Damned In Blue

But Wait! There's More!

2009-05-27T23:05:00.000-07:00

Enter the coolest blog ever. And no, this is not about piss sex.

Is No More

2009-05-21T22:34:00.001-07:00

That's it folks.

On Familiar Faces

2009-05-17T07:50:00.000-07:00

First off, let me do a senseless rave about my new blog skin. It looks friggin' awesome! The blue-lit buildings make for an appropriate backdrop sympathizing with my mediocre writing. I know this is one of those things that doesn't affect lives or something, but as damnation beckons, this is the shit, folks!

Last Friday featured the complete TPG (Trailer Park Guys. Don't ask.) on their very first group outing since the summer of 2006 in Zambales. The difference is that we went to a pool resort in Antipolo, which happens to be a far cry from the beaches everybody is frequenting to this time of the year. On the upside, it really didn't matter because we sang, smoked, and swam like there's no tomorrow. I also learned how to do a back flip pool dive, which is the highlight of the whole 12 hours we're on the resort. It's all about conquering your fear and disconnecting yourself from your physical state.

It's also strange to think that, back in 2006, almost everyone was single and fresh from the rigors and drudgery of school. Now, everybody's brought their beaus and appears to have been seasoned by the years of either working our asses off in the corporate world or sleeping through the boring lectures of college professors. This is just another way of saying that we've all gotten older and progressing with our premeditated existence. However, we're still the same despite it all. We still love to sing crappy songs on the karaoke and know who to mix awesome cocktail drinks.

The next day, I met another group of people whom I owe all the pleasure to have known in my professional life, the Webdate gang. (Notice how I talk about the same group of friends on my posts? I thrive in repetition.) Everybody was almost there (Seriously, can't we all be complete just this once?) but we met at such an unfortunate condition -- the father of one gang passed away this week. It's funny to think how death binds people together for the purpose of paying respect to the fallen and his/her family members. But then again, I really can't put too much thought about it. Life is short, which is why I try to hang out with the guys every now and then. My stay with the girlfriend was succinct, but it packed lots of laughter from start to end. The irony stings a bit after realizing that we're having a blast at a funeral home, but the group pretty much finds comfort in the strangeness of it and makes good in any situation we're put in. Again, never a dull moment with these guys.

On...

2009-05-11T07:28:00.000-07:00

I'm always dropping emotional turds whenever I start writing from this pathetic page of mine, but screw it. Everybody knows I'm square, so let's leave it at all, shall we?

Since taking that damned article writing job I've learned to hate before but have now taken comfort in doing for the unholy purpose of additional income (or lack thereof, but more on that later), I have lost the urgency to write something substantial in my blog. No surprise there. My added skill of producing a 450-word article in 40 minutes on a constant basis (although not anymore, but read on) has greatly compromise by ability to really write. You know, something that has nothing to do with search engine optimization, keyword density, niche sites, and countless other internet marketing jargon that has zero value in actual life.

Aside from that, morale in my professional life is currently at its roller coaster stage. Although I experience this feeling of elation with regard to the nature of work in my full-time endeavor, this certain emotion only takes course once a week when we actually have something to do. The other four days are ruled by the falling sensation of idleness due to the instability of the project when in comes to handing out daily tasks. As a result, I am left clueless from the whole ordeal. Come to think of it, the hard times when I felt hammered and pummeled by 15 hours worth of corporate slavery is way better than what I'm going through right now. At least I felt something back then. Now, zilch.

Outside the workplace and into the throes of summer, the season has shaped up to be a bore, where the unpredictability of not only the weather, but everything in general has ruined plans of days in the sun and sand. There's really no use in comparing, but when I think about the glorious days of summers past, I think of Puerto Galera where I ran its shores and screamed "Pakyu Ateneo!" in all my drunken awesomeness, Zambales with our soccer matches with the Koreans, and Potipot for, well, scandalous videos we made in its unadulterated white sands. On the upside, May is still on its way, so there's hope for some bigger shitstorm in store. Yes, something more to write about!

God, there's really nothing fun to actually write about, save one -- the Webdate gang. Met a couple of the guys after work last week, and despite not having the whole group to sit down, drink alcohol, and let our collective stupidity take hold of our actions, there always has been a constant product of our fortunate meetings. There's no minute wasted, as the air becomes colored with white hot smoke and uncompromising slurs, and everybody sings "Nobela" by Join The Club in unison at some shoddy videoke bar. It's always a fucking pleasure.

The turds have stopped.

On Silent Waters Running Dead

2009-04-06T23:41:00.000-07:00

I went under a lot of construction during the past few weeks.

During hard times when I have to release the anger vent up inside to somebody or something without looking like a complete douche after, I have to look for avenues where I can channel said emotion into something less destructive.

I erased my Facebook account for the time being. The reason? Something’s got to give. I didn’t have the cajones to erase either my Multiply or Myspace accounts because a lot of memories have been invested on them throughout the years.

I eat lunch alone. There’s no better company for loneliness than with two sticks of Phillip Morris and a tuna sandwich while sitting on the table outside the dining area without a view. But who am I kidding? Regardless of my feelings, I am always alone during the day.

But everything’s okay now.

I almost didn’t get to see Wrestlemania 25 until I phoned my friend and asked if I could watch it at his place, since our cable provider does not air the channel that shows the granddaddy of all wrestling events. Here are my thoughts about the whole shebang:

WWE threw a swerve when it had CM Punk win the Money in the Bank. It’s not half as bad as you’d think, considering that Punk gets to show more of his worth the second time around. But what about Kane? Fact: his Wrestlemania moment has been long overdue especially after being bombarded with witless angles (Katie Vick, anyone?) while remaining loyal to the company over the years. Fact: His movie, See No Evil, released in 2006 grossed more than any of the John Cena and Steve Austin movies did when they hit cinemas, making him a much more appealing star that has the potential to cross over the mainstream and bring the wrestling industry a whiff at the limelight.
Undertaker winning against HBK could have done without those annoying near-falls that disregarded the legitimacy of their finishers. (I know this is professional wrestling, so establishing objective grounds to argue for realism is like pitching water with your hands. But hear me out for a minute here.) There were at least three near-falls that could have been shaved off to make the match tighter around the edges. Don’t get me wrong; the dark vs. light theme made for a great spectacle – fantastic, even – as witnessing two of the best Wrestlemania slug it out in a five-star classic easily resulted in the best match of the evening…
…but the best moment of the night goes to Santina Marella winning the 25-Driva Battle Royale to determine Ms. Wrestlemania. Heel-larious.
With all due respect, Snuka looked like he was pulled out from the geriatric ward and injected with lots of sedatives. Goddamn.
I took a bath, brushed my teeth, slept a little, had a bad dream, felt like I died a little, woke up, surfed the internet for a while, went fishing at a nearby lake by myself WHICH I NEVER DO BECAUSE THERE'S NO LAKE AROUND OUR PARTS, and Undertaker is still walking on the aisle to the ring. Can’t the guy walk any slower?!?
The main event of HHH vs. Orton, although solid as a concrete wall, was not able to generate, or at least maintain, momentum and crowd interaction that it wished it had. Sad.

Thank God I didn’t watch the live screening of Wrestlemania 25 that cost 300php in cinemas at nine in the morning because that would’ve pissed me off. Aside from the ones I mentioned, nothing really made an impression to me. Better luck next year, I suppose.

On Citing Sources

2009-03-21T12:16:00.000-07:00

I have been keeping a secret for almost a week now, but now is probably the time to finally reveal it. Just so you know, what I'm about to say wouldn't really be a big deal unless you really care about me (I doubt), but here goes nothing.

One of my write-ups was cited as a reference in Wikipedia.

Whoopee-fucking-do, right?

A couple of years ago, I volunteered to be a staff writer for Daily Vault, an online music album review site. I wrote a piece about At The Gates' Slaughter of the Soul (a damn fine album), and sent it to them in hopes of getting accepted. Luckily for me, they liked the work and took me for the spot as writer with an alias of Benny Balneg. For almost two years, I was able to conjure my inner asshole and lambasted albums that I felt weren't worth shit. However, for every album that royally sucked cock, there were albums that gave me an awesome boner. Hence, I subjected them to praises of the highest order, or something.

Even though I have to pretend having authority and passing judgment over art and its delicate excesses (at least on my part), I enjoyed the job. Sure, I didn't get paid for my work, but the promotional albums I got from indie bands and artists were more than enough.

After almost two years of my online journalistic pursuits, I stopped writing. I moved on. Simple as that.

During my moments devoid of inspired activity a couple of days ago, I searched for my name in Google just for kicks. After the results appeared, I saw a site return of "Do The Bartman" entry on Wikipedia with my name on it. With intense curiosity, I opened the page.

I wrote a review of The Simpsons Sing The Blues for Daily Vault. Barring any sentimental bias I harbored for the album, since it happens to be the first album I brought off record bars with my Dad, it was one of those albums that failed to give me wood, but thoroughly loved it nevertheless. Just to quote from my review:

I cannot gloat further at the fact that The Simpsons Sing The Blues is the perfect musical accompaniment to the show’s quirky appeal. For those planning to revel in the brilliance of the television series, and even for those interested in unlocking the secret of the show’s success, now is the time to get your blues on.

Damn right. Anyway, back to the Wiki page. Scrolling down to the Reception part of the entry was a line that kinda, nay, totally blew me away.

The Daily Vault's Benny Balneg liked that the song disengaged itself from the album's "blues tag" and incorporated more "contemporary elements" into its sound. He added that he thought the song had a "catchy beat" and an "infectious chorus".

After reading this, I turned off the computer, took a bath, and went to sleep.

