Wednesday, walastik...
[music: aqualung - morcheeba]

I blame the rain. Everything stands still under the rain, puddles form on streets as fast as the rain pours. If the world played background music it would be the blues or jazz, not because of the gloom, I just felt like the blues should be playing around. I headed for my night classes, the rain did not let up and my shoes were soaked - up until the soles at least. I was standing for almost 20 or so minutes when I decided to take a tryke to a pizza place at Katipunan, the closest drop off to the school. Treading the wet walkways I stopped over at a film showing that a friend organized, lo and behold it was canceled. I had 30 minutes to spare, just enough to grab some orange juice - a desperate attempt to cheer myself up, nothing happens.

My mathematical econ professor had arrived 5 minutes before I had entered the room. I was delighted that he had not started his lecture. During my undergrad years listening to a math econ lecture was equivalent to the excitement factor found in chess. I can’t even remember what tactics I used to keep myself awake in that subject. These days it’s a whole different story, listening is crucial to surviving grad school. I said in my previous post that Tuesdays made me look forward to Wednesdays. Passing the halls of the CTC building I make it a point to pass by CTC107. Wednesdays are never complete without doing so. I had the chance of seeing her without her glasses , and her hair untied. *yippe* *happy jumps*

It may just be the middle of the week to you; it has felt like two weeks have just passed by. I had the pleasure or so I thought that a certain financial company has decided to screen me for a research analyst position early this week. The idea of getting paid to do what I find as fun made me feel that this was going to be a good week.

Wait, I have just written three paragraphs or so of an entry but I feel like I’ve just been chucking stones into a lake. I do not feel the same as I do when I made earlier posts. God I feel so jaded, maybe this was the hand dealt to me. A cruel joke I laugh at too. I always laugh at myself. What I got into, got out of and got rid of. These days feel so mundane. The job offer I got was discouraging every minute during my interview. It felt like a pile of discouragement was layered thick. Every word that came out of their mouths were words transforming into bricks, piling high on and on. The job seemed simple enough except that I’d be given a graveyard shift. I felt the words *social life* scamper down the back of my shirt and bolted out the door. Great, I heard the song *I love the night life, I love to boogie* play in my head. I imagine a disco ball is lowered into the room and drones jump from their cubicles and do a song and dance number.

In addition to this crap, I heard that my car has its alignment busted, repairs will take up until next Wednesday to be finished. Great, no wheels and an interview tomorrow at 8:30am. Crap. A good friend once told me, if you produce a piece of written work it is considered your child, your creation if you will. How you have formed it, how you have written it determines how normal or special it is. You can no longer fix it. Once the child, your creation, is born it will stay as is. Allan, this poem is a child with down-syndrome. You cannot fix it. No one can. You just live with it. No matter how bad it is, there is no changing it. But you can change you.

I thank you Ricci, for reminding me of that. I have never forgotten it. Joel also told me in one of our many drunken nights, that one must never, ever forget to have a conscious effort to write. That me and him are not child prodigies. Writing is an ever growing and learning process.

To you reader, I apologize. Late updates, lack of knack and humpah. The lack of blood and breath in what I have written here, or in what not. I feel the urge to apologize for being late, writing as though it was a force of commitment. Like my most recent one. I just feel lonely, low and plain slumped. I blame the rain, I want my jazz. I drink the blues. So I can play in the puddles. Thus the aqualung.

Morcheeba reminds me of Veronica, the poem I have mistakenly written. The child with down-syndrome I once spawned. The girl who would remind me of calluroso. Cold. For it was always calliente, hot.

I like tuesdays...basta walang pasok.
[music: Watermelon Man - Herbie Hancock]

God, ten days or so have passed since my last post. Either I've been busy or just really lazy. Tuesdays have always made me look forward to Wednesdays because of two things: one, I'm starting to like math econ and second, I will never pass a chance to walk along CTC107 to spot this cute psychology grad student to die for. Yesterday was different though, my professor didn't show up and all the class had to do was an evaluation then we could all go home. It was just all to perfect, I decided to text a friend of mine to down a few beers before heading home. What I got in return was even better than spending the night away at the usual inuman at Ysabela. Eric told me that Wahijuara and Sago were going to perform at mag.net that night. I told him I'd meet them there. Two words hit me, Music Bonanza.

