Indulgence

thoughts that are running at 150 kilometers per hour

Sheryl Crow from Always on Your Side
Well they say that love is in the air
Never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly and so they fly away
And I'm left to carry on and wonder why

(Pictures from Balai in Laiya, Batangas; me, Yciar, Karla and Inigo)

I was working all day yesterday. A long shoot and tiring but we needed to do it. It needed to be done. Right after, I went to my cousin's house for the usual Sunday dinner with family and we had a great time talking. I haven't seen my Dad for 2 weeks so he got comfortable on a rocking chair that actually belonged to President Taft who was a good friend of one of my great grandfathers and when he left the Philippines to go back to the States, he left the rocking chair, a sofa and another chair to my great grandfather. They are at my cousin's house and my Dad settled nicely into the rocking chair and never moved that whole night. So while my brother and cousins hovered around the kitchen to watch Inigo bake pizza, or sit outside in the patio to smoke, I stayed with my Dad to talk to him. My cousin Inigo only had 1 oven so the pizza's came out in tiny waves, each one having a slice or two before waiting again. So we had little bites of heaven (the pizza was amazing!) and then we'd talk and drink our rum cokes before the next wave arrived. It was very pleasant and I got to catch up with my Dad. For the record, my cousin made a mushroom and truffle pizza that was just mouth watering and excellent to the crust. It was amazing!

I was trying to read Iris Chang's The Rape of Nanjing, hoping to start reading non-fiction again because I really enjoy reading non-fiction stuff as well but I just couldn't. It was rather disturbing. So, from Raab's insistance, I'll be going back to The Portrait of Dorian Gray and hopefully get through it. I'm only 4 books from my quota and I've hit a road block. I gotta get my ass moving. The year is, after all, almost over. I've already watched a play and I've danced with fire thrice so that's a good sign. Friends are planning to set me up with people, so my 2 date self-imposed quota is going to push through also. Somehow, the reading list is my major goal right now. I want to accomplish that badly. I don't know why. It's like that's the part that means the most to me right now. But I know I'll be going to the beach 2 more times before the year ends and that makes me really happy. Look at this picture with my and my cousin Yciar in Laiya, Batangas. I'm so happy. Got home completely burnt. Right now, I'm peeling at the back and it's kinda gross but that's okay. I enjoyed myself and I got revitalized and my dream of living by the sea is getting stronger by the day. (Picture from Balai sa Laiya, Laiya, Batangas; Me and Yciar)

(me zipping at Laiya beach in Batangas)
It's a Monday but it's also a holiday but I'm here working at the office. Last night, talking with my cousin's girlfriend, Karla and my sister-in-law Kristi; I had mentioned how important it is for someone to get into the habit and discipline of working; to get used to the idea of being responsible for something. I'm going nuts because right now, all I really wanna do is write. I just want to throw myself into writing but I am endearing myself to my segment, which, in my personal opinion, I'm writing well. But right now, I just want to throw myself into writing literary stuff again. Continue to write movie scripts and short stories and poetry, or just dabble into it. Like I told my friend Morx, I will never really be a poet. I love it, I enjoy reading it, but I have no capacity for it. I like the process of story-telling while poetry has to be sudden and you must completely surrender yourself to the metaphor whereas in fiction, the metaphor helps drive the story but it isn't necessarily the story. He agreed. Morx will always be a poet because he wants the sudden-ness; I have no patience, he agreed, while we were chatting. It's not a bad thing. I think it is great that we can know ourselves as much as we do.

These things are just on my mind right now. Everything is a jumbled mess of thoughts that I can't seem to push out of my mind. It's bothersome, really and annoying because I feel like it is slowing me down. I can be doing more if I was just less anxious. Right now, I wish I could be just a little more focused. I wish I didn't want things so badly and that everything is going right. I'm not sad or angry. I understand what I'm going through is just anxiety and I'm anxious in getting things done but my natural Piscean state is forcing me to live in my head again, in dreams and in phantasies and that's not good. I recognise it for what it is and I want to fight it and I will. But while they are running so fast in my head without any brakes, I might as well define them. Saying them out loud allows me a chance to figure out exactly who the enemy is. And once you know exactly who the enemy is, it's easier to prepare for battle.

Two more months and it's the new year. I know my enemy. I got to beat him before the new year. I don't want to enter it with these issues circling about my head. I want to come clean. I want a clear slate. It's the last battle before the year ends. I recognise that much. So I'll pick up my spear, my sword and my shield. I'm ready for battle.

posted by wanggo @ 2:05 PM 1 comments

plunge

Dido from Life For Rent (written by Dido and Rollo Armstrong)
`Coz nothing I have is truly mine

My mood just took a plunge. Down, down, down it goes. I wonder why cigarette smoke is not affected by gravity. All of a sudden, a lit cigarette becomes so lovely during these down moments. Standing at the fire exit, my back leaning against the fire exit door to keep it closed as I smoke, I watch the cigarette smoke waft lazily upwards towards the sky while my mood just keeps on sinking.

Work, work, work. A new show, a new pilot, new problems, new stress and anxiety and pressure. Work, work, work.

My friend Cholo just told me, that's just work. Yeah, it's just work. I can't seem to shake it off, that's all. We were doing fine with the old show; why'd everything have to change? To start from scratch only weeks before the airing date. Right now, I feel like a machine. But I need a tune up. I need a fucking tune up.

Sinking. Mood is sinking deeper into the abyss. I don't want to be dour in the next couple of days but I suppose that should be the price I pay for the absolutely perkiness I had yesterday (or was it for the past few days?). Mood shifts are happening more often, I noticed. Not a good sign. Usually, the mood lasts for months. Now, I am shifting moods by the week. Sometimes, in a span of 3 days.

I hope it's chemical. It's probably chemical. My body chemistry is shifting because I've started to become a coffee drinker and the addition of caffeine into my system is drastically shifting my mood shifts. I don't want to call it mood swings because swinging is too sudden a motion; too consistent. Shift seems more like the appropriate word. Either that, or I just don't want to be like everybody else.

Who wants to be like everybody else anyway?

I'm going down. Deeper and deeper. Maybe I can try writing a draft for a poem. Back in college, it was in these moods that I would just stare at a blank word document and fill it up with words and make a draft for a poem. Who are you kidding? You would write drafts of poems after meals or long shallow talks with your friends! You would shit drafts out of your fingers! You never bothered to edit 80% of them. Over 60 drafts in your CD of files and still, they haven't been looked over and fixed. Lazy ass!

Sinking. Lead weights attached to my feet. Plunging. This is useless. To use my brother's term, anyone want to join me in my pity party?

posted by wanggo @ 8:48 PM 2 comments

I submit

Michael Morco
Not knowing what he wants, he wants everything and nothing.

Went out last night with Berna, Anne and Berna’s friend’s Leigh, Alma and Kay. I’ve heard of the Manila DJ’s Club a long while ago and then, I was told that on Thursdays, they have a regular event called Fluxxe where the DJs spin anything they want. As in anything. One minute your dancing to Goldfrapp, the next moment, you’re rocking to Blur’s version of Girls Who Want Boys and then they played Michael Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel and then it was off to a remix of Talking Heads’ Burning Down the House followed by something like Donna Lewis’ I Love You Always Forever. That may not have been the exact set list but the music was that eclectic. It definitely is anything-goes Thursdays as they call it. It was loads of fun.

The place was filled with different kinds of people. A lot were dressed down, stripped to the comforts of casual clothing while others went totally punk. Anne was dazzled by the effect of so many people in stripes. There were some hardcore funky outfits out there – people in boots, leggings, striped bright colored shirts and then black jackets with shades and maybe a beret. Some people had a red tape on their cheek below the left eye. Everyone was smiling, or pouting, looking very fierce as they danced.

It was definitely a different experience, one that I enjoyed muchly. After all, when the music is not one particular kind, you are forced to accept the changes. You can’t fight it, if you do, you’d just end up not having a good time. If you couldn’t roll with the punches, you might as well have gone to Embassy or any other bar where things are more consistent, or dare I say predictable? Here, you have to submit and just let go.

It was funny, I suppose. At one point, here I am at work, battling against time, trying to produce segments and write scripts, fighting the very concept of time. I will be able to do all that I need to do before the deadline. It’s a struggle and it’s a bitter fight. Winner takes all, you see. If one loses, the defeat is unbelievable. It will take all of you. It will eat you up and destroy you. It’s either you produce and get it out on time or you don’t. There is no second or third place; there’s no consolation prize. It’s do or die.

But at the Manila DJ Club, last night, during Fluxxe, there was none of that kind of struggle. Not for me, anyway. I just submitted. I let it all go. And I guess, for me, it was okay since I’m very open to many different kinds of music – punk, rock, electronic, pop, whatever, you know? I let it flow through me. I submitted and I had a blast!

posted by wanggo @ 5:05 PM 0 comments

a rather perky thursday

David Schikler from Kissing in Manhattan
None of us knows enough about his own beauty.

