Spring came, rain fell

You have no idea how excited I am to see Club 8 live in Manila this May 14. Given that I'm in the middle of nowhere, I haven't had the opportunity to see a lot of the bands I actually listen to whenever they happen to stop by this country. With Manila and Cebu being so far from here, you could see why. Upon hearing news in the rumor mill as to Club 8's Philippine excursion, I jumped at the chance as soon I could when the details started pouring in.

I reserved a ticket for myself. I don't really have plans of asking anyone out so yeah. This is really something I'd like to experience specifically because of what Club 8 means to me. I guess it's because of where I was around the time I really listened to them. In a sense, like I say about My Bloody Valentine's Loveless, Club 8 was there for me when everyone else couldn't be. They brought me through hard times so I suppose it's my way of giving back to them. Paying for the tickets, showing my support, buying their cds and other merch should they have any.

It's the least I can do and well, I'm excited. See you soon, Karolina Komstedt!

To have and to hold

Lived experience and its corresponding memories are in and among that list of seemingly intangible things which only translate into this plane of being by means of arbitrary association. Take for example, the peaks and valleys of human interaction and the intersubjective sense of self it entails. It may take voluminous amounts of text to either affirm or refute a claim as to how "real" or "authentic" a lived experience may be but a point of contention exists between the two with the following proposition: "This is meaningful, neither because of the alleged authenticity of the experience nor its accuracy as an imperfect portrayal. This is meaningful because it is what it means to me."

The question of the reality and validity of experience and memory is in this case rendered irrelevant as existence and memory both take root in the realm of perception and reflexivity. As the symbolic interactionist school of thought would posit, people operate based on the meanings they create for the things people say, the things people do and the things these people leave behind. The artifacts we leave in the wake of our conscious existence are built upon the meanings we draw from the lives we lead. Likewise, the course of the meanings we make for ourselves shape the way we live our lives.

This world we live in is built from the inside out.

With that statement, I would like to affirm my belief in the depth of substance there is to find in the non-human elements of life and the lived experience. Each of the things I touch hold a lifetime's worth of experience for me and whereas this whole paradigm leaves me geared towards the neuroticisms of hoarding, it goes far beyond the level of use-value an individual would typically associate with inanimate objects. At least for a second, I have the universe in my hands; to have and to hold.

Among others, I collect cds, records and people's handwriting. More than that, I collect a lifetime's worth of beautiful memories.

On the appropriation of public space

Elections are on May 10. For the record, this is a sideways rant so there goes your prior notice. I'm unregistered, neither do I express any interest in participating in the voting process. I'd like to believe I have every right to say no and will stand by my decision to do so. First off, I by no means consider myself Filipino by virtue of anything other than ethnicity and regional proximity. My interest in politics is geared towards the progression of society and the improvement of its quality as a whole. While I am young and idealistic, I intend to do what I can to work towards this goal. This is ironic however, considering how avoidant I generally am of people. Well, at the very least I don't place blind faith in the tyranny of a mismanaged representative "democracy". Yes, I am arrogant, young and whatever. Great, just great.

Enough of that, now. Let me cut to the chase. This will not be so much on my political leanings as it'll primarily touch on my issues with a certain practices associated with the elections, particularly my gripes with the crap that has to do with campaign period.

Of all the activities I engage in, walking around and just looking at things from afar are on the top of my list. Personally, I'd like to think that we as perceptive social beings draw a distinct sense of character from the streets and buildings we maneuver. We could see that our immediate environment lays down the blueprint for the social interactions we conduct in them on an affective and aesthetic level. I do not like what I see. Whoever wins this sideshow of an election, I just hope he/she/it starts the next term by getting rid of all of the campaign-related garbage our aspiring public servants slap all over the place. To say the least, all of this kitsch is particularly disheartening. It's reflective of just how much crap we take from the prevailing cultural hegemony. The saturation of media in the case of Philippine television for example pummels the individual into a state of uncritical consensus, leaving us with a flock of sheep led to slaughter by the shepherds of totality. Walking down my favorite streets, it isn't too far-fetched to think that on this side of the fence, it appears that the force-feeding of imposed culture on an environmental level exists as a thorn in the side of independent and rational thought.

