I don't want to miss you anymore

What you want

2011-12-25T05:21:00.002+08:00

Upon asking about your personal relations with people, you made mention of how you held people close but never had any best friends. You slept over that night, much like many other nights before. Half-asleep, you pulled me closer to whisper in my ear, "Truth is, you're the closest thing I have to a best friend. I love you to bits and you mean the world to me. You mean everything to me." I lay there still. Since you came along, I slept with the comfort of your touch. To feel you in a little less than a week, a little less than a day, a little less than an hour and upon waking. That means the world to me. With all the faces that flash by me in transit, someone decided to stay. She sees me every week, every other day. She sleeps in my bed, has space in my closet and walks around the house with her own pair of slippers. This person is a part of me. She's a part of me. The fleeting afterthought of a "she" runs a far second to the thought of you, a farther third to the thought of you and I. This is us, not the mere thought but the truth of.

Even so, I find myself at a loss for words with the sound of my name on your lips. How am I supposed to respond? I can't say your name when you're around. The way I feel for you stretches further than a name ever could. My love for you is formless, boundless and as fluid as the twin rivers of sleep and waking. You are everything, all of the time. Call to me, say my name the way you do and no one ever has to speak. You know I'm always with you. Yours. Just yours. You, just you.

Dissonance, everything dissonant, you're that quiet, timeless place I always yearned for. With you, I am at peace.

The year's end calls for a bout of sleep-deprived introspection. This would be the best time if ever to sum things up. This year has been marked by some jagged transitions, moving to the capital, finding work, coming to grips with the demands of age and the constellations of my personal life. It hasn't been the easiest but somehow, I got by. I've seen some personal relationships deteriorate while others convalesce. This is a marked by yearning, inked by change and written by moving forward.

I've decided to resume work on my undergraduate thesis. At the same time, I've decided to pursue my graduate studies this year. Since moving, I've grown closer to my father and by association, his side of the family. For once, it felt like I actually belonged to something. Maybe it's the need to make up for lost time? I can't say. It's strange, but a welcome turn of events. More than most things however, I met someone. I got lucky and fell in love. Everything else remains a hazy afterthought.

Her name is Alva, the strangest luck for this space in time. A life partner, a best friend and the only lover to share this lonesome bed. Yearning for someone who gets it for once, I now have someone to turn to. A passionate lover, host to a brilliant mind, a love to spend a lifetime.

You're one of the strongest people I know and I'm hard-pressed to run out of reasons to admire you. You inspire me, hold me captive. I yearn for you when you're away from me and I adore you when you're close. Each and every inch of you, I do. A thousand times over, a thousand times yes.

...and I quote: "I love you because you get it. I love you because I don't have to explain. I love you because you're easy to love. I love you because a part of me melts whenever I glance at you sleeping. I love you more than anything. I love you."

I love you. As the year closes on us with tired yet hopeful eyes, I look to every tomorrow to see you. We grow a year older with each other, let's start adding years til we grow old together.

We only have the rest of our lives. See you soon.

Kaleidoscope

2011-11-16T21:34:00.008+08:00

This week hasn't been too kind. Well, okay, it's been uneventful but I've been really tense. Haven't been uneasy for a while so I guess this would be healthy enough to balance things out.

First off, I feel really bad about the band. I seriously don't think they deserve any of this from me so yeah. I'm sorry guys. It's just me trying to compensate for how insecure I am as a musician. We really need to see each other from time to time, even if it's not band-related. We've been rather distant.

Work's been okay; no backlogs, no nothing. No money either. Well yeah, I do get paid at work but my savings have been shot to shit since I started managing the farm. It's a little sacrifice I have to make to be able to pull my own weight at home and I really hope it gets somewhere. I can't wait for my first harvest. Tending to the farm Saturday morning before the show.

Yeah, things are alright, just not in the highest of spirits. Regardless of how I tend to find myself in this state of mind from time to time, I do still find things to smile about, even with my incredibly flat affect. Today was great though. I have to admit. One of the best mornings I've seen so far.

Woke up at a respectable time and took a cab to work. Yes, it cost me. Yes, I'm broke but whatever. Fuck, I don't feel like panicking over being late another 15 minutes. Upon arrival, one of my officemates set a McDonalds' breakfast meal on my table. "We all had our share, here's yours." We have food in the office all the time so I wasn't too surprised. My boss walked in and said, "lucky guy, that thing's special delivery." I was all, "wait, I thought everyone had one for breakfast?" Apparently no. Just me. Shit, I had no clue.

Okay, it was really suspicious. I was starting to wonder if it had anthrax in it or something or for the most part, who sent it. A couple of officemates suspected some gay dude who keeps on bugging me to add him on Facebook. Dug into the bag and found pancakes, a Sausage pattie, extra butter and hash browns; stuff I particularly liked. Especially with the sausage/hash

browns part.

It was getting creepy. Alva texts and I casually told her we had McDonalds' in the office. "Hey, wanna share?" or something to that effect. Right at that moment, I found a little note under the bag of hash browns.

I died in my seat. My officemates aptly applauded. I was left speechless. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't literally burst out of my seat. This has never happened before. Turns out she sent me breakfast before she left for work, a wee bit before I got to the office. She knew how I felt about the rest of the week and thought it would make me feel better if I ate something.

Lover knows me well. Stay fat please. You're the sweetest and I don't know what to say. Love you. See you soon. You'll get what's coming to you. Your boy misses you. Badly.

Anyway, I ended up discussing terms with Skarlet Jazz Kitchen (and Skarlet herself!) regarding the show on Saturday. Hopefully, I survive the weekend. Thank you, Alva. You have no idea.

P.S.

Thank you so much for volunteering for the show. I'm really short-staffed and you're a lifesaver. I owe you. So much.

Separate lives

2011-11-15T08:25:00.001+08:00

Sometimes, I forget that regardless of how close you are to the people around you, you're still at the opposite ends of separate lives. I've been feeling a tad distant with regards to my band lately. It's not that I'm not aware that you all have work and other priorities but I'm just scared to spend too much of myself like I did with that band I used to be in. We're great friends but sometimes, I'm not sure if we're working out as a band. We can't even fix a decent schedule for things.

Maybe it's just been a while since we did things together but I just can't help but feel alone in the band without you guys. Is it something I did? Something I might have said? Sorry. I just don't get what's going on. Might just be panicking because the show is drawing closer.

Dear Mount Analogue, I miss us.

Some more recent Mount Analogue lyrics

2011-11-04T10:23:00.005+08:00

Memphis and Blake

Hello. Are you going anywhere? Well, the weeks dive into corners and the weight's too much to bear. Maybe it's just that I've been nervous about tonight or maybe I just want you to get back home alright. "Sleep well, sleep forever. Talk to the sheets and wake me up in a week." Well, you're off and I'm still here. Through bus rides and bridges passed, I've fallen for you and I've fallen fast. Maybe it's just the strangest luck for this space in time or maybe I just don't have it in my heart to lie. "Sleep well, sleep forever. Talk to the sheets and wake me up in a week." From this far away, love's an easy word now.

This one's rather obvious. It used to be called "Wetpacks" since it sounded like literal ass (see: Shortbus) when I first started working on it. It grew on me though. Had to change the title since it would end up sounding like a song about getting ass (on second thought...) but yeah, these are the lyrics. It's about that tense span of time before my girlfriend and I made things official. I had just come forward about the way I honestly felt and the whole thing just hit like this unstoppable swirl of emotions. Uneasy for the most part. She went off for vacation and while she was away, she wrote me something and I guess that was it when she got back. Love's an easy word now.

Stargazer Alejandro

"So to speak, we slept in our lovers' waiting arms." When I call through the cold, the signal drifts; we both know. To sleep, to dream, to wake and drift away; buildings topple over, eyes to heavens that never stay. "Goodbye is when I leave for stars you see in your sleep." Decades lift to become dead stars for a midnight sun; the still air rising up as far as she's willing to stop. She bears the weight of kisses meant to leave you at "goodnight." Asleep on concrete floors, you've sunken below her line of sight. Goodbye is when you leave for stars you see in your sleep.

This was written right after that weird double-date thing we went to after Alva met my folks (that one time with my mother and gay uncle doesn't count). We were out with the person who introduced us plus his girlfriend. So yeah. We were drinking on this empty lot in the middle of The Fort and Migi ended up falling asleep sometime after this long conversation about "Tron Towers" and "stargazing." I jokingly said I'd make a song about this and play it live with my eyes toward the ceiling. Thinking about it (and leaving Migi alone in the middle of an empty lot for a couple of minutes while calling the phone his girl left on his face), Alva was leaving for Leyte the next day and the night did turn out rather well. It's worth a song. Totally worth it.

Rebuild, rebuild, rebuild.

2011-11-01T23:46:00.004+08:00

I haven't been this tired in a long time. This isn't that same feeling I get when I'm close to giving in but I am by no means enthralled by the whole mess either. Think about it this way; you walk into your room at three or four in the morning and wake up two to three hours later, take a shower and now you're headed straight for the office. Driving. In and out of focus. You're playing another show that night. You forget that playing shows are the reason you're tired. You know no better.

Last week was like that. Mount Analogue and the Strangeness had shows left and right and I had to be at each one. Truth be told, I had already been planning a momentary exit from the whole band thing but before I could get to that, I had to find out how I could possibly survive the week. I wasn't halfway through then and I already felt like sleeping for a thousand years. My eyes were tired, perpetually glazed over and teetering over the edge of their sockets. Writing and playing music always did the trick for me in the past, it was an outlet. Given that the nature of the band I was in considerably differed from that of Mount Analogue, the balance of tension and release made sense. In form, yes. From a heart-level perspective however, I couldn't be more wrong. I don't think I could ever write music without a sense of ever-welling tension coiling in the back of my chest. Regardless of how well I was doing in life, music always tapped into a dark and lonely place for me. Back then, I saw it as a lack of stage presence, being vulnerable and all. I just grew into the idea that I wasn't playing to anyone but myself. Music healed but among other things, it also destroyed. I learned how to make music with the very intention of destroying myself. Now that I play in (what is more or less) an indie pop band, I feel that destructive sense of catharsis stifled. It's been getting in the way of the band's dynamics, the songwriting process, our direction and among other things, it has served as an added burden on my shoulders.

I'm tired of the weight of my own emotions crashing down on me. This only happens when the music plays. Otherwise, I'm fine. I just find it odd how music makes me feel like someone else, only it couldn't be anyone other than myself. Maybe it's with how all music is temporal, I don't know; a place in time that carries itself over in the cadence of each note that follows suit, that sinful dance between capture and release. The weight is unbearable.

In line with getting rest and putting these things into perspective, I'm taking a break from managing the Strangeness and from playing shows with Mount Analogue. In hopes of saving the band, I'm trying to come up with a direction we could all agree on instead of being a figurehead songwriter for the band. I wish everyone could get their Saturdays ironed out. We need to write together as a band for once. I can't keep living in the shadow of my past endeavors. These aren't just my hands, these are ours.

Guys, I want this to be us. Not just me. I don't expect you to understand right away but I know you find something in music that moves you the same way this does me.

Saturdays, please?

To live, to move imperfect

2011-10-24T00:19:00.001+08:00

I have always dreaded the sound of my own voice. From time to time, I tend to listen to myself when I talk and truth be told, all I hear is static; a familiar noise, a mess of words too close for me to ignore. When I started writing for Mount Analogue, I didn't really give it much thought. Initially, I had written songs with a female singer in mind. Seeing as I couldn't find a suitable frontwoman for the band, I took on the vocal duties myself. It would be hard to picture any other setup considering how protective I am about my lyrics but yeah, I brought myself into the line of fire. Our bass player/second singer's range is a tad higher than what I had in mind for these songs so I didn't think I'd have much of a choice.

We were supposed to have the demo out by today and had I any shred of vocal talent, we would have. Finished all the tracking over the course of the week and when it all came down to the vocals, everything I did was subpar. The whole time we've been practicing and playing shows, I never realized how often I went off or how horrible I was with controlling my trails. It might just be me being self-conscious but I know what it's like when you go to shows. You expect something from certain bands, a certain threshold of quality and so far, what we're doing doesn't come close to what I expect from other bands. Bottom line, I need to step up.

I've been told this was a lack of confidence and I'd wholeheartedly agree. I think I'm past that though and when people are rooting for you, you have to realize that they want you to make something of yourself. They'll help you along the way. As for the band, we're probably just finishing this demo and moving on to new songs. Honestly thinking of scrapping these older, more jangle-pop sounding songs altogether in favor of something denser, more desperate sounding. The indie-pop thing is fun but the more time I spend writing, the more I realize that none of this is particularly stellar. Bottom line, I need to step up.

For everything good that's been happening to me, I feel indebted to the people around me, or at least to myself. No one should ever be left short-changed. My bandmates appear to be okay with the idea of new songs if they work in a full band setting, at least I have that out of the way and my girlfriend's pitching in to help me learn how to sing better. At least I have that covered. Okay, fuck that, at least I have her.

Now, while I'm not singing, I should finish all this work-related garbage I've been working on. I should be getting off of my fat ass. There's that.

P.S. Thank you, Alva. It really means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.

Getting there, people

2011-10-19T14:18:00.003+08:00

Will be halfway to 60% through this later. Tracking with Cabal. Will keep posted.

Mount Analogue, more related news

2011-10-16T05:24:00.003+08:00

It's about time we got back together. Haven't played or practiced together since that Multo sendoff show at Big Sky Mind. We were rather rusty in the studio but we're slowly getting the hang of things again. With really close friends, you tend to just pick up where you left off only it's more like rehabilitating a reattached limb in this case. Despite a clear lack of practice, we managed to survive that set at Audio Heavy Productions' Hello, Hope benefit show at B-Side last Thursday. Well, save for that one song that descended into free jazz. All in all, with the stuff I've been doing for the Strangeness with booking, passing memos and as of late, mailorder, it's about time I did something with my own band. We might be recording demos fairly soon. By soon, I mean this week. Thinking of a couple of ideas to speed up the writing process, particularly recording placeholders for drums as well. On a related note, we should record that EP full of our earlier songs too so we could move on to new material. I have so many new songs written that stray from the shimmery indie pop I wrote for the band early on. Moodier, more driving stuff. That said, we also need to practice together more often. Fuck, that set at B-Side was atrocious. (Reminder, Erwin HAS to have cymbals) Since Mayee started working at Lomography, our schedules have been just plain fucked. I go to work early and she ends late. I'm really happy for her but it's bad news for the band schedule and it's a real hassle having to go back up north for late night practice when I have work the next day. Hopefully, we could come up with a workaround. We're thinking Friday nights and Saturday afternoons. More on that sometime. Anyway, we're playing a couple of more shows this month. We're doing B-Side again on the 26th with Bee Eyes and our much hairier sister band, the Strangeness. Apart from that, we're also playing Earth Decay Fest in San Pablo, Laguna on the 29th.

