Fare You Well

People come and people go.

People leave because people choose.

I remember an old phone call I made to good friend. We spoke for at least 4 hours. We were able to make a shallow, yet practical analogy.

There are two kinds of bags:

i) the kind that are like evening bags. Small, glamorous, attractive but could only fit so much. You wouldn't carry an evening bag to school work now, would you? You know you love this evening bag but there would come a time when you will eventually admit to yourself that it is slowly going out of fashion. I have yet to find an evening bag that would go with all of my evening outfits, and could fit a baton for safety.

ii) you're everyday bag. Fits all of the crap that you need everyday, with an extra secret pocket for illegal substances. Comfortable, practical but not as stylish as your evening bag. No bag is perfect.

There are also two kinds of men:

i) Your evening bag kind of man. Stylish, good-looking, someone that your friends would envy you for. But he could only be so much. Handsome sans the personality. Too busy making himself more handsome that he would only politely to appear interested in the compelling stuff that you are babbling about - global warming, Darfur, Sartre. In fact, he is so polite, he bats his eyelashes twice as fast when you're talking and would offer to buy you deadly volumes of absinthe-laced vodka, just to calm you down. This man is for show only, not for keeps. BUT, you would love to "show" him to everyone you know and everyone you don't know for plus social points. Downside is, in Jay-Z's words "(he) wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight," unless of course, he has ex-soldiers as his bodyguard.


ii) Your everyday man. Personality? Check. Chivalry? Check. Intelligence? Check. Looks? Appeal? Mabait siya. No matter how hard you try, your everyday man just won't complete your wardrobe, especially when you're wearing the perfect heels. He's nice, gripping (intellectually, that is), and an all-around gentleman. You just won't post pictures of the two of you in public albums. He's just a "friend" anyway, right?

We're still in search of the perfect bag and the perfect man.

Gusto lang sana kita kamustahin, lammo yun. Tas pagkatapos mo maglabas ng hinanakit mo sa pangit mong ex, tingin mo sapat na yang "good night" mo? Hello! Apektado rin ako noh, magkasing-galit lang tayo sa pangit mong ex kasi unang-una, bitch siya. Ikaw na nagsabe. Pangalawa, ang pangit pangit pangit niya talaga at hindi ako bitter sa lagay na to ha. Di ka naman pangit e, sa totoo lang ang pogi mo talaga...bat hindi knockout beauty ang mga nililigawan mo? Yung mas maganda naman sana saken! Ang pangit na nga niya, ang pangit pa ng ugali niya. Sobrang will power na ang hindi ko paglagay ng pangit niya na mukha dito kasi shempre, respeto narin sayo pero namaaaaaan. Ang taste, utang na loob!!!!

At sa susunod, sana hindi ka ganyan ka-dense para isipin na hindi ako maapektuhan ng mga sinasabi mong ganyang problema kasi shempre, tulad nung time na tinawagan mo ko agad-agad kasi nappraning ako, ganon din ako sayo. Ang bobo mo naman kung di mo alam yun. Tinunaw na talaga ng bawal na gamot utak mo. Kakabwiset ka!!!! Pag punta ko jan umayos ka ha.

A good sleep means good dreams which means a good morning.

I woke up feeling like I was in the beach, with the sun shining on my face and P150 for my vices - which has been sadly reduced to cigarettes, caffeine and instant noodles. I recommend playing Mark Farina's Dream Machine before hearing or thinking about anything else. Here's a sound clip, in case you have trouble finding it.

What are your first thoughts of the day? Mine was a man I've never met but I'm crushing on big time. Played Bitter:Sweet's The Mating Game throughout breakfast - yes, I woke up that early. Today, I've decided to just kick back and not worry about most of the things that I worried about throughout last week like moolah, my minor operation, my unemployment and other anxieties that can't be shaken by vodka, mindless chatter and a room full of beautiful, drunk strangers.

Gushing like a real mother

I love the Make A Baby app in Facebook. I got three babies now, so hard to take care of all of them without spoiling anyone and this is just a simulation. Imagine how real life must be to parents. Good thing I am / was an only child for the longest time.