On the Prodigal Son

2009-02-27T00:38:00.000-08:00

I wrote an entry a year ago devaluing the article writing profession, stating that writing loads of articles over a short period of time is focused mainly on production while disregarding the writer as a self-entity. In this case, a writer being treated like a machine is not the main concern, but rather how the toxicity of his current work contaminates his creative well. I experienced firsthand the inability for expression in which everything that I write feels barren and divorced from life.

After years of distancing myself from such work, I will soon find myself again in the company of empty words, 400 per article to be exact. Bulk article writing isn't really that bad after all. The workload is killer, no doubt, but I don't mind doing something -- hell, anything -- to make my day worthwhile, aside from the extra income that comes along with it. Apparently, doing nothing makes everything difficult to resist.

---

On a side note, the Oscars wrapped up its festivities by having Sean Penn win the coveted Best Male Actor category over comeback kid Mickey Rourke. Although I haven't seen Milk, kudos to Mr. Penn for a win well-deserved. Now that I got that out of the way, let me share my real, albeit biased, thoughts about this issue.

WHAT THE FUCK WERE THEY THINKING!? I know the Academy eventually rewards actors and directors after being nominated a couple of times too many. Penn won with Mystic River in 2003 while Martin Scorsese, a famed director who went home with eggs on all his nominations, bagged the trophy with The Departed in 2006. (And just so you know, they didn't win on the year that they truly deserved. Just something to think about.) But really now, how can anyone deny the delicacy and bravura of Rourke's portrayal of a broken-down wrestler?

Maybe it's because of the speculation that Rourke will appear on the Super Bowl of professional wrestling, Wrestlemania, that the Academy felt obligated to instead award a guy who won't tarnish the supposed prestige of the award by not associating his name with a sport looked down by everyone. Really now, isn't this shit supposed to be over by now? What makes any other sport or entertainment program better than professional wrestling considering the fact that the scripted matches are part of its entertainment value? Again, something to think about.

On Philo

2009-02-24T22:54:00.000-08:00

At hindsight, philosophy is a dreaded college course not so much as it is a chore to understand the groundbreaking concepts relating to self and the other, but more so of the fact that philosophy is an anomaly -- a useless but nonetheless important pursuit worthy of study. Useless in a sense that it is difficult to apply said concepts in pragmatic situations we face in our daily lives. Important, because no matter how students of the course get a glimpse of how futile everything in the world is, there is still a seed of hope that we cling on to in spite of society's degradation.

Philosophy does not produce a wealth of earthly pleasures, i.e. money, business success, and a reassured future. It deals with the realization of man's purpose that we are nothing and our perseverance to strive for become something.

I just came from a delicate discussion about poetry in class and it strikes me then how the retarded and pretentious philosophical ideas dealing with the impossibility to discover the object-in-itself helped raise the stage of poetry's objectivity prior passing through the spectacles of readers tainted with subjectivity.

Weird. After all this time of blaming philosophy (in good nature, no less) for my current worldview and mental state, it suddenly awakens my senses, reminding me how everything eventually leads back to philosophy.

Epiphany moment! Pillow fight!

On Artistry

2009-02-18T00:09:00.000-08:00

The inaugural Philippines Writers Festival 2009 was celebrated last week and I was able to attend one of the talks held as Marikina Shoe Expo. It was about how international workshops can affect aspiring Filipino writers with their craft. I was hoping to attend the talk about the emergence of blogging and online publishing as an avenue for writers to achieve validity in their works, but I was nevertheless satisfied with the talk I attended.

Listening to the esteemed panelists discuss their passion for arts and seeing the audience consisting of open-minded undergraduates nod in agreement with the insights delivered have reminded me of how much I enjoyed the craft back then. I had a blast reading and writing literature and trying to grasp concepts from primary philosophical texts assigned for class (you gotta hate Kant). Difficult but nonetheless rewarding experience, just as much as it is a treat to do.

Looking back at all those things from years past kinda makes you wonder how life makes for a bad comedian. My inclination towards the arts has slowly lost the slant due to the fact that I have been busy chop-socking the bollocks as a full-time employee in my current work. I know, it's dreadful.

Don't get me wrong, a 9-5 job has its perks, but the maintenance of a choice lifestyle through salary may, nay, should be the only reason why everybody has a job. What I'm referring to here is how a streamlined life has a tendency to destroy or hinder at the very least one's aspirations to live their real passions. Not funny at all.

I get envious when students from our class talk about writing a novel, having it published, and winning an award for it because I wish I still possess their idealism of how life operates outside the confines of the academe. After getting my feet wet in the corporate world, I immediately get my head dunked in a used toilet bowl after discovering its horror: it's a controlling world that not only fashions the way you look, feel, and act, but also prohibits you from living.

Ah, living. Such a big word. Life is so much more than sitting in front of your computer while enclosed in your cubicle. Life is outside the walls of enclosures: the traffic jam, the smog, the rain, the beauty of despair, the profundity of emptiness and ennui, the happiness of being, the boredom. The boredom. The experience of knowing that there are other things out there that needs to be seen and felt.

And yet I'm still here, doing the exact opposite of what I just preached. The students will be next.

On Ennui and Secrets

2009-02-10T04:06:00.000-08:00

I finished work within two hours upon my arrival, basically accomplishing the entire project slated for the next two weeks. Not to mention, I'll have to commit extra hours in the office within the week in order to avoid a shed in my pay once the salary kicks in my account. All in all, lovely times are abound (note the tinge of sarcasm here).

And so here I am with this quaint blog entry.

Boredom can lead you to do conventional things in hopes of confusing them as productivity. Like registering for a Facebook account. Not my cup of tea, but hey, I'm all for hastening my stay in the office. Or so I thought.

I just read the Civil War Chronicles, which I have been clamoring to do since last year, and it did provide an ample distraction from the problem of idleness I have in my hands. However, the series reminded me of my shot desire to pursue a comic book collection, leaving me faintly depressed and frustrated. Screw comics.

My co-workers and I held a photoshoot for this pilot presentation to be submitted to a potential client. The proceedings went well, but the photos exposed the blemishes and scars on my face as a result of popping and pricking those annoying pimples. Not really a problem, until the pictures underwent editing process and the guys have to clean out the fuck marks using Photoshoot. I keep overhearing laughter from their side of the office at the expense of these awful marks on my face. It's fine. Whatever makes them happy.

The real whammy of this whole ennui thing is this sinking and isolated feeling that, well, let's just say that this past weekend was awesome, nay, glorious (save for that Marley & Me tryst that I will never commit again), and seemed to have recalled the beautiful sense of purpose I have been living for the past year. However, this week has twisted back purpose to its harsh form caused by external forces beyond my facilities. There goes the rub.
Thus said boredom.

On What's Up?

2009-02-05T22:38:00.000-08:00

Approximately two weeks ago, I spent my weekends with my co-workers and had our first-ever team building in Island Cove, Cavite (formerly Covelandia). Not much of a social person, but knowing that an overnight team building is a rhetoric for an evening's worth of drinking binge after much ballyhoo, I had to go. That and because the event is required.

The whole shebang was surprisingly fun; no dull moments whatsoever. It was mostly a physical and highly competitive excursion, as everybody had to participate in the games and run and paddle like mad in the obstacle race and boat relay, respectively. Not to mention, everybody engaged in their activity of choice after sundown by means of sliding down their swimming pool countless of times, playing billiards, karaoke singing, binge drinking, acting like a total retard, or all of the above. San the poking-the-ball-with-a-stick activity, I succeeded in not only doing most of them, but also puking the very essence of my consciousness in the toilet. However, the crowning moment of the entire trip was my inability to attend the forum portion that included the General Manager of the company because I was too damn wasted. Fuck, that was awesome.

After the team building, we returned the following day doing the same copy and pasting job that has been torturing our team since my arrival in the company, proving my theory that good things never last long. But hey, it's all good, man.

---

After a couple of days at work, it turned out that all is not good. Ever since the start of the year, there have rough patches spread out in my days that the only productive thing I can actually do is smoke alone. Oh yeah, I smoke nowadays since late last year. It's a bitch. What's even much more of a bitch is that I have to try to act as if everything's fine and dandy. But such is life. As the Detroit Pistons say, "If it ain't rough, it ain't right."

---

I am essentially a depressed person and enjoy sad movies during my spare time, but my proclivity of deriving happiness from sadness took a hit after seeing "Dancer In The Dark" by Lars Von Trier. The film is simply a tragedy of epic proportions that even I couldn't stomach. Aside from Bjork singing that mesmerizing "I've Seen It All," the movie doesn't allow viewers to feel anything but sheer hopelessness from start to finish. In a nutshell, a horribly draining and pointless indulgence.

On 100

2009-01-10T10:14:00.000-08:00

After four years, I have finally posted my 100th entry in this blog. Yes.

Most people hold a lot of respect for anything that reaches or exceeds up to a hundred, whether it be number of years past, age, or something. It's the longevity that probably gets people wet with adulation and envy at the same time. However, in the realm of blogging, a hundred entries don't mean a lot. Nevertheless, it does mean a lot to me, especially after all these years thinking that this blog won't last very long.

As I've said before, the purpose of this blog is to help me get over the acrid taste left by my final years in college. I do not hold any grudges of studying in the university, don't get me wrong, but the interpersonal experiences that I've had, regardless of how few they were, leave a lot less to be desired. It was the time of my first heartbreak, triggering the Sartre in me to sever myself from human contact, leaving me to have lunch, study in the library, and wait for class to start all by myself. Thus, a chunk of my loner persona permeates a lot through the annals of this blog (if anybody bothered to browse through its lame content).