Until then, I'd probably want to crawl into a hole until my mind starts working again.

Alva, please come home. Your boy is going crazy over here.

Only because you're a name, a face and a time of day

2011-10-15T19:15:00.006+08:00

A week or so ago, a co-worker asked if you were my sister the first time you showed up at my office. I didn't know what to say. Picking up on that particular loss for words, he followed up by saying, "next time, be specific, we don't know what she is to you!" Looking back, I knew exactly what you meant to me but up until that point, it hadn't occurred to me that there were no words to describe the way I felt for you. Whatever it was, I only had myself to offer and I'd only take whatever you chose to give. All I knew was that I loved you and that for once, I'd actually want to fall in. You knew this. To be honest, the hardest part of this whole thing was letting you know in the first place. With that out of the way, I no longer saw the point in being scared. This is definitely something and I won't be ashamed to say it. I'm proud of the way I feel for you. To be shameless and vulnerable, to be proud and unapologetic. I'm that way with you and it all seems to flow so naturally. It's as if you've always been there. Where I'm usually wary of being dragged into other people's lives, I'm at peace with the belief that I wasn't taken here against my will. I wanted to be a part of your life, just as much as you were becoming a part of mine. The people around us will understand in time but in the spaces between your lips and mine, no one else matters. In the vastness of that space, I only have you. From October 10 onwards, we have each other. I love you. For proving me wrong about ever finding someone worthwhile without conditions, I will love you in every lifetime.

Something about the band I used to play in

2011-10-13T03:51:00.002+08:00

3:52 in the morning and I came home to this link to a tumblr post that made mention of my former band. This time, it was from someone who knew Caitlyn Bailey personally. Since it has come to this, the band has since decided to issue a formal statement on the usage of her name. To the person who wrote this post, I seek to clarify certain things with you as I fear my (yes, this was my doing) intentions may have been misconstrued. I ask for your patience and understanding. I respectfully write this as a means of reaching out.

My name is Francis Maria and I sang for that screamo band you mentioned in one of your entries. First off, let me just clarify several points raised in the aforementioned post.

"Somehow, this guy came across her page and read all these letters. He said it really “touched him” so he named his band after her. Apparently they became pretty popular. It just really makes me angry that they took her name without asking or anything."

We aren't as popular as you think we are. I have to say that straight-up. As long as I could remember, we had always welcomed correspondence from anyone who might have known Caitlyn. Several one-off myspace users got in touch with us but (at least from my end) failed to establish any formal communication. We were prompt with our replies. I personally remember trying to sincerely befriend the people who sent messages. Were you one of those people? I'm sorry for leaving you with the wrong impression. This is someone you actually knew and loved, I understand why you would feel strongly about this. Anything I may have mentioned to the effect of being "touched" by this matter is done out of empathy and not that sinking feeling you get from overdone human-interest specials. I started this band with the sincerest of intentions and I mean everything I say on behalf of it. Again, I apologize for anything you may have taken offense to.

"Apparently they wrote a song about her, but I haven’t heard it. It’s heartbreaking that she had to leave us so soon, and I don’t like the fact that they are profiting off her story."

We never finished that song. In fact, the band was never about her story. On that note, there's no way we could've exploited it in any way, shape or form. We never once referenced her in our lyrics. Our content had always been personal takes on the wax and wane of life and living, things taken from our own experiences. We couldn't have done any justice to her as a person since we knew nothing of the person she was, even through her friends and family. It would be an insult for us to do so. I was, as a reader, moved by the sincerity of that myspace page. If we were to do the name right, we would do something just as sincere, at least to us. Something from our truths and our lives. If anything, the decision to use her name stems from the truth of Caitlyn's humanity. The message was powerful. More than that, it was empowering.

She lived among fellow human beings and traces of her continue to resonate in the hearts of those around her. She wasn't a public figure, a celebrity or a pop culture reference. She was a human being. The truest of all conditions. We sought to bring out that same urgency by way of writing the most sincere music we could. This did not appeal to people. I guess people down here didn't get what we were trying to do so a lot of the time, we were brushed aside in our own respective scenes. Truth is, we have never earned a single cent from this endeavor. We lost more money than we could ever recover with this band but we did this for the love of the music and more importantly, what it stood for. We, like all others, only seek to root ourselves in our own humanness. Your friend showed us that. Your friend showed me that.

"What I’ve heard is that their last show was recently? I hope so. I hope their fans know where their name came from. I hope they know all the pain and sorrow we are suffering because of her loss. I hope they realize it isn’t a joke."

We always made it a point to let people know where our name came from. We always made it a point to let people know that it wasn't our name to begin with. If you must know, we are a band of suicide survivors. We are a band that has lost loved ones to suicide. We could not speak from the standpoint of your heartache but we know ours. We know the pain of loss. We know the pain and lasting trauma of pulling the gun on oneself. We know the pain of seeing loved ones leave so soon. Not once have we done anything out of posterity. I can't tell you about your pain. I can't tell anyone about what you've been through. I just know my pain is real, just as real as yours, just as real as anyone else's. None of us are alone in that regard. This is not a joke and none of us are laughing.

Again, I apologize for any offense I may have caused for choosing this name. I hope you understand our side as well.

Morning, miss.

2011-10-05T00:10:00.002+08:00

I miss you. Please come home.

The universe is where I'd rather be with you.

2011-09-28T00:55:00.007+08:00

Moments last forever when you keep moving from place to place. For the past few months, I've been moving with you. Through windows and glass, through wires and cables, I've never been this sure about the way I felt. I've never been this nervous either but for whatever it's worth, it's only because you're worth it. If it makes me seem desperate to write about this in secret, someday you'll know. That day might be soon. Either way, I'll be nothing but honest. When you read this, I could only ever ask for your understanding. I've spent the last four years of my life in sheer doubt of anyone ever being worthwhile, of anyone ever being close enough to be with, of anyone I could see in terms of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years. I see all of these in you. The world stops and I lose myself in the moment. The universe is where I'd rather be with you.

Weeks ago, I wrote you a song. I recorded it in secret and hid it under a protected link. Several friends knew of this song and on the day I played it, all eyes were on you instead of me. There are about thirty plays on that song right now. One of them, you. Twenty-nine of them know I love you. One of them, me.

For all the things I've been scared to admit, they all stop short of that first kiss. Good morning, you. My name is Francis Maria and I love you, miss.

We never get sick, we never die, we never age

2011-09-19T13:41:00.002+08:00

My extended writing fast started a week or so before the Psychological Association of the Philippines Junior Affiliates (PAPJA) convention of November, 2010. If only for the spirit of wanting to make amends, I owe myself an explanation as this has pained me since. You know I can't stop writing for the life of me. This hurts. Deeply.

Initially, starving myself off from my usual diet of internet usage seemed like a good idea. Being in my final year of college, I had to get my shit together for the sake of an easy and uneventful graduation. Looking back, this ended up becoming horribly counter-intuitive. Without a means to keep myself in check, I ended up losing focus, misconstruing a legitimate outlet as a distraction I could've done without. In a way, I single-handedly derailed my first push towards being a career academic. My thesis was behind schedule to the point of never having reached completion. Luckily however, I still managed to come up with the best paper in my batch. Of course, I'm grateful but my professors knew how deep my discontent ran. To live with that discontent is worse than not graduating, really. For the end of an era, we reached a close penned in hanging notes. In the end, I had nothing tangible to show for my efforts. What's the point of building yourself towards a credential with no concrete output? The academic equivalent of development hell. Okay, maybe not that. Maybe an undergraduate Loveless. I won't dispute the value to be found in the chase but since I am no longer doing this on the basis of academic merit, I only see it as a project to be taken on as a labor of love. Years later, I'd still be grateful for having gone through this. For now, I'll have to bear with the pain of birth; a birth to sleeping cartographers, mapped in time and drawn in situation.

After graduation, I've come to the realization that I haven't learned much. Maybe I am in dire need of space that a family would not allow and an unsustainable lifestyle that my current paycheck could not accommodate. With the months I've spent quiet, I've learned that deprivation does not always lead to peace. Lack begets discontent and sorrow inevitably follows in the wake of loss. New to the idea that serenity need not root itself to flourish, I only had the strength of my quiet heartbeats to keep me going. I lost track of those heartbeats somewhere.

I'm on the way back to finding them. I'll find them in the cacophony, where I least expect. Today, I make amends. Because I know better, I've learned to learn from and let go of my regrets. Let me start over, please. I owe you.

This is a lengthy entry about the things I write about in Mount Analogue

2011-09-14T13:13:00.008+08:00

The gesture in itself is unsolicited. In the spirit of looking to the past with a new set of eyes, I think it's worth a shot though. I've always been self-critical to the point of being vain, this is an instance where the line between the two happens to blur. I apologize for how masturbatory this is going to be.

Since I started writing songs for Mount Analogue, I sought to try and distance myself from the overall tone I used in my former projects. Short of disowning my entire back catalog, I wanted to do something different from what I was (relatively) known for. With what I've been through since the past couple of years, I grew into the mindset that equally urgent emotions need not be as abrasive nor abstruse (regardless if the content is personal) to be sincere and personally moving. At least in my mind, I sought a deeper sense of satisfaction that stays after what the song would otherwise dictate musically. Lyrics that stood alone, for lack of better words to say, something with continuity. Within a short span of time, I've written a fair amount of songs for the band. These are just the ones with set lyrics. The others either lack them or their lyrics are incomplete.

College of Fine Arts and Design

“Yes, you just passed me by. (This is every morning, on the way to work.) We were just perfect strangers. Glances to the side, we painted smiles to say goodbye.” If this was to be tomorrow then kindly tell me where I was last night because if now is our every yesterday, I’d stay in these vignettes of your future my whole life.

I had long found my state of socialization rather stale by the middle of 2010. Meeting people outside the regular circle of indie kids, current/ex-punks and internet nerds seemed like the furthest thing from my mind at the time but when a close friend of mine called me over to Manila for her daughter's baptism, turns out the other godparents were rather interesting people. Regardless of whether or not I was ready to have an entirely new set of people in my life, they were there. Some of them, I've opened up to on a more personal level. Once people welcome each other into (or forcibly enter) the other's lives, that whole relationship becomes interminable. This was written from the standpoint of having just "signed up."

Softer Lights

Old wounds open up to the sight of a photograph and I don't know how to mend myself in the end. You always have to find a way to come back here, don't you? It feels familiar but unwelcome; this feeling, this regret. I'll never find a reason as adequate in my mind but we always have to part like this in the end. The truth is, I couldn't bear the sight of you being lovers with my friends. I wouldn't want to wish you ill but this will hurt you again and your wounds open up to the sight of our photographs. You won't know how to mend yourself in the end.

There was a time when mundane things like cigarette smoke or heavy traffic would trigger jolts of physical pain. Eventually, this started extending to certain mannerisms people had or clothes they wore or certain smells or color combinations. Having had a fair amount of complicated friendships in the past, this would happen often (incidents have been few and far between since then). Detached from the situation and context of my interaction with a former partner, I no longer feel this way about having that same person around. Where I finally come to terms with how things are in stasis, the same couldn't be said about the resentment that resonates from the other. This is about how some ends never meet halfway.

Forever Starts Today

I’m homesick, she won’t be home soon. How far could she travel in a day? Lovelorn, she still won’t be here. How long does a lover have to wait? Believe me, if it takes forever then I’ll take forever in a day. No, we’re not getting any younger but I’d still love you the same way. That’s if I remember how it felt, if I could still recall the taste; that second’s glimmer in your eyes, the scent that blossoms in your wake. We don’t tread on holy ground. We don’t belong here.

My friends often rag me for having "unrealistic standards" (the pre-requisite atheism/irreligion is referenced in the end) with regards to prospective partners. The list is long and I'd rather not have it out in public for fear of being pelted with rocks but yeah, I have a literal list. Whenever that card is pulled, I often reiterate the whole notion that there is a sense of satisfaction in being proven wrong about these people not existing. Having moved here (or in the process of moving, when this was written), I was awarded a new lease on life and I wanted to stake my claim the best way I could; in making the most of the wax and wane of life and living. It's been years since I was stable and for the first time since then, I've been inspired to go out and rebuild, to start new ties and return to nurturing old ones. This forward-looking mindset coupled with the inevitable desire for young love is my way of saying I'm back and I only have the rest of my life to live. Run away with me, please.

A Song For Four Octobers

We only lived so far away; the shortest hour and a half by plane. Watching time go by in islands, I wished I was close enough to say "I'll be with you in the morning, I'll be with you in the dark, I'll be with you when you miss me and I'll never be too far. I'll be with you in the sunset, I will follow through the dawn, I won't leave you when you're weary, even if you carry on." We only have the rest of our lives to know.

It's always been a fact of life until fairly recently, I was always attracted to people who lived far away. To be fair, it's not really because I was a fan of the distance but rather, it was more of a culture thing. Despite growing up back in DC, I never outgrew the sense of alienation I had towards other children. My hometown feels like less like home to me than a place I only see every so often. In retrospect, the familiarity of where I lived does make me yearn but being able to see the people you want to see, to be able to say things in private without a cellphone or a computer, I'm justified in saying this is completely worth it. I don't think I did any of my past relationships justice on account of ill-fated geography. This song is about devotion and a return to my own humanness.

Laura, You're Breaking My Heart

Hey Laura, you’re breaking my heart. Laura, you’re breaking my heart again. "I've never been touched and I've never been kissed, no. I've never been loved at all." "With silence you held me in the moments you left and I've never been loved at all." "It pains me to see you and how you smile when you need to, with soaked sheets and welling eyes." "It happens, I know but I'll see you tomorrow. Tomorrow, years ago."

Abuse has always been a matter I took to heart. Having been friends with a considerable number of people who were abused or raped as children, it always bothered me to see how deep the damage went and how long it went without resolve. These things never really go away and with that in mind, neither will my heartache and empathy.

From An Apartment On Vito Cruz

A quiet station’s meeting for months’ worth of parting, I missed the way we used to talk almost every morning. I would've painted the streets a color close to the sky, in the shades of color we spoke, without any reason why. Because the best thing about you was how you were always supposed to leave, as time wore on thin, so did the tangled webs we’d weave. Move slowly when you turn away again.

In 2009, I was recovering from a prolonged episode of major depression that carried itself over from early 2008. At that point, I had just met someone vaguely interesting and soon after, I was introduced to her circle of friends. Over time, I had grown close to three of them. Unprovoked, the said girl decided to block me on messenger and deleted me from all of her accounts following a date with 500 Days of Summer. Later on, I came to terms with the thought that it just wasn't worth it. I eventually lost track of the other two friends. They tend to chime in from time to time but they disappear just as quickly. It was fun when it was something. Now, it just gets dragging since there's nothing to talk about anymore.

