Direction and the Lack Thereof

"sometimes, the road you walk on fades and there's no way back...
... if the road fades, then we are free to choose where to go."

-- subject headings from a previous correspondence



My Japanese girl friend graciously invited me on an Oktoberfest Friday night with her officemates at Makati Republik, which I believe is the Calle 5 version of Makati City. I couldn't resist getting out of the house so I hurriedly got prepared for the event. After all, I had been texting all my good friends for last minute plans to meet up but to no avail.

I'm so bad with directions. Turns and swerves disorient me so easily, it's an affliction I have besides my having a scrupulous conscience. Case in point for the lack thereof of an internal compass was last Friday night.

I rode the train and was supposed to unboard in Buendia, but I fell asleep during the ride and woke up exactly there, (as in THERE!) yet was too disoriented to know where I was. The door closed and all I heard was laughing in my head for missing the stop. I went down Edsa instead and rode a jeepney back to Buendia. There, I couldn't remember which jeep to ride going straight through Makati Avenue, but I recalled my friend telling me to get one that says "Buendia." And so I rode one. Dumbass. The jeep was bringing me straight home! (Hold your horses mister!) Embarrassing though it was, I had to ask the driver to give me back my fare. No, I had to PLEAD for it. Already my night was turning out brilliantly. Har har har :-/

So I got back and tried to figure out again what to ride. There were jeeps labeled LRT-Leveriza, so I took one for another interesting adventure. Horror of horrors, the jeep took me straight to Roxas Blvd! It was really funny, except that it wasn't.

I unboarded somewhere beside this cheap videoke place and made a complete U-turn to cross the other street. I walked my way to where it was well-lighted. There were hookers and trannys in the dark alleys. And then, while waiting for another ride beside Mercury Drug, this black car parked in front of me. It was my high school classmate from way back. I knew he noticed me (and I knew the gods wanted me to look like a call boy) so I hid among the shadows like I did in '97. His dad owns this hooker place somewhere in the vicinity. I'm not kidding. It made me wonder who the woman he was with and what her business was going to a drug store at night. Clap? Herpes? Yeast infections? I had the burning sensation to approach him and ask, but I was running late already.

I asked the security guard what to ride, he answered, "Kahit ano dyan." Ride any of those. If there's one tip I can give ye metropolitan commuters, it's to NEVER ASK SECURITY GUARDS DIRECTIONS. They're as inept with those internal compasses as I am. They never know anything when you need something badly.

I finally had the smarts to ask a jeepney driver who told me the magic word -- GUADALUPE. Alas, a miracle from the Mother Mary of Mexico. I was relieved. ANd hence, I had learned through thorough experience, that prayer works for the poor, the lost, and the tragically beautiful.

There's nothing else to know about the night except that I had a swell time sitting on the shaky bamboo seats eating greasy cheese sticks and calamari while listening to this woman lazily sing popular senti songs from the late '90's. That and my unexpected phone call from a lonely friend all the way from Ontario. I almost felt guilty I was having so much fun.

But hey, we've all chosen our paths, some more carelessly than others I suppose, and it's all a matter of hanging on and following through.

Maggie, the hippie advice-giver

Maggie's Advice

"I think you have to take life for what it is, take as much as you can, and be happy with what you can get."

-- Maggie Rizer


Okay, so I'm guilty of choosing the easy way out. I'm paying dearly for it already. Can I blame myself for being so pampered all these years? Can I blame myself for being so accustomed to comfort? No and Yes. Comfort is both a gift and a curse. You get so much, it's a blessing. You get too much, it makes you dependent. And even if I had it easy, it's not like it was a walk in the park for me all these years. In a weird way, knowing I led my life with great facility, I unintentionally (and unconsciously, I must point out) made it harder for myself to feel happy with what I've come up with. Little achievements and conveniences don't mean a lot anymore. The paradigm shifts and I have to follow its direction.