In the creation of this blog, I intended to puke out all my quirky and strange ways, serving as an outlet to my distaste of things within the periphery of my senses. Uh-oh, post-teen angst alert. But kidding aside, I hated everything back then, which led to the conception of Damned In Blue.

It's been fun to write useless things and compose them as if they mattered to everybody. Nobody really cares if I had an awesome 2006, a renaissance of sorts. I had a kick-ass job that unfortunately had to do with adult writing, a trip to Zambales and Hong Kong that proved to be the turning point of my year, and of course, became finalists of the 2006 Red Horse Muziklaban. Or in 2007, when I went to Bohol and romanced with saltwater and sand. The crazy thing is, I loved every minute of writing them and getting to delve into a side of me that I usually ignore, and waiting for a response for those who take time and read. Kinda like flashing my cock to strangers in the street and checking our their genuine and priceless reactions.

So this entry isn't much of a day-in-the-life-of sort, but it's a tribute to the wasteful three years that I invested for this ass of a blog. And I'm ready for more.

On Wrassling

2009-01-07T03:56:00.000-08:00

I just saw The Wrestler (Mickey Rourke) the other day and I felt I had to write something about it. However, let me begin this entry by saying that, being a wrestling fan, I am absolutely moved by the film.

The Wrestler is hands down the best wrestling movie ever made. Screw Ready to Rumble and its hackneyed attempt to entertain and put the glamor of wrestling into the big screen because, to put it bluntly, there is nothing glamorous about the sport. It is gritty, bloody, messy, and puts everything on the line, things that were successfully shown in the movie.

Looking at the film into a more precise level, The Wrestler is perhaps the most evocative portrait of a person who has dedicated his life in the art of a harrowing sport that is almost akin to a freak show. Not that wrestlers are freaks, but the risks they have to take, trials they have to undergo, and tribulations they have to endure have forced some of them to lead a life similar to Randy "Ram" Robinson -- broken-down, suffering from multiple conditions, separated from his family and, most importantly, from reality. He tries to find light from what seemed to be the end of what he held dear in undergoing heart bypass after a wrestling match by finding romantic grounds with a stripper named Cassidy, who, like a wrestler, puts her body on the line every time she takes the stage, and trying to set things right with his estranged daughter.

For a moment, Randy seems to be adjusting to life after wrestling pretty well when his plans were pushing through. However, the pull of being "The Ram" prevents him from living a life he longed for. A scene where he took drugs, fucked with a complete stranger, and woke up the next morning in an unknown apartment is a telling sign that he still clings to his past as the Main Event guy who sold out arenas with his memorable matches. He parties hard, only to hit hard on reality when Cassidy treats him as nothing more than a customer, severing any mutual ties between them. Most importantly, Randy missed out on a dinner she was supposed to have with her daughter, which was the only chance of absolution for the mistakes he has done in the past to his family.

There was nothing else left for Randy to do but return to the ring and carry on with his match against Ayatollah, celebrating the 20th year since the historic match took place. Just as he was about to make his entrance to the ring, Cassidy appears and dissuades Randy from getting hurt out there and putting his life in danger once again. Randy replies by saying that the only place he gets hurt is out there, pointing to nowhere, to reality. Because he is a nobody without his tights, elbow pads, and boot. In the ring, he is someone everybody respects and loves. The ring is his home, and Cassidy leaving behind the curtain before delivering his patented Ram Jam off the top rope reiterates this fact. He soars, and the film slowly fades.

WWE owner Vince McMahon was given a special showing of the film and he didn't appreciate it one bit. I wouldn't say that he had his head up his ass, but the film does expose the risks involved in being a professional wrestler. The depressing ending can be seen that wrestling is a downward spiral towards an empty life outside the squared circle, which is not good for a business that thrived in putting its employee's asses on the line. Suffice to say, his negative feelings towards the film is warranted. However, since I don't own a wrestling company, I politely say, "Screw you, McMahon."

Another thing, the ending song of The Wrestler where Bruce Springsteen sings about one-trick ponies, referring to "The Ram," is downright offensive to those who those people involved in the business. First off, WRESTLERS ARE NOT ONE-TRICK PONIES! The great ones persevere and sustain the status they achieved during their heydays because the fans love them. The things they have done in the ring will be passed from generation to generation and their legacies will live on forever. So fuck one-trick ponies. 4-Non Blondes is a one-trick pony. James Frey is a one-trick pony/fraud. Up theirs.

Last, wrestling is lame. Yes, I said it. It is a sport where the moves are planned and the ending is pre-meditated. But the beauty about it is that it's realer than you think. The blood is real. The chance of failure is definitely high. An early death is never out of the question. Wrestlers are people, and they are real.

On Resolutions

2009-01-03T22:07:00.000-08:00

I love resolutions because they almost always don't happen. We just plan on doing useless stuffs to start the year in order to turn a new leaf, only to lose interest mid-year because, well, we didn't change. We never do. Which is fun.

Now it's my turn.

Learn how to cook. At the very least, I should be able to prepare a semi-difficult dish, like Valenciana or something.

Play the guitar at least an hour a day. I simply lost my chops (not that I had a lot, mind you) because I meddle on menial things. After getting my mojo back, I'll record the riffs I make using Sonar or something so I can put them to use for the band or some other project.

Invest on guitar effects in search of the perfect sound.

Hopefully resign from my current work. Seriously.

Upgrade our car. Change the stereo, have it tinted, change its color, furnish the interior, put some weird shit on it. Anything.

Buy a laptop and use it to set up a site with a concept never thought of before. Like bungee jump porn.

Read Philippine Literature. Get acquainted with its history and obscure works so I can use them to pimp my social networking profiles using its quotes and stories.

Try not to obsess on being unable to become a comic collector. Shit.

Finish weffriddles this year. Ha!

Complete Haruki Murakami novels.

Watch Pulp Fiction. God, please.

Have a theme song before summer, like a "Cayman Island" by Kings of Convenience, to make that period much memorable to me. Summer is important to me, y'know?

Hopefully not go back to adult writing.

On Cramming Lots Of Things In A Post

2008-12-22T09:24:00.000-08:00

I haven't updated this blog since like forever, so bear with my ranting and ravings as I do a brief rundown of the things I've gone through since my last entry, in no particular order:

I saw Sepultura perform at this year's Red Horse Muziklaban. To say that seeing the Brazilian band who influenced me into metal music was awe-inspiring would be an understatement. Originally, I wasn't planning on seeing them since the band has changed their lineup from the time I was really into them and their musical style has morphed into something I've never thoroughly enjoyed, but since I got free passes for the event, fuck it, I'm seeing them! Never have I imagined that I would witness them performing their trademark songs live, but I just did, a couple of feet away. Unreal. Simply put, highlight of 2008.

While I was burning the midnight oil in the office days ago, a person whom I haven't talked to for almost two years messaged me on my computer. Things ended in an abrupt and awkward fashion between us the last time we chatted, but having her message me and asking me how things are felt were quite a relief. A lot changed between our period of estrangement and I think that's a swell thing. She's doing well, I'm doing fine and dandy, and that's that. More importantly, I think we're back on communicating terms again. A nice complimentary gift before wrapping up the year that was.

A year ago, if you asked me my favorite animated movie, Ratatouille would be my unquestioned pick. However, after purchasing and watching the Wall-E 2-Disc Special Edition, this year's blockbuster Disney Pixar film blows and owns last year's hit in emphatic fashion. Although the veneer of the film is primarily a visual treat and geared for kids, the underlying theme and substance of the movie is, for a lack of a better word, awesome. Quote me when I say this: Best movie of 2008.

I saw Elf (Will Ferrell) again just before Christmas Day. It has become an annual thing for me to see the film and get that warm and fuzzy feeling inside. Santa ain't real, and Christmas is just way to get people to empty their pockets, but damnit, I feel helpless whenever Buddy gets the Holiday cheer in full throttle.

God, shoot me now.

I recently got a taste of the latest drink in bars and restaurant, Gilbey's Premium Strength. It's goes down smooth and straight, but the alcohol takes effect the moment you least expect it. BAM. Just. Like. That.

Yesterday, some of the iWeb people got together to celebrate the blessing (or lack thereof in their case) of the year that will pass. After not seeing them for like forever, It's great to be back with familiar people talking about not being a virgin, being in a relationship with a former student, and, of course, lame-ass jokes.

I still hate my job. Surprise, surprise.

So this is how I end my last post for the year? Pretty damn appropriate, if you ask me.

On Reunions

2008-11-26T09:47:00.000-08:00

I never liked reunions in any shape or form. I compare them to prom nights where people simply meet up and brag about how pretty or hot their partners are and the fucking that will ensue later than evening. In reunions, people talk about how they've spread their wings and soared after parting ways with others. Of course, reunions would probably end up on a sour note when everybody's realized that their former classmates, friends, and colleagues have drastically changed from before, as their life experiences during the period of estrangement have destroyed the synergy that a certain group of people once had. It's a sad epiphany, I tell you.

My former college buddy messaged and told me that one of our classmates will be arriving soon after a full two years into his religious vocation and a reunion will take place by that time. Even if the event called for us to wear formal attire (!), I simply could not say no.

So why flinch and put my anti-reunion stance into doubt? I don't really know. Add to the fact that I never really enjoyed my college years and oftentimes preferred to sulk and be alone rather than bask and take it easy with my classmates, and now I really don't have any clue why I went. Only when I was there when I realized how I missed those fuckers.

A lot of things have happened throughout the course of not seeing each other for quite some time. Most of them are taking up law school in Rockwell and Diliman, which is definitely good. The person who just arrived from its vocation is planning to take his MBA in Business Administration, if I'm not mistaken. One is a seminarian who is currently teaching CLA in an all-girls school. Now that's news. And me, well, let's forget about me.