Sisterloves

"Dante lies dead beneath these streets, Dante lies dead between you and me." Scribbled on the ceiling are paintings of the floor, fifteen years spent waiting for fifty years or more. I'm dreaming in the classroom, I'm taking in the view, I'll graduate sooner just to spend my nights with you.

A close friend confided in me about her attraction to a professor, having a slight crush on a friend's professor (one of the friends mentioned in Vito Cruz) I could strangely relate. Long story short, this is about how we'd think about setting the two of them up and living vicariously through the other. They're both literature professors, by the way.

Black Umbrellas

Caught in the breeze, I've been shaking; you're still crying on the phone. My will, once bent, is now breaking like the commitments we set in stone. Spend half a year in love with Europe, a noble host to sidewalk steps. Upon return, be kind and remember that a lover's word never forgets at all. Paper kites shot out to the heavens knowing they don't have much time. With their thin skins, their strings and the north winds, they do what they can to stay alive. Picture perfect in view of the daylight, this is all we have for now and all our chances of reconciling are just like that of sky and ground. I'll be happy the next time I see you, at least I'll try to look the part. When no truths appear self-evident, I'll have no choice but to move by heart. With each pulse and beat, I will find you; knowing you have left your mark. In your yearning, please understand that for all my ends, you were the start of it all.

I had different reasons for moving to Manila when I was younger. On account of being young, dumb and full of love, I let my naive side get to me. I set my life goals around eventually moving back here upon graduation. Certain relationships deteriorated and a number of goals have since been altered or completely scrapped since then. I learned to harbor no resentment towards that whole emotional mess and on a whole, I've started seeing this as the best way to motivate myself into doing something positive. Looking forward, this is about how motives change over time and how you still end up where you want to be regardless of how you got to that same conclusion.

Denise Marie Constant

You’re so quick to fall in love and I’m put off by the sight of you. Next time you’re here, don’t call me up because I’ll never feel the same way you do. So this is goodbye. Don’t sleep to dream of me, sleep because you need to sleep. From time to time, I’ll think of you but that’s the most you’ll get from me tonight. Even if it never comes to mind, it’s not that I’ve forgotten you. It’s just not worth all the sleepless nights that my sheets would have gone through without you here. I was so quick to fall in love. Now, I’m put off by the sight of you. Next time you’re here, don’t call me up because I’ll never feel the same way you do. At least not again.

There was this girl in class that I used to like. Reeling from a previous relationship, we started spending more time together. In as much as I would've liked to deny it at the time, I actually liked her. Not wanting to place her in the shadow of my ex, I commuted my conscious (mind you, conscious) motives to those geared towards plain friendship. Our actions spoke otherwise. To gloss things over, I sunk into the mindset of being at the right place at the wrong time. Before long, this whole thing soured and we stopped talking. Fresh into a new relationship, she rekindled ties with me. Eventually, things led back to that same situation only she had a boyfriend and couldn't make her mind up. By then, I knew better.

Beautiful In French

I once was told that I had the loveliest of eyes that night. The way they glistened then, they were like that all the time. Those nights, those lights; they don’t shine the way they used to. We don’t shine anymore.

This has a lot to do with stars. Prior to my last major breakup, I was particularly lively and I lost that for a while. Ever wondered when I got the glooms tag? When I talk about the glooms, this is when it started, right when that glow started to wane. Remember how stars seem to shine so bright from far away? That's light from millions of light years ago. The stars that shine the brightest, the ones that used to watch over you at night, they're all probably dead by now. This is when you realize that you've become one of those stars.

For A Second, Everyone In Eastwood Sleeps

I wish I knew how to say this, thinly veiled and in common language. Until then, this song will do. If only to tell you how I wish to be with you. The greatest part of the picture is the museum curator and I’m out of place, slowly falling out of favor. This is face value for now but I’ll save you for later. Just don’t hold me at fault for seeing the two of us together. I’ve been dreaming. I’ve just been dreaming.

Picking up on College of Fine Arts and Design, this is about that same situation. A couple of months after meeting them, I randomly ended up hanging out with one of them over the course of an afternoon in Eastwood. She spoke to me about Ceremony being her favorite New Order song and how she listens to Joy Division when she's mad. Thinking about the kinds of people I'd end up meeting now that I'm here, I spaced out and this whole song came to mind. It wrote itself, basically. Probably the least personal of my songs, though.

Ayala Cor. Paseo

With endless sidewalks to a looming office window, we could lose ourselves in traffic and sink with a thousand swirling light streaks. It would seem to make sense of the dense asphalt sea breaking still on each wave for a beach set in concrete. Could I still see you even if the sky blacks out? In parked cars, the haze, the contrails and the sound of you in hours. I'll see you, as far north as it gets in the south; through the wash of the earth, past the dirt and the dismal downpour. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll see you. See you.

I met this girl through a friend and as of late, I've been spending time with her. It's the first time I ever really got to see someone worthwhile on a semi-regular basis. This is all news to me and as time goes by, I find myself wanting to see the person more. It just feels so natural being around her, it's strange to think of a time she wasn't there. Feels like forever, really. I learn a lot from this person and the time is always worth it. I don't mind going home a bit later than usual or going a bit further. This whole thing makes me want to. She makes sense, why wouldn't I?

Sincerely

2011-09-03T02:18:00.004+08:00

Sometimes, I wonder if the things we hold in high regard make sense when they're drawn out in a moment of human urgency. Does theory work the same way when it's pulled into the realm of praxis? That's a long, drawn-out discussion right there but it seems to seep into a lot of things. Much as I'd like to brush it off as a masturbatory fit, the feeling is rather urgent (or rather came with the feeling of urgency). When you have two weeks to think things over, that urgency wanes a bit. Is that enough to be able to say that this is something we could view without that particular veil over our heads? It's always a tug of war between experiential perception and that idealized image we form in our heads prior to contact. The uncertainty is killing me. As far as this situation goes, I don't even know which is which yet. Then again, I've never done this before. Why do you make sense to me though? For the life of me, I'm scared to find out... but I want to.

I guess I haven't felt this way in a very long time. I've always been held back by something, be it distance, unrealistic standards or whatnot. That's usually the case. I don't understand why I don't feel this way about you. All I know is, I'll be sincere in telling you that I'm willing to fall right in.

It's too soon to tell you but I want to be a part of your life. I don't just want you to be a part of mine. I'm nervous about seeing you later but you have to know somehow.

I'll see you. I want to keep seeing you. Only because you make sense.

Discontent, flames fanned by dead songs.

2011-09-01T16:54:00.006+08:00

Sometimes, it gets to me. I'm no stranger to humor. I do however take account of the underpinnings of certain jokes. They're all half-meant, aren't they? I'm towards that particular persuasion. Friends from back in the day are quick to point out a drastic change in aesthetics and musical preference with regards to the things I've been subscribing to as of late. At times, this becomes implicitly pejorative. This, I would immediately confirm. I do however feel the need (for the sake of my peace of mind) to explain that as with many things in my life, this schism from the greasy hair and anti-fashion environment of my former scene starts with an exercise of my political will. Otherwise, "hipster" is a funny term.

In relatively lengthy article I anonymously penned for a pet project, I expressed my disappointment at what I thought to be a progressive and (dare I say) relevant hardcore/punk scene. Following several altercations with factions of the local music scene, I was left disheartened by what I perceived to be a lack of ethics and political motivation. Discourse was at an all time low and it appears that the idea of being in a secret society of art, ideas and ideals comes a far second to the same sort rat race the scene appeared to shun. It was still a circus of privilege, status and ascendancy. Generative dissent was antiquated in the eyes of the slightly less jaded and explicitly opposed by staunch adherents. Following the death of a friend, I gradually grew a distaste for the way things were run in that scene and (the local DC music scene by extension). As it went hand in hand with my disappointment, the usual fare for this cultural enclave represented things I detested. Regardless if they came from a rather admirable context. I stopped listening to hardcore and punk altogether. I stopped listening to a lot of my old punk records, gave away my hardcore/punk band shirts. For the rest of the scene, I fell under the radar. If it weren't for the fact I played in a hardcore band myself, I would've disappeared altogether.

In this span of time, I found myself in a vacuum. Without that environment to nurture my leanings, how do I express myself without subscribing to the same normative practices? I guess I could thank the diversity of my musical taste. Well, that and some incomprehensibly good timing. The Field Mice on repeat for lack of things to listen to, I went into the context Sarah Records worked in. Zine culture, a label started with politically geared aesthetics, a community that appeared like a secret society of art and ideals (for their time and place), I didn't see much of a difference with the punk scene. It had so much in common with punk and hardcore but seemed to live a world away. The things traditional hardcore machismo frowned upon were suddenly emancipatory and empowering. Sensitivity, an openness to human emotionality, a celebration of the queer, effeminate and the asexual. Post-hardcore and screamo being equally big influences on my character, this was something that sat well with my sensibilities. It was liberating to be vulnerable. The politics were practiced rather than preached and scenes were built on friendship instead of some apotheized ideal of a greater scene.

Like a friend said, "personal is political." I just find it odd that my politics only started shining through after I left that part of my life behind. Music will stay music and memories will stay the way they were when they happened. However, if the goal of a scene is collective or personal progress, I guess it would be right for me to leave given that it is no longer conducive to my growth as an individual. I haven't outgrown punk music, neither the form nor the substance. In fact, a lot of the things I apply in my daily life are things I've learned in punk songs. I still carry my ethics with me and take them to heart. What I've learned to let go of was the idea of subscribing to an oppressive iconoclasm. I've learned to play with the hand I've been given as a person. I've come to accept that privilege exists in every context. I have no regrets as to the way I've come to learn these things.

I won't shoot myself down to build others up. People are supposed to empower the disenfranchised. I can't do that without having something to show for it.

Sometimes you only know how much you've grown if you muster the strength to leave home. I'm not nearly as aimless as I thought I was.

P.S.

Last time I checked, hipsters were more about irony than they were about informed cynicism.

Last call

2011-08-31T19:07:00.004+08:00

I'm not the same person I was when I started this journal. Regardless if I'm more than just a bit embarrassed with what I've written during my peak with IDWTMYA, I find it necessary to forgive myself for having done things I shouldn't have. Having said things I didn't mean and being insincere at some point (to others and to myself for the most part), it all piles up and the expression "having a lump in your throat" doesn't do it justice. I lock up and hyperventilate when these things come to mind. Time, in whole or in part, translates to physical pain. I don't think I have to deal with that anymore. The welcome has long been worn. It's time to go home.

I'm writing this to let you know that I'm letting you go. Not a person, not a situation, nothing direct. In as much as people with clinical depression feel compelled to ruminate, I have to trim away at the fat to keep my heart going. Well, that and my terrible puns but I digress.

This is to forgive but never forget, to set aside but never neglect, to love and never regret.

P.S.

Fuck, I haven't written anything since 2010? Okay, this is out of line. I need to keep myself in check. First step? GET A DECENT INTERNET CONNECTION, YOU FUCKWIT.

You are interminable

2011-08-31T18:17:00.010+08:00

With the time I've spent in stasis, I half-hopingly wished that the relevance of this journal would wane over the course of the past few months. Since my last entry, my persona has been no less fragmented. One truth I could step up to however is the belief that these fragments set themselves into a state of constant motion that lies both foreign and familiar to my long-jarred senses. I'm comfortable for once. I am at ease. That feeling when you peak at orgasm? It's like that, just a bit more existential and a little less (just a tad less) carnal. It's been that way since I got here. The alienation, once implied runs explicit. The feeling I used to only get from certain songs or memories has become so dense, it's palpable. The pulse and beat of temporal situation is almost tangible, really. Something I can embrace and walk hand-in-hand with.

How long have I hinted towards that emancipatory tension? Weeks? Months? Years? Far too long. Like a bootlegged M. Night Shyamalan flick, I'm nowhere near where I started. Likewise, I am nowhere near where I should be going. I'm somewhere else, somewhere "safe" and somewhere far. As with all starts, a less-than-noble birth has its pains. I still bear the heartache of leaving that cold, pink room to the care (more like reckless abandon) of my loving dog. A house with a basement and subdivisions lined with abandoned sister houses, all of that feels like a lifetime away. Time, all the time in the world to linger in a city's wake. I miss that. Badly. It's the anguish that comes with every long-term separation. I know it well. I do however believe that something good comes following bursts of emotional trauma.

If anything, the tension only leads me to believe that I've been just where I needed to be until today. Against my better logic, it does feel like I'm exactly where I want to be. Manila is the familiar face of a foreign flag, host to the rise and fall of empires and the sordid love nest of urban decay. Rotting from the inside out, I've come to call this home. I've always wanted to call you home. I've found a home in you. It's only been years since I've last been in bed with you.

Brought to life in softer lights

2011-08-31T17:54:00.003+08:00

I'm still a transient. This time however, my words cease to ebb in retrospect. Perspective aside, history becomes an undertone, a hue in the palette of shared contexts. Today, I write to paint the future in words I could say I believe in. My heart has grown to a massive swell and love, as always, spills over in torrents. From this heart, I spill over; ghostlike and impermanent. What once was shall be again, formless and unending. Today, I love again.

Light spreads a certain way in this office. Present but never intrusive, I've been spending my days under the blanket of softer lights. I'm new here, new to the thought but old in practice. So much has gone by in ways better meant if not, never said. I won't try to compensate. I've been lying to myself about my relationship with this journal and this is a matter that needs to be addressed.

Good evening, everyone. My name is Francis Maria and I don't want to miss you anymore.

A short list of plans

2010-11-07T03:13:00.001+08:00

Since it's about time I got my head straightened out, let's move on to goal setting. Here's a short list of plans for the near future.

FINISH REVISIONS, GET A FLAT ONE FOR MY THESIS
Pass trigonometry
Graduate (post graduation pictures on most social networking sites)
Book a plane ticket to Manila
Haul all of my stuff to a small flat along Taft
Enroll in La Salle for my master's degree
Caitlyn Bailey summer 2011 tour
Release a couple of splits and a full-length
Walk to school from that small flat along Taft
Get master's degree
Look for post-graduate courses on cultural studies or political psychology
Get a PhD
???
PROFIT

Torrents by district

2010-11-05T00:58:00.005+08:00

Something new

2010-11-01T00:07:00.002+08:00

Yes, that is a DIY YMTWTM! shirt I'm sporting. That however, is besides the point. I had my hair mangled a couple of weeks ago. Growing it out a bit, I decided to give it another go. I really like how this looks on me. Semi-skinhead around the sides and back but I get to keep my bangs.