Woke up after a twelve hour sleep. I got home early and I was suppose to do something for my brother. But since I was having such a weird day yesterday, I wanted to unwind a bit. I popped in Siouxsie Sioux and listened to her sing while I smoked a cig and walked around half-naked around my room trying to get rid of the day from my head. I couldn't. So I took a shower and afterwards, I lay down in my bed and just tried to relax. I ended up sleeping a little after 12 midnight. I then woke up at 12 in the afternoon.

I had lunch with my brother and we were talking about cars. What car would we get, realistically and hypothetically if we had all the money in the world, and things like that. My wake-up coffee started to kick in and all of a sudden, I just got so perky.

Showered and changed to Fleetwood Mac and put on my new jacket. Then I went down to the ground floor and saw it was raining. Raining on such a nice day... Oh well. Off I went. At least I won't look so off with my jacket on.

Can I just say how sexy it feels to be wearing illegally low jeans from Oxygen? Ooh yeah! I walk with a swagger and I can't help it. New jacket, low jeans... I know what this means... He He He Yeah, you got it right, I'm going out tonight. I'm making it a weekend night tonight just because I say so. Why not? Live more, indulge, it's what I live for. To live. Yeah, baby!

posted by wanggo @ 4:49 PM 0 comments

weird wednesday

Fiona Apple from her bio in her official website
It all just proves that you can grow up and be a happier person and make good things. You don't have to suffer for it all the time. It's not like my inner basket case is absent, it's just that I've lived with it long enough that I can manage it now.

Surprisingly, Siouxsie and the Banshees is a fantastic purchase. I like it even more than KT Tunstall's album (notwithstanding that KT Tunstall is a fantastic new voice and I like the album a lot; I just kinda like the punk-edge of Siouxsie and the Banshees more). My brother was kind of amused. Now you're listening to songs I was listening to growing up, and I kinda wanted to laugh at him since we are only 5 years apart but I just smiled. At the time, while he was listening to rock, punk and metal, I was with my Dad in his room and he was making me listen to Broadway musicals. So I understand where he's coming from.

Got drunk last night because it was our officemate's birthday party. Mic is very well loved and so a lot stayed and drank and drank and drank. Some played playstation, they passed the microphone around as others sang on the Magic Mic and a whole group of us played poker. We must've been 7 or 8 and that's a pretty big group and now we've got actualy poker chips and a dealer's button so it all looks professional and all. We don't have to keep hoarding coins just for the game like I used to. I spent a hundred bucks to get in and I pretty much lasted for quite a long while before I lost it all. The big winner had cashed out twice but on his second run just kept winning and winning game after game. Oh well, I was out of practice. It's been 2 and a half weeks since I've played. You're such a sore loser! You can't even admit you lost fair and square, you have to make up an excuse as to why... Ugh!

Since I was drunk, I woke up pretty late and pretty much screwed up my body clock. I had it fixed already waking up at 9 in the morning last Monday and yesterday. I woke up at 6 am last Sunday (but I was at the beach, so it doesn't really count) and now, all ruined again. But that's okay because it was a fun party.

I woke up feeling a weird feeling in my stomach. After a late lunch and my cigarette (no coffee for me today), then I began to groom in the loo. I had a clogged sinus so at the sink, I began to blow my nose and these huge globs of green, sticky muck fell onto the sink. It was so gross! And there was so much of it. And I mean so much of it! And now I've got this head ache from blowing my nose so hard and there's this empty feeling in my head like something all that gunk was filling up is now void and air is rushing through it too fast.

Euw! My anatomy, as of late, has become quite a nuisance. I wish I could have my body redone. I'd love it if scientists took samples (a whole lot) of my DNA and then remade my body and then they transferred my essence -- my mind, soul and spirit into that body. That would be so cool. Of course, in the new body, I wish it was properly vaccinated against all the usual, wisdom teeth already pulled and body already in top form (so all I'll have to do is maintain, hehehe) and voila! The new and improved, Wanggo version 3.7.

posted by wanggo @ 4:59 PM 2 comments

Consumer Therapy (when it's not needed)

J. Barzun
Conscience is nothing more than self-consciousness about morals.

I just underwent some consumer therapy when I really don't need it. Strange, strange, strange... I mean, what do I need consumer therapy for? I've got a job, I'm paying my bills, I don't owe anybody money (or not that I remember), I eat well, I get around, I'm re-establishing connections with my old friends, I still have good relations with my present friends, I'm strengthening my family ties, I just came from the beach, I'll be going back to the beach at the end of November, I'm almost done with my 10 book reading list (I don't know why but that's very important to me), and I get to do things that I love -- zips, dance, write, watching movies, etc. I can't complain. So there was no real need to have gone consumer therapy-ing today, but hell! I am having an okay life so far; why not just up the ante a little bit.

I woke up at 9 am and that's a good sign. Now, if only I can take less than an hour and half to fully wake up, have my breakfast, coffee and cigarette, shower, primp and change, I'd be happy as a clam. But I'm a human, so if it takes me an hour and a half, then an hour and a half it is!

It was early, so I went to Citibank to pay my credit card bill, then off to Shangri-La to buy my Mom the Il Divo album she wanted and got myself 3 new CDs (since it has been a long time since my last) -- KT Tunstall's Eye to the Telescope (fabulous! absolutely fabulous!!!), Fleetwood Mac's Greatest Hits (I'm a huge Fleetwood Mac fan) and the Gold edition of Siousxie and the Banshees. I've heard a couple of Siousxie and the Banshees songs on film soundtracks and I've always liked them so I thought, why not get the best of? I hope I enjoy it. Well, it has Face to Face and Peek-a-Boo so I know it is worth it.

I then went to the MRT to find out that they were not letting anyone in the station. The rain was so strong, I didn't want to take a cab or a bus to the office because the traffic would be unbelievable, so I texted my bosses my current situation and had lunch at Shang. I then walked around and found a really nice jacket at People are People and I've always wanted to buy something from People are People and here was my chance; so I did. Consumer therapy for the happy. Weird.

I had a smoke and then I saw 2 trains moving on the MRT so I went back up to find out that they were still not letting anyone in the MRT. Not enough electricity to run the trains. According to them, the trains I saw were just test runs. So I decided to take a cab.

On the road to GMA, I saw several trains running, filled with people, on both ways. Well, I wonder what happened there? But then again, this whole country is slowly deteriorating. Don't get me wrong, I still love this mass of rock and beaches and over-populated whatever... I still do. But we need to be drastic already, I feel. Be drastic and make some big changes or else it continues.

And I'm too self-centered and self-absorbed to sink with it when it does. After all, I have this cool new jacket I want to wear out one time.

posted by wanggo @ 2:00 PM 1 comments

a very lovely fish bowl

Winston Churchill
We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.

I have fallen in love with the book Kissing in Manhattan by David Schickler. This is the kind of writing I wanted to get into: very urban, very magickal and yet, very true. It is simple and straight-forward yet it is enchanting and very mythical yet probable. I love it. In fact, it was an idea of mine to write a book of short stories where all the characters live in the same building and while each character appears in every story, every story features one truth represented by one of the tenants. Lives interesect and amazing things happen to other people living just next door and they are totally oblivious to it. It was to be called Nine Stories; 9 different tenants, 9 different characters. Now, there's no need to do so. Kissing in Manhattan has achieved what I wanted to do. There's no need. I'm very happy with the book.

I borrowed it from Anne; though it was thrown in my lap by Berna. I had just finished Last of the Amazons and while I was already thinking of what to read next, Berna walks up to me in the office and throws the book on my lap and she said, "Read this, you'll like it." I was a little peeved by this; having wanted to plan out my 10-book reading list and she had already inserted Interpreter of Maladies when Last of the Amazons had come first; I let her. I loved Interpreter of Maladies and she meant well. I just let it happen and I'm glad I did because now, if someone asked me What is your favourite book? my answer would be simple. Kissing in Manhattan.

I read 1 chapter in Manila and then helped guide my cousin to Balai sa Laiya where I was the whole weekend. On the beach, I zipped, sun-bathed, swam and drank. We listened to music and talked. My cousin pretty much guessed I wouldn't get much reading done, but to our suprise, I sneaked in about 4 or 5 chapters in. I had read more chapters when I got home and, because of sun burn, could not do much, stayed in bed and took in more stories. I fell asleep before 12 and woke up at 9 in the morning. I read 2 more chapters, read a whole chapter on the commute to the office and then finished the last 2 chapters in front of my computer.

You know what? I really am a beach person. How tickled I am about the whole idea of living by the sea, in a house constantly aired by the ocean air. The smell of salt and sand constantly in my nose. I can imagine waking to the sound of the surf and taking fresh fruits in the morning and drinking coffee and staring out at the waves. I would love it, I think. I'd swim in the ocean, sun-bathe all morning, have an afternoon of grilled fish or pork and fresh tomatoes and greens and then more fruits for dessert. Then I'd write all afternoon. Take a drive to the city and meet up with friends over dinner and drinks. I'd leave back for the beach at early morning and be home before the sun is up. A long drive, yes, but what a pleasant life.

I always thought of myself as an urbanite; needing the city to survive. But that kind of set-up doesn't seem so bad to me. Anyhow, I could do a lot of thinking on the drive back and forth. I could fill myself with privacy and then fill myself with company when I'm in the city. I could, maybe, buy or rent a small condo in the city if the drive back would prove to taxing.