From the outset, all of us present in the reunion may have undergone changes of different sorts, but the core that binds us, the sheer and sacred stupidity that we usually put ourselves into, has soldiered on and seems to be going stronger than ever. We reminisced our follies, trials, and misdemeanors, and we all just laughed at them. Now that I've thought about how I got lost going to the reunion, it's actually funny. Apparently, Manila Peninsula and Manila Intercontinental are two different hotels altogether. Hey, at least by wearing my stylish black long sleeves, I just made stupid look good. Quote me on that one.

After much laughter and cussing, we went our separate ways, only to find ourselves back in the grind of things. Slowly the realization of us (meaning I in particular) returning back to hours of cramming a thousand page worth of legal document and the times of losing our minds in front of the computer of your cubicle, cursing yourself why in the blue hell we're employed in the first place. But you know what, if another opportunity for us to meet again in the distant future, count me in. I won't get lost this time. I promise.

On Degeneration

2008-11-16T05:29:00.000-08:00

It's one of those times in a day where I don't have anything to do, and instead of reading a good book or watching a good movie, I browsed through some of the old entries I've written for the past two years. You see, the blog was meant to be an outlet to medicate the bad taste left by my final years in college, as well as being part of the unemployment line. True, those days were bawful (bad+awful), but they helped me produce some of the most inspired shit I have written throughout the years, save for the tons of adult video descriptions I did way back in the time (like, a couple of months ago).

Not to be sentimental, but damnit, there's something magical when reading even the most lamest of entries of what happened when you were down and out while listening to Slowdive in Hong Kong, or was having a blast playing with Koreans in Zambales, just before I pulled out my CD player and listened to Slowdive again. Ah, the CD player. Anybody remember that?

Seriously though, I was lame back then. And I loved every minute of it. Another thing: I liked how I was able to capture the bravura of being there at that moment, absorbing the positive vibe as it careens me to different sensations of the emotional spectrum. There was life in the words I wrote that, by reading them slowly like a retarded chimp, made me say, "Holy shit, that day was awesome," or , "That day sucked so much ass, it's awesome!"

Now, reading the entries I have left scattered in my blog like expired pancit bihon, I don't get everything from them. Sure, the emotions are there (anger, idleness, bordering on happy, happy but not quite), but I can't connect with 'em. All I see are a bunch of words piled up trying to say something and I can't seem to make out anything! Maybe I've regressed into a meandering, miserable dick who's a corporate slave, takes up his MA when there's time, and then...I don't know anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy like a slut who's had a buck worth of fuck, but...huh. I lost myself.

Shit. I really didn't know where to go with this. I was supposed to allude to my degeneration as a person who was deflowered and made numb by the corporate hell that I work for, but now that I've reached where I am, that's not gonna happen now. Oh well, it's never really good when I don't have anything to do.

On Brothertime

2008-11-07T21:52:00.000-08:00

T'was a regular afternoon in the office as I was sitting half-asleep in front of my computer, navigating the screen with my mouse and doing copy and paste work, when suddenly I smelt a burning odor coming from below our cubicles. I stopped working and exerted all effort in verifying whether the smell had characteristics of something charred and where the smell is coming from. It looks like the smell was coming from my CPU so I freaked out a bit. My instinct told me to turn off the unit but when I reached for the power switch I felt an electric sting at the tip of my fingers. (Must be due to the fact that I have clammy hands.)

With my slight fear of electrocution, I pulled my hand away and didn't know what to do while my seatmates were flocking my burnt-smelling CPU. Luckily, somebody without clammy hands calmly turned off the unit, making me look like an as in the process. However, that's besides the point. Actually, it was not my CPU that produced the burning smell, but it came from the unit of the person across my cubicle, who I personally did not know. Going back a little bit further, while the commotion was going on, she asked me, "Kuya, sa yo po ba nanggagaling yun amoy na yun?" And it was that moment when it hit me: I'm getting old.

Months later, I went down with my co-worker, who was about to leave from work, to watch him smoke. (For all intents and purposes, let's just put how things happened as I say it, shall we?) After venting out the trials and tribulations of working for our current employer and comparing it to our previous employer (both of us worked at the same office before), his smoke reached the filter in no time and we headed back the building. Before parting ways, he said, "Trabaho ka na naman, sir!" And it again struck me, I'm old.

Staring into the mirror, I think I am about to form crow's feet at the side of my eyes. Every time I smile or squint, the skin seems to fold comfortably in the corners of my eyes. In only a matter of years, I will have crow's feet that resembles that of Luke Perry's during his amazing run as the high school heartthrob (at the age of 34, no less) in Beverly Hills 90210. Just the crow's feet part.

God, I feel ooooooooold.

On Shameless Plugs

2008-10-26T09:06:00.000-07:00

I don't usually promote stuff in my blog, but I will have to make an exception with this entry. My friend just recently put up his dental clinic called Go Smile! and just like any other start-up business, its word needs to be sprad. Not that this is going to make a whole lot of difference, but this is doing my part of promoting his puny-ass clinic (at least for now).

Go Smile! Dental Clinic is located at Manggahan, Pasig, in front of the Sta. Lucia Parish Church. The facilities are new, which makes for a commendable dental experience, but that's a given already. What's pretty cool with the clinic, however, is that patients can make reservations at any time of the day. I made an appointment at 11 in the evening, no problem. Plus, nobody can simply resist its perky logo.

---

Our building called for a fire drill one afternoon last week. That meant we had more than an hour to kill before we go back to our normal lives sitting in front of the computer for hours. Some ate, others went to Glorietta to shop, and most played DOTA at the nearest computer shop. I, being the abnormal person that I am, went where no other guy had gone before.

I had the best hour of relaxing Thai massage at TonTon's.

It was an affordable massage (300php) with a comely ambiance to sooth your senses and get you relaxed in no time, i.e. make you fall asleep. My female co-worker was giggling like a Japanese school slut when we entered the place, but by the time the masseuses were stepping on my back and stretching my body like the Golden Arch, it was pure nirvana from that moment on, devoid of cackles and squirms. Sure, I got burn out again after returning to the nightly grind at the cubicle, but work can't take away the effervescent hour of my time at TonTon's. Bitch.

---

I have a thing for stand-up comedy, which is why I have them playing on my CPU while I'm working. George Carlin and Bill Hicks most definitely rips you a new asshole. In the forehead. Dripping feces and all. Funny stuff.

On Changes

2008-10-16T07:22:00.000-07:00

Theme. It was only more than a year ago that I used black fonts over a pain white background for my blog site. Now, I return to my yellow on blue theme that graced the first few month of activity in my oh-so-precious blog. Really now, this isn't news. But what is?

Sounds. These past few weeks, in an attempt to freshen things up, I am currently listening to Mos Def, Talib Kewli, The Roots, BEP pre-Elephunk, and the Roots, as well as a handful of rap artists. Since then, I can't say that my day has been complete without listening to Dr. Dre's "Fuck You." My apologies to the metal community.

Norm. After weeks of bitching and whining silently like still water over my new work title and the burdensome responsibility that comes with it, I have come to a epiphany that, yes, I actually can handle this shit. Being the reluctantly willing guy to be sacrificed for an impossible project, I've seen and felt worse, but none of which involved a dick to be stuffed in my asshole. A cup of coffee, Cobra Energy Drink, and an FX ride straight to home are all I need.

Over. The semester, that is. No more studying and cramming for almost a month. Not that I did much studying anyway.

UneasinessIt's perhaps the first time this year that I genuinely don't have much to do for the day, but I seem to end up writing unsubstantial and prosaic crap happening in my life. Could it be that I'm a transcendent collection of organized thoughts trapped in boring day-job activities and nonchalant musings in my cubicle? We'll see.

On Something Aside From Being Haggard

2008-10-08T07:15:00.000-07:00

First off, not that you'd actually care with what I'm about to say, but I am glad to report that my bouts of whatever I was feeling on my previous entry has come and gone like a smelly fart. I no longer harbor any grudges or bad feelings over what transpired during those couple of days. Although my mood swings will get the best of me anytime soon, which then would lead me to write another mysterious rant over something so stupid, I'll just enjoy the giddiness and enthusiasm of the moment, if you don't mind.

Now, onto the awesome and less abstract happenings of my life.

I am currently spending around 12-14 hours in the office trying to beat deadlines and overlook the project, only to fail at doing good on both. As if losing sleep is bad enough. Strangely enough, I'm not complaining. Call me crazy and sexy, but I seem to enjoy the masochistic nature of the corporate environment. Not to mention, a couple of my co-workers seem to not like me, at least from a professional standpoint. I say, "Sfank me!"

I seem to have gotten my wish as things have become a bit edgy and turbulent as of late. From the night telling a former co-worker that I wish to get away from all the streamlined bullshit I've been mechanically doing for the past few months, well, things have become quite a shitstorm since then. No, there's nothing in particular that's wrong with my life -- it's great, in fact -- but there's definitely something not right at the moment. And I have yet to figure things out.

Hot damn I missed writing! And sleeping!

On Most Haggardness And The Fake Silver Lining

2008-10-02T06:26:00.000-07:00

School is almost out, full-time work has a lot of rather nice things in store for me, and I'm supposed to enjoy my Renaissance period of taking a break from my hectic workload these past months. Still, tragedy and misfortune rear their ugly heads as they took their twisted shape through disheartening events a couple of days ago. As a result, I'm back to my old loser self, blaming my own inability to become, as well as function like a regular, albeit a happy, retard, to other people.

I feel like shit.

