him, at least have the decency to treat him with just a speck of consideration)

by the freaking way, don't you happen to be well-off too? so why don't you be a complete a-hole and solve my problems while i sit and wait for the next neanderthal to swipe me off my feet then break my heart?!!! the guy maybe nice and maybe genuinely nice, please don't turn him into a hateful mofo. the one, the breaker, the one true and fiercest love, it happens once in a lifetime, after that you find someone and love again, but it will always be "ok i can live with this", and will always pale in comparison. so please.

i just want to scream. bite me.

traffic jams and traffic signs

2006-08-26T19:53:00.000-07:00

I give up. Filipinos are either color blind or apathetic. Or both. No maybe it is not just us, since the general expatriate community including those with those spiffy blue plates do it all the time. If you still need to ask what I am talking about, it is either you are not in the country or you have police escorts when you go out of the house.

Red means stop. Green means go. Pedestrians cross on either the overpass or the underpass. Pretty simple right? OH HELL NO! In the typical Filipino attitude of "I can get away with it if you aren't looking and I know people" , no one bothers anymore. Lemme give you an example:

It is a weekday afternoon. Everyone has been through the daily grind and each person believes he/she deserves to get home first, at the expense of everyone else. So if the person has a car, he drives it right in to the queue, never mind if the traffic lights are about to go red. Never mind if your car dangling on the middle of the intersection will be blocking the lane that just went green. Ok, so the guy on the other lane, feeling just as self righteous as the guy blocking the intersection, maneuvers deftly into the fray and gets jammed himself, what with all the pedestrians suddenly swarming like bees. Pedestrains who do not have an ounce of self preservation instinct in their overriding obsession to get home (they had a tough day after all and deserve to get home first). So with the opposite ends of the intersection populated by nimrod jeepney and bus drivers who think that the best place to let their passengers off would be the middle lane, the jam moves trickle by arduous trickle, made all the more agonizing by each person's blinding selfishness to meet their end. End of story? The 20 minute trip becomes 3 hours. Go figure.

Oh don't even get me started on what happens when it rains, and why all the streets get flooded when three dogs decide to piss together, why those squatters think it is the government's job to give them homes when all the rest of us need to break our backs to buy them.

from the memoirs 10/16/05

Patricia Evangelista and stress thresholds

2006-08-26T19:52:00.000-07:00

I am very near the end of my rope. Or was rather. See I was in a cycle of sleeplessness for around ten days already. It was (and still is) insane as hell at work, I had a ton of stuff half written which were lying there, left to rot. I can't get my baby yet (new car) and the wait is driving me crazy. Well...Let me take that back, I am crazy, everything else was driving me crazier. Good thing it still rains in the evening, or I might have seriously considered shooting myself.

So there I was, on my way back to my designated place as a member of the corporate land of the dead herd, and I spot the Inquirer (Ms. Evangelista pointed out that it was three days old). I was so tired by that time and looking for a shot of whatever to resuscitate my frayed nerves, so I decided what the heck, I'll scare myself shitless by reading the dailies. I browse through the paper, looking for something that would catch my attention. Bad news...crap....bad news...crap...more bad news....more crap.... Then all of a sudden...Oh manna from heaven! Tell you the truth, this was the first time in years that I had spent time on a newspaper page that didn't have pugad baboy on it. She made me smile. Considering my predicament, it was a mean feat. She writes about everyday stuff and brings it forth in a new light, it takes someone really crafty to do that, make the humdrum seem like freshly baked muffins. Oy vey, she is wacky as well. Nice. And very original!

I could not help myself and emailed her to say thank you. I honestly did not know she was bigtime until I heard her endorse something on the radio as I was driving to work today. Hmmmm....I really am getting old, if I have fallen behind the times that much. Then again, I was never the current events type of person. She mailed me back. Cool. No, wait. Way cool! In all its meanings according to the old skool dictionaries.

from the memoirs 10/14/05

well met

2006-08-26T19:50:00.000-07:00

now just as i was turning the corner, here comes another pleasant surprise.a bunch of people who make the bulbs in the mind (however few and worn out they are) light up and/or blink!

a bunch of people who make the bulbs in the mind (however few and worn out they are) light up and/or blink!

their works keep me entertained, fascinated and often times awed these past few weeks. solea or carmen is one hell of a freaky inventive photographer and has certainly put some of my smudgy lines into blurry oblivion (thank you very much there carmen). she keeps me thinking and incredulous, i mean how in the hell does she come up with those ideas anyway? the more pressing matter is, how does she actually bring those ideas to life? she is also at the firing end of the most engaging conversation i have had in recent memory.

julia is a definite hottie although she is quite young (15 yo, people!) , and amanda is one gorgeous blonde, never mind the fact that she is already taken. both are extremely talented with their cameras as well. they have the innate eye for interesting topics and when it comes to self portraits, well of course beautiful women and the camera are perfect partners.

lordy, this has been an enjoyable week.