Now that's a set-up I wouldn't mind. I could get a place in Batangas and I'd need a good car, most probably diesel and I think I'd be the happiest little fish in the world. That'd be a fish bowl I could get very comfortable with. I can already imagine what my house would look like and what my condo in the city would look like. My car would definitely be an SUV. I'm sorry, but I'm really an SUV sort of person. And my land would have tons of trees and it would be windy always and sometimes at night, I'd fire zip. On weekends, either my family or my friends would come over for the free stay at a beach. I could just imagine myself, sitting in a little cabana in the sand, with my lap top, writing about the stories of the city; those stories of the time that I used to live in it, when I was growing up and the stories of my life when I was college.

Yeah, that's a very lovely fish bowl to live in.

posted by wanggo @ 2:12 PM 1 comments

thoughts before leaving for the beach

Anna Nalick from In the Rough
Someday love will find me in the rough
Someday love will finally be enough
I shine a little more lately

Yesterday, on my way to dinner in Makati, I was finishing my cigarette at the step of the escalator to the MRT. There were 5 kids in rags with black smears on their arms, neck, legs and faces selling sampaguita to all who passed them by. They would ride the escalator insisting on a sale; when they were assured of a no-sale, they would walk against the movement of the escalator back down to the ground. It seemed terribly difficult for these young kids, one or two of them must have been at least 6 years old, to go against the escalator. I mean, I was wondering what strength these kids could possibly have, not eating well or sleeping with a roof on their heads. It struck me on the chest. I finished my cigarette early and took the step that led me up towards the MRT. They didn't bother me on their way down.

After a fantastic dinner conversation with a good friend, Cholo, I went back to the office to finish my work. I had finished in the wee hours of the morning (which was punctuated with having insulted someone twice with a smile on my face and then, realising it, apologised sincerely but me, still feeling a little awkward and shitty), I had arrived at Cubao station. Before going home, I went to a 7-11 and got myself a hotdog sandwich to munch on and some fresh milk. Half-way through, I was full. I stepped out of the 7-11 and gave the half sandwich to a kid begging outside the door. He was so thankful. I was so shocked by it. I don't know why.

I guess I'm so used to the quick acceptance of these little charities from impoverished children. They take whatever you give them and run off to some little corner where the other kids wouldn't pester them to share the bounty. This little kid gave me a big smile and said his thanks. I nodded my head and smiled. As I walked off, I could feel a burning sensation in my back so I looked behind me and the kid was giving me a big smile while chewing on the hotdog sandwich. I turned away hoping not to have taken away any of the child's dignity. I really didn't know what I was suppose to do at that situation.

These should not be the thoughts of one who is about to leave for the beach in a few hours. This will be my first out of town excursion that has nothing to do with work for the whole year. Why am I fussing over something as common place as children begging and random acts of charity? Maybe because it is so common place?

I can just imagine the tour bus guide, And on your left is Rizal shrine. We will be making a turn in a bit so that the bus can park and we can ride down. There is a lot of traffic when we cross the street, so let's all be careful and oh! Look! Street children!

It's like a safari and they treat them like monkeys. They don't have the rarity of a large cat like a lion or a panther and are not afforded the awe and wonder of such. Monkeys, in zoos or safaris, in my opinion, are welcomed with some level of amusement at the beginning and then, after you've seen your third or fourth, they start to lose their novelty quickly. Or maybe that's just my opinion. I've never really liked monkeys.

Helpless. I feel helpless. How do you get these kids off the streets and get them under a roof, into some warm clothing and hoping that every weekday morning they are in school?

In the Stephen Sondheim musical Sunday in the Park with George, Georges Seurat's mother in the play states a wonderful truth, The only thing we leave behind in this world is children and art. That's it, really. It's the only thing we can actually leave behind. It's a beautiful idea; a wonderful gem of wisdom. But not like this. Not when they are on the street, smeared black with grease and dirt and working their asses off at such an age. They should be playing and reading and singing songs. Not like this.

I'm off to the beach in a few hours. I know myself enough to know that the moment my feet make contact with the sand, this will be far off my mind. I've got my cousins to talk to; a good book that I'll be starting (the 6th in my quota before the end of the year), my zips and a chance to unwind with the sea breeze and the sun (it better come out). But right now, while it's on my mind; I'll ponder on it further. What can I do? What can anybody really do?

posted by wanggo @ 6:21 PM 2 comments

confessions on a dance floor (nothing to do with Madonna)

Al-Hallaj
I saw my Lord with the eye of my heart and I said, "Who are Thou?" and He answered, "Thou."

I have a stiff neck. Berna twisted my arm to go a club last night, right? And this after a whole days work with only 2 hours of sleep, I really didn't expect to stay for very long. Of my friends that I had invited and asked to come, only Charles and Maik were there. I tried to stay away from the dance floor, preferring to dance upstairs away from the crowd. But when the really good beats started hitting, Charles grabbed me and before I knew it, I had staked my claim under the lights and near the speakers and surrounded by people dancing only half as good as Charles and I and I knew, for one moment, what it was like to be me a year ago.

I had intended to leave early to catch up on lost sleep; instead, I danced until the club began to empty out. I didn't want to look at the time in fear of what I might see so instead, I winded down with Charles, walking along Makati Avenue. He didn't want to get a cab in front of the club; it didn't matter to me, I just wanted to smoke a bit and relax.

All my friends are trying to get me to go with them to the Cream party on Halloween. We had such a good time last year and they are aching to go again and I said I wasn't going. I'm holding on to that, I'm really not going. I'm sort of through with that already. Anyway, my family is planning to hold a little party ourselves. Instead of wearing costumes, everybody has to wear the most horrible, horrendous outfit they can think of. Dress your worst is the theme of our party. It's better because you don't have to make anything, no props and you don't have to buy anything.

On that dance floor, though, when everyone just began to disappear and it was just me and the music and the dance floor and how I felt and nothing else mattered; I really missed it. I really, sincerely missed it. I missed feeling attractive and walking into a club and people looking at you from head to foot and trying to determine your value and worth. I miss not caring about that and just being myself and because of that, it sort of doubled whatever value I was given. I miss talking to my friends in a little circle and then occasionally having to reach out and say hello to someone or being tapped by a friend and having to leave the circle for a moment to say hi and play catch up with someone whom you are fond of, but in truth, know nothing much about; nothing really substantial. It is a lot of posing, really and sort of inconsequential but, nevertheless, I miss it. It was a big part of my life, after all, suppose to be, one of the novels I am to write.

But then, beat after beat, it just dissolved away into blackness accentuated with a coloured strobe. Silhoutte of bodies and a blur of faces, smiles and closed eyes in ecstacy, and then disturbed by my own movements. Again, nothing mattered and nothing ever did and it was just about being in that moment. It was an exhilirating feeling again; to be in total control of your body, but then, at the same time, to have your mind be a slave to another thing entirely, something not human -- it was the music which is but a language of feeling.

Leaving the club with Charles, lighting my second to the last cigarette, drenched in sweat and a smile on my face like no other; I had quenched a thirst and longing that had been building for quite some time. I knew it but could not bring myself to face an older self. But I have and I don't know who won. My battle scars? A stiff neck, a back that aches and worn out thighs. I have a little head ache; nothing serious and I'm still sleepy.

But I woke up and I've gone to work and I'm back to the task at hand and so I'm still not sure who won but I know that I had a great time last night and that's as much as I am going to say about it.

posted by wanggo @ 6:15 PM 1 comments

hard day's work

Steven Pressfield from Last of the Amazons
Then may hell take me in battle before the walls of the foe, for I wish to remain above the earth for no life other than this I love.

I had to be awake by 8:30 in the morning but after taking time out to meet up with some really close friends I haven't seen in a long time, a pitcher of some very strong drink and then right after, going back to work to make sure everything, all my scripts were in order; I went home to try to sleep. By this time, it was already 3 in the morning. But I had to read a little bit more of Last of the Amazons since I was already approaching the big war. I was to read 2 chapters before going to sleep. It wasn't so. The 2nd chapter I read was the first chapter into the big war; the story of how the Amazons and their allies from the wild lands East of Athens had begun to conquer the mighty Greeks. I was hooked for another 130 pages. I went to sleep at 5 in the morning.

Woke up and had breakfast and then coffee. I drank my hot mug of coffee with a cigarette as I devoured one short chapter of the war's aftermath before going to work and getting there 20 minutes before I had to. Then it was the shoot.

At the shoot, in the studio, I was the segment producer -- meaning I was director. In a location setting; I'm fine. I know how to conduct myself. I'm quite familiar with our usual crew. In the studio, it is an entirely different set up, an entirely different crew. I was struggling. I was on my feet the whole time and to compensate for my lack of... I don't know... proper ettiquette? Proper conduct? To compensate, I showed them I knew what they were doing. They were amused by the delivery of my script by the hosts. I am hoping they were impressed by my script since I felt that it was containing wisdom and wit. Well, I'm hoping.