I seriously thought of going to a fortune teller once, just to be reassured that a great future awaits me. The time I got to that quaint little seat he had beside the Department of Justice, he wasn't there. Thinking about it now, had I known exactly what I had to do with my life, half the fun of self-discovery shall have been taken away, the paths I were to take all mapped out on my palms. I would've absolutely regretted meeting up with him and have him lay out the destiny I would've wanted to hear about.

The thing is, I should stop pointing my finger at whoever or whatever to blame and just get on with the task at hand. It is so easy to declare, yet difficult to accomplish.

Who wants it easy anyway? Isn't the whole point of going through hardship, the fact that the end product leaves more to be savored? Seriously, if everyone had it easy, what would be the sense of fulfillment in doing anything?

A wisecrack would say, "it would be fulfilling if in the end, you indeed get what you worked hard for. If you don't get anything back, the entire process remains to be rebuked."

All the more reason to try and enjoy the hardwork, to enjoy the journey so to speak. You end up learning valuable life lessons somehow. Charge it to experience as my friends would sneer in delightful sarcasm. And maybe there's a hint of truth in the idea that trying to enjoy the hardship would be a prelude to masochism or the embryonic stages of acute persecution complex.

I feel it's all just perspective. Sure, the f*cking thing hurts like hell, but everything ends eventually. So might as well make the most out of the situation, try to get out of the comfort zone, be patient with everything and everyone, and have as much faith and hope that it'll all turn out fine.

If it doesn't, well, you'd figure you wouldn't have done it any other way.

This is a blue beach ...

Last Night

"Day of sea in the sky, made
From shadows and horses and plumes.

Day of sea in my room -- cube
Where my sleepwalker's movements slide
Between animal and flower, like medusas.

Day of sea in the sea, high day
Where my gestures are seagulls who lose themselves
Spiralling over the clouds, over the spume."

-- Day of Sea by Sophia de Mello Breyner

... was a beautiful night to behold had I been lying down on the cool sands of a breezy shore. The moon was almond and white, its freckles were apparent like the issues on my face. The clouds convened alongside its pellucid brightness, supporting its luminescent endeavors like real friends. My fingers shook, cleaving the burning stick in between my quandaries, the smoke deserting me and joining the faint skies. It was such dismay I found myself in a tiki restaurant, surrounded by fake trees and fake people. I had been sipping on the sour sweetness of orange juice, trying to relieve my tongue of its doleful indifference. Tracy Chapman warmed my seat while I tried singing along with her. Insightful words from a person familiar with the aches of urbanity. She kept singing even when no one else was around. She kept singing when nobody cared to listen.

I sat there alone but I had a feeling that I belonged.

I had a feeling I could be someone.

The Prime Meridian

"The eye draws on the white ceiling
a little line.
The ceiling takes up the eye's illusion
and turns black.
Then the line erases itself
and the eye closes.

Thus solitude is born."

-- Fifth Vertical Poetry by Roberto Juarroz



What are the limits to friendship? Apparently I've reached mine with my long time friend of 15 years. That's pretty much more than half of my life. Sometime last night from that nightmare, to eating breakfast this morning, to typing this entry at this moment, I've been sorting out what went wrong.

We've always talked about problems, issues, hopes & dreams, but we never once attempted at doing an objective character analysis. THat would be too painful to accept. We are aware of certain realities, but our friendship settled on it's being surrealy connected. Let's just say we both regard each other's pride as if it were soaring the heights of the metropolis. You never go there. There will always be a prime meridian dividing the globe from wherever you come from. We never dared cross the boundaries of closeness because we were never the touchy-feely type of people. When we fought, it would last for days or weeks, and when the issue eventually dies down, we would simply talk as if the whole thing never happened. That's just the way we've been and it's worked for 15 years.

We've had fights before, that's for sure, but none those ever resulted in really heated arguments. Most of those fights were characterized by silence. By avoidance. Even back in high school, I've always thought communication was a problem between us. Literally. Their phone line would be cut, he would lose his mobile phone, destroy it intentionally even. He would move to another province, have internet connection that charges a fortune, lose the phone line again. It had been difficult, but somehow we've manage to keep in touch.