I'm hating Others again. No, "hate" is such a strong word. Come to think of it, I don't share such sentiments toward them. In fact, I'm disappointed: disappointed of how I find it difficult to appreciate what and how people are instead of trying to find ways to blame them for my insecurities and shortcomings. It's hard, shit, and bullshit all rolled into a clusterfuck of...

Whatever.

On More Haggardness And Its Silver Lining

2008-09-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

Let's make this a brief and succinct entry, shall we?

After undergoing a ruthless and uncompromising series of events this past week, involving a changed work schedule in the middle of the week, school exams issues, and convoluted band gigs, I engulfed a furious barrage of brandy and gin shots after a nice set with the band to cap off a God-forsaken weekday journey on asinine and rocky grounds. I rode the cab with my group in the middle of the night and woke up sleeping in my room, fresh and clean -- save for a nasty blood clot on my left thumb that probably got caught when I climbed over our spiked gates -- without any recollections of what happened in between. Then again, I really DON'T wanna recall 'em.

In other news, I saw my classes pulling their last few meetings before I can finally live life by adjusting my work schedule to conventional hours and perhaps drinking more alcohol. I have also decided to respectfully turn down an offer to continue working for my part-time job this coming month, due to the fact that I have been "spreading myself too thin" on all my responsibilities. Never a good thing. Lastly, full-time work is on its path of taking shape and form for the good, and I may play a huge part in it.

Brief and succinct indeed.

On Haggardness

2008-09-08T07:28:00.000-07:00

Ever felt like you're at the edge of a cliff and people are prodding you to jump and fuck off? Well, I haven't. Thank God for that.

Not to sound like Michelle McCool, but I'm loving life (gay), which is why I try to cram all of the productive things I can muster in my waking hours. For instance, I started taking up MA studies this year, and I'm probably chained with studying for three hours at the very most. Also, in order to finance my studies and pay the bills, I opted to work full-time as a writer in Makati. To top it all off, in hopes of saving up money for the future, I took up another part-time work. In writing, all of these things should forge a fulfilling life and a promising "future" for me.

As for the present, however, I'm barely getting the work done. If I were Dexter Morgan, I would have been leaving off blood trails of my victims on the street and dropping scalpels and knives on the crime scene. In other words, my work has been quite a mess.

Case in point: I'm actually running out of cash. Yes, you heard me. Despite my vain efforts of coming up with a scheme of saving money and spending the least amount on a regular basis, the continuously hiking gas prices and the domestic bills manage to suck my funds dry. My conundrum led me to take a part-time job, but it didn't necessarily make my life better. Instead of taking it easy at home after arriving from work, I still have to sit in front of the computer and type the night away before going to sleep. Plus, a stack of required literary materials for school that I dismissed from reading are staring at me in my room during sleep because my mind's tired of the hustle. Thankfully, they don't give me eloquent and artistic nightmares.

Don't get me wrong; I love the challenge (gay). If there's anything that should inspire men to perform at their best, then it should be the times when their backs are against the wall.

So is my back against the wall? Nope, but behind me is a path down the rocky shores. Should I jump down or should I burst through the fucking crowd? Actually, I don't even know what that means. Stupid figurative speech.

On Being Sick

2008-08-28T01:09:00.000-07:00

As of writing, I recently just recovered from a nasty bout with colds after days of suffering with clogged nostrils and blowing snot all over fresh rolls of tissue paper. If there's one thing that I don't like besides that lame radio jingle of GIS Express, it's having colds. No, scratch that. I HATE getting sick. Maybe I didn't mind when I was a kid so I can stay at home and play the SNES or the Playstation until I get sicker (hehe). However, when you're focused on earning money to pay for the bills and sustain a particular lifestyle, getting sick is not even an option. It throws you off your groove and makes you cranky the whole time, which is pretty much a bummer. No, scratch that yet again. Getting sick FUCKING SUCKS.

Anyway, before the post-sickness stress takes its course, I was able to maintain my sanity throughout the sick week with a dose of laughter. It all started with the entry of my former co-worker to the company I currently am working for. She's not just a co-worker, but she allows me to relieve stress by being funny without even trying. See just sits there, does her work, and it's already funny! I shit you not, my friend. Seriously through, it's actually a good thing that I have someone to communicate to with any way or method. My time in the office, in terms of socializing, is as interesting as watching cows consume grass. In other words, my anti-social tendencies and my Person Repellant quality ingrained in my DNA are taking full effect. With my former co-worker in the fold, the silent dynamics change, something that I welcome with open arms.

Also, more adventures have occurred on my way home from work. If the constant bickering and fighting between passengers are not enough, I boarded a bus with a lonely trobadour at the back singing cheeky songs straight from sleaziest bar you can think of. So he's singing songs and belting out the big notes without care of the irritation and inconvenience he is causing to the other passengers. Either that guy lost it, or he has cojones bigger than his voice. Another incident with a strange passenger happened when I sat beside a seemingly innocent girl who obvious came from the office. The bus was showing Scary Movie (a good film) and the girl immediately busted out laughing when the scene with a huge man posing as a lesbian high school gym teacher flashed her balls. The raging laughter ensued with the other countless funny scenes, as the whole bus was staring at her. And she's still laughing. To her credit, she made the film funnier.

So where was I? Oh, yeah. I'm not sick anymore.

On Going Home

2008-08-13T00:26:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy month for this working student. For those who don't know, I attend morning classes during Tuesdays and Thursdays before taking an hour-long travel to the office via car and bus. After arriving at work, I am immediately swamped with duties of editing documents about things I don't have any clue what it's about and don't have any intention to know. By the time I get back to the house late in the evening, all I want to do is take it easy as reward for a job well done today. However, I still have to catch up with the assigned readings for my Literature class.

This grueling schedule won't let up until the middle of October, when the academic semester gasps its final breaths. For now, I live by the mounting pressure of walking the thin line between order and chaos. It's not the easiest life in the world, mind you, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

If there's any consolation to this madness, the smoke-filled and heat-laden journey home is something I thoroughly enjoy.

There's nothing much to take pleasure from riding sloth-like buses in the metro as it slowly treks the highway, stopping in the middle of the road and scouring for more passengers, before riding two separate jeepneys (a trademark Filipino public transportation) on my way home. However, I have encountered a number of occasions where riding PUVs is much more interesting than driving a flashy automobile and head straight to the destination. Whereas driving a car is simply taking the straightforward route, riding public vehicles is akin to making complicated turns and encumbering stop before reaching the place. True, the latter is pretty silly and borderline stupid, but it does not fail to entertain.

The entertaining part of the trek back home, although it doesn't happen always, is the fighting engaged by passengers on the PUVs or people along the street. One time, I got to see hostile jacktards stuck together on the jeep I was also riding who were about to slug it out because one of them intentionally kicked the ass of the other riding the transportation. Unfortunately, just like real jacktards, they only exchanged menacing stares without laying a finger on each other. Lame.

Lately, while the jeep I was riding was put to a stop by the red lights, I witnessed a pair of dudes ganging up on a simpleton. The victim managed to break free from the headlock and immediately boarded our jeep wearing a disconcerted face. He told one of the passengers that he was simply walking along the street before both men lunged at him for the attack. Whether or not the debacle was all a stage to steal money I dare not ask, but it was the most glorious 2:30 AM ever.

More adventures in the future, perhaps?

On Quotable Quotes

2008-08-08T05:06:00.000-07:00

To begin, I remember hearing a rather weird quote from a talk show program in the early '90s of a particular radio station. To paraphrase, the guy said that, "If you aim for the roof, you fall on the ground. But if you aim at the sky, you fall on the roof. So aim high!" This quote never made sense before, and it continues to baffle me up to this day as to why some guy would even coin such an asinine quote.

Let's analyze for a second. If the man falls on the ground, he would most likely break his bones at the very worst. However, if he falls on the roof, his body would pass through the steel (ouch) and come crashing down the ground(double ouch). The moral of the story? Never use houses and ground as an analogy to setting your goals.

Now, onto the gayness!

For years, I have dedicated my life to a simple saying, "The trick is to not care." Regardless of how pessimistic the quote may sound, I can honestly say that it has served be well throughout the times I was using it. In fact, the quote was never meant to be used in a negative way. For instance, I failed in a exam. Bah, who cares? I'll just ace the next one. Another example, a girl who I liked fucked me up big time. Screw that! I can get my nookie from someone else. In essence, the quote serves to see something positive from an awful situation by acknowledging the said incident and downplaying its effect to keep one from getting too absorbed with the failure. By not caring about my mishaps, I continue to act as a functioning human being.

However, ignoring feeling is one of the most difficult things that a person can actually do. I have seen people appear fine and dandy after a break-up or rejected from their job application, but they're obviously rotting in their core. I was rotting in my core for years by keeping inside bad feelings and disappointments towards people and things I cannot control. Those unspoken black emotions have become part of my character, which is why, for all my good nature and pleasant demeanor, I am essentially a sad and prosaic person.

Almost a year from now, I remember "giving" the quote to my officemate during her time of duress. I don't own the quote anymore (not that there it any owning in the first place) because it's not for me anymore. It has done me good, but it's probably time to move on into something much grander quote. What that is, however, is beyond me.

On Ennui

2008-08-04T02:45:00.000-07:00

After getting accepted by my current employer, I was expecting a lot of work to be done judging from their tedious exam and interview process. It actually comes as a shock that I am bound to finish my first day with the company having done nothing but play online games at Albino Blacksheep (awesome site). For 8 hours. Worse, the languor will continue for another two months, said by some of the employees there. Imagine doing anything possible with a high-speed Internet -- without a firewall and blocked sites -- and get paid at the same time. Sounds like a great job, right?

I digress.