Person most likely to uncover the meaning of life

2010-10-31T05:25:00.003+08:00

You have this phenomenal knack for content analysis and for chrissake, anyone who could derive any degree of epistemological substance from a taong grasa deserves a fucking medal. You come up with the craziest points but somehow they make sense. It's uncanny. We should shoot something together someday. If anyone just so happens to discover the meaning of life by way of 'grasism' (the adoption of the taong grasa lifestyle), we all have this lovely individual to thank. You are a beautiful person and that mind of yours makes me want to ride a giraffe standing on the edge of a disproportionately small earth while grazing on the rings of Saturn with a burrito in my hand.

The indentured slavery of temporal narratives

2010-10-31T05:09:00.002+08:00

You, it's always you. I'll see you again someday and by then I might have something good to say. Yeah, you're right, I've been scared all this time. I wish to not let this happen again. I hope seeing you clears that up. How long do I have to wait? I hope it's not that long. I've only been waiting forever. I'll wait until forever. I've gone this far and regardless, I guess there's no other way for me to go.

Do you still think of me? I don't want an answer. I just want you to be with me. At least once, I'd like for you to see me as I am. Not particularly overjoyed by your presence, not in pain over always having to leave. I'd like for you to see the me you never got to see when you were with me.

Give me a night in November to show you.

I used to see you everyday, now I want you to eat a sandwich and come back home

2010-10-31T04:51:00.003+08:00

You have no idea. Crossing you everyday on the way in and out of school, seeing the places you go, thinking about how close you were at some point. It's just surreal how we just ended up talking now. Something draws me to you. I just couldn't put my finger on it. I believe we're meant for so much more than this. At least once while I'm here, come back home. I'll make up for all those times I could've just walked up to you.

We can't just be like this forever. Not after knowing you thought of me the same way I did of you. You were so close.

From the ends of convergent trajectories

2010-10-31T04:35:00.003+08:00

Before I met my ex, I ran into you on some internet forum. I thought you were rather interesting and it frustrated me to no end, how you were dating someone at the time. Soon enough, we started talking again and I was tied down. Later on, that whole thing subsided and you just so happened to be with someone new. I find the whole play on availability increasingly humorous but at the end of the day, this whole irony would still beg the question, "what if it was you instead of her?"

Perhaps we will never know. As early as that first time you messaged me, up until the first time we met, all through that period of latency we had in between, all I ever wanted to be was to be a part of your life.

I'm now your daughter's godfather and sticking to the belief that real life is stranger than fiction, the absurdity just makes me smile. I guess I'm a part of your life. Just didn't see this coming. I miss you, B.

You, just you.

2010-10-31T04:27:00.003+08:00

Friends. I always thought of the two of us as good friends. I don't think that will ever change. We'll always be friends and I'll always love you. Times were different before you came along and whereas I met you by way of life throwing an unassuming curveball my way, you stayed by me. With you, I feel that I'm more than I actually gave myself credit for. I'm a better person than I thought I was and I'd like to thank you for showing me that there's value and worth in the things I say and do. I'd like to thank you for telling me I'm a beautiful person regardless of whether or not I'd say that about myself. Thank you for believing in me. We're good friends and we'll be that way forever.

Thank you for giving me something to believe in. Thank you for being there when I needed you and thank you for being someone who subtly changed my life, whether or not she knew it.

Nadeth, I will always love you. You're a friend I wished I had from the start. I'll see you soon.

This just might be the rest of my life

2010-10-29T02:48:00.004+08:00

I'm finally done with this. All of the sorrow from this masturbatory little opus shall now be put to good use. I really hope this does well. I hope this gets good reviews and minimal revisions. I should totally slay the panel for this defense. I hope I know whatever the fuck it is I'm talking about though. It would be a shame since this really took a lot of heart.

I must do this. It's only the rest of my life we're talking about.

Mother was young once

2010-10-27T00:52:00.002+08:00

My mom was eighteen years old in this picture. This was taken on a trip my mom and her friends took before my father started courting my mother. The week after this, my dad anonymously sent her flowers and would deny ever sending them. Eventually he did though (sellout!). Mostly for fear of having some other douchebag rest on the laurels of his gesture. The result was a little monstrosity they would oftentimes want to strangle in sheer frustration. Way to go for a teacher/student relationship. Okay, well technically she was my dad's friend's student. Whatever. It's odd just imagining how my parents were kids just like me. That they were people way before I came along.

On a side note, I absolutely adore those seafoam green loafers and those short Adidas shorts. I'd wear the exact same thing. As in THE EXACT SAME THING. Well, maybe not shorts that short but still pretty short nonetheless.

Oh and yeah, does anyone notice how my mom sort of resembles BP somehow? It's probably just me though.

My mother was young once.

Contrasts

2010-10-25T18:14:00.003+08:00

I'll try my best to be brief for this entry. The past week has been an exercise in perfect dissonance. For the first time it felt as if the world wasn't falling apart. Rather, this dissonance sought to add a tasteful sense of contrast to the monotony of smooth interpersonal interactions. I spent a week in Manila to see some friends in between long stints of writing for my seemingly endless study on the life stances of music-based subculture. Chances are, you might have noticed a snootier tone with regards to my writing. I'm sorry for this.

Sometimes I wonder how I'll be able to survive there on my own. Something tells me I'll be just fine but I'm a bit apprehensive. On one hand, I missed my mother terribly while I was away but then again this is something I'll have to go through sooner or later. With my friends and the rest of my family up in the capital, I think I'm in good hands.

Things don't always go as planned but they could still be good nonetheless. I'm looking forward to the promise of shared experience, everyone. I'll see you all soon.

Momentary departures from life and living

2010-10-02T03:36:00.006+08:00

I've always felt a bit off about receiving any form of sincere commendation with regards to my writing. I mean okay, I know I have a fairly adequate command of the English language but writing, regardless if it's for journal entries like this, disjointed "poetry" or the occasional bag of lyrics, was never something I wanted to do; much less something I'd be good at. Rather, I always saw writing as a sublimation of my frustration towards my lack of talent in the visual arts, mediated by the added frustration of my numerous (albeit lackluster) attempts to compensate by means of musical expression. Looking back, since I believed myself to be less of a literary failure than I am in those two other fields, writing was the only recourse I had. At the very least, I should be able to articulate certain aspects of the images I see in my own head.

I don't know if this makes sense but words don't really speak to me. Not nearly as much as actually being there to experience the vividness of the northern lights or the reassuring warmth of a lover's touch in even the coldest of nights. These are things that go beyond my capacity to articulate. These are moments that exist beyond the realm of words. At least it's that way for me. Not that I'm ragging on literature, though. I've always had an intense admiration for those who could weave intricate webs of meaning with the words they piece together. All I mean to say is that my receptivity towards the language of experience, inter-subjectivity and inherent meaning leans toward symbolic interpretations of beingness, stripped of the limits of a social context.

Long story short, my mind caters to the whole spectrum of one's individual perception of the world and its phenomena, broken down into binaries that spell out narratives by means of the presence/absence dichotomy they create. Single images that create entire life stories, the stories of places, of incidental people and of the objects they interact with and/or create for themselves. All without a single word spoken. I look to presence and absence as crucial forces in the formation of meaning.

All of this happens on an individual level and when I'm pulled back into the wax and wane of my own social context, I walk away with a little piece of everyone else's quiet narratives. That said, a number of select individuals have contributed immensely to the development of my perspective on life.

An adequate summary of this phenomenon is seen in the formation of what I refer to in my own taxonomy as Tristecism. The basic premise underlying the Tristecist perception of life and living is that all humans are situated in that same presence-absence dichotomy. All meaning is fundamentally derived from the absence and more so, the loss of certain values. The subsequent compounding of values and/or the lack thereof forms a series of experiential binaries. Each in itself, constituting part of a narrative structure which leaves itself open to reinterpretation and generative projection. The issue of substance has always been subject to the valuation of objects, at least as far as I know. I could be wrong. This perspective however posits that meaning is not to be derived from what an object is or appears to be but rather from the spaces and gaps that allow the object to be defined in reference to a greater context, much in the manner of a sculptor chipping away at a slab of rock to produce identifiable shapes and forms. Consequently, as objects or phenomena are liable to change, the loss of certain attributes would denote a transition in the composition of these experiential binary strings from one configuration to another, thus laying down the groundwork for another set of narratives to be drawn from and drawn into.

Always moving and ever dynamic, the perspective more than matches the valleys and peaks of shared human experience. With the above stated, let's go into how specific examples of the continuum of shared human experience persists to shape my own personhood on both an epistemological and aesthetic level. More on this in a subsequent entry.

Untitled

2010-09-30T02:19:00.002+08:00

Untitled

"Repeat, repeat, repeating..." Subtle echoes bounce back and fourth across seemingly boundless stretches of floor, wall and ceiling. Glistening across the spectrum of perennial resonant frequencies, these signals just keep on repeating; conductor to audience, audience to ambient noise. Laid to tape and taken straight to bed, the song, she sings for no one. She sleeps with me tonight.

Asleep at a party

2010-09-25T23:37:00.006+08:00

Okay, this should be fun. Let's try and derive substance from what may easily be construed as a night of reckless abandon, shall we? Well, it wasn't really a night of reckless abandon but Gimi did have a magnificent wipeout earlier that night and the alcohol did seem to flow on endlessly. Knowing me, this isn't how I usually spend my weekends. Hell, knowing me, I'm not usually one to spend the night at anyone else's house. I'm glad this is how I decided to cap my work week off though.

Since our Theology professor cancelled Friday class, I thought it would be high time for me to sleep in for once. Still reeling from how terrible I felt about Thursday's mess of a seminar-workshop, I really felt the need to do so. Waking up sometime in the afternoon, I felt a lot more relaxed (physically, at least) but just as uneasy about myself as when I went to bed. I really needed to decompress but at the same time, I couldn't spend time with anyone without being much of a drag. Experience would state that I'm a horrible bitch when it comes to transference.

Sad to say, I skipped on lunch with my classmates because of that. Well, okay mostly because my mother asked me to stay home in case she needed to drive out somewhere but that's besides the point. I was invited. Even if I couldn't eat crabs to save my life, I was invited. In retrospect, that's a really shitty way to look at the whole situation because I had an opportunity to take my mind off of things with my friends. Now I feel bad for not taking it for fear of pulling everyone down with my presence.

I guess I really didn't have much of a face to show. Well, either that or I couldn't figure out where my face went, first and foremost.

Later in the afternoon, I took it upon myself to find a more productive diversion. I figured that since a fuckton of my shirts no longer fit on account of my looming gut, I should get a couple of new ones for cheap. I needed to eat anyway, so I left the house around six. When I got to the mall, I didn't see anything that fit particularly well. Really wasn't sure about the sizes and all so I decided to wait on it instead to see if I change my mind the next time I go there. Around that time, Gimi texted me saying something to the effect of "the basic dudes are here, get your ass over here."

I thought it would be apt to make up for the opportunity I missed earlier so I went over to Gimi's. Priscilla was there, so was Dianne, Monica was taking pictures and Kryzl was there as well. We spent a good amount of time talking about random shit. In my case, mostly trying stave off the glooms but I ended up enjoying the night's episode of the Priscilla and Gimi show. I always have fun listening to those two talk about whatever. Maybe it's Gimi's basic-ness or how distinct Priscilla's tone of voice is but I couldn't give a fuck less, those two are always entertaining.

Gimi had a lot of drinks laid out but opted to give me a bottle of scotch which was about a third full at the time. I think I breezed through that third of scotch way faster than I should have. A good few glasses of wine later, we're on to the beer. After fucking around a bit in Gimi's empty pool, I passed out face down on the floor. I managed to get up, though. At least for a bit. At least enough to get me across the house and into Gimi's bathroom. I threw up a bit and passed out on the bathroom floor. Not particularly proud of that but hey, at least I flushed and cleaned the rim with some toilet paper. At the very least, I entertained Dianne at my own expense. ("You made higa sa bathroom floor, that was so cool." to be precise)

I remember going in and out of consciousness for a while. I also remember getting up from the bathroom floor and lying down on the couch in the music room. Didn't notice all the picture taking going on at the time but hey, looks like everyone had fun. Before I knew it, all the lights were off, all my friends had left and I had Swervedriver playing on my cellphone speakers to pass the time.

Woke up and left around 7 in the morning with that whole "WHERE THE FUCK AM I AND WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!?" look on my face. I drove through a McDonald's to get some food and by 8:30AM, I was eating breakfast with my mother. I went to bed right after that and woke up sometime around lunch to find some of my friends laughing their asses off of things I said the night before.

Turns out, I had been drunk texting/calling people left and right while I was shitfaced. Highlights include the following:

Me: "Hey, I want you to know that I am never loving again."
Kai: "Oh, really?"
Me: "I don't know, maybe not but I will never love again!"

As if that wasn't bad enough I actually drunk called my own mother and here's what came up:

Me: "Moom!"
Mom: "Oh, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Me: "Moom, where's the doooog?"
Mom: "Nasa kwarto mo, inaantay ka. Pati si Burger, inaantay ka. Antagal mo e."
Me: "TELL THE DOG I SAID HI, OMG OMG OMG."

Yeah, typical drunk story but you guys have no idea how much that night meant to me. I love you, basic people. Thanks for cheering me up. Those pictures are hilarious btw.

To catch a second and turn it to forever

2010-09-22T10:39:00.004+08:00

I made this for YMTWTM!. This is part of a series on my unabashed posthumous admiration for Maningning Miclat. I knew nothing of her character, but her writing resonates with me in ways I never thought possible. If anything, at least in my own mind I've come to believe that for once someone spoke in the same vacuum of transience I did.

I wish I knew you in your lifetime because I will love you all throughout mine.

Sometimes, I find the time to smile.

2010-09-22T10:27:00.002+08:00

Regardless of how firm I am with my "faith" in tristecism, I sometimes find the time to smile. That whole data collection thing went far better than expected and should my attention span comply, I should be able to finish my thesis in a week. That's if I do a week-long internet purge, however. I'm throwing the idea around in my mind. It just might work. Either that or nothing else other than this journal.

A number of history's greatest works have been done in less time and if I could do this thesis without corrections and without the aid of an adviser, then I suppose I at least come close to meriting a much better outlook on myself and my own capacities.

Sometimes, I'd like to smile again. Let this be to the next time I smile. Viva la tristesse!

Months of the great gloom

2010-09-21T09:38:00.005+08:00

It's that time of the year again. These are the months of the great gloom and I am thus humbled. It is with sincere reverence that I give myself September up until February to reflect on the beauty found in the wake of each year's quiet passing. In perfect love and imperfect loving, I give myself back to the arms that held me up when I could no longer stand. To the concrete, I send my love. To the great gloom, I give these fragile hands.

There is no love here. In love, I am forever alone.

No matter how far life may take me, I send my love.