Here's my first and my favorite brat. I'm sorry but I spoil her more than the others. My Penny Lane.

Her reaction to watermelons which she didn't like. So bratty, I love it.

Her reaction to the beach which she hated. Can't believe she's mine. Maybe takes after the dad more than me.

My second, Jacob Bastien. All of them are imaginary but this one was inspired by someone who, thankfully, is not in Facebook. He is just as red though.

After giving him cough syrup

The most recent addition to my collection. Soleil. Made with Tin, yes a woman. I'm no lesbian tho, I'm not even bisexual. Neither is she. Everything in jest. She is the cutest I must admit. And the only baby that doesn't enjoy marshmallows. Gotta love that.

Yes, I made her eat liver.

Why did I post this nonsense? Well, anybody who knows well knows that I don't ever want to be a mother. EVER. Just because I am allergic to commitments. Duh, the longest job I had lasted for only 3 mos and the longest "valid" relationship I've had lasted 5 mos tops (more about that in other posts). A child will suffer in my midst. But then again, as I always say, people don't change, they just become more complicated. So maybe chalk this up for another complication of mine. I'm gushing over babies with .swf file extensions. So maybe, and I do mean maybe I will consider motherhood. But for now, I'm single, I'm fly and I'm loving life BUT I will never, ever run out of things to complain and think about. If I do, that means I have completely gone insipid and useless.

Holla bitches!

In the future, there is only the past.

I'm tired of fighting. It's better to go back to silence and to that "you-never-existed" stage. Makes living a little bit more bearable.

I'm a fool that thinks too much.

I saw old friends the other day, people I haven't seen or heard from for 5 or so years. We spoke til morning, til evening again. Reminiscing about youth and the good ol' days when our only worry was the kind of high we wanted that day. I miss those days. Everybody's gone and whoever's left is walking a quasi-straight line.

Made me wonder what went wrong then. Why was there never a gray area, only extremes? Extreme pleasure, extreme pain. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, in riches and in poverty. Through bad music and through heaven. Maybe I was too immature, maybe it was too soon, maybe everybody was just a little bit too crazy and idealistic. And why do they remember events more than I do? I was also there!

People don't change, they just become more complicated. Or life becomes more complicated. I miss those days, I wish I were still young, stupid and unassuming. Everything was worth trying once, some things are worth trying thrice or a hundred more times. I miss those days when everything was an eye-opener. Ignorance was bliss. With your eyes wide open and when wear and tear starts to be felt in your gut and your bones, you wonder where your youth went and if it will ever come back. Back when you were childless, carefree, perpetually drunk and when miracles happened everyday.

Bring it back! I will bring it back.

Last night's episode changed me. Nothing of substance happened, at least not in terms of events. I feel empowered. My POWER tattoo started itching when I woke up this morning. Honest to god, I didn't think I would still have this morning, the sleep was too comforting. Despite that, I was excited.

I feel like I've lost all hope for the wrong things, letting go is so much easier now. Letting go of the pain, the love, the humiliation, the movie images and the telenovela-esque romance that I've been daydreaming about.

Now I have no hesitations to delete / erase / forget them (note plurality).

Now I can say, in all honesty that I am okay and I don't need you (and you and you) anymore :)

I'm fine, you're fine, we're all okay!

Don't spoil me too much. I will only end up hurting you.

I'm sorry.

I know now what I didn't know before. I made too much of a fuss over you. Your silence right now says it all.

You were just a big fuss.

I'll let you in on a little secret.

I've spent the past weeks thinking about what I want and what I don't want in y life. In short, I had the strong resolve to burn bridges where fire was deemed necessary and to throw my suitcase to the ocean in a manner of speaking. I think knowing and doing are two different things, with varying degrees of difficulty. Knowing what to purge was hard. Purging is even harder. Nevertheless, we do what we must to make it through the day.