One of the reasons why I left my first job is the biting idleness. Although some people welcome it like a long lost friend, I treat it like visiting cousins I never got close with. Sure, the interest is there during the first few minutes when talking and getting to know them. However, after realizing that there's nothing else to talk about, you would probably be wishing that they leave the house soon.

I don't hate doing nothing, but I'm simply not used with being unproductive at work. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy watching random silliness from YouTube or playing close attention to basketball sites on the 'Net in between work, but doing that for 8 hours for the next two months? C'mon.

On a bright side, I could use this time to brush up on the assigned readings at the university. Thankfully. So I planned to devote the remaining hours at the office by reading Percy Bysshe Shelley and his magnificent contributions to the world of poetry. However, after reading a few pages from his A Defence of Poetry, I'd stick to ennui instead.

On Job Applications

2008-07-30T07:59:00.000-07:00

I enjoy getting interviewed and taking exams for a position in need of my services because I get to dust off the best-looking long sleeves and slacks from my dressers and wear them for the job offer, as well as flexing my intellectual muscles with their challenging exams. Judging from most of the companies I've applied for, I have been rejected only once because my inability to finish their exam, rewriting and condensing a 5,000-word economics article to 3,000, almost got me late with my prior commitment. Not to sound like a braggart, but when you really set your mind into doing something, it almost always follows that you'll get what you want.

I know most people who dislike the prospect of looking for another job, even if it means getting employed to a more profitable position with better career growth and opportunities, simply because they don't feel like it. That's not really such a bad thing, mind you, but you gotta do what's best for yourself.

However, looking too much for yourself can sometimes get the better of you. Case in point, the company I recently applied for in Makati.

I ran half an hour late due to the traffic and pouring rain at that time, but I thought it was going to be fine. Well, it was fine with the people and exam coordinator of the company since they guided me to the testing area, but not with the actually exam.

From my experience, exams are supposed to gauge your skills on that particular position you are applying for and usually consist of three parts: grammar, logic, and specialized test based on your work. However, it was only with this company that I endured and struggled through eight whopping exams within a 4-hour period! The exams are as follows: grammar, specialized test, another grammar exam, two psych exams (!), a logic exam, a write-up about yourself, and ANOTHER godforsaken grammar exam. By the time the logic exam kicked in, I was cursing and mumbling to myself on the absurdity of it all. Although the exhaustive and thorough examination has a purpose to serve, it was just unnecessary excessive and mind-numbing, especially the psych test that I feel should be scrapped. Then again, who cares about what I think?

Due to my weariness and confusion, I decided to screw with the remaining half of the exam since I had a feeling that my boorish attitude was overpowering any logical thought of trying to do well with the test. With everybody done since they started on time, I went out the room at exactly 6 p.m. semi-pissed after having skipped lunch for this downfall. Clearly not exactly the best day for me.

However, a week after the memorable exam of miserable proportions, I got a call from their HR department regarding an interview with the company for a job consideration. Strangely enough, I passed the exams.

Oh, the irony is killing me.

On 2008 Wishlist

2008-07-26T21:55:00.000-07:00

I posted an entry at the beginning of 2008 about goals and objectives that I must accomplish before the year ends. Now, I'm not really big on making resolutions for the new year, but I never have done this before my entire life since I believe that resolutions are meant to be broken. More than half the year have passed and it's time to revisit the wishes I have committed myself into doing this 2008:

watch all David Cronenberg, David Lynch, and Stephen Chow films

Since I've gotten busier throughout the years, I've decided to cut down on watching movies to save time and get more things done. I don't mind purchasing pirated DVDs from black markets despite their quality, but there are other better things for me to do at this point in time. So there.

read five of the penned 'Great American Novels': The Great Gatsby, Moby Dick, To Kill A Mockingbird, Grapes Of Wrath, The Scarlet Letter

Although I haven't read any of the titles above, buying the Scarlet Letter just recently nevertheless puts me on track with this list. There's just a lot of great books that I've been getting into (The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Maurkami, The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, and Misfortune by Wesley Stace) that the classics have been put on hold. In time, my friend. In time.

slowly but surely pick off Pablo Neruda writings off the shelves, in an attempt to bring back my fancy for poetry

I purchased Selected Readings earlier this year, but it seems that plans have changed, unfortunately. After getting accepted in the MA program in Anglo-American Literature at this particular university, my focus seems to have gone to fiction. Of course, I'll still find time for Neruda poetry here and there, but it won't be my priority for years to come.

have Kings of Convenience's "Cayman Islands," "Winning The Battle, Losing The War," "Homesick," "Manhattan Skyline," "I Don't Know What I Can Save You From," "The Weight Of My Words," and "Failure" down pat on the acoustic

You can count "Cayman Islands" in my guitar playlist sine I've been thoroughly playing it since January of this year. However, I can't say the same for the other because I've fallen out from my juice for guitar playing as of late. I don't know, but I can't see myself having memorized all these songs before the year ends.

FINALLY master the chromatic scale and sweep-picking

See above. Seriously, I don't have the discipline for practicing scales and modes on the guitar ever since. Yeah.

have the complete collection of Jim Lee's X-Men, all in .pdf format

The reason I wish to get myself acquainted -- and eventually collect in the future -- comic books is to atone for the comic book collection that I took for granted when I was a kid. Particularly, I wanted to redeem the lost first issue of X-Men Unlimited released in 1992 (I have no idea how much it cost, but let's assume that it's expensive to keep me motivated in my comic pursuits).

Of course, for those who know better, comic files can be read under .cbz format, and Jim Lee's version, although it is the most popular installment of the X-Men series, is certainly not the best. However, as fate would have it, I seem to have turned sour on X-Men and comics in particular because of the continuity issue that spans from decades of stories and plots that I have to acquaint myself in order to fully consume the awesomeness of Wolverine and the gang. Tempting offer, but no thanks. At least for now.

memorize and name parts of the car without even having to look at them, a skill that alpha-males are inherently blessed with

I learned how to handle an overheating car, if that counts. I have learned that I am simply not an automobile person and therefore cannot fulfill my [art of this bargain. Sorry.

So there you have it. I've found myself doing a lot lately, which compromised most of my wishes. However, I don't mind, as I can still fulfill these things in the future.

On Being A Filipino

2008-07-21T05:46:00.000-07:00

Salamat, Nestle

Note: This post has nothing to do with Mark Lapid and his proverbial "Saging lang ang may puso" chutzpah.

I have tried being a Filipino for almost all my life. Sadly, I seem unable to translate myself in an expression that is truly Filipino. However, before you saddle me with full-blown remarks such as "Suck white-boy cock" or "Mabuhay ang Inang Bayan," I am proud to say that my favorite author is F. Sionil Jose, one of my favorite movies is Salawahan (Jay Ilagan, among others), and my 2nd year Filipino teacher who everybody hated pegged me as one of her favorite students, for some strange reason.

Just when I thought that my stock as a Filipino rose, it immediately devalued after I realized that I have yet to actually care about political issues that shape the country; I have yet to attend anti-government rallies in campus even though I'm not particularly fond of the consensus degradation path taken by our government officials. I would say that, in case the Philippines completely decays like banana peel in the near future, it's because of people like me and my alarming indifference that have let this once-proud country down. Worse, I don't even care what happens, as long as I have a sweet-ass job paying me a fat paycheck.

I have been taking classes about Philippine Literature In English this past month, and throughout the sessions, I am seriously wanting to change all of my bullshit ways. Well, not really.

(Forgive me if I turn a tad academic in this post, but please bear with me.)

What particularly struck me while reading the assigned texts for the class is the use of English in the country under American rule. Unlike during the Spanish regime, where Filipinos were prohibited from educating themselves of the horrible situation they're in, the American period marked improved communication and sharing of thoughts and ideas.

There was always the issue of Filipinos not being able to cultivate and fully harness their culture due to the forced influence pressed by their colonial masters. Throughout the years, Filipinos developed a distorted and fucked-up identity smeared by elements from different countries. This made an indelible mark in the national language because, during that time, Filipinos were actually reluctant of using Tagalog. Manuel Quezon believes that the Filipino language does not embody a the voice of being a Filipino. He even went as far as to say that something like the English language could do as our national language.

Well, I'm sorry to say, ex-President Quezon, that you are incorrect, and that Tagalog has served well in being the preferred language of the country throughout the years.

So ano nga ba talaga punto ko sa entry na ito? Magbabago nga ba ako? Ano koneksyon ng pagsalaysay ko ng pagiging alipin natin sa mga ibang bansa at ang naging bunga nito sa ating paggamit ng Tagalog.

Ewan ko. Bahala na.

On Writing

2008-07-21T02:21:00.000-07:00

picture taken from this site

I live by writing as my current profession. During college, I never had any idea on what I would become in the future (no thanks to Philosophy and its highfalutin mumbo jumbo), but thankfully, the writing world somewhat accepted a wandering douche as part of their low-paying, poorly-compensated, and overworked organization (unless you work in the porn industry, where money is subject to how many dirty thoughts you can come up with).

Before I unleash a projected diatribe on everything against writing, let's get a couple of things straight: I ain't knocking other professions such as graphic designers and programmers, in particular, and nor am I bitching about my current workload, which happens to be fair by standard, but of course, people strive for more in life.

Writers are an under-appreciated bunch of literates who deserve more than 80-100 pesos for every 400-word article they make. Although people can prepare articles in an instant, that's without checking whether the grammar is correct, the thought is properly expressed, and the work is actually an intelligible piece of content. Most of the time, the article violates three of these cardinal rules, but it's not totally the fault of the writer. After writing about cabinets, insurance, and other asinine topics straight from the SEO septic tank of vomit-inducing keywords for the nth time, something has got to give in.