Now, it's a different kind of communication problem. The result of something we both avoided for so long, I guess. We probably knew exactly what was going to happen. And it has. Not that I haven't noticed how much we've changed as individuals, but as a friend, I always tried to overlook that. He may be unpleasant sometimes, but when he's not so stressed out, we'd have the most brilliant conversations on assorted topics. 15 years of information in a mental database, all accessible on a whim. The hours spent burning the lines would probably equal years.

And so what happened to us? Was I just too stubborn for my own good? Did he hit a chord I'm not willing to tweak? Is the situation really, truly, irreconcilable? I just find it strange that after all this time, the connection would just disappear just like that. No nostalgia on my part, no remorse even. We're not even angry at each other. Truly strange.

If I knew what the enemy was exactly, I would've lunged my kitchen knife at it. Maybe I'd wake myself up again.

But what if I end up stabbing myself? What if we both end up dead?

Who's Next?

And there I woke up on the lower bunk of a 2-deck bed. It was 5:31 in the morning and I so badly needed a glass of water. The darkness kept reminding me of the night before, the night when I pretended to be asleep out of courtesy.

In my memory, I had killed two people out of self-defense as what I kept telling myself. It wasn't as horrific as I'd thought, stabbing two people to death. In fact I didn't see any blood, but I felt each pursuant lunge as if I were deftly puncturing an old couch's upholstery. Each time I felt more confident about taking on the third.

The third man had a murderer's cold exterior and I only had a kitchen knife to try and save the three women in my family with. My two sisters already ran out of the room to call the police. My mother was held hostage for a moment, her throat momentarily in anguish. I told him squarely, "Hintayin natin dumating yung mga may baril." In a sense of urgency, the man let her go. I was left there to deal with him and I took the first swing.

I felt myself swing my right arm, then I knew I was awake.

Wizard of Oz

Dorothy Gayle was a simpleton. The irony was that she had to go through great lengths to find out how to go home, when the answer to her longing had always been on her feet.

The Wizard of Oz was of no help, despite being the only mortal authority living in a city made of precious emeralds. He represented officials who only knew how to scare people but had no idea how to run anything.

The Good Witch of the North was of no help either. She could have told Dorothy from the very start in Munchkin land that all she needed to do was to click her heels three times and she'd be home. However, she was living in a bubble. She didn't really know what was going on.

Dorothy found her help from her three friends -- the scarecrow, the tinman, and the cowardly lion. They were kindred, characters who felt incomplete and wounded. Who were looking for hope. Their assistance didn't amount to much but that was enough solace Dorothy needed for the journey.

Though Dorothy Gayle was a simpleton, she was not a coward. She knew how to stand up for herself. She was not afraid to speak up her mind. Had she found out about the ruby slippers, she would've zipped off to Kansas in a splitsecond. Had she any smarts, she would've realized the power in her pumps, so much so, the Wicked Witch from the West was willing to kill her for them.

Of course, that was the tragedy of her adventure. She had been given so much and all she ever wanted was to stay home and feed the chickens.

15 Years

When you think about it, what IS the value of 15 years?

Apparently, whatever it is, it's not enough to keep a friendship.
My friend and I have gone through trials much more challenging,

much more grave than what we are facing now,

and at this point when I am at my most impartial yet,

he wants me to change or else he won't talk to me again.

Dear friend, we are not in high school anymore.

I know you mean well but you simply cannot impose something you want to happen by threatening me.

I always thought we had this unspoken rule never to meddle in decisions.

After 15 years, what made you change your mind?

If your misery wants company,

I unfortunately can't offer you that anymore.

You have chosen a time when I like wearing indifference like 15 years.

The Art of Communication

"And as I sat watching the intimate and highly personal video, stolen only hours earlier from one of my best friends, I realized that something important was missing from my life."