2010-09-15T11:16:00.003+08:00

I've always hinted towards the way I take it as a personal betrayal to not write something down here; especially over prolonged stretches of time. It's been nothing less than devastating for the greater part of the two months I spent thinking I could put that guilt to good use. In hopes of providing myself with a means to facilitate generativity in other endeavors, I went on a "writing fast" of sorts. As a result, my presence on IDWTMYA waned. I was wrong about that whole neuroticism and would like to make amends.

Everyone, I'm back on IDWTMYA. I don't ever want to let this go. I'm so sorry.

If one were to suggest optimism, these words would fall short

2010-07-01T23:36:00.001+08:00

Three things. Suggest optimism, stay beautiful and keep moving. I haven't gotten to any single one of those yet and it's getting on my nerves for the most part. Things have been feeling off as of late. My previous entries reflect that rather well. The more distant I am from my writing, the more detached I become with my sense of connectedness to the world. I can't risk this. I am way past that threshold and the dissonance is intolerable.

I have to keep on writing. I have to keep myself together, if only to keep this part of my college life intact. I really don't want to lose myself again.

I really don't have much to say

2010-06-30T03:19:00.003+08:00

It is because of a non-singular "you" that I will never love again.

I keep living the same day

2010-06-22T08:26:00.001+08:00

Groundhog day. It's sort of like that. Couple that with Geoff Rickly's mantra in the United Nations song, "I keep living the same day" and you might be able to come up with a pretty clear picture of what the past few weeks have been for me. I suppose this is playing off just like the aforementioned Bill Murray film, making a royal ass of myself as I wake following 30 minutes of sleep. Over and over again. Time management has always been a long standing issue but I think this would sort of take the cake as to setting a new zenith for non-productivity.

I don't like this. No. I don't like this at all. It's making me feel like crap to be perfectly honest, knowing that the bills aren't getting any cheaper and I'm still not to the point of frantically trying to pull myself across the board for a swift and uneventful graduation. If I'm going to make something of this, I'll have to get to work and I believe the only way I'm getting this into my thick skull is by way of writing.

What do I want to happen, exactly? I want to get all of my paperwork done and I want to stop pushing things aside to slack off. I have enough free time anyway, so I don't get why I have to put so much stuff off for later. Besides, if I get that down, I ought to have enough time to sleep as well. Management. Seriously, I need me some of that. First off, I'm switching all of my documents to Donna, the other laptop. Turning it into a dedicated workstation for writing music, recording, live performances and more than anything, a machine for generating papers. It's only one year and whereas I'm still in sort of a slump, I ought to be able to pull it together this week.

The world never stops passing by and for a self-proclaimed transient, I have to be there in its passing. I have to move with it. It's that same dynamism I have to practice if I want to get to where I want to be.

I'm not starting over, I'm moving forward. Wouldn't want to place any more burdens on anyone.

Uneventful

2010-06-20T17:10:00.005+08:00

For the most part, the past few days have been rather uneventful. Things have been looking up as far as the gear acquisition department is concerned but for all intents and purposes, the rest of the world seems to lie stagnant in a dry swell. This could just be due to my growing desire to move out of this city but yeah. I think I'll fight this one out as long as I can.

The first semester's shaping up quite well, not to jinx myself or anything but I think I could see this going somewhere. Somewhere good, I hope. My thesis has been coming together well. Ma'am Gail's been supporting me since the inception of this whole endeavor and by Wednesday, I ought to have the paperwork done so I could get cleared for fieldwork. I'm looking forward to data collection and a whole host of other things filed under ulterior motives.

Caitlyn Bailey, on the other hand is slowly working itself back into shape as well after a short hiatus over the summer. We're looking to release a remastered discography of sorts by mid-July. It'll be self-released under the name Anthology. The cover is done, finishing some parts of the layout then I'll start with the packaging as soon as I get a new paper cutter. I intend to make the whole thing a very personal experience from the band to whoever has it in his or her hands.

I guess that's as much as I could pull together for now. I might chime in later to satiate the need to secure a stable train of thought.

I'll be back real soon.

Distant terminals

2010-06-13T01:16:00.006+08:00

Distant Terminals

When the sleepless stray far from the bases of their shadows, the morning shall blossom for us. Hanging from the cradles of daylight, we're so quiet and uncertain. "Will I ever see you again?", I asked and "I'll see you soon" was all you said but I never did see you again. In the currency of time and distance, our fragile words never last; in every fleeting instance, we're all too quick to pass. "I never saw you again.", I said. When "I'll see you soon" was all you said, I never did see you again. I never did see you again.

For every bit of permanence, we never lasted long and as our paths converged on open roads, this meeting was one to mean the most. The beautiful never last long, they say.

From here on in, every untransmitted signal has this to say: "We will always float in dead trajectory; to drift in the spaces where our fragile hands once met."

It is because of a non-singular you that I will never love again.

Mine are the saddest of sullen eyes

2010-06-02T06:20:00.005+08:00

The Saddest of Sullen Eyes
Summer, 2010

The beautiful never last long. This is the only relevant truth left for us to believe in; at the very least, it’s the only relevant truth I’m left to subscribe to. Transience only takes us as far as the stories we tell and the histories we share. In this, I hope to be a part of you somehow; situated in my quiet passing, open arms and heart laid bare. For the remaining days I have here, may my voice ring anonymously as the trail to love’s fleeting afterthought.

I only have until the fifteenth of May.

I hope you never find this and I hope you never find me. Never say my name, just remember what I had to say. This would be all. Mine are the saddest of sullen eyes.

I don't see you everyday

I chose to be alone for the sole reason of being near you. I never complained about how you were always in love with somebody else, neither did I bother to stake claim over what I felt was then unattainable. I stayed for you and no one else. I stayed close because I knew no better and sat myself closer for the part of you that I always felt would love me back.

Let’s never settle for short stops and near misses, you always knew what you meant to me.

Apartheid

It’s the colors of love that pull us apart; the vested interest keeps us hanging on and we’re best left with restraining orders.

Neutral coagulants

I will love you forever- if only for the sake of art.

Rest assured

It was wrong of me to ever doubt you. In anything and everything, it’ll always be you.

Only in this yearning

I hope you never find what you’re looking for.

Houses with secret gardens

My house’s silent hallways seem so much more peaceful when I’m alone. Every room and corner here breathes with that same serenity; knowing that everything in front of me is mine to spend an eternity with. From the view of my bedroom window, the world has never looked as haunting. You smiled to me and said, “we’re not the only ghosts here.”

Wilson

You have a name. Don’t say you don’t remember.

The social dances of socialist dancers

Your slow, arcing curvature lives on in the poetry of every lingering movement. In every inch of suspended motion, you speak without ever having said.

“Love…” and I quote, “will this be over soon?”

In the calmness of that moment, I stared at you and said: “I never knew limbs could bend that way. I never knew my will could bend like this and never break.”

Without a word, you let go of my trembling hands and continued dancing.

“By the time the sun sets over this amphitheater, we’d still be far from reaching the end. This dance, it never ends. Not for you, not for anyone.”

We have yet to end this awkward dance.

Our lady

Every martyred saint is a lover prior to death.

Commodity fetishes

We’ve made an artform of walking down opposite ends of the same street. The sidewalks here are conveyor belts and we’re the only people who’d prefer to walk backwards. Honestly, I’d like to think we walk backwards in hopes of meeting halfway.

For whatever it’s worth, you’re the best part of this production. I honestly believe you’re the prettiest part of this production line.

Autobahns

When all roads lead to the same place, the drive is always in circles. Close your windows, I know where you live.

On the verandas of empty houses

This place is haunting without you. I’ve been feeling this way since 1994.

Sailboats

Our bridges may burn as bright as the sun but they are sure to end as beautifully as the haziest of Atlantic sunsets.

At the end of November

For the life of me, I couldn’t just let this go.

Central states and peripheries

Have we become mothers to a brood of hungry fascist children? What then has become of our struggle against totality? This all amounts to nothing. If only for this, we all amount to nothing.

Mountainside empires

Ghost towns are peaceful, really. It’s the loneliness of the city that makes ghosts of us all. I can’t stand it. For a city of ghosts, we are by no means peaceful.

False starts

April and May, I’m always yours. This lifetime is ours to own.

...or so we thought

You weren’t who you said you were. That’s exactly who you are. I don’t know why I like you so much that way.

Open arms to clearer windows

Only when I wake to find you here do I realize that none of this is ever real.

Untitled

2010-06-02T06:04:00.003+08:00

Untitled

These quiet mountains march in with a thousand peaks but bear no summit. Gazing upon the horizon with starry eyes and bewildered smiles, daylight hangs as a pendulum for us; meridian only to the space between where heaven and the sea meet.

It's sad for me to say I'll never see you again.

Untitled

2010-06-02T05:53:00.002+08:00

Untitled

Two asterisks run swiftly across an open field in hopes of finding shelter from the morning shower of our half-formed ampersands. Stumbling as they move along, they help each other up that they may both still carry on.

In a house of hanging mirrors, one says to the other, "Stop, wait, listen to me. We could only go so far." We stop and listen, pausing for a second; "such fragile asterisks we are..."

Our hands are half-formed ampersands.

Literaturegirls

2010-05-30T03:38:00.003+08:00

In the search for shared phenomenology, many of my calls have gone unanswered. From the hole I've dug for myself however, my voice might still resonate and find the strength to reach you wherever you may be. Let my lowly voice echo on, let it travel far and wide. It's with these half-formed hopes that my words still seek to glisten in the back of your distant, hazy eyes.

Lost in the language of borrowed time, countless pages are inked with your name as a signature and a long-standing metaphor. I do not know what to say, I do not know what to do. I'd like for things to stay this way but I feel the same way too.

I'd like to think I know where we stand. I just don't know what to say.

Are we still friends? I just hope this doesn't change.

A Nostalgic Fondness

2010-05-28T00:47:00.004+08:00

A NOSTALGIC FONDNESS
Ten sweet songs to remind us of better times

Tracklist:

1. Julianna Barwick- Anjos
2. Color of Clouds- Left You
3. Lush- For Love
4. Irene- By Your Side
5. Dylan Mondegreen- Something To Dream On
6. Aberdeen- Sunny in California
7. Club 8- I Wasn't Much Of A Fight
8. Asobi Seksu- Pink Cloud Tracing Paper
9. Sweet Trip- Chocolate Matter
10. Rocketship- Hey Hey Girl

Total length: 35:02
Total size: 47.5mb

DOWNLOAD HERE

New distances

2010-05-27T21:15:00.005+08:00

I'd like to think I dress differently now. For all intents and purposes, I'm happier with the way I dress and subsequently, I'm pleased with the way it helped me become happier with myself as a person over the course of the past two years. Considering how anti-fashion and terribly classist I used to be, I think I've gone a long way in my understanding of worn aesthetic and its bearing in reference to one's sense of self. As with all social creatures, humans have the capacity to project themselves by way of a maintained sense of aesthetic.

From an explicit declaration of political leanings to a rather implicit display of preference for a niche group of friends, associates and prospective partners, I believe it's impossible to separate an individual from the commonalities of a preferred context. We derive a unique sense of self via our exercise of reflexivity as we move along a continuum of styles that arise from the culture or set of cultures we're immersed in. It's ironic to say the least, how individuality arises not from a general rejection of external influence as one might commonly assume, but rather from the adoption of a set of relatively exclusive standards that would lump and individual into a narrower social strata which allows for improved mobility in the prevailing power structure. It's not so much about building yourself up from scratch than it is trying to build yourself an environment that allows you to act upon your own potentialities.

I believe myself to be a more respectable person when I dress in a manner I consider respectable. With that inwardly directed sense of self-respect, I in turn feel like more of a capable person; someone capable of acting upon these said potentialities.

I may be well on my way there in terms of getting the approach down but every approach needs some follow-through. I'm not there yet but I intend to get to where I want to be. Ideally, I'll get there while I'm young and well-dressed.

P.S.

Hi, Madel! I am giving you special mention in this entry. I hope you don't mind.

Sometimes, I dream

2010-05-27T05:31:00.002+08:00

Sometimes, I dream. From time to time, these dreams don't end well. Sometimes, I don't understand half of what they have to say to me. A lot of times, they only leave me hanging.

Yesterday, I woke up from a rather peculiar dream. It was in an open field with a stage set up for some band I wanted to see but could only vaguely remember. It was on a cloudy afternoon, at a location I couldn't readily describe. I was with friends and had just gotten up out of a tent to find seats close to the stage. I sat down on a chair facing the stage. One moment, I blink and all of the sudden I'm in the same place but I'm facing the other way. I'm staring everyone in the audience right in the face. It takes a while to register but when my eyes start to focus, I see hideous, ghastly faces and I scream as loud as I can.

Everything goes blank.

I wake up in some strange house, with all sorts of odds and ends that wouldn't look out of place in an episode of Tales from the Crypt. It was tense and I felt like something was after me but this was something that never really made itself known to me from within the dream itself.

I'll get back to this later. Sometimes, I dream.

I am seriously not getting any younger

2010-05-26T01:33:00.003+08:00

Just so you know, I was young once. I'm not getting any younger. If you've read through my previous entries, you'll know this is something that both fascinates me and greatly scares me. I've always had a penchant for the uncertain and I always welcome change but I guess a part of us will always opt to cling to the safety of a familiar state of life.

This part of my life is coming to a close and I am ready to welcome the person I am to become within the next few years.

"One year until Manila", my mother said a while ago. "Be patient, you'll miss this when it's gone." As ready as I think I am for something new, I guess I'm also taking the time to prepare for the things I'm to miss when I leave this town.

I am seriously not getting any younger.

Next time, pick someone who doesn't care

2010-05-25T02:34:00.003+08:00

It has become a point of concern that a certain individual has been posting text and various other content found in IDWTMYA. I am not for copyright or anything, but I do believe that people should at least have the common decency to not bastardize other people's life experiences by presenting them as one's own. It makes me feel insulted to say the least and to a greater degree, I feel sorry for the sad bastard behind these accounts. Well, this is a free plug for his sorry ass. Nice try, sunshine. Now grow a pair and fuck off.

The following are some of the said entries. Some may have been overlooked but here is a fairly representative list:

Nigga, please. That shit's whack.

He has done this to my formspring as well. Further plagiarism may be found at his blogspot if anyone bothers to find it.

UPDATE:

Action has been taken and his account has been suspended. Thanks, Marc from Tumblr!

A Quiet Monologue

2010-05-24T23:46:00.003+08:00

This was something I made for economics class. It's about the politics of emotional scarcity and the patterns that lie behind a person's projected social interactions. This is a lot of firsts for me. First time I ever did a short in color, first time I ever did something fairly hi-res, first time I ever used a different editing program. So yeah, it could get better still. I enjoyed making this and am looking to make more past the walking around and going home schtick. Since I know what to do in some cases, I should at least try to apply them in different ways.