Not only was I going to get to hear Wahijuara with its complete horn section (I was told it’s been four years since they were this complete). It was going to be a promising jazz performance. It sure was; I was glad that Eric and Joel were there. I would be lost trying to figure out the titles of songs Wahijuara rearranged and played. My fave would be the band’s rendition of what Eric tells my to be a Herbie Hancock original, Watermelon Man. The whole night there wasn’t one head that was bobbing to the beats Wahijuara let out. In Joel’s terms the horn section was simply “WAZSAX” and “Sobrand Tindi”. It made me want to call a good friend based in Baguio with her sax gathering dust; I wanted to tell her “uy bilhin ko na yan”! Who was I kidding? Anyway the band was great and as usual so was the company. The time Radioactive Sago only one thing was obvious, the band and the most of the crowd were in one way or another, wazak. It was even made obvious when a woman from rock-ed Philippines tried to convince the crowd to stand up and shouting out a certain phrase, after two filed attempts it was our cue to sit this one out; down stairs with a bottle of grand matador.

Minutes later, talks and laughs around Sago manages to get out of mag.net, Joel, Eric, Vincent and myslef decided to have more drinks at Ysabela. Camille decides to head home. At Ysabela Joel decides to eat; not being able to do so earlier and Vincent is asleep. I've still got my beer. After much meaningful conversation with Joel and Vincent hailing a cab to get home (while were weren't looking) I decided to head home myself. Joel agrees, I let him take the first ride. I wasn't in that much or a rush anyway. Like i said earlier, tuesdays are great...basta walang pasok. At lasing kang makakauwi after watching one hell of a music bonanza like that which I saw *happy jumps*

FIN...
[music: Rawhide-The Blues Brothers]

Haha! At last, the blog is up and running. All fixed with comment posting, tagboards and links. Yipee! *happy jump*. I haven't been active with the posting because of two reasons: one, I was sick with the flu, the whole nine yards of it. Headaches, colds and fever with a bad throat. Ack. I have so much posting to catch up with. Movie reviews, recipies and books-films-events (counted as one topic) to post. Which I will get on to in the following days.

I'd like to thank cbox for the tagboard, blogskins for the template. Most importantly I'd like to thank Donya Quixote, who provided suggestions and tips and tats thanks again :) big smiles. Thanks for the link-up too *happy jump*

Tuning in...Laughing out (loud).
[music: el scorcho - weezer]

Thank God. No hang-over. I put myself to bed at around four in the morning, 'cause thats the time I got home. Spontaneity never felt so great, at a level I have not felt in a while. The day progressed with the ususal mundane tasks, nearing the day's end I realized that I needed a drink. A tall cold one. Well make that three. It has been a while since I've had a drink, plus I couldn't say no to an invite from two good friends. Cat and Anton convinced me to come over and hang with the them. I thought the the comapny would be nice. Grasshopper was busy anyway so I headed out. First thing that came to mind was me being cautions that i would be intruding, I was assured that I would not. It turned out that Cat was doing an online broadcast of unpopular-radio, kinda like an online radio show. After being let in and the usual exchange of hellos, more importantly me being able to open my beer bottle, conversation soon progressed. Anton and I, unaware of our reveberating voices were apparently heard over the online boradcast, Cat in turn told the audience whom the dissembodied voices belonged to.

I was then asked to comment on the eraserheads, before the three of us knew it we were doing the radio show, all three of us. Like I always say, spontaneity rocks. The show would be a interval of music, talking, laughing and then more talking. It soon hit the three of us that we shoula've done this sorta way back. With decided to then make the online broadcast a daliy thing. It would be done every friday 10pm-2am. The most convenient time for all of us and because thats was the actual duration that night. It feels great to have things happen, good things for that matter, all the more when you share it with friends. Ideas on promo photos of the three of us, guestings and such soon were brought to the table, it was a fusion of inspiration and spontaneity. Just like brazilian jazz it was organized chaos, so to speak. The trio made me feel nostalgic about a show similar to the what we were planning, the difference was that it airs from a known station every tuedays at an ealier time, if memory serves. We on the other hand were three friends with a broadcast server far far away. Nonetheless we were hell-bent to go on with it. I felt giddy, in a long while it was a giddy that I missed. It was the "juvanile kilig" me and a good friend once talked about. Thanks to spontaneity, it was the simple life (the single life) har har. No pun intended. I'm not bitter I'm just happy. Real happy. Lingering happiness, that was the buzz i felt.