-- Mark Renton from Trainspotting


THe magazine launch was terrific! It wasn't as bad as I expected and there were lots of people who attended including Mr. Ricky Lee and the magazine's Editor-in-Chief Mr. Danton Remoto. The show took a while to start, but when it did, the sequences flowed rather smoothly. The props and costumes were pretty good too. Of course, Joeboy was a great host. A model scout even offered him a business card! We chuckled about the whole idea. I mean, who would ever trust a model scout who puts his picture on his business card?? And in THAT place fer cryin' out loud! Hahahaha

THe magazine overpromised. It lacked the kind of sensibility I was hoping for in a reading material like that. My friends and I resigned ourselves to the fact that these people knew what they're doing and that we were not exactly part of the target market. Still, I feel the show should more than make up for sales in terms of marketing. {Fantasy}

We took a cab to Luke's (like always) and upon entry into their street, we were stopped by traffic enforcers and barangay officials for a routine inspection. There was a sign that said No Sticker, No Entry. We went down the cab, seeing as how we won't be entering anytime soon. It was absolutely ridiculous. I mean, why punish the residents who don't bring in cars? Wouldn't it be a compromise of security to have residents go down the cab and walk their way home??? Totally absurd. The worst part was when Joeboy and the drunk official got into a heated argument over the situation. THey were almost physical with each other, with Mr. Dante Javier (if that is indeed his real name) making personal comments. Good thing these 2 other officials came in to alleviate the higgledy-piggledy. I fell silent all throughout. We walked home tired, pissed, and grimy. {Reality}

At 12:30, the night was still young. The conversations got my mind off what happened (and I started to talk like myself again.) The topics intertwined and there was no discernible layout like in a magazine. The stories ranged from hysterical to ponderous, the three of us just flipping from one subject to the next. By the end of the long night and through the heat of the morning, a lot more had been revealed to me about the Art of Communication.

Wallow

"I'm at a place called Vertigo
Lights go down and all I know
Is that you give me something I can feel
You're teaching me ...
Your love is teaching me ...
How to kneel"

-- Vertigo by U2


I already did my research on an article for the upcoming album by U2 entitled How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. It would have been easier if the album were available in the market or any other song besides Vertigo is downloadable (shame! shame!) on the internet. Unfortunately, the launch date is in November for which the article is supposed to come out. Hence, I'd have to embellish on certain details about the track list before anyone else's got the chance to listen to the other tracks. Sounds fun right? :P

I got this last minute invite from Joeboy to join him in a rehearsal this afternoon. He's hosting this event tomorrow night and he needed a babysitter. Although I wanted to do the article this afternoon (the geek in denial that I am), I figured a walk in the park would do me more good. Besides, I have this self-professed love for procrastination, the challenge of doing something tomorrow what you can do today. I think a little bit of pressure play gets the creative juices flow much faster.

In this slightly obscure place (where we were honestly embarrassed to be caught going in and out of), we met with the people behind the magazine launch. Being the fearless yet conservative person that I am, I'd prefer to keep the juicy details to myself as they would be hard for the uninitiated to swallow had I chosen to divulge the intricacies of the rehearsal in this entry for ye all to read.

Let's just say it was all very revealing. ;)

Bikini Area

"Kiss the summer goodbye
And don’t cry
You know you will see her again
Kiss your lover goodbye
And don’t cry
You know you did good things to her."

-- Treasure by D'Sound


I've been sleeping early the past couple of days. The shopping really got me tired I guess. This morning, I took some materials for my next article to write due this week and I'm pretty excited already. Thank God for giving me something to do. From yesterday's pathetic despair, I'm back on my feet again. It's a great feeling knowing I can depend on the people I've come to love to cheer me up every now and then. Thank God for affordable sms technology. If we were still in the POCKETBELL era, I'd have a different story to tell.

I had my haircut today, the usual. The barber surprised me by suddenly shaving off my goatee and pubescent chinito mustache. That's never happened to me before. It's not as if I wasn't gonna shave by the time I got home. OC jerk.

I told him to stay away from my bikini area ...