Now I'm dead-tired and completely spent and my lack of sleep is beginning to hit me and I know that later, I'll be going out. Berna twisted my arm to go to Government, a club I haven't gone to in a long time. Before, my friends were always there and I was always with my friends. I then decided that my friendship would be secured even if I didn't go with them and I stopped. During Government's anniversary, some people were looking for me. That's a nice thought but I had no intention of ever returning. But Berna is very good at twisting my arm. So, I made a thing of it and invited all my old group to follow and hang out with us. I'll make a night of it.

But I'm still damned tired and I might end up closing my eyes and catching a few zzz's before the meeting that should've started at 6 if I had finished at 6 (though I finished at 7). If I can get to sleep for about 20 minutes, that would revive me for sure. And maybe food as well since I failed to eat lunch (though I did have a snack).

But despite all that I feel, the exhaustion in my legs and feet, I'm happy. 4 episodes down. 4 more on Monday and then all the finishing touches next week. It would certainly make my job easier in the long run.

I trod on...

posted by wanggo @ 7:21 PM 2 comments

doors

Robert Altman
To play it safe is not to play.

This weekend will mark my first vacation this year. Well, not really a vacation, but my first out of town trip for leisure's sake. My only out of town trips this year was Kinabuhayan in Quezon last May and Palawan last June but that was for work. So while I did enjoy myself a lot; there were moments that I had to focus and get the work done. This weekend, I'm off the Batangas with my cousins for some real R&R. I'll be zipping in the sand, swimming in the ocean and maybe even give snorkeling another try. I'll be drinking in the afternoon and listening to music and just enjoying an ocean breeze and some sun; well, as long as the weather cooperates.

In a matter of 2 cigarettes; I called up 5 friends and kept in touch and made plans to meet up again after such a long time. That was probably the most productive smoke break I ever had. It was nice to hear their high-pitched voices screaming What a surprise! How are you? It's so good to hear from you again. I was elated; filled with joy. It was good to hear from them again.

I had a very, very, VERY vivid dream of the Spaceman last night. I woke up almost gasping for breath. After lunch, I picked up my journal and read through the very time I started to fall for the Spaceman. Sometimes, you've let go and you think you're okay and then, all of a sudden, someone throws you a curveball and you weren't expecting it and it lands right in your stomach and takes the wind right out of you and you're lying in the ground wondering why you weren't ready for it. I thought it was over and done with it. Apparently, there is a sliver of the feeling still in my heart somewhere and it tore me open when I had that dream.

But that's how it is, I guess. No matter how many doors you close or open, you can't really ever lock them up. They will open again, whether by your doing or not. And you can never lock them. If you want that door to remain closed forever, you have to destroy it and by doing so, you know it will never come back ever again. So when you close a door, remember, sometimes they open on their own. So when you close them, make sure that you left nothing of yourself inside. That when you step through doors, you do so completely and wholly. Or else you'd never truly be happy with your comings and goings in this world. Commit fully or don't commit at all.

posted by wanggo @ 5:30 PM 0 comments

the benefits of remembering when you got your ass kicked

Buddha
There is only now.

My cousin makes the most unbelievable dishes. He's a true artist in the kitchen. For Sunday Family Day yesterday, we decided on doing gourmet sandwiches. I got off easy, I was to bring the chips. My brother was going to make potato salad and my cousin, Inigo (a real chef extraordinaire) was to make the sandwiches. So, of course, I wasn't going to buy any normal potato chips, right? I bought the expensive delicious Ruffles and Lays. It was barely touched. Inigo's lovely, lovely girlfriend Karla made a fantastic cheese dip for crackers and my cousin Yciar brought salsichon. Excellent appetizers. Then the crabstick sandwhich came out. With cucumbers, some leafy thing like lettuce (I think), egg and crabsticks on really, really good bread (hard crust, soft bread -- delicious!) we ate greedily and with much enjoyment. The taste was so refreshing. It surprised the taste buds and made it alive. Then Datu's potato salad was great, nothing too strong that it didn't clash with the sandwiches. Amazing. Too bad he doesn't remember how to make it. Then the roast beef sandwiches came out and it had romano cheese, mushrooms (I think they were Porcini mushrooms) and arugula. Amazing! It was so good. Perfect.

Great company, great food, great ambience (we were hanging out at Karla's place rather than our condo as it usually is) and we just had a grand time.

I went home and, after such a wonderful time with my family, I found myself at the computer checking my e-mails. Then, later on, I dscovered I had already disconnected from the internet and I was going through my file CDs and I was looking for something that I don't remember. Instead, I found old letters, e-mails that I had kept. There was one e-mail were I had written to my parents and it was such a powerful and well-written letter (so well-written, I was shocked at myself; afterall, this was 3 years ago) and then my parent's response letters which got me teary-eyed.

And then, I found my brother's letter to me. It was his "reality check" letter to me. Something happened in the family 3 years ago which sort of brought everyone into high gear and emotions had flared and certain things got out of hand. One of the things that got out of hand, affected by such events, was me. My brother, Jubal, then proceeded to put me in my place. But not only did he put me in my place; he whipped me up into shape.

I think I was very resentful of that letter at the time but reading it now, I am not surprised at the ability of my brother to cut straight to the core; into the heart of the problem and forced me to deal with him and, by doing so, deal with the problem. It is an amazing letter, one written with such intelligence, wit, brilliance, everything. I wish I could put it here but that would put certain things to light which, though is of no consequence to me, is a family matter and will remain such.

But some of the strokes of genius were he would be both biting and humorous is such proof of his amazing writing skills, his command for the language, his intelligence and wisdom.

That was MY over-reaction. Allow me some insecurities, you aren't allowed to have them all...

I was laughing at that last night. I was going through heavy-drama and I was whining better and with more intensity than any character from Dawson's Creek or Beveryly Hills 90210. I have, after all, a PhD in whining and complaining and am the reigning drama queen of this generation. And at that time, I was certainly pulling no stops.

Jubal kicked my ass with a 5 page letter of unbelievable tough love. Amazing, amazing person. Driven to such nostalgia, I had to call him up in Bacolod and just talk to him.

In such cases, I can't wait to get to Bacolod on November. Can't wait to see the rest of my family and then December to spend real time with them; on Christmas, no less, when it really is important.

It won't be long now.

posted by wanggo @ 4:21 PM 1 comments

dream sequence

Poe from Could've Gone Mad (written by Poe and Daris Adkins)
Another day and I could've gone mad
Another day and It might've gone bad

Everything is in black and white. The young man sitting by the window constantly fixes his hair. He's been growing it for his father and while it has done much to change his appearance; old friends constantly remarking on the change, it looks great or cut it short, what were you thinking? he doesn't pay much attention. It's about time he grew it long. His father has always been right and he doesn't have a pretty good track record in regards to decision making. He looks out the window. A young woman enters the room from the bathroom door smelling like oranges wearing nothing but a bath robe. She picks up his pack of cigarettes and even if the young man knows there is nothing in it, she is able to take one more cigarette and light it. He doesn't hear the click of the lighter but he is sure the cigarette is lit. The smoke wafts towards him lazily.

"What are you doing?" she asks. He takes his time to answer, then, slowly moves his face towards her, "Just sitting by the window watching the rain."

"But it's not raining."

He looks out the window again. "You just don't get it."

The scene changes like it always does. Suddenly. The young woman is standing in a forest. She starts to walk slowly northward. She doesn't know how she knows she's going north. She just knows. Soon, she is running. Perspiration begins to form on her forehead, arm pits, her back and she begins to tire but she continues to run. In a matter of seconds, what she is running from appears behind her. A pack of wolves, keeping pace, catching up. Black wolves with yellow eyes, large and hungry. She starts running. The forest edge is before her. She can see the empty fields beyond the last trees. The wolves howl. Beads of sweat falls into her eyes and stings them.

The young man rubs the mirror over and over again. The scene has shifted. He can't see his reflection. The mirror is like a window. His mirror shows him a cocktail bar. He sees zebras in street wear, caps worn backwards, large oversized pants and a jacket over a tanktop. 3 zebras sitting by the bar, cruising, obviously. This is not their kind of place. Here, the flamingo women wear cocktail dresses and expensive jewelry; the owls wear coat and ties and the chameleon jazz singer in a long gown, sitting on a stool. The colour of her dress changes as she does but never the same, always contrasting colours. She's singing My Way and during the instrumental parts, flicks out her tongue to the amusement of the turtles who are foreigners to this land. On the turtles' table, a martini for the husband and a ginger ale for the wife (who happens to be allergic to alcohol), a plate of papayas and their camera and her handbag.

The young man continues to wipe at the mirror hoping to get back to his reflection but he can't. He just sees all these images. They change from time to time but it's never his reflection. It's a window to other worlds, to things not real, to things not true but possible and, if he took the time to relax, enjoyable and amusing. Never had he thought about breaking the mirror; never had he thought of just going away of never looking at the mirror again. There's something about trying to get back his reflection.

Everything then gets hazy and then the tiled bathroom floor starts to turn to sand and everything is whisked away by a strong wind. Water comes in from the east and we are in a beach. Two old men are walking their dogs; one was a golden retriever and the other was a black wolf, huge and yellow eyed. The man with the golden retriever was complaining because he saw so much trash -- empty water bottles, empty containers of potato chips and discarded batteries all over the sand. The man with the wolf said nothing and constantly remarked how beautiful the day was; commented on the beauty of the blue sky and the clouds that looked like cotton.