The night was capped of with out last song, noypi by bamboo. While Anton dozed of to lala land me and Cat engaged in open ended conversation. Both mentally stimulating and funny. I headed home and hit the sack by four in the morning, thank goodness it was a saturday and nothing what so ever was to be done. Except the usual mundane chores, hey but the buzz from last night will last.

And I still stand firm on my gut and raw feel that the mystery of the universe and discovering ones self can be unlocked here on earth...not some final frontier. Take that Anton teehee see yah friday buddy har har. Cheers!

To those interested the show can be accessed at unpopular-music.blogspot.com, we may a small humble broadcast. But no brands and titles and things like that are evident. Its just good fun with great music. Which ever way you see it works for us. Fridays then, ten in the pm to 2 in the am :)

*Yipee!


*fun jump.

Baaaad Day...No dear, no sheep here.
[music: here comes the sun - the beatles]

Not the best of my days, not since last night. Ron hasn't been very nice in commenting. I must remind myself that I can't get ticked too much. Just like the hulk. But who cares? What can I do? He's a friend. Today hasn't really co-operated with me, seven failed e-mails to a job will force me to leg it tommorow. Shit. Makati. But one must eat, I must eat. The sun decides to play peek-a-boo today. The sky can't seem to make up it's mind to rain full blast or not. Pussy. Speaking of which i miss a certain kitten, I don't like cats but shes an exception. Brown and black striped, her eyes caught me. Dead set. I don't see much of her now. I am praying it she is safe. A few things have hit me blindsided today, in the past I wouldn't mind but today was just a ticker. Not to mention a joke of a test, from a joke of a...Never mind it might be me at fault. I just had to fall a sleep. Crap.

It was so bad I didn't even mind getting drenched in the rain, looking for the car. At least the rain made me feel that everything I do is still real, at least I think I am. Damn that line, I remember. Gads I need a laugh. I have a life, more laugh though is what I need. Laugh at me, at you...more at me. Yes...Way.

I need to get moving, faster this time. Faster than ever. It gets corny, I'll stop.

My good mornings end. Be happy.

Tommorow will be better. Here comes the sun. I'm not waiting up for you. Yeah. Bad day, bad weather, bad disposition, bad test. Taktene.

I just read a friend's blog. Turns out a good friend of ours died and was burried recently. I just heard the news after making the entry above. Crap. I never really knew Jason, but he was a buddy. Made me feel like I've lived in Roxas Distrcit. He always made me feel like one of the Hyacinth guys. He will be missed. All along I thought it was a bad day, apparently it just got worse. Yeah we live, learn and all but things like this are big potholes on life streets. Damnit.

TuEsday...
[music: Middle of Nowhere-Hothotheat]

Good mornings end when realization begins.

Good mornings end living begins.

Good mornings are mine, I'm never waiting up again.

It's just a case of too little to late.


No, I'm not a romantic. I've stopped being one. I didn't like it.

Good morning.

Yes...Way...
[music: Vesti La Giubba - Pagliacci]

Forget what I said about leaving it behind the track. Just be ready to fight 'em off when they pop-up and decide to come and get you, hurt you or juat plain tick you off to get you frustrated. God I'm going to need my guns, horse and cowboy hat for this. *sigh* *gasp*. Hyperventilation sucks ass. Pardon my "french". I've always told people that after a break-up and expecially if you are the dumper it is quite easy to live through. Now you're thinking how in the hell does the likes of me sleep at night. I can choose to be so heartless, indeifferent even ruthless. Whatever you want to call it that's fine with me. Remember two things. One you/I am so way better. Second, know the first. No matter how much you remind yourself, how much I remind myself the fact reamins that those we leave behind are alive. Sooner or later paths will collide, in the form of gossip, news or things we hear over our guerilla radios. Keep telling yourself, like I do that things are over and you/I cannot be affected by paths he/she took or is taking. You/I and He/She is no longer connected. Non-exsistent webs can do no harm. The conscious side of the brain has anohter opinion, memory being one of them. Logic and cunning are second on the list. In my list for that matter.