... then paid him for making my day extraordinary. Ü

Purchasing Power

"But when you feel so powerless
what are you gonna do?
But say what you want
Say what you want"

-- Powerless by Nelly Furtado


And with one afternoon, I lost all control over penny-pinching I had promised myself till I get a regular job. Roaming thru the shops on a 3-day sale is an unecessary evil eagerly celebrated by the working class. In need of new pants that fit well, I told myself I'd only buy a pair of jeans and a pair of black pants. To my vainglorious horror, I left the building with 5 pairs, all neatly tucked inside the Paris Hilton cardboard bag. And the lowest of lows, I found myself buying a rare Deee-Lite cd called "Dewdrops In The Garden," with the song "Somebody" that I desperately tried to download a month ago but to no avail. It was imported and in good condition for regular price! I didn't feel so bad buying it, but totaling all the expenses had left me cursing the bejesus that is underemployment.

Next challenge to my purchasing power: a new G-Protection cd player with AM/FM radio tuner or mp3 capability. The 5-year old Sony ESP2 discman I have is nearing its death. I'd love to get an iPod mini, except that I don't want to use up my dollar reserves over something that can be snitched if and when I ride public transport. I'd also love a new pair of shiny, black square-toe leather shoes with thick soles. I can't believe I've gone this far without any dressy black shoes!

*Sigh*

Just thinking about all the things I'd love to have gave me a headache while waiting for my sister who was trying on long gowns for a business function this week. Impatience gets to me when I'm bored, yet I'm resolutely assuaging myself of the feeling of powerlessness. I dream big because I know I have the capacity to achieve. Sometimes it is the greatest challenge to start from scratch.


My horoscope for today seems to agree:

Some people see things as they are. You're busy dreaming things that never were but possibly (or impossibly) could be. Keep that imagination fueled. Allow input from everyone, even people you don't agree with.

Still Awake

"I think I should go now
I must leave before my red eyes match the sunrise
No more coffee will put off today ...

It seems that time returns to me once more
But I have less now than before"

-- Whisper by Slovo



My body clock's thrown off again.

1400h - I woke up and thought to visit Malik's shop. We're out of sync lately, so at
1630h - I decided to salvage what's left of my TGIFriday night by joining Joeboy and Luke at Ebun.
2300h - Service was bad. The food was minuscule. Don't go there if you're hungry, the waiters'll give you that snotty look when you follow-up on orders.
0200h - After a little conversation with Joeboy's friends in Global Cafe, we proceeded to Luke's house and kept him company as he packed his clothes for a business trip for the weekend.
0300h - Joeboy and I didn't sleep and just talked and talked about everything under the glow-in-the-dark sticker stars.
0500h - We left the house. On the bus, this man I was supposed to sit with turned out to be timing in on a victim. He was taking out a knife from his pocket so we unboarded in an instant.
0501h - I confirmed to Joeboy my so-called "invincibility" theory.
0530h - We rode the cab to the terminal and had a bite to eat. It was a nice Saturday morning, the skies a bit misty with smog and all these people getting ready to board international flights.
0600h - We each gave Luke a hug before he left. True friendship is wonderful for the soul.
0605h - Joeboy and I rode the bus home. Still talking. Philosophies, realizations, relationships, video games, college, 24hr-parties, etc. He's 20 yet he thinks beyond his age.
0800h - Up until the last stop, we were unaware of the time.
1138h - I'm still awake. Must be the coffee ... or the simple exhilaration of just hanging out with interesting people.



"Freedom isn’t a curse
So don’t moan
Your future is calling for you
Hear the wind sings our song
And don’t moan

Good things are never a waste."

-- Treasure by D' Sound

Whisper

"Do you know
Your words could drag the moon down from the sky
Seduce my frozen heart with your war cry
You really made me listen for my voice
And I heard millions"

-- Whisper by Slovo


Just when I thought I had found something in the rough, I felt a bit mocked at again. Maybe I've become too choosy for my own good. Maybe it's true what my friend told me before that I dream too big. But I always thought (and that guy from the radio show mentioned as well), that "if you aim for the roof, you'll fall on the floor, but if you aim for the sky, you'll fall on the roof. So -- aim high!!"

But my god ... to fall from the sky unto a roof, that could really break your back. Maybe I'll do that ... when I have insurance or an airforce parachute.