Next time around, I propose that there be specific zones in the city for campaign propaganda. The noise of campaign jingles blasted from the roofs busted up multicabs drowns out the music of the bustling metropolis. The sound of a thousand distant conversations, of cars passing by and the dissonance of a herd of jaywalking pedestrians; all of this is lost in the transmission of ruling-class ideals. The ordered chaos of the city's natural color and (de)composition lies buried underneath paper and tarpaulin promises, unfamiliar faces to the transient sights our movements call home.

I'd like my public space to be inspiring and sincere. I could do with a lot less of this campaign-related bullshit. There's already enough advertising on the commercial market. We could all do without apotheizing the people who seek to sideways enslave us.

As we walk through these captive streets, we walk towards our freedom. You gave them names, we gave them a soul. Give us back our city streets. Give us back our histories.

Mossuraya

Haven't played shows in a while. Since Paeng is in Laguna for the time being, Paris and I started this little two-piece band to keep us busy named For A Second, Everyone In London Sleeps. We played our first show last night at the DC leg of Mossuraya's SEA tour. Played first since we were the first full band to get there, being only the two of us. Went through the set fast enough. I finally discovered how to get noise out of my new guitar and subsequently ended up grating my wrists over it.

Dha from Manila was there, nice finally meeting her formally after seeing her on our 2008 Manila tour. I wanted to talk to her at the time but I didn't know if that was her for real. Turns out, yeah that was her. A lot of my school friends showed up to support us too. Arisa and Jariya Heitz were there with their friends. The Harley's people were there too. So yeah, the gang's all there. Being a hardcore show, I already knew most of the people and it felt like home for once.

Mossuraya was fucking crazy. Best set I've seen in Davao as of late. I really enjoyed how weird those guys are. I hope to see more bands like this soon. Tights, odd use of instruments, stage antics et al. Hell, Ivan from Roundhead was stripped in the middle of the moshpit. Shit was insane.

Best show I've seen in a while. Looking forward to more shows like this in the near future.

Standing on the edge of summer

Home. This insignificant little speck on the information superhighway will always feel like home to me. It feels exactly like that every time I leave a little something for IDWTMYA in so much as it strikes me the same way whenever I return after days or weeks of travel or general absence. Going back to the same old people, places and things will never cease to leave me with a balanced feeling of fulfillment. To a certain degree, that aspect of my being is mirrored in my relationship with this journal.

Last semester was terrible to say the least and as far as grades go, I do believe I got what I deserved for the effort I put into that whole mess. I'm not happy, but I do believe I brought this upon myself. I didn't fail anything though, so I suppose I shouldn't be that distraught. It's just terrible knowing I could've done better but didn't. Regrets will be regrets, I have to live with them. Best measure? Think prescriptive. Since I've been throwing the term reflexivity around so much, might as well disrupt the status quo of my own conduct.

I've been in college for four years, going on five. Albeit a year later than my actual batchmates, I'm graduating. I have six subjects left before I do so and I guess it's high time I actually gave this school thing some actual thought. Well, thought that finds its way into actual practice hopefully.

I'm taking summer classes now, working on my deficiencies. They won't be there for long. Considering taking up a minor degree in Philosophy. I've always wanted to. Seeing as I have free units for the next semester, this is finally a viable option. Plans for graduate school have changed, however. I'm considering going to La Salle for my masters instead of UP. I'd probably take International Studies but yeah. We'll find out when we get there.

In other news, Caitlyn Bailey is on summer hiatus again as Paeng's up in Laguna doing his thing. In order to keep the momentum up and just to make sure that our drummer stays sharp, I started a new band with Paris just to practice screamo drumming and blast beats. We write pretty fast, old-school screamo. We're playing a show this Friday with Swiss art-punk brigade, Mossuraya and Malaysian grindcore group, Damokis. Our new band's name is For A Second, Everyone In London Sleeps. Shit should be cash. It's Paris on drums and me on guitar and vocals.

Still inching my way out of my second semester haze, things have been picking up as of late. Things are stable, which is a good thing. I sincerely hope I keep the momentum going.