I cannot be affected. I am way better. I will not give in. Fuck the conscious, we are all half asleep anyway. Breathe.

I have my guns, horse and cowboy hat. I am yes...way. Fuck off. I am alive, living and thriving. You do not fly, go with what you feel and have no realization what so ever of your life...then live it. Leave me out of it. But, who am I to judge?

Oh, yeah...I am, yes...way...

Oh and before I forget, I told you so Allan. I told you, told you, told you so. Let the bad kharmic flow come in then. I've got all I need here. *teeth gritted*

Mum's spag...
[music: Desafinado - Eliane Elias]

Back to the bus station. At one in the afternoon the grasshopper and I got on the bus, the bust marked non-stop - the only thing non-stop were bad music and bad movie selections. I felt like I was twelve when mom packed two tuperwares of spag along with some sheets and books; I doubled the plastic wrap on the tuperware. The last thing I wanted were books and sheets with a red-orange hue. Making sure that the bag was secure I loaded it under the bus. I hate eating meals with utensils in an unstable bus - roads aren't what they used to be I guess - I'd have the spag for dinner. After a three point goodbye consisting of a hug, kiss and funny wave the bus moved. Mom headed home...while the grasshopper and I headed for a house.

I will miss the puppy dog smell of home, I still have to figure out a new name for the dog...Solo just dosen't cut it...I don't want to remember a Mario van Peebles movie whenever I call my dog.

Bus rides are brief, if you sleep through it. I think my sister figured this out way before I did. She must have taken after my dad; being able to be in deep sleep at a record 15seconds. I had to wait for sleep to hit me (give or take 30 minutes). I take after mom I a light sleeper in vehicles. In six hours we were back in Manila. At this point I am wishing that I could stay in Baguio longer. The place isn't the same but it is still home. Though the majority of people were a bother, crowding everywhere and all I didn't care. The house has enough space, Trancoville for that matter has it all. Wanwan knows what I'm talking about. I long for our wooden home wood boards and floors that creak in the cold. It seems to be curling up in the cold. I feel connected to it, especially when I lay on the floor, the boards and I warm and close enough to whisper secrets. Nothing beats the Baguio cold...Not even the power of my air-conditioner or yours ( if you own one).

Tommorow is another day, in twelve hours it will soon be. Spag was dinner, I knew the grasshopper was going to miss mom's spag. She would soon crave for it in the comming days. I'd crave for the sinigang and playtime with the dog. I finished the last bowl of spag, my heart feels heavy.

I miss mom. The house. Dad. His Snores. The Dog. I still have to find a name for.

That trip to Baguio was without remorse, without guilt of leaving anything behind. Maybe that is why I know I'd miss it more than the grasshopper. There is next satruday after all.

Laters...
[music: say yes - elliot smith]

I hope you'd drop a line, comment or a smile
You know i could kick myself in the arse for getting way ahead...but
my foot dosen't go that far though
you could have laughted, rised and eyebrow and go hmmmm
Make a funny face...forget the hmmmm

Robert Desnos wrote: What are eyes?
ans: the night watchmen in the perfume factory...
your nose is like a button...mushroom

God I need a muse at the moment...
not the curly haired one...or looooong haired either, kitten hair will do...
not the one with perfect TeEtH too, the G A Ps will do

we retort when feelings are probed on...like cattle do to cow prods...
electric pokes...poke...poke...poke...
poke...
retort greenly not placidly...i can hear the desiderata...
my sister does a good second voice for that

i have slept late this past week
for what reason i dont know....
i just need the company i guess

i dont want to sleep late anymore
i want to wake up before my sister does...
these lines help...its like company we keep...
to ourselves and for ours alone...

Laters then...
we retort when feelings are probed on...
your bandana is too psychadelic...
the eyes are the night watchmen in the perfume factory (thanks desnos)

NYT