I found that I don't want to burn anything with you. I want you in my world. I want the idea of you to exist in my head and in my heart. Because your existence does give me hope. I'm sorry that I even tried.

I finally have some things that I didn't have for the past weeks. Options and a plan of action. Of course this means that I may have to sacrifice some dreams and comforts but I would accept that (not gladly) for a bit of direction and a bit of space for everything and everyone. A lot of space, actually.

Some things I learned from thinking too much:

• Philosophizing may answer a lot of questions but it does give solutions. And no money can ever come from such a hobby.
• People come and people go. People leave because people choose. Some people have coping abilities that makes use of optimism in all forms and to astounding degrees but I am a cynic and a little bit jaded. I cope by convincing myself that the person never existed. After the hard part, it's easier to forgive.
• Cigarette smoke does not repel mosquitoes. Learned this more from experience than thought.
• In the future, there is only the past.
• Dreams can be your battlefield. Literally. It's where you can shoot a gun and nobody gets hurt.
• Music CAN save you. The right kind of music.
• If I stay in one place too long, I become bitter and self-absorbed.
  

I'm bored and a bit worried.

I don't know what to say because I don't know how I feel about this and that. I've no job and my life savings has been reduced to a few hundred bucks and there are some offers to make money but I'm not sure if I dare go back that road. The offer that I'm waiting for hasn't come yet and it's making me antsy.

I googled the word HOPE, trying to find images that could visually describe what it means.



I stumbled upon this:



Does it?

My friends are having babies.

Makes me wonder...

will i have babies?

Palos

While drifting in and out of sleep last night, I heard this from Palos:

"Gusto ko na bumalik sa Neptune..."

And my first thought was:

Ang layo nun mehn!

That's Entertainment

Ted Haggard, the supreme American pastor has fallen splat to the ground. I know it's insensitive to poke fun at someone else's humiliation but I can't help it.

It's never fun to see power diminish, I've always admired men who, through words and unrivaled delivery was able to dupe a massive group of people into believing an ideal that was never really stable to begin with. They made the unbelievable possible. I won't go as far as saying that what Haggard preaches is total bullshit, I won't be a hypocrite. I WAS a Christian. But as time goes by, concepts that can be proven seemed more appealing. Either that or the truly absurd would be preferable than institutionalized systems of faith, at least the former was more entertaining.

Anyway, going back to Haggard. A man named Mike Jones came out in public and spilled the beans so to speak. He claimed that Haggard, bought meth from him (that's my boy!) and that the pastor also "bought" his services. In other words, Jones is a male prostitute and Haggard is a regular client. Could this be true? Why not? Stranger things have happened.

This of course happened in America, the country that swore to spread democracy and morality to the rest of the world.

We are fucked.

Check out Richard Dawkin's documentary: The Root of All Evil? Part 1: The God Delusion. Check out your boy Ted Haggard in this. You really have to hear what he has to say before you can form opinions. It's just more fun that way.

My days used to be incomplete if I didn't go home drunk or broke or both. Now, my days are incomplete if I haven't had my cup/s of coffee. Addiction doesn't really go away I don't think. It just becomes something else, or rather, you become addicted to something else.

I miss this:

among other things.

I'm a slave to routine, are you? Call me dull but I would feel more comfortable if I knew exactly how my day would go, it makes spontaneity seem more golden.

Can the artist and his art be separated into two entities? Can you like the artist but not the art? Just wondering.

Here's a bit of truth:

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

I haven't woken up to a terrible morning in quite a while so this one was long overdue.

Woke up to two pieces of chicken skin and bones, I only had to bites of burnt edible flesh before I screamed for the maid to cook something else. The worse of it was, the two bites gave me a bad case of diarrhea.

In other news, I found an entertaining article about the worst record company decisions in the last decade or so. Check it out here: http://music.yahoo.com/read/news/58400153

Who would've thought that someone would invest $13 million on a Guns N Roses album that never materialized, I think it was scheduled for release in the 90's. Funny. Also, the article brings back thoughtful memories of Napster. Lars Ulrich is one dumb fucker.