it's the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine!)

no, it's not like any other love 

this one is different - because it's us...
                           The Smiths "hand in glove"

FIDELITY

Sometimes I need to shut up.

My mind has been regressing overdrive, convincing me that happiness is a lie in this space.

Or point of time.

And I know it isn't. I do feel different.

My friends can attest to the sudden “pinkish hue” (as George Costanza puts it) in my existence.

Pink. I like that.

But then these fuzzy spells, they have side-effects.

That’s the problem of someone who has been scarred countless times. You never recognized sincerity anymore.

But maybe I do. At least I am convinced that I do.

So every lapse of judgment in your lover’s part puts you in the middle of crossfire between trust and fear.

Whenever I watch the Bright Eyes’ video for First Day of my Life, I always wonder if the director or the artist would even consider me part of the cast if I audition for a part.

The warmth, the look the group of couple was projecting -- - It was real.

And it looked real. Or at least it looked like it.

And I wonder if I will ever be capable of throwing that look, instead of projectiles.

I think too much.

That’s what they say. That’s what SHE said.

Maybe I wasn't designed to handle the battles of a typical relationship.

That explains why I can relate to Jerry Maguire a lot.

great at friendship, bad at intimacy

poor emotional quotient. poor me.

That puts my lover in a horrendous spot.

Hope she can see the bright side of everything --- whatever that is.

I am talking too much again. I do that when I'm nervous. And when I'm nervous, I know something big is unfolding. 

I doubt if it's the end of the world because the Mayans are just a bunch of tribal henchmen trying to make sense of our existence. They are as dumb and lost as we are.

maybe it's her pulling out the latter day- Rob Gordon in me at the end of the day.

repost: PARA KAY MAUI TAYLOR

  August 11, 2004

nagsalubong ang ating mata

sa ikatlong pahina

at tuluyan nang lumiwanag

ang umaga sa silid-aklatan

sino nga ba naman ‘di masisilaw

sa pangkinse anyos mong mukha

(na tila milagro)

na mapag-isa sa katawang mas mainit pa

sa paborito kong marka sotes sa kanto?

sinalat ng daliri

ang magaspang na pahayagan

ngunit walang nadama

kundi pagka-uhaw nitong tigang na sikmura

sa iyong laman

naisin man,

isa lang ako sa libo-libong

inuulam sa tanghali

ang mapanukso mong ngiti





*marka sotes - Bicolano version of sweet bread

repost: THE TRUTH ABOUT A CELIBATE MOAN

June 8, 2009

this ridiculous longing

like ripples on calm water

is an outburst per se

naturally shaping

its familiar form, sowing

the attention it deserves

attention I never wish

to salute, for calmness is

an art I mastered for years

and this will be a miseducation

a red mark I do not need

but here it is

ripples

rippling

ripped

less

…..

repost: PROMDI IN THE CITY II (alcohol-free musings from the metropolitan wasteland)

July 29th, 2008

• I love walking. Those who knows me know that I got this ‘worried man pacing back and forth” mannerism. But walking from Ortigas MRT station to our building is a degrading stroll to hell. Can anyone spell tedium more clearly than this? Yes, I like the thought that this exercise may be just be the final solution to burn my flabby abs off. I like the idea that it can give me enough time to reflect about the state of calamity my life is in. But man, this isn't your typical walk to the park. I really need to walk for almost 500 meters. Every noontime, and every night to and from work. So I’m thinking of buying a rad bike. It may sound comical to see a BMX with all its glory straddling a polo wearing Arab in the busy streets of Ortigas but hey, it’s worth the humiliation. Unless our bosses send me some four wheels, I’ll keep this future scenario in mind good as done.

• I find all kind of science boring except for some occasional dash of biology and a visual take on woman’s anatomy but it amazes me how electricity can be inflicted on all the corners of our building to shake our balls off without us even being aware. There is electricity everywhere in our god damn building! Literally!  I look like a neat freak using a hanky to grip the comfort room’s door knob. For what it’s worth, it’s a smart way to trip things off back to monotony.

• The thing with popularity is that it’s like a drug. You can get used to the euphoria so even if you crave anonymity, once you’re there, you’ll get the withdrawal feeling of super isolation like nobody cares anymore. You can’t blame me for being accustomed to it since I’m like a pet dog displayed in a pet shop’s front window way back childhood. I used to be a Caucasian-looking cuddly baby treated like a Sto.Niño by every preggy woman in our town-looking city (I swear this is literally true. According to my aunt, neighbors and unknown women would come to our house just to get a glimpse of me and if they are lucky to caught me down in our front yard, they would plead for a chance to cradle me on their flabby arms, believing that such action will let their tummy-monster inherit my features. Ah, so much for Filipino culture.). Then in high school, everyone knows me as that sweaty, lanky clown doing an impromptu Jim Carrey impersonation in every corner of the room to the delight of my fellow sweaty nincompoops (and to the disgust of the ladies). Eventually, I graduated to be a working-class school counselor who strut his inner Morrisson on the local rock bars at night. Now that I am in manila, I feel like I’m trapped in rehab. A lone ranger.

•  Someday I’m gonna make my mark here in this scary big city. Ika nga namin ni Daniel “ someday, girls will be screaming our names beyond the four corners of the bedroom wall”. Obviously this was all drunken talks but I’ll settle with this for now and maybe laugh along with you. for now, for now…

• I raise my eyebrows on people who gave up their rock n roll dream citing they need to face reality. REALITY?!?   Practicality, well that I can digest but since when did you start counting money as a reason for playing songs that you love, or songs you yourself wrote?  If the gift of music is not reality then fuck the matrix, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

• Poverty can certainly breed boredom. So let me just say thank God for porn.

repost: PROMDI IN THE CITY

***I have collected old blog entries from my old multiply account and carefully filtered the material in terms of relevance to post here. Nostalgia has a way of making you smile and sober up. read on and enjoy!