"What is it that you think I need?" said the man with the golden retriever, finally, asking what he really meant to say that day.

The old man with the wolf laughed. He reached out his other hand and patted his friend in the back and said, "At your age, with all that you've done and everything that you've already built for yourself, it's no longer a question of what you need but of what you want."

Both men stopped as the golden retriever began to dig in the sand, his nose catching an odd scent and he wanted to investigate. The black wolf laid down and began to roll on the sand.

"You have everything you need," said the man with the wolf, "now it's all about what you want."

The old man let the leash of his golden retriever go to give him more reign as he stared at his friend in the eyes. The black wolf had stopped rolling in the sand and remained on the sand, staring at the golden retriever digging. The old man with the golden retriever said, "I don't feel so rushed anymore."

A dream sequence but born not out of slumber but what I feel right now. I am a child of metaphors. Symbols are my first language.

posted by wanggo @ 2:47 PM 0 comments

there is no one person out there for you

Khaled Hosseni from The Kite Runner
It was Homaira and me against the world. And I'll tell you this... In the end, the world always wins. That's just the way of things.

A friend asked me last weekend if I believed that there is one person out there for us; that if there is one person that we were meant to have. My answer was no. In fact, it was a rather emphatic no with laughter. No, I don't believe that there is one person out there just for you and all you have to do is wait and be ready and open your heart and hope that you find each other. I'm sorry, that idea is so weak, in my opinion.

I even have a scientific proof that that is false. 8 billion people in the world, and, if I'm not mistaken, the ratio of men to women is 1 is to 3, right? Is that correct? Well, even if it's 1 is to 2; the point becomes: h0w can there be one person out there for you when the number of men and women isn't even equal? For that matter, since a lot of men are turning gay, that removes from the equation some more men away from the women. Does that mean, some women are suppose to end up with other women? 8 billion people in the world and the ratio of men and women, gay men and gay women considering, how can there be one person out there for you?

That scientific evidence presupposes that if you believe that there is one person out there for you, that would mean, somebody else is not going to have someone. That would mean, some people were meant to be alone.

Now that's a scary thought. That's the most frightening thought for people who believe that there is someone out there made specially for them.

I can't believe it and if that makes me cynical then so be it.

There's just so much emphasis on relationships and being together with someone. 8 billion people in the world; can you properly grasp that amount? I can't. And if I can't grasp the idea of that many people in the world, how am I suppose to imagine one person out there for me?

I think we make the person who is for us. We meet people in our lives and we give them value. We assign their value in different ways -- they make us smile, they make us laugh, they tell us things we need to know, etc. And from there, we end up meeting people who just makes us feel good about ourselves and who makes us want to be better people and who we want to take care of and be with all our lives. Those are the people we fall in love with. And we make that for ourselves. We choose that. We choose that for ourselves.

And since I believe in change; there are some instances when people grow apart from each other. And then eventually, sometimes, they find someone new. It's just the way it is.

So yeah, I don't think there's one person out there that was meant for you and just for you. There's scientific proof for it.

posted by wanggo @ 7:03 PM 2 comments

almost the end of the sordid affair

Jhumpa Lahiri from The Third and Final Continent
I am not the only man to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly I am not the first. Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.

I cheated yesterday. I had 2 cigarettes. I was super cranky. I was like almost capable of being a super-hero except I had no cape or a mask nor would I have looked good in spandex but I definitely had raised crankiness to a super-human level yesterday. I didn't have to leap over tall buildings in a single bound because I could cause that building to crumble with but a glare. There would be no need to outrun speeding bullets since they would melt at the mere sound of my voice. If only I had but good intentions yesterday, I would have been able to effectively create world peace. But no, that was not to be.

Surprisingly, though, my tonsils have begun to shrink and are no longer causing me so much problems. I hope that this will be the last mention of that particular body part for some time. I have other body parts worth talking about in length. Let's just say, the tonsils were the last I expected to be talking about at length... Well, those and the spleen which I really don't know what it's for. Let's just say that Bactidol really saved the day. Without the use of a doctor or any form of anti-biotic, Bactidol, being the only medicinal ritual I kept and now, my body and the red fluid I gargled ceremoniously twice a day has cured me of the problems that were plaguing me for the past few days.

Of course, I still want to have them removed but I would be harder pressed to think up of a good argument for my doctor who would probably look at me and just laugh. So it looks like my next medical emergency would be my impacted wisdom teeth.

There is always something to over-dramatize, isn't there? I have learned from history that you can overly problematize nothing and that long periods of time without over-exagerating something is boring. Either that, or I'm a drama-queen on speed. Laugh, it was meant to be funny

I finished Interpreter of Maladies and I enjoyed it thoroughly. In the weekend, I am hoping to read the Steven Pressfield book regarding the Amazons. From cultural to historical. Not a bad idea, I'm guessing. Lately, I've just been throwing myself at Literature and it's making for fantastic escapes for me. I remember how I was before; a wide-eyed Literature major hoping to make it big as a novelist with an international reading audience. The goal before was not an Oscar or a Cannes but a Pulitzer, a Booker Prize and eventually the Nobel. I remember imagining that my life was going to be very social except for a span of 2 or 3 months where I would be a recluse to write my next amazing novel. Yeah, I was ambitious and delusional since I was very young...

I can feel a resurgence of that old feeling -- like I want to take time off to write and write and write. All of a sudden, the pangs of wanting to direct are leaving me for a bit and I want to focus everything to my writing again, like before.

I cheated today as well. I had one and a half cigarettes. If I could maintain a 2 cigarette a day thing, I might be able to help myself out of the habit. Who are you kidding, you bleeding fucking weakling! You're weak... you're so fucking weak! And then, maybe I'll never have respiratory problems again.

Oh yeah, by the way, I've been having really, really strange dreams. Very real and very close to reality. I would wake up and think that it would be the next day because I would dream that I did everything I had to do for that day. The feeling would be really, really jarring -- like walking through glass and not knowing it was there. That's what it feels like, to have your reality just suddenly taken away from you. I would dream that I was having these long conversations with someone on the phone through text and I would wake up and discover that I read one message in the middle of the night and that one message was true and everything else we talked about was false -- never really happened. I dreamt that I was working with someone I never met yet and it was horribly tiring but I had to keep reminding myself it was what I wanted. I dreamt that a package arrived from abroad and that my brother and I were fighting over who got the right to open it. Things like that -- very real and so very disorienting when you discover that it never happened.

*sigh*

posted by wanggo @ 7:15 PM 0 comments

is it absurdity or just merely strangeness?

Lamb from Stronger (written by Andrew Barlow and Lou Rhodes)
I am so afraid
Something is broken now
Too much been said to wipe it clean somehow

Without this love where will I be?

Woke up thinking I had woken up 3 times already previously and had pretty much started my day. Truth be told, I just had a very realistic dream that kind of ended and began again until I finally actually woke up. There were 3 small puddles of drool in several areas around my bed. It would have been 1 big one if I were not the type of sleeper who is constantly moving. Since I don't sleep still, I ended up making 3 small puddles of drool. Very attractive, no? Whatever. Shakes my head in shame

I woke up and little drops of water was reaching my bare legs as my boxer shorts hiked up all the way to form a massive wedgie. Rain water sprinkled on my thigh and kind of made it rather cold. Getting back to sleep would be impossible. I look to the window, almost 10 feet away, maybe a little farther, even, and saw that it wasn't raining very strongly. It was just the wind throwing whatever little drops of rain it could into the open window right onto my leg. Well, there's no arguing with Mother Nature. It is time to get up.

I pretty much had to stop smoking because it was making my present condition worse, so I have been a little cranky, as of late. I had 2 cigarettes and a half yesterday and now, pretty much had none the whole day. Now my massive head ache can be caused by the build up of whatever is trapped within my nasal passages or the withdrawals of nicotine and the act of inhaling a cancer stick. I'm a slave to my body's desires. Wicked smile, nods head in agreement; sounds just right

Went to the mall where a clinic is and waited forever to be told that the ENT specialist has just left. Would I like to return tomorrow at 9 to 11 in the morning or 1 to 5 in the afternoon? she asked. If I could kill with my sight you'd be feeding trees right now in South Cemetery, bitch would have been my response but it wasn't her fault. Don't shoot the messenger. It's never their fault that the news they carry is almost always sad, painful or something you'd never usually want to hear anyway. Looks like I must wait for tomorrow before I find out whether this gross part of my anatomy that has mutated into Hulk-like proportions will be removed or not. My brother has convinced me to get a doctor's opinion rather than to attach a chain with a hook to a car and then attaching the hooks onto my tonsils and then screaming at the driver of the car to go at full speed. I think, in this regard, my brother might be right.

I arrived at the MRT station to get to work to find out that there are no tickets available at Shaw station and that we could walk in for free and just pay on our way out, whichever station we decide to get off.

Is it just me or are people bringing home their tickets and not bringing them back? Do they make such nice coasters? Is someone living in a house made up of MRT tickets? There hasn't been a store valued ticket in almost 2 weeks; available only on mornings, maybe, if you're lucky. What is this? I asked why and I was told that people don't bring them back. What? Can someone please hit me in the head with an awl pike? Or how about contra-bassoon? What ever do they keep those tickets for? And now, Shaw station can't even hand out tickets. This is the first of the 5 horsemen of the Apocalypse -- Absurdity; or is this merely Strangeness.