Since we're at it, bulk article writing blows. I'm sure some of you enjoy the prospect of writing and shaping up your literary skills just like how it did mine with my stint as an article generating guy, but that's barely scratching the surface. In essence, it forces you to write hundreds of articles in a span of a week, desensitizing your creative fervor, draining your writing juice, and numbing you from all the SEO restrictions and revisions that you will undertake from different Internet resources. Petulant blokes like me have found it nauseating after a week's worth of slaving and laboring to the almighty keyword.

Worse, there's really nothing left for Internet writers to do but take this silly job as a part-time endeavor and pretend that everything is fine and dandy. Although it's not really THAT bad, mind you, there are a lot of better jobs in store for you than merely regurgitating shitty information.

On Birthdays

2008-07-14T08:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not particularly fond of birthdays, but I do appreciate the gesture. I appreciate the fact that people stop from doing whatever shit that have scheduled just to visit your home, partake on the prepared food, chug a beer or two, sing a couple of old songs, and head back to their caves like a sober hillbilly.

For years, it has been that way whenever I hold my birthday bash on our home. I only invite childhood friends during such festivities since I've pretty much shared my life with those assholes and it is only fitting for me to spend my purportedly special day with them. (For those who weren't invited, don't fret! Your time will come...) As expected, all of those invited arrived, perhaps making me the only person in our group to celebrate his birthday with everybody in tow.

However, I wouldn't be too sad if nobody came. Oh yes, it happened.

Well, not quite. Eons ago, only two people came to my birthday celebration (or lack thereof) past midnight at our house as we spent the night eating the prepared food that's gone cold and sang our hearts out with the videoke amidst the pouring rain. Surprisingly, I wasn't really bummed out about the whole thing thanks to lowered expectations that I developed early on in life. However, I did and still do feel that the celebration was one of the worst birthdays I ever had.

In conclusion, don't be like me who enjoys the company of only a handful of friends. Collect as many friends as possible in order to achieve harmony with the elements of life. If you're lucky, you may even get to enjoys your birthdays.

On Makati

2008-07-07T01:07:00.000-07:00

I have been probably trumpeting this ever since, but I really treasure the moments working for iWeb during my first few months after graduating from college. Sure, the people were spiffy and the work was... really something, but I just realized now that the pleasure brought by working at iWeb had a lot to do with the surrounding where the office was originally situated.

Although the city is relatively far from where I currently live, traveling from home to Makati and back is like a walk in a park, only the park is an hour-long ride inside crammed buses, and I'm not even going to mention the waiting period. 'Exhausting' is pretty much the word that sums it all up. However, I wouldn't want it any other way because, strangely enough, I enjoy this quaint suffering. In fact, I'll probably live in Makati despite its inherent shortcomings (traffic, people, pollution, etc.) given the chance just for a single reason. Just so you know, it has nothing to do with living in the center of professional activity in the Philipines, but more of the nothingness of it all.

I would like to believe that Makati is the country's version of New York. Tall buildings, hot nightspots, and bright lights aside, it is a place where lots of lemmings wear their finest looking clothes and slick appearances as they walk along the sidewalk in varying paces, but crowding it regadless.

I enjoy the fact that despite their honed looks, folks in Makati look dead. Everybody tries to impress with their appearances but ultimately ends up looking like everybody else. Cold and lifeless, I would say.

I have this perverted fascination for obscurity. (My motto during college: Excellence in obscurity.) I never was the one to stand out. During school, I like to take the backseat of the class. Well, perhaps I few seats away from the back because I don't want to sit near the jocks. From that vantage point, you get a clear view of what's happening around you. People sleeping. People writing down notes. People flirting with each other. Lifeless, I might add.

After class, I was the first one to escape. Like I was not even there.

Getting accepted at my part-time job in Makati, I was once again acquainted with the comely city after two years. A rush of emotions enveloped me, as there was a strange feeling during the time when I was estranged from Makati and the office moved to Ortigas. Back then, I felt an elusive emptiness that can never be pinpointed because there was nothing to point at in the first place. I only realized it now that the luster of working for iWeb somewhat wore off after the relocation period. The luster was Makati.

Now, I'm walking alone the crammed street filled with empty drones. The place is like a lifeless party in a jungle filled with busy animals listening to their music players, trapped in their own party. A lifeless one, at that.

I have never felt alive.

On Being A Loser

2008-06-28T07:54:00.000-07:00

Ah, it's been long overdue for me to write something about this topic for a long time. Treat it as a love letter dedicated to who I really am. In case you have kind and consoling words regarding the matter at hand, spare me from them.

---

I am a loser. No shit. Always have, always will be.

It all started when I was still in grade school. People picked up on me since I was not the one to retaliate or offer them a fist in their faces the minute they begin riling up on me. I was mostly the butt of their jokes, the one ridiculed, and nobody really cared if I was treated that way.

I befriended one of my classmates around this time for a reason that I can never fully explain or explicate up until now. All he did was cause me torture and agony every time I was with him. One time, my childhood friend heard my classmate berate and cuss me at our home. I was used to the constant castigation my classmate dishes out, but it was the first time my childhood friend heard it. Suffice to say, he wanted to put beat the shit out of my classmate, something that I couldn't done before but simply didn't. Because I'm a wuss. And dumb.

I have to give credit where credit is due. He definitely made my life a living hell. I hated going to school because I'll see his stupid face and take the brunt of his stupid ways. I hate the fact that I was reduced to shit during class where I had to sit next to him. So kudos to him, really. A real asshole.

I simply don't understand the stupidity of adolescence trying to be tough and full of it, which is why I fell victim of such treatment. Seriously, there's nothing really worse than teenagers trying to act like they're oh-so-cool. After realizing that I was completely a tad different (i.e. loser) than the other guys at our school, I decided to drift into obscurity and keep a low profile ever since. This was around high school.

I never really had friends. Outside from childhood buddies, school did not produce people whom I felt comfortable with, save for two. The bullying had a profound effect in me that I slowly but surely develop hatred towards everybody. With the exception of a number of people, I hated my classmates who tried to look cool and belong to a clique, hated school for making me mingle and rub shoulders with such students, and hated pop music. Therefore, I was seen most of the time by myself. The only company that I enjoyed were two people who shared my fascination for Starcraft and Tekken, as well as Alice In Chains, Faith No More, and other heavy metal outfits who expressed juvenile hatred like its the most profound emotion ever. "Dirt" by Alice In Chains was my theme song and I took the lyrics to heart simply because I feel exactly like the song.

I never socialized with my classmates, never went to the majority of their wonderful functions, and never attended prom. That's because I never made a female friend until my second year in college.

College was a breath of fresh air at first. I began the first few months of my college life alone at the library sleeping or brushing up on the assigned readings. Soon, I met students who turned out to be good people and shared the same gift of gab that I possess. All the while as I was hanging with them, I felt a certain pleasure that I haven't experienced before around with other people. I thought, maybe I was finally cured from being what I really am. Maybe people aren't really shitty as I thought they are. However, good things don't often last long.

Once you expose your shortcomings and faults to people, they will start turning their backs on you. I felt this the strongest during my senior year. I started exhibiting characteristics of a recluse around this time, eating along at the most desolate and isolated bench in school. Strangely, I like the fact that I am this way, going about my clumsy and geeky ways without the company of others. This was also around the time that I was completely distraught by, you guessed it, a girl.

I was always afraid to mess shit up because one I do, it's all over. A single trip, a wrong word slipping from my mouth, all of these things I cannot bear to think of happening. The worst thing of it all is that messing shit up is always inevitable. It was bound to happen sooner or later. And it happened to me, to her. From their, I never really fully recovered up until half of the year was spent.

All of these memories rushed back to me just a full week ago, also from a particular slipping of the mouth. Again, it was inevitable. The bullying, the isolation, the difficulty of being alone, the rejection, the inadequacies, shortcomings, and other bullshit. It all came full circle.

Yes, I am a loser.

Benny

2008-06-19T08:48:00.000-07:00

People started calling me Benny in grade school. I refused the name simply because it's not part of my first name and is simply a derivation from my last name. However, I eventually relented since everybody started calling me Benny even without my approval. It reached to a point that they called me Benny the Ball (of Top Cat fame) and Benny the Bull (not only of the Chicago Bulls mascot, but also of Nelson Asaytono, the high-scoring power forward of the San Miguel Beermen in the PBA during the mid-'90s). The trend persevered in high school, since I attended the same school.

By the time I was applying for a college, I thought of finally dropping the Benny moniker and start anew using my real name. And so, when college application forms ask for my nickname, I wrote my real nickname. However, I still wrote Benny beside my real nickname because, honestly, I have gotten quite acquainted with it. Still, if I were given a choice which name to use, I'll choose my nickname in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the one who will decide which nickname to use for college. As soon as the letter of the college I eventually attended was handed out from school, the first words from the paper were "Hello, Benny!" My seat-mate could not contain his laughter.

College came and went, but during the four excruciating years that I had to study, flunk exams, study again, and isolate myself from people, I was known as Benny, a monster that consumed who I am.

After college, I have sought to damn and trend and finally get rid of the Benny name. In fact, while working for a part-time job, I introduced myself to him as my real nickname as we met at a local bar to discuss business plans. However, I wasn't expecting a batchmate of mine in college to be also part of the team. She pretty much summed up my sentiments on our timely encounter that evening after finding out that I was using my real nickname and not Benny: "Ang weird." After weeks of hanging out with them, I eventually left for greener pastures.

The first full-time job that I got accepted in, I introduced myself as my real nickname. No more Benny, I said to myself, with a sigh of relief. However, I soon found out that they had a former officemate who goes by the name of my real nickname. And so, for the sake of further confusion and complication, I simply asked them to call me Benny instead.