Our drama, there's not much more. It's coming to an end for sure.

2010-05-17T23:48:00.007+08:00

Now is not the best time for a lot of things, especially when those said things get in the way of the last week of summer school. I'll be the first to admit that my performance during this term and the last has been terribly lackluster. I'm not happy with that and I don't think I could stress that enough. I do however have needs that need to be addressed despite the circumstances they might put me in when I get back to the regular rhythm of life.

I guess I have to 'fess up and take accountability for my actions. I'll do what it takes to get by and get things out of the way, so yeah. Here goes.

A while back, I wrote of my unabashed enthusiasm for Club 8's Philippine tour. I reserved tickets, shot a few messages and made a few calls. Soon enough, I was on a plane headed for Manila with a full set of plans for the days I'd end up spending there.

From the airport, I went straight to dad's office. Ate my first meal of the day around 3:30pm while watching Kick Ass (Whose eponymous protagonist reminds me of Polina's Nick Baker, only with The Locust's costumes in his backpack.). Haven't eaten at Mini-Stop in quite a while and I missed it. Apart from that though, I missed the people I used to go to Mini-Stop with, but that's besides the point.

Around 4:30pm, I high-tailed it over to Mall of Asia to meet up with Nudge in National Bookstore. After almost an hour of aimless wandering to Aberdeen's Homesick And Happy To Be Here, I found her looking up some Oscar Wilde books in the Literary Winners' section. Always nice to see a literary winner checking out other literary winners, don't you think? Anyways, she helped me pick out a notebook and after some more aimless wandering we decided to eat at Wham! Burger. Big mistake. The chicken littles were good but the chicken sandwich left a lot to be desired. Didn't finish all of it. It just got a tad gross towards the end.

Soon after, we started looking for the way to SMX Convention Center. Asking for directions didn't help much, so we tried playing a game of "follow that hipster!" wherein the both of us had to find the way to the venue by following well-dressed kids in pointy shoes. Three blocks and a lost hipster later, we got to SMX.

After an hour or so of waiting in line for the venue to open and poking fun at how hardcore punk kids end up watching Club 8, Nudge and I walked in to find merch tables, busy production staff and a sea of eager fans. I bought the Labrador Records press for Club 8's Strangely Beautiful and a t-shirt for The People's Record and sat down a few heads away from the stage.

The show started soon enough with The Gentle Isolation. I haven't heard them prior to this and from their set, I could safely say they're one of those bands that would really make me smile to see again. Your Imaginary Friends came after. Albeit plagued by technical difficulties in the middle of their set, they still put on a good show. Very heartfelt and charming. The Camerawalls followed, bringing an entire stage full of bandurristas on stage with them. That whole spectacle was a sight to see and Clem Castro's stage presence won me over apart from having a very solid repertoire that would've gotten me to listen to them anyway. Kudos to him for pulling all of this together with the Lilystars crew, as well. I could only imagine how crazy things would've been over his end. Solid lineup, very smooth flow in between bands. At least that's how I see it.

A tense air hung over the audience soon after The Camerawalls played. The crew started setting up, bringing instruments back and forth. We all knew it was coming and just when we were all creaming our pants in excitement, there they were. Club 8, in all their Swedish indie glory, standing in front of us; readying themselves for what was to be the highest point of the evening. They didn't say anything, they just got up and burst into Western Hospitality off of their latest opus, The People's Record. The rest, as they say, is history.

This was definitely a huge event by indie standards. Over at this end though, it was nothing short of an oasis in the middle of a far stretching existential drought for me.

As stated in an earlier entry, I would just like to reiterate the following statement:

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.

The mere fact I was there to watch and actually meet Karolina Komstedt and Johan Angergard was a huge thing for me as it took Club 8 into the realm of actual shared experience. I felt it in the connection I had with the rest of the crowd, in the time I spent with Nudge and in Johan and Karolina's words and company.

"We're glad to have helped you through these parts of your life. At least through the music, we're there for you in good times and bad."
-Johan Angergard to me

On a whole, the whole Club 8 experience left me with a stronger desire to experience life as it's meant to be experienced in and among people. Looking into it, I realized that brief, if only momentary patches of inter-subjectivity are just as important as the major turning points that arrest us and change the course of our lives as we know it.

I guess I know what I'm looking for now. Ennui pays off because it makes you see the things you take for granted.

"With all this drama, there's something to lose but the ending we don't choose. Our drama, there's not much more. It's coming to an end for sure."
Club 8- I wasn't much of a fight

YMTWTM! still draws things

2010-05-13T07:45:00.003+08:00

Full view, maybe? I missed drawing things. Always puts a smile on my face when I do.

Before transience

2010-05-05T10:17:00.002+08:00

Before transience, there was music. My mother just gave me her n97 on the grounds of it being more suited to that whole technologically-dependent demographic I've gotten myself into. I named her Pia after the Estonian shoegaze band, Pia Fraus. She has an FM transmitter so that solves the problem I have about my car's cd player.

Going to school should be less taxing now. This does however remind me that I missed my 9:15 class and I might miss the next one if I don't get going.

Read this and I'll pretend to be here.

Come what may

2010-05-05T09:39:00.005+08:00

I think it sort of runs as a recurring theme as per the content of my entries, whenever I say something that would hint towards establishing some sense of stability with regards to myself, my relationship with myself and my relationships with other people. I occasionally refer to this as the unending search for permanence. In case you've been following IDWTMYA, you might have seen words or phrases of similar bearing thrown around a lot.

Instead of rambling endlessly about it like I always do, I suppose it would make more sense to sum it up in words that wouldn't be so indulgent as they are a primer towards the rest of the day and if absolutely necessary- the days to come.

The question I pose is this: What need is there for permanence in the life of a self-proclaimed "loveless transient"?

As the seconds roll by, snowballing into hours, days and weeks; may this be my momentary afterthought. I'd like to find out what permanence means to the transient in me and discern if the voice of the other is polarizing enough to assume a mutually exclusive persuasion. If I must be a transient, where am I going and to what end?

Spring came, rain fell

2010-04-29T22:59:00.004+08:00

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

2010-04-29T00:40:00.004+08:00

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

2010-04-21T01:31:00.009+08:00

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

2010-04-17T09:54:00.005+08:00

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

2010-04-15T21:51:00.005+08:00

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

2010-04-06T04:25:00.001+08:00

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

2010-04-04T10:47:00.006+08:00

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

2010-04-04T06:35:00.004+08:00

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

Tracklist:

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

Total length: 44:30
Total size: 62.4mb

DOWNLOAD HERE

Ghosts

2010-04-02T20:44:00.003+08:00

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.

Sans Rival

2010-03-29T03:27:00.005+08:00

Seriously, I wonder when Nudge is coming over. I hope this summer would be good. We have lot of catching up to do. Could the Nudge bring everyone else too?

A list of things I miss and/or look forward to

2010-03-29T03:16:00.002+08:00

Learning to navigate new spaces and cityscapes
Some new musical endeavor, possibly formal training in ANYTHING
Dancing without being made fun of; learning how to dance maybe?
Learning how to cook more; starving heart hurts less on a full stomach
LEARNING MORE ABOUT ACTUAL FASHION and possibly sewing stuff from scratch should time allow; an improvement in fashion sense maybe?
Getting better at drawing stuff that looks like a five year old did it
A full head of sex hair
Summer class
First semester
Second semester
Graduation
MOVING TO FUCKING MANILA
Decorating my next house/home/apartment
GRADUATE SCHOOL. Hopefully La Salle since UP’s a bitch with its requirements for non-UP graduates.
Spending time with friends again. It’s about time I got back to you guys and actually had some of that authentic non-internet bonding people yammer about all the time
The rest of my life
POSSIBLY falling in love
Yes

With short glances to the side, we blossom in full return

2010-03-26T04:04:00.003+08:00

Starting next week, You Mean The World To Me and I Don't Want To Miss You Anymore will return to full form. I might even make a 'zine out of this if I could compile enough material. Caitlyn Bailey will be on a short break for the greater part of the summer and Love in Athens will be writing its first EP. A lot more in store for everyone, let's all blame the summer heat.

I'm still not over you. This journal is back.

Love in Athens- Resonance

2010-03-20T03:53:00.002+08:00

Resonance

You're so quick to fall in love and I'm put off by the sight of you. Next time you're here, don't call me up because I'll never feel the same way you do. So this is goodbye. Don't sleep to dream of me, sleep because you need to sleep. From time to time, I'll think of you but that's the most you'll get from me tonight. Even if it never comes to mind, it's not that I've forgotten you. It's just not worth all the sleepless nights that my sheets would have gone through without you here.

I was so quick to fall in love. Now, I'm put off by the sight of you. Next time you're here, don't call me up because I'll never feel the same way you do. At least not again.

Formspring, in response

2010-03-16T14:13:00.005+08:00

Nandito ka ba sa Manila ngayon, Francis Maria? Nagtatanong, ikay

Nope, I'll be back between the end of this semester and summer enrollment tho. See you?

what does a guy mean when he says, "i have to know you more to know you?"

I'm really bad at this. When I say something like that, I'm trying my best to be polite especially since I usually use it on people I have no interest in talking to. That's just me though, don't take my word for it. I have the tendency to grossly misinterpret very neutral messages.

we should start a church or something an atheist church people who are godless parang yung "theliveoutloudyouth"

Hail Satan. Cool guys tho, beliefs just don't mix well with em. They're really nice to kids at shows, real polite too but yeah. Let's do some sort of super heathen nice guy cult. That would be awesome.

why can't you stay longer? :< -little sister

I'll stay longer next time I drop by. I sort of have it set in my mind that someone's going to end up stealing my bed when I'm there. I'd like that to be you instead of anyone else. Haha

bebenta mo ba sakin ang pagkagandagdan mong bss guitar pag naisipan mo na siyang ibenta? :D

I have a lot of gripes about my SG but I love her nonetheless. I don't think I'd be giving her up. It's theeee first bass I ever really bought and I sort of get the feeling she'll come in handy somewhere down the road of life in a band. It's the sentimental part of me that never wants to let her go. I don't know what the practical part of me has to say in a few years' time.

How would you expand the equation to the meaning of life, which is answered by the number 49?

I could but I'm a humanist and I'm bad at math. :)) HAHA

would you ride a moped?

FUCK YEAH I'D RIDE A MOPED.

What's the first thing you'd buy with Php5,000? by jaddieloo

Food and some odds and ends for my room, I suppose. Probably some clothes if I can.

what do you think of secret jesus bible codes on U.S. military weapons?

Hail Satan!

what do you think of the god loving christian hardcore bands here in davao? sa totoo lang parang gusto ko sumuka!

I have no qualms with people who subscribe to faith although I'm not without my biases. I just don't lean towards that so if they do, that's none of my business. I just dislike it tremendously when they occasionally come forward with the notion that their views are the only valid/correct views. I always thought that hardcore was about diversity but that won't spare you from looking like a dick when you're pushy. Musically, a lot of these christian bands are pretty boring. No energy whatsoever and I am in no way driven when I listen to or see them live. Save for A Liturgy, Mired or at least that one song they (or just Jaydee) have/has on myspace. Jaydee's legit.

what drives you crazy?

Living drives me crazy but that's a good thing. That dynamism between stability and the urge to go take the plunge when you're teetering over the edge does hold some weight when looking back at the finer points of life.

My work ethics disgust me

2010-03-11T16:57:00.002+08:00

I am never doing this again. I'll pass everything I need to and this will never happen again. I can't afford to have things this way. God fucking dammit.

Camera Obscura- You Told A Lie

2010-03-07T23:36:00.002+08:00

Camera Obscura- You Told A Lie

If you were a season you would be in bloom. I wish I had good reason to see you soon. There's no need to convince me that you're a catch. I bought my ticket I'm sold at last. Who was it that said that love conquers all? He was a fool 'cause it doesn't at all. Should I believe you told a lie? On the way to my heart and on the way back.

Are my eyes the coldest blue? You said once this was true. If it is I don't know what I'll do 'cause I'm stuck with them and they're stuck on you.

Was I a quiet little nothing who never challenged anyone or was I a lazy lazy snake? Do you want me to be a gentle diplomat or you can beg and you can plead.

Are my eyes the coldest blue? You said once this was true and if it is I don't know what I'll do 'cause I'm stuck with them and they're stuck on you.

Love in retroactive continuity

2010-03-07T04:27:00.006+08:00

Love in retroactive continuity

The view from this lonesome window hasn't changed much since you left. With the carousels of daylight seeing to every inch of this surrealistic permanence, it lingers on, untouched by all but the thinnest strands of borrowed time; beautifully still and endlessly so. I've been keeping the doors cracked in hopes of seeing you again, if only to watch you pass by from behind the gaze of distant horizons. With the turning of battered clock hands comes a summer that never ends, a summer that harbors no regrets and a summer who in her days will make no amends. As timeless as you are unapologetic, you are the sun that never sets.

Months in and I start waking up early in the morning

2010-03-04T08:22:00.002+08:00

No, not if I can help it.

...and the cat turned to smoke

2010-03-04T02:10:00.002+08:00

Yes folks, I'm back. I'm trying to get things into order and no, there will be no Orchid-related content despite the direct reference to one of my favorite Orchid songs. Instead, I shall post a Backstreet Boys video in lieu of all of the punk rock and indie related music I've been subscribing to as of late. I missed writing. Might as well get back on track and save a little face for this semester.

We're always just about to leave

2010-02-25T01:04:00.008+08:00

As with a lot of things I've been working with, this entry is long overdue. It's almost as if I've been doing IDWTMYA a disservice by leaving it idle for increasingly prolonged periods of time. Precisely what I need when I'm trying to keep my priorities in check, don't you think? This isn't what this is for. This isn't what I made this for. More importantly, this isn't what I spent all of that time thinking of things to write about for. Being a creature of habit (many habits, rather) I was always one to draw parallels. Part of the rationale behind I Don't Want To Miss You Anymore was the thought that this exercise in focus would help me direct my attention towards more constructive ends. Since it has to be said, I'll go straight up and say I feel like I'm betraying myself for turning this into something I just do on the side when in all intent this was meant to be something I was to do every other day at the very least.

I won't make promises I can't keep but I can say I'll try to get this back on track. As with everything else, life, love, academics (synonymous to life and love) et al.

Must I go on about what's been happening over the course of the past few days? Maybe I should, just to keep the momentum up.

Over the weekend, I was in Manila for this family reunion thing. Seeing as how my folks were always particular of how other family members saw me being the eldest among the cousins and some sort of de facto rolemodel, I had to look as "presentable" as I possibly could for the duration of my stay. So what does this entail? Dressing up? Check. I'm not exactly a style icon in any way, shape or form but I'd like to believe I know how to pull a look together so that wasn't that much of a problem. Had to get a haircut and a mild shave though. I expected another one of those haircuts you only regret having when you're running late and almost halfway to the airport but hey, turns out the guy actually knew what he was doing. I salute you, Boss barbershop guy!