The end is near. It's coming. Max your credit cards and now and go to the Maldives while you still can!

posted by wanggo @ 6:45 PM 2 comments

counting the days

The Corrs from My Lagan Love (traditional; arranged by The Corrs)
She stirs the bog wood fire
And hums in soft sweet undertones
The song of heart's desire

My tonsils are on fire and they are huge but that doesn't stop me from singing as loud as I want to when I hear my favourite song. It has stopped me from smoking cigarettes, though and I swear to God; I can feel myself getting cranky by the minute.

Food has lost it's worth to me. Food is no longer enjoyable. One of the things that sustains me no longer amuses me. I have begun to die.

I must rush to the doctor soon and have this evil thing snipped away. It's got to go. It's got to go! Ding Dong the witch is dead, the wicked witch is dead!

I wish but it's going to take some time and maybe some money. This is invasive surgery. I'd love it, being a masochist and all, except for the time that's going to be spent lying on bed recuperating. Gross out. Probably use that time to read. Read more books. 6 to go before the year ends. Gotta hurry, gotta rush!

It's the waiting I hate; this game of counting the days so I try not to count the days and discover that I'm fooling myself -- I'm learning new ways to count the days but not so obviously. It's no longer 1, 2 and 3. It's how long before Billboard will update their charts. I count with how long before my next zips class and how many I've already taken. It's all new and different ways of counting the days. It doesn't give me the exact date of what I'm waiting for but it helps me calculate what I need. When you are waiting for something; it's the only thing in your mind.

Well, that and inflamed tonsils and the inability to swallow or laugh and missing smoking and wishing you could take a puff right now and wondering how much more mucous your body can expel from the nose and how much more phlegm can you expectorate from your mouth. And despite that I've been expelling gallons of phlegm globbers and mucous rain since this morning; how come my sinus is still heavy with it?

The human body is filled with tons of things that cannot be explained -- like the spleen? Or the shape of the nose? Or why hair appears where they do in the human body? Or why couldn't we have trunks like elephants? Or be marsupials and have a large pouch somewhere in our bodies?

Well, those are questions that can't be answered. It's like waiting.

posted by wanggo @ 5:59 PM 2 comments

she's back...

Kate Bush from King of the Mountain (written by Kate Bush)
Could you climb higher and higher?
Could you climb right over the top?

It has been announced. My favourite singer/songwriter/musician has finally announced a release date of her first studio album in 12 years. Kate Bush is back and she's going to rock the world. On November 7, Aerial written and produced by Kate Bush will be hitting shelves and will, hopefully, bring back the glory of this Brit-pop chanteuse to the present generation. The woman who had inspired Bjork, Sarah McLachlan, Coldplay and a whole host of others is back after a 12 year hiatus.

Aerial is a 2 disc concept album where, according to the reviews, Kate Bush shows she still is at the top of her game. Still a masterful musician and songwriter, the reviews talk about melodic, unconventional musical layers and her voice is still fragile, ethereal and other-worldly. The 2 disc Aerial is a concept album. Disc 1 is 7 fantastic Kate Bush songs which includes present new single King of the Mountain and the 2nd disc is more of a 30-minute single that is chopped up into 9 parts. It's an epic piece; a study on harmonics with the elements of water, wind and peace. It's hypnotic and tender and never rushing.

Of course, this is all from the words of other people. I, personally, cannot wait for it's release here in the Philippines and I will certainly make a ruckus if ever it doesn't get released here. I will fight tooth and nail; down to the very last blood, sweat and tear until that album is released here and I can buy a copy.

I've waited 12 years for this. I will not wait another year more!

posted by wanggo @ 9:02 PM 0 comments

identifying the problems...

Sheryl Crow from Letter to God (written by Sheryl Crow and Jeff Trott)
And what if everyone is wrong?

I'm not sure but I think my tonsils are inflamed. I open my mouth to look at it in the mirror and I just see these huge red glands about to pop wide open and they are red and slimy... euw! I can't believe those things are actually in my mouth. Gross! Yuck. No way. But they are and I think they are what's causing my head aches and my occasional bouts of fever (which magickally disappear) and my cough and colds and my increased phlegm build up.

Yeah, I'm not the healthiest of puppies right now. Got my tail tucked in-between my legs and I'm whimpering a low whine.

Right now, it's a big period of waiting and hoping and crossing my fingers and just going through the motions. I'm waiting for something and I'm not sure if it is going to come or not and if it does; everything will be different.

I can't wait to go to a doctor and get his/her opinion regarding my tonsils. I want it cut out, removed forever and never have to bother with it again. If they look at it and tell me that it just needs some anti-biotics to get the swelling down, I'll be really disappointed. I want an incision; I want surgery. I want it out of my life!

Geez, all this talk about tonsils...

Moving on, I'm almost done with The Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri and it's an excellent collection of short stories. I didn't want to include it in my reading list until after the 10 books I set out for myself and yet, Berna, one of my closest friends insisted I read it and I should consider it 1 book since it technically is. I'm glad for it because it's great. I finish the last 3 short stories within and I'll be 4 books down and 6 more to go before the end of the year.

I haven't written anything yet in terms of short fiction, poetry or song but I have finished a full length script. But I'm thinking that that should not substitute for the others. I'm still going to push myself for 2 short fiction pieces, 1 poem and 1 song. Will continue working on it.

I watched a zarzuela in the weekend with my Dad and Tito Lore. We watched PETA's Ang Palasyo ni Valentin and it was okay. The script was horrible and the zarzuela had moments of pure theatrical magick; but merely moments. Some of the cast were terrific, though, especially Gigette Reyes who we came to see. She's a good friend of the family and an excellent actress and she did marvelously. The new PETA theatre is actually pretty good. It's not huge or overwhelming and, as my Dad described it, is pretty "friendly."

So that's another short term goal closed; I went to watch a play before the year ended and I'll be watching another one in the next weekend with Berna; one in CCP. So that's good.

And I'll be buying my fire zips already. I can't wait. I want them. I want to practise with them already. I am hoping that by December, I'll be good enough to perform. So I can't wait to get my own pair.

It is so much easier to do things once you've identified them for what they are -- short-term goals. I found things so much easier to accomplish once I knew exactly what I wanted and, more importantly, that I announced them in such a public place. The need/desire to get them done is really powerful when brought into the attention of others.

posted by wanggo @ 3:17 PM 0 comments

somewhere from the left field

Fiona Apple from Better Version of Me
I might likely miss the main event
If I stop to cry in the rain again

I've just been thrown a curve ball in a good way but as usual; I wasn't ready for it. The news, coming in the form of a chat with a good friend, found me almost falling out of my seat. Everything in my heart and soul told me it was great news; to go for it and accept it and enjoy my good fortune. Then, of course, I had to start thinking again. God damn this God damned brain of mine! For once, it would be so great to be able to just turn it off. I'd do anything to be able to turn it off once in a while and just do what my instincts tell me.

I won't talk about details. I don't think it would be fair to talk about details right now. But let's just say that it's going to turn my whole life around once again. Change is good; I've always been one to talk about growth and always moving on.

I chained myself to the ground for 4 years because of how I felt for someone and because of that, I was stagnant. I stopped growing as a person. I don't want to do that again. I've said, time and time again, I'm not a sentimental person but that's the reason that's holding me back. Scary, scary...

Like I was telling my friend Berna, all these opportunities come at me when I've just settled into a comfort zone. They never came during times when I was ready to go, raring and fearless. This, I suppose, is the true test of my character or nature. Can I walk my talk? I've always been talking a tough talk about watching out for the numero uno and always about moving on. Now, let's prove it. Let's do it.

Yeah, let's do it.

posted by wanggo @ 1:04 PM 2 comments

a matter of health

William Blake
A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.

I think I'm coming down with something. Kinda piss-off type of situation because I just got well. I was sick for 2 days last week and now, I feel that I'm better and I think I'm coming down with something. So I've decided to start taking vitamins daily. I was never really a vitamins person because, well, I tried to keep away from chemical substances. Ha Ha Ha Yeah, funny, so I've had my history of substance use. Let it go. That's not what I meant. In my day-to-day, I mean, I try to stay away from as little chemicals as I can. But now, I don't know. Here I am taking vitamins on a daily basis and then, later, on my way home, I'm going to pass by a convenience store and buying some paracetamol.

At this point in my life, I really can't afford to become sick. And I can see that I'm not taking care of my body, what with drinking every night or every other night and then sleeping late everyday. No, that's not a very good sign that everything is all right.

And there's no way I am not going to zips practise on Sunday and no way I'm going to slow down on my reading. I've got a date with Berna sometime soon to watch another play; this time at the CCP. I just get tickled pink thinking that there are all these opportunities to continue to achieve all my short-term goals. It's apparently not that hard; to get what you want. Just make sure you announce. Once it is out there, once it has been named, it gets easier to get. I don't know. That's what I think.