Oh, and before I forget; Bianca is giving birth this May. I'm really looking forward to the baby and seeing B again. Okay, since we brought this up I'm also looking forward to spending actual time with some friends up in Manila while I'm at it. So school, friends, band life, future plans and all; yeah I'm optimistic.

I hope it's not too late to make it up to you.

Serendipity

Well, you don’t always get what you want but that does however leave the grounds open for something that might come as a pleasant surprise. I went to that super secret underground guitar shop to find that the Japanese Jaguar copy I spoke of a while back had been sold. Disappointed, I sideways expected it. I did however come across this gem.

Since I always had a thing for naming inanimate objects, I’d like to introduce Marcella. She appears to be a cross between a Les Paul, an SG and a Telecaster. Tone-wise, she sounds fairly warm on the neck pickup setting and has this jangly old-school guitar pop sound when set to the bridge pickup. The neck feels just right. It’s bolted on. The body is lighter than expected. Overall, I’m still disappointed by my apparent lack of a Jaguar but this is a pleasant surprise. Serendipity. Whatever the hell this guitar is.

A worthy successor to my MIJ Thunder Mustang, Ardennes who in a few weeks time will find herself a new home in the loving hands of my good friend, Francis Cabal.

Oh please, be mine

Just give me one day, one day to get to you. Please, please, please.

Of all things to do, I ended up making a mix

THE FLOWERS OF GLOOM
A mix of eleven songs to ease your aching heart

Tracklist:

1. Seely- Syballine Pt.1
2. Alison’s Halo- Chime
3. The Radio Dept.- I Wanted You To Feel The Same
4. Ides Of Space- This Side Of The Screen
5. Afraid Of Stairs- Let Me
6. Chapterhouse- Autosleeper
7. Love Spirals Downwards- Sideways Forest
8. Tears Run Rings- World Upside Down
9. Pia Fraus- Feeling Is New
10. Secret Shine- Toward The Sky
11. Amusement Parks On Fire- No Lite, No Sound

Total length: 44:30
Total size: 62.4mb

DOWNLOAD HERE

Ghosts

It's been far too long and my blogging loins are reeling from an apparent lack of anything significant happening over the course of the past few days. The thesis thing has been robbing me of sleep and crucial late night blogging time, but that's another thing entirely. Holy week and the fact that my car's been in the shop since last Sunday leaves me with nearly nothing to talk about other than sweeping sentiments towards life that I have yet to practically affirm and this little thing from last Monday.

Bea is back in Davao for the summer. We haven't seen each other since last year, so we decided to hang out one afternoon over coffee to make up for lost time and all. We ended up spending the greater part of the day in Blugre Landco. (supposed to be Coffeecat but they were full) Spent a lot of time talking about how strange people are, how things get lost in translation between cultures and how we're not getting any younger, basically. It felt good reconnecting with her but what came after totally caught me unaware.

I hailed a cab over at DMSF; it was a pretty well-used no-name cab and the cab driver was this regular old middle aged guy. I told him to drop me off at Green Heights. All of the sudden, the driver gives me this weird look. No, not "I want to rape you behind a tree" kind of weird. More like apprehensive weird but I digress. On the way there, he asks me something. "Hey...", he said. "Do you believe in ghosts? Spirits? Anything of that sort?" I answered, "well, that would depend on what you have to say."

"It's about Green Heights."
"What about Green Heights?"

He sighs and tells me about this weird guy who asked him the same question. He gave the same answer. The strange person offers him 4000 bucks to stay a night at his house. The cab driver accepts and spends the night, much to his horror. I won't go into details but long story short, he heard people violently knocking on the door (which was meters away from a ten foot gate), he saw people staring at him from the window, saw strange shadows on the ceiling, heard people talking all over the house in tongues. All sorts of weird shit. He also pointed at a few haunted houses on the way to my place and told me about the things he saw there whenever he came by.

I always had this running joke about Green Heights being a ghost town. Whether or not he's out to win an academy award or if he just needs psychological assistance (or on the off chance if this is all true), this sort of just plays into that.

Way to go, cab guy. You just confirmed my assumptions. Especially about all the abandoned houses I WANTED TO BREAK INTO.

Before I left the cab, the guy tugged on my shirt and said, "I really don't like it here." Yeah. Way to go, cab guy.