Since I got through the dressing part and had a few hours to kill before going home, I made true on those plans Nads and I had of going to Saguijo for Terno Inferno. Saw some pretty good bands, didn't stay long enough for Up Dharma Down and Encounters With A Yeti though. I feel bad for greeting Ponchie on the way in without even seeing his band play. Oh well, next time I'ma make it up to the guy. I really respect his band and it's the least I could do as a fan. Apart from spending time with the Paps (Nads and Xiomara, for the uninformed), I got to meet their friend Clarisse, Nads' sister Judy, Camille and that other person they were with who looks nice but I'm sort of apprehensive to talk to. ANGEL MADE IT, by the way! She got there with the Kat and their friend, Van. As with Encounters With A Yeti, I'd have to make it up to them as well for having them leave the Tumblr people (Shinji, Francis Cabal et al) at Freedom bar just so I could spend like 15-20 minutes tops with them. Nads, Xioms, I miss you guys. Please come visit soon! Angle, the Kat, I'll see you in Manila. Everyone else, I'll see you soon.

The morning after, the family went to Tagaytay. Nothing much, just a good family meal. Got to the airport around a bit past 3pm and got back home sometime around 5:45pm.

After Celebrating my Dad's birthday on the 22nd, everything just rolled back into the monotony of everyday life. Went to class, went through some power outages, talked to some people and went home straight after.

I guess that would be it for now, not much else happened. Or wait, what about that ghost thing? Well, I guess we have to wait for another entry to find out. See you everyone.

Untitled

2010-02-22T03:34:00.005+08:00

Untitled

"I won't sit still for another moment with you", I said; sleeping in other lovers' beds, living by every second we spent between the sweetest fall and the coldest winter.

With spring coiled gently in the bases of our shadows, we had but half a season to share. Staring blankly as you took my hand, you moved with the grace of time; time as only time could portray, time as she faded away. Summer looming behind the silhouettes we've drawn for ourselves, we burned too bright to stay together; you as the year and I, the season.

Of all the words to say in parting, it was "don't you fade away."

Love, love will tear us apart again

2010-02-14T22:56:00.006+08:00

It's been long enough and after that unbearable little hiatus, what better opportunity to get IDWTMYA back on track than by posting a Valentine's day entry? Not much has happened since I stopped writing a while back so this is fairly recent.

First off, I've ALWAYS hated Valentine's day. Yes, I am being bitter about it. Seeing as I've never ever been on a V-day date (even when I WAS in a relationship), you could see why I'm quick to dismiss this whole holiday as a farce conceived with intent to disrupt the balance of nature, at least my balance of nature; my sense of balance as to how to position myself against the disproportionate number of people coming out of the blue to remind me of how frustrating my romantic life has been. Okay, I'm getting delusional here. It's overrated to say it's overrated but yeah, it's overrated. Either that or I just didn't see much of a point in celebrating this to begin with.

I ended up going to this party down at Cups and Lowercase called "Love Stinks, Let's Drink" with some friends of mine. The beer was drink all you can and yeah, I should've gotten more to make sure I was perfectly sloshed the day after but I could say I had a fair amount. Dropped by Metro for the first time ever after we realized not much was going on at Cups.

Things were pretty stale but hey, beats staying at home thinking about why I'm not in love for Valentine's day. Maria- 1, Lord Gloom- 0.

Oh, and I absolutely love how I pulled off that post-punk look last Saturday. If that's any consolation, I guess I'm a bit happier trying to impress myself somehow. Make me feel a lot better about myself when I see it work. Thanks to everyone who spent time with me. PJ, Arisa, Jariya, Jariya's friend, Buddy, Steff and new friends Richard and John. Hope to see you guys again sometime.

Lush- For Love

2010-01-31T02:56:00.002+08:00

Okay, okay. January's been a rather tiresome month for me. I'll try my best to get a quick recap in somewhere. Until then, let's gloom the fuck out of everything with this beautiful song by Lush. I've had this on repeat for the past few days.

Lush- For Love

Pretty little girl, she shines. Knowing she is young, she smiles; happy just to be a prize, happy just to see his smile.

Silly little girl, she tries, thinking she is good and wise doesn't recognize the lies pouring from her lips. She sighs: "This is so real. It's what I feel. I look in your eyes and lose myself."

Silly little girl denies ever understanding why her face is full of sad surprise every time she hears him cry:

"What do you feel when you're with me? I look in your eyes and see myself."

But there's no connection, just his own reflection.

Isn't this the way you wanted me? In love with you. Do anything for you.

She looked in his eyes to lose herself and when it falls apart, she cries. Doesn't think to look inside; she just covers up her eyes. Doesn't see her own disguise and though she feels this sorrow, it will fade tomorrow. She'll pretend that this was really love. She'll make their fall seem beautiful. She won't remember this at all. She won't recall the truth at all. She wants to fall again.

This is goodbye.

2010-01-30T14:58:00.004+08:00

Yes, this is goodbye.

Always you

2010-01-24T20:55:00.001+08:00

Slow down

2010-01-19T06:07:00.006+08:00

I repeat, things will be slow. I'll get back with a lot more to say within the next few weeks though. Hopefully, that's something to look forward to. I've been sleeping at 6am on average and I really think I need to get things back into order before I start fucking around again. Til then, I'd probably be doing thesis-related stuff.

Formspring, in response

2010-01-15T12:54:00.003+08:00

How are you?

I am currently NOT doing my long overdue paper in experimental psychology and thesis writing. I'm also hating myself for thinking that I've bitten off more than I could chew. At the same time, frustrated at how much lip service I can pay when I know this could be done but I'm just not doing it. Speaking of doing it, I haven't gotten any since 3p09458929 years ago so you could imagine what kinds of frustration start piling up. Okay, back to work.

Are you in love? To whom?

Honestly speaking, I wish. I want to be. There isn't a waking moment where I didn't wish I was in love somehow but that doesn't come without its own fair share of sad truths. Just because you're closer than you thought you'd ever get to something and/or someone you genuinely (for lack of a better word) desire, doesn't necessarily mean you'll be welcome when you get to their hearts' front door. You could get turned down, you could crash your car and end up quadriplegic, get stuck in traffic, have a friend die, have family try and reel you in for "important" surprise trips or you could find yourself stranded at home because of harsh and unforgiving weather. That's all just on the way there. There are 3804928049832094 ways to skin a cat and there just as many reasons to not make things any easier. I just don't want to hope more than I have to anymore. It's hard to love when there are no guarantees. Hell, even statistically favorable chances of the whole thing doing well would've been fine to work with. There is little or no thrill in taking risks either if those same risks inevitably (and repeatedly) lead to the same unfavorable outcome so either I'm cynical or just scared of making the same mistake twice... or thrice. I lost count. Just to reiterate, I wish I was in love. If I happened to want to love someone and that person for one reason or another thinks it would be good to act on it for once (just as much as I do) then I don't see why I wouldn't be.

Sorry if I keep straying from the question. I don't know if I'm making any sense at all.

Will you, by chance, sleep with another man?

I'd rather not, but I'm not ruling that out either. Then again, I'm probably saying that because I haven't gotten any for 329804832048329 years and I'm desperate. Well fuck this, honestly speaking no.

Are the rumors true? Are you bisexual, immune to STD's and lacking in any standards?

There's a rumor mill for me? Wow, I never knew that. As for your questions, I'm attracted to women. Always have been. To date, I have yet to develop any significant attractions towards men so I guess I'm pretty straight. Although if you know me, I really am skeptical of absolutes. As for being immune to STD's, maybe it's because I'm also immune to sex. Seriously speaking, I'd prefer my sex safe unless I trust where my partner's been enough to try it without protection. Lacking in any standards? Shit, son. I'm precisely the way I am because my standards are too high to work around. Some more than others in various fields. I only ever have standards for issues and criteria I actively address so it wouldn't necessarily apply if you asked me for my standards on things that don't naturally occur from within my context. I hope that answers your question well enough.

Are your parents atheist?

My parents are both practicing Catholics, my mother more so. I'm the first little heathen in the family. They're consciously aware of me being agnostic which I find very favorable. My mother never taught me to buy into anything hook line and sinker. She always made it a point to let me know that there is no singular way to the truth and that everything else is just semantics. We sort of get each other on that level, she chose her beliefs because they made sense to her as I did with mine.

Masaya ka ba sa mundong ginagalawan mo?

In all of its absurdities, I still find reasons to believe that there's always something beautiful around the corner. Cynicism is cynicism but I do have my hopes and my hopes for myself and the world around me are due in part to having a fairly adequate grasp of what kind of world I'm in. It's far from perfect but there's always something to do for it to make it appeal to me in the very least. I've been feeling pretty shitty lately but hey, it comes with the contract. As Bobby Wratten said, "The world is beautiful and it's waiting."

If it was you, could you have done it any better? Wiser? Smarter? Or could you have done it just the same? Stupid? Headstrong? Close Minded? and Love fooled?

I'd probably make my own mistakes, take in their consequences and end up with my own fair share of regrets. I've been stupid, headstrong, close minded and lovefooled. The next time something like this happens, I'd probably have a little less of those faults and walk into a whole new mess for myself.

I'm an atheist but what is the purpose of filipino freethinkers? I don't know, whats the point?

Well, here's the thing. As with all groups that work towards a common end, the Filipino Freethinkers group seeks to forward the advancement of critical and rational thought as per the Philippine context. This is something that stems from its members' collective and individual stances on certain relevant truths and the questioning of their established status quos. Either that or it's just this big party of arrogant heathens. Pretty cool heathens, I might add.

Life in the 90s

2010-01-12T05:20:00.003+08:00

Earlier in the week when I posted this I thought I'd end up having to type in an incredibly dense block of text just to explain how hazy things have been. I guess that isn't the case now so I'll be incredibly brief with this entry.

I've been too caught up thinking about things like where I stand now and the things I've gotten myself into since as far back as I could remember. Yes, it's one of those times where I end up getting myself deeper into it than I usually do so I don't have to do much explaining. Sounds like a mess, and well it sort of is but that's not half of it. I found a series of old pictures from the nineties up in the attic while boxing stuff up; the above picture belonging to the aforementioned set. From the looks of it, it was my 3rd birthday, placing the picture sometime in November of 1992. Apart from the fact that my father and I sort of look the same from that angle (in reference to my current display picture), I rarely see myself looking that, I dunno, alive? I guess Freud was right in saying there's always something in youth that we'd like to come back to. Seeing all of these old pictures make me want to return to that sense of innocent joy what I've been hinting at for so long.

Trying to sort things out, I guess the search for serenity I've constantly spoken of for months would amount to the kid in me wanting to come out and keep me company. I've just been too busy to give the kid a chance.

Maybe I should try living in the 90s for a change just so I could see if I deserve to live in the here and now.

Ty moya donetchka

2010-01-12T01:42:00.006+08:00

Honestly, Camille. I really wish my kid would end up like you. This picture is the one she was referring to, by the way. Can you feel the gloom?

Camille Marie Nierra January 12 at 1:31am

Hello youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu miss you. You look rather melancholic sa profile pic mo ba. Your eyes are gloomy and you have a fake smile. Still cute nonetheless but still you look sad :| update me??? Any new cuento?

Francis Maria Regalado January 12 at 1:36am

I'm just lonely. Per usual but I dunno, I guess it's the need for companionship. I could do without it, minsan hinahanap ko lang which is terrible and makes me crazy for a while but I could stand longer periods of not caring now. You know me well, anaaak. >:D< The eyes don't lie, do they?

It's almost that time of year.

2010-01-11T12:26:00.004+08:00

It's almost summer and I missed the way it felt. I was happy.

Only in the morning

2010-01-11T04:43:00.006+08:00

I decided to make a group assignment in social psychology class, YMTWTM! style. Yeah, it's the same thing over and over again but then again it's an extension of my journal. Hope this catches points for creativity.

Untitled

Resonance. Traces of you still resonate with me. They grasp me in my stillness as you once did, promising never to let go yet the days, they pass so quickly; all these days I've spent alone. We are such loveless transients. Daylight waits for no one. Walking steadily in the motion of dreams, she moves in the grace of your every afterthought; quietly passing us by. I'm afraid I'll never see the sun again.

Distances for real

2010-01-10T23:14:00.005+08:00

There used to be a time when I'd get letters in the mail and I'd send some stuff back and forth. I missed those. Not so much the person I used to send them to but how it felt back then. No regrets. Looking back at these things, I only see how beautiful love could be and how quickly people change. I wasn't alive before this and now that this whole thing came and went, I could sort of see things in a new light. It was good, but well I want something new. I need something new to a certain degree. Until then, here's something that popped up when looking for resources for a project in social psychology class.

April 16, '08.

Pilit nating pinipigil ang hilahil na nagpupumilit pumasok sa ating mga diwa. Ngunit sa kabila nito, malimit na pumapasok ang sari-saring imahe, mga mapapait na gunita. Sa kabila ng mga ngiti, taimtim tayong nagdarasal, tahimik na humihiyaw sa kalawakan na tumagal ang mga sandaling ito. Ngunit kalaunan, naging parang mga bulang sabay sabay nawala. At ngayon, umiikot ang ating mundo- pinagdugtongdugtong ng mga kurdon at antena. "Konting tiis na lang", parehas nating nasambit.

I took a leaf from your book!

How cheesy can we get, sending each other cards and letters via LBC.

Six months- we're halfway to our anniversary, love! One time, Tin exclaimed, "Four months? Parang ang tagal niyo na" when I told her how long we've been together two months ago. Most of the time, I feel that way. The distance and the longing might be the reason we're both hanging by a thread. We're both struggling to make this work but the minute I get a glimpse of your face, it's totally worth it. Like the time I went to Davao, the moment I saw you, my self control was to put to a test (I tried my best not to pounce on you, since your mom was there.) I miss seeing you before I go to sleep, when I wake up, or after you shower.

When I got back to manila, it was terrible. Well, you know how it was. Waking up, half-expecting that you would be beside me. Every morning, my eyes were extremely swollen because I cried my eyes out the night before. Talking to you, didn't help either because I'd cr more. I wasn't focused. I had to be realistic, I had to face the fact that this is how it goes, or else I'd go nuts.

The distance is unbearable, mainly because I really want you to be a part of my life, as much as I like to be a part of yours. Literally. I want us to be together before you go to class or eat together as much as we want to or if something really funny happens we could share it together or if I was feeling really sucky that day I could just hug you and I'd be okay. I just want to be with you, get to know you more, do stuff with you that you can't do in cyberworld.

Maybe God wants to lengthen my patience, that's why he decided that we should be together. Either that or he just wants me to be happy.