June 26th, 2008


I was dressed for success but success it never comes…
                                                                        Here (Pavement)

•        The unemployment ratio of our beloved country is curiously low with all the job sites and classified ads earning a loadful because of romping job vacancies. And doing the rounds in Makati alone, you got to forgive me when I say where are the  $#@&* are the applicants?!? It’s like being in a burger contest and discovering you’re part of a few contestants to gobble all the greasy patties on a thousand plates. Wait, I don’t even see the connection. Bad simile.      Anyway you know what I mean. With the entire call center mushrooming all over the metro, it is insanely impossible not to be hired. I mean someone needs to fill up their seats, right? or they will literally shut down. So it goes back to the “siesta love” theory. We are simply not grooming ourselves enough or working our asses off to find our spot. You can’t be too picky when we’re talking about our digestive systems and the countless MP3s waiting to be downloaded and indie bands romping some noise on bars with expensive beers. Ya hear me? MP3s! Cmoooon we are the future! We are the world! Sing with me!

•      I am officially a bum. It has been a month and 3 days since I quit my steady job. And mind you, I’m not proud of it. It’s just that I suddenly have this sudden light bulb enlightenment of how it feels like to be a guy who’s just waiting for his brother to lend him a hundred bucks to sustain his daily nourishment. You can get tired of those instant gratifications wrapped on colorful plastics or canned in errr well, cans. That’s why I found a special inkling with Pavement. They seem to be teasing my intellectual competency of just free-versing and  free-flowing whatever is in my mind, and not giving a damn. But then again, my brother could just spit me in the eye and go Pavement over me. That wouldn't sound cool and artsy now, won’t it?

•   Call it PROMDI complex but there’s a singular, unexplained joy in riding the MRT. A traffic-less, childlike joy. And it somehow reminds me hazily of living in a gloomy weathered British town (oh me and my brit pop fixation). It’s a bit disheartening though that on my 2 weeks stay and countless MRT rides, I have not gain a chance to feel the cold steel cushion of their passenger seat. There’s this new sexist regime too: Gender segregation for passengers. That’s worst than separate swimming classes for Co-Ed schools. So the gels are neatly compiled on the first cars while the working class sweaty gents are scampering at the last cars for some space, (and I’m talking inches!). We look like testicles hanging on metal bars and you just don’t want any friction to go with that. And how about the third sex? Where do they belong? Is reality a physical form of evidence or one’s classification of self identity?  I just want an equal world where everyone is entitled for a butt-touch of that seat. I'll pay that 11 peso ticket for just one chance to sit comfortably as I smirk on the sight of the commuters rushing home, cramming for a place in this fishbowl.

•    Resigning from a regular job for six years is not an easy feat. You need to shed off attachments as brusquely as possible like dandruffs on your shoulder. In some ways you need to be icy and a little distant to avoid unnecessary tear-jerking moments. And there’s this contemplation that just won’t end even until the first few weeks of your new job: “have I done the right thing by giving up a respectable routinary work with a five figure salary for a supposed-to-be better life in the metro?” “Am I threading the right path of the “professional growth” avenue?” 

                        what does professional growth even means?

No, there’s no proper climax to end this bulleted introspection. So pardon me when this battle yelp is all I have for now: Careeeearrr! Koreaaah Koreeaaa!

Your Imaginary Friends' Single and Music Video Launch Party!

After 2 years, my band is going all out to release our new masterpiece : a new single and music video in one night!

Your Silence is the Villain was written 2 years ago, before the release of the 1st EP but it was given new life through the production of the Sonic State Audio people. It was ripe for the picking, as the cliche goes.

The video was directed by Eric Po. Expect something fresh and quirky but with a dash of introspective tone not usually found in our videos (then again, there's not much point of comparison 'coz there's only one video in the vault).

I hope you guys can appreciate the discipline and effort that my group puts willingly in our art. 

Be our Friday night. Go to Autonomy Bar this December 7 and celebrate with us!

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

I was never a safe bet. 

Consider this : I have two kids. I have been married. I am a stubborn, liberal arse
who doesn't bow down to any unrealistic idealism. I am a poverty-stricken brat. and I am half-Palestinian. 
A concoction of danger, eh?

So I find it ego-boosting that girls find me as the perfect key to their adventure time.
I mean who doesn't want that. Without being too overly-moralistic, that can be the best testosterone job
in the whole wide world.
But like any cycle, that too can get repetitive, boring, redundant and pointless. 
The romantic in me would resurface and gasp for air.

I treasure that ability to breathe despite of the choking parade of smoke.

I never claimed to be a saint. 
In fact, I constantly laid all my cards down the table at the start of every relationship.
I am a sweet talker but I don't fake. 
What you see is what you get -- that rings true to me.

I find it disappointing when expectations don't match, 
or there have been expectations and they started piling up 
because you did this or that when this or that is just an action to fit the occasion.
May it be an act of real concern or giving in to urges.
I try to ignore it because you can't just ruin it for them.
I guess that's my fault too. 
Then again, friends do that naturally (at least for the "care" part).

I do feel sad for friendships that deteriorate because it was based on those expectations.

Especially when they point out that they have been "always there". 
That's what friends are for, isn't it?
What a waste.

It becomes apparent that I was the one being real for all those times 
while these so-called friends were hanging on to those expectations that were never considered or even promised to them.

I am a stubborn, liberal arse
but my arms are still wide open for real friendships.
You know, those kinds that stay with you for the long run
 in happiness or in gloom.
Without those shady expectations too.