And of course, getting what you want is good for your state of mind. And right now, since things have not been spectacularly good nor has it been particularly bad (as everything has plateau-ed since the weekend), I'd really like to feel something special again.

posted by wanggo @ 9:06 PM 0 comments

astrological prediction: good fortune for Pisces

Brendan Francis
Inspirations never go in for long engagements. They demand immediate marriage to action.

Do you believe in Astrology and horoscopes? I kinda do. And according to one site; it said that the Pisces would be rather fortunate this month. It said something like, life may seem to have been hard for the past few months (maybe even past 2 years) but we were all building up to something and that something begins on the month of October, 2005. If that is the case, then I can finally stop holding my breath for so long because that is definitely what it feels like.

Sure, I had a good run of fortune last year. I was bleeding assed rich. I could afford living alone, building up my savings and still living the life. But it all disappeared when I lost my 2 weekly shows. That was sort of tough because I've never really enjoyed having all the money I needed to live the life I wanted to. I've always just gotten by and, like Blanche Dubois of A Streetcar Named Desire, "I've always relied on the kindness of strangers."

I remember, for the better part of 3 years, I was out 4 times a week without a penny to my name but there I was, at all the hottest night spots, drinking the night away with a smile on my face and surrounded by friends. They all wanted me to be there so they handled my gas, parking, entrance and booze.

Last year, I was able to taste having to pay for my way and paying for the way of good company, as well. I remember treating out my friends and getting people in to clubs and bars and stuff because I wanted them there with me.

I guess, by nature, I'm want we call in Filipino galante. I'm quite generous to people that I like and love and my friend Berna is always shouting at me, Ano ka ba? Will you save your money!? Libre ka na lang ng libre! I can't help it. Money is only a means to an end. It is never the end. It's fun to be rich because it's fun to have what you want but included in that equation is good company; being surrounded by friends and family and loved ones.

So if money is coming my way this month, than that's a good thing. It's been a while since I've been generous. And I feel like a good blow out is in order. I've been feeling good lately since Saturday. I feel like sharing again.

posted by wanggo @ 10:59 PM 0 comments

try this out

Bob Dylan
An artist always has to be in a state of becoming.

In the weekend, I found myself engaged in a rather interesting game with a friend I met on the net. The rules of the game were pretty simple. Each person takes turns asking a question only answerable by yes or no. No explanations. Speed is the key. Just keep throwing questions at each other, taking turns and answering it as honestly as possible. Anyway, since your friend can't ask you to explain; there is some sort of safety in that. At the same time, without talking about it, neither of us asked each other the same question, which I think should be an important rule.

It was an exhilirating game. Without gray areas (and there are always gray areas) and having to answer in an absolute, it was really much more difficult than I thought. The need to quantify or qualify an answer was almost immediate but I stuck to the rules. My friend had to qualify 2 or 3 answers and I reproached him. Stick to the rules, I wrote and then followed stop qualifying! Of course, I was having as much difficulty as he was.

Some of the questions I asked him were: are you happy? Are you afraid of snakes? Do you think Koalas are cute? Do you see ghosts? Are you allergic to anything? Do you think lightning is beautiful? Do you believe in life in other planets? Would you consider getting together with someone 10 years younger than yourself? Are you comfortable with strangers, face-to-face, not in the internet but actually sitting in front of them and just being comfortable? Do your friends really know you? Do you think dessert is important? Would you sleep with someone for 5 million bucks? Do you hold someone's life in higher regard than your own?

Very interesting answers. Here are some of the questions I were asked and my answers to them: do you fear growing old? No. Do you want to be immortal? Yes. Do you believe in Satan? No. Would you lie to your lover about your own infidelity? No. Do you think your delusional sometimes? Yes. Do you have a pet? No. Do you eat balut? Yes. Would you offer your eyesight to speak with God? No. Are you well-liked? Yes. Do you hold grudges? Yes. Are you promiscouos? Yes. Would you sleep with someone to spite your lover? No.

We did this for almost 2 hours, non-stop. At the end of the game, I added a new rule. I said that each person is allowed to qualify one of their answers. And the person is allowed to ask the other to qualify one of their answers.

It was a thrilling game that really broke through the ice and definitely opened up my view over my friend. Very interesting.

I wonder if that game works while drinking.

posted by wanggo @ 5:23 PM 1 comments

and then sometimes, it all just works out

Philip K. Dick
Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.

Another great weekend except for that little moment in Sunday when I just fell asleep at 9pm and was blissfully unaware of the world, dead to the universe asleep and then I woke up at 2am and couldn't get back to sleep again. I thought I was going to be able to get back all my lost sleep and be able to fix my body clock, but no, sadly that was not be.

A lot of energy, creative energy was flowing through me all weekend. And why not? I had finished another full-length script in a matter of 2 days. It was the most difficult, most compelling of my works to date. It took me a long while to get down to writing it, a little over-whelmed at the whole idea of it, the concept being something so much bigger than what I was told to tell. It was very detailed, very quiet story-telling but the story, in itself, talked about such big things. I was overwhelmed. I was shocked with that responsibility but I wanted it. It was something I knew I could write and I did. I finally got to start writing last Friday and I was done by Saturday. 2 days, a full-length script! And I was able to get the message across. I was so thrilled by the whole idea I had to go out. The possibilities are endless after such a feat. You feel like the king of the world. I felt it.

I partied all night Saturday, leaving the club with the sun rising. Got home to sleep and wake up early enough to make it to zips practice, though a little late. Learned more moves but they're getting harder and harder as the moves are getting more and more complicated. I'm up for the challenge since I know this is what I want; and what's more, I'm getting more and more comfortable with fire. Paulino, my teacher, got me to spin fire again and, being tired, wasn't able to be as inventive as I was in my first time but I wasn't nervous at all. I could feel a level of control. I love it.

So despite the sleep problem and a very, very frightening experience with sludge and darkness (that's a whole different story for a different entry), I had a great weekend. And today, despite the slew of meetings and thinking hard over work -- things start to go my way. I feel very blessed and very fortunate today. I can feel a heaviness leaving my shoulders and I can really smile again and that's a good thing, I know.

Good news all around me and I can feel very positive about things. I am very grateful. It couldn't have come in a more opportune moment for me.

posted by wanggo @ 11:10 PM 0 comments

learn from the world, teach the world

Poe from Wild
What would you cry for? Swallow your pride for? Go wild for?

I had an interesting chat today with my friend. I would normally put his name here but then, because of the quality of what we talked about, I'd rather keep him nameless and to protect his insecurities from being of public scrutiny. After all, that's his life and we spoke about it under the impression that it is for us only. But I asked permission to put it here and I'll put just put parts of it. Sometimes, I do shock myself with the things that come out of my... err... hands (when I type; I guess I wanted to say what comes out of my mouth, but I wasn't really talking...).

friend: how are you heartless?
wanggo: how am i heartless?
wanggo: well, if it's over, it's over...
wanggo: i'm not sentimental at all...
wanggo: the moment the final judgement has been made; that's it...
wanggo: so if i've decided to cut you off... you're gone
friend: ok
wanggo: and i'm also heartless because i use the truth like a weapon
friend: nice way of puttin' it.
wanggo: and it's not fair...
friend: your turn to ask. go!
wanggo: your friends don't know you?
friend: i don't spill the beans easily.
friend: i'm not the type who would have best friend who would know everything about me.
wanggo: hahaha whereas i'm the kind of person where a stranger knows everything about me!
friend: oh yeah. ur blog. heehee.
wanggo: or just the moment i meet someone, i'm all open
friend: really?
friend: i'm usually silent.
friend: in person.
friend: you wouldn't think i was the one you spoke with on the phone.
wanggo: i'm an open book... all throughout
wanggo: and you know what?
wanggo: i didn't realise it before; but it is both a defense mechanism and a weapon...
friend: how so?
wanggo: it's a defense mechanism because by putting myself out there on the open; i leave them the choices to make... not me
wanggo: i can always say "i've been honest and open" it's them who couldn't handle it...
wanggo: it's a weapon because i dispose of my self so openly and readily that people are shocked, surprised
friend: nice
wanggo: i tear their expectations apart
wanggo: it's not how ordinary people act/react
wanggo: and i didnt know i was doing it on purpose...
wanggo: it was my way of taking control of the social situation
wanggo: i'm cruel, noh?
friend: no.
friend: by being fearless you think you can contrl your fear.
friend: i'm that way sometimes.
wanggo: but the thing is, it's not being fearless...
wanggo: you see, i realised, by not hiding anything about me, there's more to gain and nothing to lose...
wanggo: people hide things, keep things because they feel safer that way...
wanggo: but i see it as the opposite
wanggo: so it's not an act of bravery on my part...
friend: you can afford to be heartless...
friend: i can't. i have so much to lose.
wanggo: like what?
friend: the life that i want.
friend: i have this notion that i cannot achive that by being being my true self.
friend: reality clashes with what imagine myself to be.
wanggo: uhm... that sorta sucks, doesn't it?
friend: i have so many hang-ups.
friend: i have no idea how got myself into this.
wanggo: you got to start learning to let go
friend: my truth is not society's truth.
friend: i try to conform, but i know i will lose myself.
wanggo: play your game, don't play theirs
friend: but i think i will be left alone.
friend: a person that's too strong.
friend: no one can match me.
friend: and because of that...
friend: i will be alone.
wanggo: 8 billion people in the world, (name withheld), you think you're the only one that strong?
friend: we are contradiction of ourselves.
wanggo: and why are you going to "lower" yourself, hide your strength for the sake of the world...
wanggo: the world doesn't owe you anything
friend: contradictions
friend: i now live by the philosphy that i cannot be too sure of myself.
friend: let the world teach me.
wanggo: i could never hold myself back... give and take
wanggo: learn from the world, teach the world
friend: i need to learn how to trust.
friend: people who may disappoint me.
wanggo: trust yourself...
wanggo: it always start with you
friend: but the thing is. by trusting myself, i learn that cannot trust others.
friend: it always goes goes back to that.
friend: i let go, i learn.
friend: but i hurt.
friend: and you hope
friend: that somewhere along the way
friend: someone will care enough not to hurt you.
wanggo: don't let your distinct number of experiences with some people generalise your whole opinion about life and people as a whole...
friend: but life has a timeline.
wanggo: it starts when you are born, it ends when you die
friend: why is it difficult to choose to be happy?
friend: if it's really a choice?
wanggo: because people are too busy trying to be happy
wanggo: they forget to do the things that make them happy...
friend: what makes you happy?
wanggo: being recognized for the things i'm good at
wanggo: there was a time i spent more time trying to find out if people recognized my strengths
wanggo: that i was totally unhappy
wanggo: then, when i just did the things i was good at... the compliments started coming in...
wanggo: you don't choose to be happy, you just are...
wanggo: emotions are reactions
wanggo: so you can't choose to react to something unless you have a stimulus...
friend: so must be careful with the choices you make.
wanggo: always but once you make them... go all the way with them
friend: yes