"I thought that freedom
Can only be defined as endless choice
And I only listened to the logic of the loudest voice

But this world
Will be shaken by a whisper"


So now, I'm back to square 1, but in a different way. I have to deal with it in this universe and not somebody else's. I need to be shaken by a whisper...

Parallel Universe

"My best friend told me to believe and to never give up on hope. It's the only power we have left, he said, and don't let them take it away from us."

-- taken from another blog (without permission Ü)


"when i woke up this morning, i didn't know how to wake up. i mean, it was like i was in some parallel universe -- everything looked the same and everything was just the way it should have been but somehow, it just wasn't. the thing is that when i finally realized what was amiss with myself, i felt really sad. i thought that if maybe, i had come to terms with what i wasn't seeing, then maybe i would be happier and more content"

-- another excerpt from another friend (with consent Ü)


THe truth is I don't know where to start writing. I find myself losing fluency again, yet typing at the speed of thought. THe truth is, this is exactly what I feared. This is exactly what I knew was gonna happen to me. And I risked it anyway because I didn't want to be afraid. I risked it anyway because I made myself believe I'd be better off knowing something than not knowing it at all. And thinking about it, maybe I lost ... for now, but I had gained a lot during the days that I was being beaten up by existence. I was given the drive to change and I've been skillful at handling it. Thinking about it again, I feel I got the better deal from what I prayed for, and that keeps me hopeful that in the coming days, maybe another window would open and I'd be able to use what I had learned for new challenges. It is all very hopeful, but for now, I lost and I consider myself grieving well.


"... let someone hold you once in a while -- you're not going to break."


I haven't yet and I feel I already have.

Diet

"Romy: I've been killing myself for 8 days and I GAINED a pound!
Michelle: That's ridiculous! Did you remember to deduct 14 pounds from your shoes?"

-- Romy&Michelle's High School Reunion


I would've wanted to write about the Japanese Diet and shinto-inspired monarchy, but I'm afraid I don't know anything about it, except for maybe the disappointment that is Princess Masako Owada. I, however, believe eating Japanese food for life would reap the same effects of longevity like the antiquity of Nihonggo dynasties. I dig Jap food so much I'd kick myself from here to Hokkaido to taste a sampling of freshly-prepared sea urchin sashimi. Yum. For now, penniless yet determined, I'm settling for a diet my aunt calls portion control, which simply means eating what you like but only in conservative amounts. She would tell me, "it's all a matter of moderation." I agree and I feel we should go further, that in order to curb the inflating figures of obesity here and around the world, the government must come up with a campaign that encourages people, not just to "Drink Moderately," but also to EAT MODERATELY. Maybe McDonald's and other fastfood chains could come up with "Undersize Me" deals. "Undersize your meal and we'll give you a mini-serving of coleslaw without the mayo for free!"

It's the only sane way to go.

Of course, exercise helps. When I came home from an overnight stay at my friend's this morning, I walked my way home in 20 minutes without breaking a sweat. After 5-6 weeks of walking an hour a day, I found the whole procedure to be painless, like circumcision.

Reckless

"What I feel is come and gone before
No need to talk it out
We know what it's all about
Hanging around, nothing to do but frown"

-- Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters


It's 2:19 in the morning and I just got home from Sunday School. Needless to say, my list of NO people keep piling up.

Yesterday I met up with my former officemates for a birthday celebration. I only knew 3 of the 10 people that were there, but I found myself pretty relaxed about it. We dropped my friend off somewhere beside the riverbanks of Marikina, wondering how the hell we'd get back to civilization from where we were. We spent the rest of the dawn in their office building. They were using the internet while I went roaming around the floors looking for ghosts. There weren't any aside from the creepy toilet for men, which was situated at the farthest corner on the floor and the cleaning lady whose hair was in wreckless abandon. It was, after all, 4 in the morning at that time.

Interestingly, I find I always take the time out to survey new surroundings. New houses, new offices, new schools. I especially like it when there are no people around. I try feeling out little bits and pieces of human activity, similar to an anthropologist who'd examine prehistoric tools and ruins in hopes of theorizing a primitive way of life.