from the memoirs 10/07/05

the pressure packed vein and messengers

2006-08-26T19:49:00.000-07:00

acting up. that's what's going on. and not a damned thing i can do about it. i still have my internet explorer, but the whole messenger combo and that includes trillian, is shot to everlasting pieces.

so i cant talk to buddies, cant reach out to people i love talking to, and i am basically isolated. add the fact that i know very few people and the ones that are worth talking to are quite a distance away, is putting the veins into a pressured condition.

simply put. it is pissing me off to high heavens.

from the memoirs 10/02/05

from the recent diaries

2006-08-26T19:47:00.000-07:00

the bass guitar is out of the case and the fender amp dusted. nothing much unpacked except for the percolator and a few clothes, plus the crappy mug which gleefully says " san fransisco was so expensive i could only afford half a mug! " it is only half a mug mind you. saw it in a gift shop and it seemed fun at the time, so i bought it. the aircon is in place as well plus a dozen rims of reds and oodles of starbucks coffee. and two bottles of jack daniel's.

my tabs have been unearthed too, since it seems ill be spending some time just doing a thump thump and a slap on the five strings. and the blasted journal of course. as i always say, never leave home without the venom recorder.

a childhood friend had his wedding earlier, and i chose not go, at the pain of incurring his eternal wrath. at my present state of mind, go to a wedding? i almost went just to heckle them, but my saner half prevailed.

so i spent the afternoon slumped on the floor re-aquainting myself with cliff burton's anesthesia among other things while the sky opened up around me. went out back late afternoon and sat in the rain when i got tired. it was exhilarating that the downpour was quite strong and coincided with the onset of dusk.

litton brushed my mind a few times during the course of the day, but to call her will mean giving her keys as well. and i dont want that. no further complications.

left my gun. too scary to lug it along when you have jack as a companion. i may just get too depressed and decide to bite the bullet. it seems plausible, and well there is baygon. oh but the beloved family won't get any from my insurance.

hmmm.... my life insurance - it is finding the nimrod tough enough to pull the trigger that may prove quite difficult. then again, perhaps a stroke of luck helps me out. maybe then it all ends. got cash and dont have mike. good riddance and thank you very much.

from the memoirs 09/27/05

conversations with a coffee mug

2006-08-26T19:44:00.000-07:00

feel like i am in limbo lately.

not particularly angsty, which is so unlike me.

just empty.

the void is a wide and deep expanse in my soulwhich suddenly appeared from nowhere like abiker blindsiding you as you negotiate a sharp bend.i am not even trying to fight it. i guess i really am mercurial.needing the fix to keep myself on an emotional highnow how to? with this boring life i lead?i still like those people who are capable and willingto put me in a meat grinder, but that is an entirely different matter altogether.

but i do not wish to listen to angry people anymore and borrow their hatred to further my own existence.yet i am too tired and jaded to have one of my own.am i jaded? i have lived one of the most timid lives on theplanet, both by choice and circumstance.jaded by living vicariously through others? now that is so pathetic, it is hilarious.

it might be because i have finally closed all the doors too.i have finally said everything that needed to be said to those who did matter to me. to those who made the world spin and painted the days with color.

so this is closure? i thought it would feel better than this.well perhaps being overly romantic and optimistic, i have overlooked the fact-

that it could feel like a coffin lid being shut tight.it feels like that now.the glaring absence of the renewed vigor i had expected.there is no afterglow.i am stumped and rudderless, and have no idea of how to proceed.so this is contentment? the state is alien, foreign.am i jaded, or numb, or has the work been left unfinished?is it? or have i yet again made another colossal blunder?

from the memoirs 09/22/85

bitte

2006-08-26T01:53:00.000-07:00

swamped. and happy.i barely have time to hear myself think nowadays, running mostly on instinct.i really had thought this would be a vacation, and as you know, krishna decides to play games, and the fickle fates cooperate.been so long since i had this much fun from being this preoccupied. i do have lots of stuff i would like to have uploaded, but they are all hobbling to completion, so no go as of yet.

from blogger 09/06/2005

monsoons and late afternoons

2006-08-26T01:52:00.000-07:00

manila late may. the afternoon reclutantly gives way to twilight, and the air is pregnant with moisture. people on the streets walk briskly in unison though each one to their own purpose. makes me stop and gaze at the sky before i get into my car. the air is heavy and sorrounds me, i feel at ease, comfortable in its embrace. i would be very happy to reside in burmecia.

the first droplets fall, splatter on the windshield. i let them accumulate. at last they cover my entire field of vision and i recline, the steady drumming of raindrops playing the music of hope, the song of renewal. it is not enough and i step out of my car - into the midst of the weeping sky. i let myself go inside it - standing immobile as a marble statue yet surely as alive as the leaves in the trees nearby. i keep my head bowed, i have been waiting for months; i will drink as much of the moment as i can.all too soon the skies grind to a halt. i find myself soaked to the bone and looking up to the sky as the last droplets fall on my face, realize that evening has draped her arms across my little area of the universe.a contented smile forming on my lips, i walk back into my house.

from livejournal 2005-05-31 13:13:00