That came completely left-field for me... I had no idea that I could articulate these things. That this is how I am and that I could talk about it so casually. I was shocked, going over it. It strikes me, in a funny way as well, that I'm younger than my friend. It was strange, really. I could "talk" with so much confident and assurance, like I really knew what the world was like and what it was about yet I read it and see it as a truth. After all, that's my truth.

These moments of clarity is just amazing for me. I love them so much. This is what I live for, really. More than recognition of my own strengths, this is what makes me happy. To be able to articulate through words or a movie or a story these truths that hang in the air just waiting to be discovered. This really makes me happy. To be able to constantly gather knowledge and wisdom, in what ever form they come and then use it in my own life and then restructure it in a story (be it for a movie, a book or a song) and then send it out hoping that others can learn from it as well and be amused by the form it has taken as well.

I can feel it that this will be another great weekend again...

posted by wanggo @ 5:14 PM 0 comments

losing my spark

from Methadonia
You're only as sick as your secret.

Just had a lovely time with Berna. Despite how the world was just crashing in on me with all that I have to do; she came up to me in the office and said "Let's watch a movie later?" and I had every right to let her know that tonight was probably the worst time of all to ask me that. I paused for a couple of seconds and said, "What are we watching?"

So aftershe finished all that she needed to (since waiting for me, I'd probably have been writing until morning) she passed for me and with some other friends from the office took the last train southbound, got off at the Ayala MRT station, went to Glorietta 4 and watched the romantic comedy A Perfect Catch. It was a lovely movie with a fabulous ending (more on that later) and filled me with great insight on how I was to go about writing what I'm currently writing now. It was kismet, really. I always have to be dragged kicking and screaming to moments that I'd enjoy greatly. Afterwards, I demanded a drink found ourselves in a very busy Greenbelt (Friday night, payday, go figure!) and we parked ourselves at Uva where we asked if we could sit inside instead of outside and, away from the crowds and the noise, we were able to have a lovely conversation. 2 bottles of Vodka Ice later, I was drunk. Very surprising since I usually have a must stronger tolerance than that but I guess I was happy and I wasn't smoking or dancing -- so I was quicker to inebriation. I didn't really care. I was enjoying myself greatly.

But seeing myself awhile ago and looking at my life for the past 2 weeks, I've really noticed that I've lost my spark. Somewhere along the way, I've lost my spark and I'm beginning to be afraid. I'm not content. That shouldn't be of any cause to worry or panic because that's natural. I'm not usually content but I do have moments of happiness tucked in somewhere in the week. But what makes this scary for me is that I'm finding more joy outside of work and doing all I can to get away from it. That's a bad sign. Usually, I'd be happy with work (that includes all the complaining and whining) and I would take that with me when I hang out. I'd be discontent only because my dreams are so high that I wouldn't be satisfied where I am now. This is a different kind of discontentment (am I even using the right prefix?). I'm just not okay with how things stand. I'm out of creative ideas. I'm just going through the motions. I'm struggling and not in a good way. I'm just getting by.

I am involved in another writing project right now and all the signs should point to me being completely into it; throwing my body and soul into it and finishing it in days. It took me 3 days to begin and I'm on my first day and I'm far from reaching half-way. Usually, I'd be almost done on the same day I started, if I don't finish it then and there.

I don't get it, really. All of a sudden, the weekends that I'm so excited for doesn't feel deserved. I feel one can only deserve great weekends if they did well during that week and I don't feel like I've been doing my best these past 2 weeks, maybe even 3. I'm out of touch with reality again, living in the daydreams in my head and the daydreams in my head are so far away from where I am at the present that I can recognise it as a really, really bad sign.

Now, now that I can recognise it, I'm frightened. Right now, I'm thinking it's my inability to stay in one place for too long. I'm sure I want to run and go again for something new; something different to do but I don't want it. I'm sure my subconscious is telling me to leave before I take root -- the less to lose if things go wrong. But my whole heart and being is telling me to stay; to take root and make something out of this. I want to stand my ground and when I see the tough road ahead, I'd strike a pose and say "Come on. Give me your best shot."

This is it. Make or break time. I cannot falter. I will not bend and snap just like that. I cannot keep leaving when things are not going my way. I mean, what does that mean? I'll never be able to hold on to something for longer than a year? A year and a half? That was pretty much the longest I ever stayed in a job and that may have been a crummy job but I had different reasons for staying that long. That was a completely different person altogether.

I'm wiser now and I'm not letting this go. I've got this kind of second family going and I'm not letting it go. The spark may not be there anymore and I'm all worn out and used and empty but if I truly believed in the things I believe in -- then I'll make it work out. Dig deep within myself and make something catch on fire. Because that's what it is all about. Inspiration is not an accidental thing -- it's a state of mind, of always being ready to be amazed, of keeping your eyes, your mind, your heart and your soul open to the world. Being inspired is not an open surrender to one thing that grabs you; being inspired is a state where you are open and take everything in and just bask in the glory of the world and everything in it.

I got shake myself out of this crummy state of... I don't know what it is. Am I jaded? Am I burned out? It doesn't matter. Wake up. I got to wake up and get my act together. I just got to wake up and do it.

**SPOILER WARNING**
For those who haven't seen A Perfect Catch yet, I suggest you don't read further. I will be talking about the ending of the film, so if you are planning to watch it and don't want the ending spoiled, please, I beg you, do not read any further. Thank you.

I think what I loved most about A Perfect Catch was the ending, the resolution of the whole film. It corresponds directly to my view of a good and ideal relationship. I love how it put importance and value to each individual's personal passions and goals. I love how they resolved things to not have either let go of the things that they love but promised to work around it.

If they ended the movie in any other way, it would have sucked. It would have been cute and romantic and sweet and all but it's not ideal. Honestly, I've been a big advocate of loving someone exactly the way they are. If you love someone, you wouldn't want to change a thing. That's the feeling of it; the mental part comes in when working around the difficult parts. It was sweet and wonderful, granted, that he was going to give up that whole part of him for her but then, he'd resent her for it in the future. As Alanis Morissette said in an interview, and I'm paraphrasing it here, she said she found peace accepting all the negative parts of her -- her jealousies and insecurities and anger; she accepted it as being parts of her and didn't push it away. She said, "I don't know anyone who was ever happy by pushing away parts of themselves away." I thought that was a brilliant way of taking it.

Yes, I am self-centered and self-absorbed. Yes, I am complicated and moody. But those are essential parts of me. You have to work around those qualities of mine as much as I have to work around the qualities of yours that I may not approve of -- that's what love is about. It's not customized. Take it or leave it. You can't go to a grocery store and buy only 5 hotdog buns in a pack of 6; you get them all or you don't get them. That's the way it is.

That's what a relationship is, two people coming to terms with each other. The most basic part of that equation is two people. Two separate individuals, two distinct persons. That's what makes it great. That's what makes it wonderful.

And that's why the movie, despite its flaws (and there were enough) was a good movie for me because it didn't go the easy way out. It said the right thing without being too cheesy. Just enough cheese to make the girls swoon and sigh but not enough to bore the hell out of me. I was smiling throughout and said "Yeah!" at the very end.

Two does not become one. You donated the sperm and the egg; you are not the sperm and the egg. But then, I've always prized my individuality above everything else; so I may be wrong. But like what I was talking about earlier -- that's one thing I am going to take a stand with.

posted by wanggo @ 3:49 AM 0 comments