The forest green couches looked really comfy, so I lay down on one and lifted the Venetians for a better view outside. From the 19th floor at 4:30am, everything looked so peaceful. There were no cars in the streets, the yellow lights were at full luminosity, and the office was very quiet. It was as if Saturday night partying had not come to pass. I almost fell asleep waiting for the morning to arrive.

My new friend and I went downstairs to join the other neo-factory workers where it was legal to belch. From all of her stories, I kinda felt a bit of pity for her and her co-workers because I remembered how I was before when I used to have that job, continually talking about work as if the people listening could relate entirely to what was being talked about. It was all complaints, sour relationships, delinquency and exploitation, and threats of resignation. I felt the story never really changes and is the same for most employees of these neo-factories utilizing quality Asian labor.

Then again, I also felt that it's a matter of perspective. At 8am on a Sunday, I sermoned them and told them they're lucky some companies are simply more lenient with the reckless. I should hear myself speak sometimes ...

Constant

"Love's aftermath stage
'one of the lonely'
You're only a number
left counting the days."

-- Turning Circles by Sally Dworsky (The Cutting Edge OST)


Ennui: I think I found my Pi.
Ergo: But it's already been found.
Ennui: Yes, but I've found mine.
Ergo: How is it like?
Ennui: My life now revolves around it at 3.14 times the distance.
Ergo: Will you be going somewhere?
Ennui: Yes. I will be discovering everything that follows 14 past the decimal.
Ergo: But your journey will never end.
Ennui: And so shall my new love for numbers be as constant.

Prescriptive Pile 3 & 4

"Just what you said was cold adviceI discovered sticks go with knives"

-- This Life by Mandalay


There is no fear, only risk. With risk you can gain; with fear, you lose everything.

After pain and discomfort is reality.

Pain is denial. Unacceptance. Deal with it or give up on it.

Chemistry

"There's a wasteland in his soul
The burned out trees will leave you cold
Living out beside the hill"

-- She Cries Your Name by Beth Orton


I will admit it can get pretty lonely on the road and somehow I have not forseen consuming the last of my Prothiaden uppers. Omega-3 is hardly a substitute. The truth is, they should put "significant other" on labels as part of a satisfactory RDA besides oatmeal and exercise. Remember how this miserable miser got rich eating cold oatmeal? She died alone and her millions were squandered away by her irresponsible children.

I can't believe how far I've gone to move on and I'm proud of myself for all these efforts. Yet despite the endorphin rush, I still seem to have some sort of chemical imbalance running through my arteries. Symptoms: warm bloodedness and vasoconstriction. Difficulty of breath, hollowness of cardiac muscles and periodic tachycardia. Possible neurologic dysfunctions and nervous compulsions.


"But chemistry occurs constantly in nature. It can be replicated." --texted to me from the northern way


It gives me hope that the more I pursue the path higher up, science and technology will have given me new OTC meds to get by, replicates of Prothiaden without the harmful side effects.

Breeding

"Survival of the fittest man and we've got the fucking gun !!!"

-- We Got the Gun by Clint Mansell (from the soundtrack of Pi the Movie)


I've always thought I was bred well by my parents. Although our family's bourgeois-fare (the better form I surmise), I couldn't say that we weren't blessed in many ways. I had studied (and continue to study) in excellent schools and lived in comfort for most of my life. I had nice gifts from my relatives that more than made up for not shopping on my own. And I've already mentioned previously the kind of convenience that causes entrapment into an existential vacuum (as my friend Jolens would put it.)

But, is breeding really important? Or is it important only when you hang out, or more appropriately, mingle, with certain people of a perceived higher cultural level? Isn't this descrimination all brought about by social practices that turn into prescriptive rules, norms and mores that adapt as time goes by and ideals that change with every new popular philosophical concept that comes out in the tragically impressionable pop culture market? Who defines these rules anyway? The rich? The pedantic? The so-called civilized members of society? Madonna? I am not one to fight with these enculturated doctrines because I admittedly (and humbly I hope) am part of this so-called stratum of civility.