I just want you to know that I think about you everyday. I constantly wonder what you're doing. Most of the time, I try to think what it would be like if I was there.

My life is full of uncertanities, doubts and changes. What we have is the only permanent thing I have. My plans and decisions were short term. I have never been more certain in my life until now.

Happy monthsary,
I love you, Francis.

Continental drifting

2010-01-07T00:57:00.004+08:00

Something I wrote for our would-be Awitenista entry. I still like these lyrics tho, what a shame.

Continental drifting

It's just not the same, the way these things are. No one's to blame when we're set this far apart. When we're always set to leave, the distance only speaks of how desperate we seem to be about what we could and we couldn't see. The further we stretch, the thinner we seem to spread and at this point we unravel with the tensile strength of thread. We're never the same with the way these things turned out; I guess we're both to blame for not knowing what love's about. We should've known better or at least I'd like to say that making up for past mistakes would be the best way of saving face. Do we still have faces to show? I hope we do, I know we do. We still have faces to show. Oh yes we do, oh yes we do. Why don't you stay a little bit longer?

Formspring, in response

2010-01-04T07:40:00.002+08:00

Kuyaaa, you look like Rizal! :)) Just dropping by. :) - K by dorkerella

Aw sis, hello. :D See you this summer. :P

Hey Francis! If God and heaven and all that bullshit turns out to be real when you die, what would you say to God?

I would probably go on asking about how all of this is even remotely possible in a scientific sense. Also, it would be worth noting that I'd end up spewing some awkward crap to the effect of "hey, what do you do for a living?" But I dunno, I'd probably have a better answer to this question when I'm further along the way. As in bucket list kind of far.

What kind of a kid are you back then?

My folks always had this tendency to be overprotective. Looking back, even the kids in my neighborhood saw that I ended up the way I did because I never really left the house much. I was best friends with the tv for the greater part of my childhood. I was a terrible spazz when I was younger. Ended up reinforcing my english skills early on but the dents it made on my sense of sociality are increasingly hard to work out. I missed my old neighborhood though, at least the neighborhood I had before everybody moved out and when there were still kids my age in it. We were all just at the right place at the right time, around 3 or 4 middle-class tagalog families in the same compound. Good people too. I miss them dearly.

Why the moustache?

I dunno, it just feels right for me to have one I guess. Apart from that, I think I could single-handedly prove that humans are of simian descent by shaving my 'stache. I'd look like an ape if I didn't have it. That's how I feel about it at least.

If people were to ask you what "happiness" and "true peace" mean, what answer would you give them?

I don't think I could give a fitting description of what I make happiness and true peace to be. I could give pictures of it, snippets of how it would feel like but to define happiness would make as much sense to me as asking me to describe the experience of a living through a grand sunset. If I had to define them, I'd say happiness and true peace are a general disposition that would suggest that an individual's emotional equilibrium is balanced and stable yet leaning towards and conducive to overall elevations of mood. That's a pretty dead sounding definition but it's open enough for anyone to build personal meanings upon. I'm really at a loss for words, sorry. Happiness and true peace are THAT overwhelming for me.

What is hell to you?

Hell is other people. This is hell.

Are you dissatisfied about yourself? Why?

I think I harbor a healthy dissatisfaction with myself, at least enough to make me strive for something better when I need to. There's always something to work on and keeping that in mind, there's only room to grow by seeking these things out. I'm not dissatisfied to the extent of giving up on life, neither am I content with who or what I think I am as of the moment. My dissatisfaction keeps me moving and that's a good thing, right?

Are you gay?

I'm a human being and humans may be toward either persuasion at any given time. It's a person to person thing, doesn't really matter to me so I never really asked.

What is the #1 thing you want from a woman (other than sex)?

I've had my fair share and personally, I'd rather spend my time with someone I can actually develop a lasting emotional connection with instead of just fucking around. That's what all men want, biologically. With a conscious working mind and heart over the demands of said biology, there's got to be something more than that. I want there to be something more than that. I'll get back to this question later. I actually have a blog post to answer this in detail. (NOTE: To follow)

Will you ever come here in Perth? =)

I love travel and so long as I can, I'd love to see new places. Of course I'd like to go out and see Perth. Trixieee, is this you? Or wait, Rhea? :P I don't believe I know anyone else in Perth.

How many times do you take a bath in a day?haha.

I always take a bath at least once a day. More if necessary. :)

Trees. Branches. Roots.

2010-01-04T06:07:00.002+08:00

A few days ago, I attended an informal two-day reunion with my childhood friends and playmates. It's been roughly 11 years since we all spent time together and well, it's something I guess we all missed. Even me. Especially me. Growing up in the same apartment compound, we were pretty tight-knit given that we all belonged to the same general demographic of middle-class tagalog speaking families with kids born in the eighties and raised in the nineties. Over some coffee, a few beers and some Gilbey's Premium Strength we went through the ups and downs of that collective childhood and took in every single second of nostalgia that was to come for those two days. We shared awkward stories, went on about the kid who'd pee in the flowerpots every morning, how Hubert was left behind once and had nowhere else to go only to stay at our unit for the afternoon. Lots of stuff. The "communal baths" behind the inside units, the secrets to opening the gate from the outside and how I was trapped in my house most of the time, kept under lock and key. We vividly remember the games we played, the dumb shit we did and yeah, the Benz and the vintage car too. The fact that I used to run around biting people like a vampire on crystal meth while being chased by our house help was particularly hilarious.

As different as we all are from each other right now apart from how far we are along the courses of our individual lives, we're all still branches from that same Barrio Obrero tree. Wherever we may choose to spread, it's in these common roots that we all started. Distanced as I am, I could still say I was there; that I had a stake in these people's memories. I'm proud to say I was part of something. I'm proud to say I was part of this.

Til next time, kids. You have no idea how this moved me. Thanks, everyone. For being there for that particular part of my life. You're still always there somehow.

First song for the new year

2010-01-01T06:05:00.002+08:00

I hope this makes it to Love In Athens. Some parts I just threw together in my basement.

On the passing of the grand year

2009-12-31T20:35:00.004+08:00

It's been beautiful, sitting on this side of the fence with no shortage of anticipation for the coming and passing of the grand year. As with every year she is to birth us, we tremble at the thought and revel in the excitement of her seemingly infinite possibilities; weightless, timeless and breathless.

This is goodbye, love. Will I ever see you again?

Anchors aweigh!

2009-12-30T02:57:00.004+08:00

BEFORE

AFTER

If I remember correctly, that first picture was taken in September of 2008. I weighed close to 130lbs++ back then, losing around 20 pounds from my base weight of 150lbs++. In that picture I was wearing an S-size shirt. The second picture on the other hand is a picture of me from a few hours ago. It's December of 2009. I'm somewhere in the neighborhood of 157-160lbs++ now. I went up from my size 31 waistline to around 33 or 34 and my undershirt is in M. Not that I'm praising myself for being on the long winding road of being a potential fatass, but I'm glad to see that I look a lot healthier and a lot happier than I did before. Makes me feel a lot better about myself now. Goes to show, as Popsicle would say, "I can change. I'm not the same. Not forever."

NOW, I must find a way to trim down and maintain a figure I'm actually content with. :)

Safe in small hands

2009-12-30T02:44:00.002+08:00

I just found the original lyrics for what was to be Caitlyn Bailey's 9 minute epic, Small Hands. I hope to actually use these lyrics someday for another CB song. Til then, I'll post it here under its working title. Honestly, I couldn't remember how this didn't make it to record. It remains unfinished but sort of reads alright as/is.

Safe in small hands

Tears have never fallen from heaven the way they did on the day I decided to cleanse myself of the scent of home and everything that came with it. I ran as fast as any child could ever run; chasing what I thought was solace, dressed in the clothes of escape and new captivity. As the rain fell on me, I saw that there was nowhere else to go but far away from here; "anywhere but here", just as mother said. I couldn't begin to ask whether I was running forward or simply running away from a life I called my own but knew was never mine.

...but this was mine, the notion that all roads led to the same place; to that single moment of clarity that was neither clear enough to decipher or obscure enough to disregard. This heart; this time of day was mine, waiting patiently for the torrential downpour of my generation to come crashing down. To wash away each and every single idle moment where a hand touched a cheek, a robe was taken off and wet kisses led to a war of men and men again. The shadow of absence cuts deep and narrow. This was a life I called my own but knew was never mine.

Formspring, in response

2009-12-29T02:27:00.002+08:00

What's up?

I guess I'm caught up in the air of what I'd like to think is a dead season. Haven't spent much time out lately, things have been pretty boring to be perfectly honest. Looking forward to writing music with the rest of Love In Athens on the 30th, that should be good. I might also want to look for a good amp in the meantime.

Bumalik ka na sa Tumblr. Please? IMY. by bobmama

Man, as much as gusto ko talagang bumalik dun I think microblogging's gotten the best of me far too many times for comfort. Naglulurk parin ako sa tumblr pero I don't post na. It breaks my heart every time I go there. Malamang sa malamang, di ako babalik sa tumblr. PERO PERO PERO, babalik naman ako sa Manila real soon so yeah. :)

How easy are you?

Let's just say life would be easier if I were easier.

Why Maria?

Is this a follow up to a previous question or are you asking me about my name? Well if it's about my name, my mother thought it would be appropriate to add Maria to my first name on the grounds of being a living tribute to the Virgin Mary. Being the little heathen I am, you could see how that worked out. Haha :P One thing we discovered when I was twelve, btw. My father chose to name me Francisco after my great grandfather, turns out his wife's name was Maria rin so yeah. Francisco Maria, great grandson of Francisco and Maria Jimenez.

Why punk rock?

Well, it's just something I got myself into. It's a pretty messy story but at least based on whatever notion I have of what punk rock is, I'm thankful I have a piece of that with me. I wouldn't have been the same without it for whatever reason. I guess it was because of punk rock that I sought to have a direction in life. I may not be dirt poor or dress in crusty-ass clothes but I'd like to think I know who I am, where I want to be and how I'd like to get there well enough. Regardless of what people say, I'd like to have my heart in the way I live. That's pretty punk rock in itself I guess.

Hey Francis! Why are you so awkward?

More often than not, when I'm put on the spot I have absolutely no idea what to say or do. This is mostly due to the fact that I never run out of situations I've never experienced before. A lot of times, I space out trying to make a moral judgment of things and end up freezing mid-thought when I realize how long it's taking me to think. Honestly though, I'm really bad at this. If you've met me in person, you'd know just how awkward I get. Sometimes its funny, sometimes it's just plain sad. Either way, I'm not that ashamed of being awkward. I'd like to enjoy being awkward while I still have the capacity to because somewhere along the way I'm bound hit that "been there, done that" snag and learn to be cool with things.

In your friends list, who would you: 1. fuck, 2. marry, 3. kill?

Tough question. I don't think I'd like to fuck around with anyone who'd be able to trace me through my facebook profile or any of the other profiles I have floating around the internet. I'm just too visible. Okay if it's casual sex, I'm biased but I guess only with people I've slept with before. Who would I marry? Well, that's if a balance is struck between my measured attraction towards a prospective partner and that individual's attraction towards me; factoring in possible benefits and downsides to partner selection of course. I don't really see anyone I'd want to marry and I think that's partly because I'm young and I see myself single at 33. I'd like to be proven wrong though. As for people I'd like to kill, I wouldn't want to kill anyone. There are better ways to deal with people and I wouldn't want my feelings to get in the way even if I felt strongly for it. Besides, if I harbored a deep-seated disdain for you would I even have you in my friends list?

How vain are you?

Vain. Just a little bit. More than that, I'm just lonely so I end up spending more time on myself than I usually would if I were with other people.

If you could, would you choose to live forever ?

The proposition is appealing but honestly, I don't think living would make much sense if I lost that sense of impermanence. Part of what makes life meaningful is the thought that this would all be over soon; a particular urgency that drives you to self-determine the nature of your own existence. I guess I'm just not built to live forever with that point of view, I'm not willing to compromise that either.

Do you believe in ghosts?

I believe in science, I'm not writing the possibility off and in fact I lean towards that persuasion but if they do exist then there's got to be a scientific explanation. I tend to believe that ghosts are traces of spent energy but whatever, I'm talking out of my ass here.

Do you use photoshop vintage color actions on your photos?

Actually no, I just use that fix photos feature that goes with Windows Photo Gallery. It saves a lot of time and ram. The actual photos taken usually look close to that since I have my camera set to "jaundice vision" all the time. I just lessen the saturation and increase the color intensity and contrast in the finished product.

WHY SO HATEFUL???

MY BLOOD BOILS WITH MY SEETHING DISCONTENT! SO HATEFUL! If you have to know, it's an in-joke between Mia and I. Long story, longer than most of the answers I've typed in here. Well yeah, that's basically it. The cliff's notes version, at least.

How lonely are you when you're alone?

Lonely enough to start a blog in hopes of keeping my memories company; lonely enough for things like art (both its creation and consumption) if I may put it bluntly. Other than that, I guess I'm just as lonely as lonely usually gets. Nothing special or anything, it's just something I end up feeling because there's no one else to talk to late at night and that yearning just adds to the general ennui. I don't really have a gauge as to the extent of my loneliness but I do know I feel that way often.

Commit this to memory, maybe someday

2009-12-28T02:44:00.009+08:00

Formspring.me

2009-12-27T22:13:00.002+08:00

Okay, I sold out. I made a Formspring account.

ASK ME ANYTHING HERE

I really don't expect anyone to ask but in case anyone does, I'll answer them right away.

Untitled

2009-12-26T15:57:00.005+08:00

Untitled

"Stay still, don't let me wake you" I said, stumbling over from your bedside in the dawn's drunken haze. Not wanting to stay any closer than I had to, I quietly sat in the corner to watch you from across the room; minding every breath and breathing slower with every movement. The clock remained frozen beneath the soft ambient light of your end table lampshade; pinned to the same 4:18am I left days ago. Your sheets have never been as lonely as this before, it's such a pity that I'm only beautiful in the morning.

Manila in December

2009-12-24T22:21:00.002+08:00

Looking back, I guess some people do miss me when I'm gone. None of us are getting any younger but that doesn't necessarily mean we have to drift apart, at least any further than we have to. I never really knew what it was like having family past my folks and all. That's how it always read in my schema for familial relations for whatever reason. Until now, that is. I don't know what the hell I ate but for some reason I actually feel like I'm part of something now. Like I sort of matter to this family.

Well, the part of this family that isn't my folks. Maybe I should come home for December more often. I'll miss you kids. See you soon, Paolo, Gelli, Cecilia, Carl, Chris, everyone.

P.S.

Friends, WE HAVE TO GO OUT SOMETIME WHEN I'M IN MANILA! I STILL HAVE TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU BASTARDS!