Moving on, I was walking through a part of the metropolis that had a faux forest-botanical garden park near the river. The area beside the street was the dwelling of the homeless. The erected foundations of the railway served as the roof over their heads, there beside the oxygen-rich albeit unleaded smoke and PM10 polluted confines of the forest park railings. They were cooking their meals and disposing off excrement, sleeping the day through or counting Jollibee styros, looking well-adjusted in what's come to be their home. I was appalled when I saw them cuddling their babies and letting little children run loose barefoot on the soggy mud puddles. I was appalled because with such an open space, I could not believe they manage to copulate and produce offspring without probably the slightest thought of the consequences of their actions. Interesting tidbit I learned from a friend, people can't go down on each other in a car parked in a public place. They can be arrested for indecency. Suprisingly, HERE in the park are people living WITHIN the public place being totally irresponsible with their gametes.

If you've read previous entries, you'd know how I detest people who breed like rabbits. Is this because their living conditions are blatantly subhuman that somehow the police have come to treat them indifferently, the act of apathy reducing these people into their essentially bestial nature? More importantly, are these people who live in the jungle still able to distinguish what is emotional from something merely ... estral? Instead of an apple being the fruit from the tree of knowledge, have they, like hares having some invisible transparent dangling carrot of their own, found the essence of existence like Adam and Eve within the secluded, law-protected, modern-day Garden of Eden?

Anyway, I promised myself not to be so angsty anymore. Herein lies the new dilemma I've been facing for the past few weeks: Now that I've come to be more optimistic and avoidant of negative thoughts, I feel I have been pretty dry with this blog. I miss my usual sarcastic self, the ability I have to translate the mundane into something more umbilical ... the entertaining doses of self-deprecation I used to chide myself with.

No, I can't do those anymore. I'm trying to be more grown-up, at the same time, trying not to be too uptight about it. I'll still be practising good behavior. After all, I have breeding while others keep breeding ... like Ramon Revilla or the Sultan of Brunei.

)|( Ray of Light )|(

"She's got herself a little piece of heaven
Waiting for the time when
Earth shall be as one ...

And I feel
Like I just got home ..."

-- written by Madonna, William Orbit, Clive Maldoon, Dave Cutisse, & Christine Leach


Yesterday was the best way I finished off a good week in years. I went to this book launch in Greenbelt along with my funtastic friends Luke and Joeboy and got to meet some interesting people from Ateneo, my new campus for the next 3-4 years of graduate studies.

We went over to Luke's place to freshen up before going dancing at dawn. It would be my first time to go clubbing again after how many years.

The place was packed, sweaty boddies piled up on the dancefloor, everyone swaying to the disco beat there in the dark, dark harem. Everyone was dressed to be seen, some undressed, most were unseen. My friends and I didn't last too long on the first round. It was too cramped so we decided to go mingling with other people they knew. A bottle of beer later, we headed back inside, now at full force and quasi-inebriated with 5% alcohol grade swimming in my blood. The pool was still crowded, but we treaded our way into middle earth and started to dance.

Ray of Light.

Inside the poorly-lit holocaust chamber, among maybe scores of a forbidden race of men, I was dancing like a possessed teenager on ecstasy, my eyes were closed almost all throughout, relishing every minute we stayed there. I never danced like that before and I felt so alive. It was a total ablution of inhibitions. My new shirt was soaked in perspiration front and back. Indeed I got what I wanted -- to go clubbing again.

We left the place around 5am, tired but pleased. We went back to Luke's place despite me telling them I can go home already. Now I just figured that they wanted me to stay with them because I was desirable company. How sweet ;) We talked about anything and everything until they both fell asleep. I wasn't really able to sleep well. New place, maybe. Thoughts just came rushing into my head, quicker than a ray of light. The experiences, the how-to's, the new people, the plethora of possibilities ...

And there in my thinking, I realized the gods have answered my prayers. It may not have been in the form that I envisioned myself receiving, yet thinking about it now, I actually got a better deal.