After almost two years with the company, only the HR people call me with my real nickname. Everybody else refers to me as Benny. Up to now, they, along with my classmates and acquaintances during my academic life, still call me Benny. Hell, even my girlfriend calls me Benny.

To wrap things up, I sometimes find it difficult to introduce myself to other people. I sometimes slip during social coterie and introduce myself as my real nickname to people who don't know me, but most of the people there are familiar with me as Benny. Moreover, I sometimes stall for a couple of seconds whenever I introduce myself to other people: should I use Benny or my real nickname? After that, people comment on how long it took me to say my name, making me appear like I'm stupid or something.

So yeah, I am stupid.

Impressions

2008-06-15T10:34:00.000-07:00

After realizing that I really didn't have anything to do this afternoon, I decided to clean my room after letting dust settle on my books, magazines, tables, and most of my stuff since the start of the year. I also disposed of the garbage I usually stick inside my drawers since it's been getting difficult opening and closing those damn compartments. Yep, I'm a disorganized mess. Wait, that's a double negative, which really makes me... Nevermind.

Anyway, upon taking out 90% of the stuff inside my room, I stumbled upon my college class picture taken six years ago that I keep inside my drawer. I didn't really enjoy my academic experience, dating back since grade school, so there wasn't anything that would make me nostalgic or even emotional at the very least. However, what actually prevents me from throwing it away is that, along with the picture, there includes pieces of papers of what my blockmates thought about me.

Our college holds dynamic orientations for freshmen students, and one of their activities is to write your name on a piece of paper and pass it to your blockmates where they'll write their impressions about you.

Written below are some of my favorite quips that my fellow classmates have written about me. Some are written out of fun, but most of them are true.

"Sobrang quiet mo,!! Magsalita ka naman!"

"Malalim. Taimtim. Masalimuot. Meron."

"You wanna fell pain, huh?! Come here boy, Ima spank yah silly! hehe!"
-This was in relation to my Fine Arts thesis about pain in poetry

"Plastic na pilosopo"

"Don't look so spaced out so often. Goodluck."

"Magpapari ka ba? Goodluck on your college life. Hope we could all be friends."

"Ok lng...Normal."

Looking back who I was to now, nothing has changed, actually. Sure, life experiences have made me more mature in my decisions and actions, but I essentially still am a retarded ass who can't remember what the Nicomachean Ethics is all about.

Author's Thoughts On Getting A Haircut

2008-05-11T10:17:00.000-07:00

The owner of the page authorized a particular person to ask him question regarding having a haircut. The conversation is unedited and is true to the transcript.

Person: How long has it been since you last had your haircut?
Damned In Blue: Roughly a year ago, around May, but that was because I wanted to trim a certain part of my hair. As for the last time I underwent a drastic change with the help of a barber's pair of shears, that was March of last year when I traded in my puffy-looking do for the bald look.

P: What was the initial reaction of people around you after the haircut?
DIB: Of course, they were surprised, and with good reason. I wasn't the cleanest-looking guy they know, and for them to see me begin anew with my clean-cut look would at least come as a surprise.

P: Of course, it wasn't easy deciding whether or not you should have your haircut.
NIB: Definitely. For me, having a haircut is like a baptism or sorts, where I "renounce" my former life and trade in a clean slate where I could begin anew. I remember one time when a classmate of mine in college asked me if I had my haircut because of a girl (I also had a puffy-looking do before I went for the semi-bald image), and I simply had to let out a smile because it was kind of true, and I want to get rid of anything associated with that part of my life for the sake of beginning anew, even if it means cutting my pretty locks.

P: For the record, they're not locks, and they're not fucking pretty.
DIB: I know, I know. Jeez, buy yourself some funny bones, will you?

P: How does it feel getting your haircut?
DIB: Excellent question. It could either be the best or worst thing that one could ever do to himself. On the one hand, as I've mentioned, getting yourself a haircut could simply be a way pf shedding yourself from previous experiences that you simply want to get rid of, allowing you to start life without the burdens of the past. On the other, having your haircut for the wrong reasons could easily make it one of the things you'll even regret in your life. Imagine growing your hair down to your back, only to have it cut because it's hot or you simply felt having one.

In my case, I felt a sudden rush of exhilaration and sadness at the same time. I was excited to move on from obsessing for a long hair to simply getting a short hair that's maintenance-free. At the same time, having my hair cut is symbolic of severing your ties with the past. I always believe that having a haircut does not merely serve an aesthetic purpose, but it's also a way of reinventing the self from his previous excursion with life, purifying him from experiences that tainted his memories, and desiring to begin anew. In order words, Tabula Rasa, meaning "a clean slate".

P: That's similar to Georges Bataille's concept of mortifying and subjecting man's body through the severance of the limbs, which proves to purify man mentally and spiritually, albeit in the most gruesome manner possible.
DIB: Yes, but I'm not morbid enough to split ways with my hand just yet! (laughing)

P: Back to the haircut, what particular emotion prevails now that you'd have a different look.
DIB: I would have to say that the excitement and the satisfaction of having a new haircut ultimately prevailed. Although I definitely enjoyed having quite a long hair, it became apparently that I don't have the patience to grow my hair long enough, while the "rocker" stigma given with such a hair didn't help my cause either. Hence, I've decided a haircut that's "functional" and "easy to maintain".

P: You went infomercial about your hair. That's kinda sick, now ain't it?
DIB: Whatever, man.

P: So, where to from here?
NIB: I honestly don't know. I've obviously paved a path towards a new destination, a life without the baggage of extra hair from my previous life. The only thing I'm pretty sure is that I'm gonna play gigs like I came straight from a business meeting with my hair, something that our other guitarist would surely detest. (laughing) Nevertheless, I am quite happy with the turnout and looking forward for things to come.

P: My last question to you is this: what are you really severing from?
DIB: From everything. The shits, the loser moments, the mistakes, and most importantly, my own shortcomings.

---

Damned In Blue Has been writing useless mind ramblings and scribblings on the 'Net since 2005. Despite the years, he has yet to reach one hundred posts, which is pretty pathetic in its own right. For more uselessness, visit this site once in a while to get yourself alienated and desensitized from proper thought and sensation.

After Two Months

2008-04-13T13:17:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This entry serves as an atonement for the entries I should have done in the past, which explains the length of this particular entry, as well as the highfaluting words and the occasional unfocused and vague parts contained within. Bear with me on this one.

After resigning from my first full-time job to become a home-based writer, I thought I would have more time in my hands since I have total control of how I do and manage my work. Given the working conditions, the job definitely fits in my plan of getting a more focused production out from me, something that I have been striving for ever since because, strangely enough, I like to work.

Also, I figured that the job would also allow me to dabble into other things. Aside from the list of things I plan to accomplish before the year ends in an attempt to "get my shit together," so to speak, one of the plans that I had in mind was to write more blog entries (The Geek Revolution and Canned Thoughts, aside from this one).

However, as the months have passed, my original plans and goals mentioned above would either have to wait until I actually get to manage my time more properly, or would have to be revamped and compromised for a newer scheme that would fit my current state of occupation. It's kinda sad, actually.

I've pretty much lost out of touch lately on a lot of things I love to do. I don't get to play the guitar as much as I would want to and I've pretty much lost the penchant for reading things. In fact, I have yet to finish Baudolino by Umberto Eco which I started reading at the beginning of the year. I cannot truly say whether the book is just plain boring or is not my type, but the last time I flipped the pages of that book was two months ago.

All of these because of responsibilities.

I'm probably in one of those stages in life where the stick shift is on neutral and everything seems to be fleeting from one place to another. The temporal order of the universe subjects me to changes I'm not fully prepared for, which in turn drives me to change paths as well, until I reach a destination where I realizing my machine-like existence running on a futile purpose. However, as days go by, my purpose is losing out of me, as I am led trudging along with the whisper of orders that take me deeper into nowhere.

Okay, so that was a really melodramatic paragraph right now. I'm over-exaggerating, obviously, as I am happy with a lot of things running in my life as of the moment. However, dealing with aspect outside my personal life, the future looks a little too bleak for comfort.

Phoughts To Tonder

For those wanting to take a vacation somewhere in the Philippines, make sure that you visit Potipot Island, which is a 10-15 boat ride away from Zambales. White sand and clear water abound this exalting piece of land devoid of the gloss and glamor of Boracay, which is definitely a good thing. The Island is pretty small as you can walk along the shore and come back to where you started in less than 30 minutes. Also, it is advisable that you bring tents along with you because there is no shelter to shade you from the sun. Ah, the sexiness of burnt skin.

Wrestlemania XXIV was pretty good. I watched it with a couple of friends and was not disappointed one bit. There were filler matches (Kane vs. Chavo Guerrero for the ECW Title, Batista vs. Umaga, BunnyMania), good matches (the surprisingly entertaining Floyd Mayweather vs. The Big Show, Triple Threat Match For The WWE Championship), great matches (Edge vs. Undertaker for the Heavyweight Championship, Money In The Bank), and a pretty spectacular match that led most to take out their hankies from their pockets and wipe that wet spot from their eyes (Ric Flair vs. Shawn Michaels).

What made the event better was the fact that my friends and I were watching it in a movie house with other wrestling fans. Everybody cheered and booed for their favorite wrestlers, which made me think that this is perhaps the closest thing I would get to a WWE stadium (not counting the possibility of me watching a future WWE tour in the Philippines).

Finally, the long wait is over as Meshuggah finally released their latest Magnum Opus entitled obZen. It's pretty standard Meshuggah fare with discordant riffs, impeccable drumming, and mind-blowing use of time signatures. They seemed to have continued from their previous releases (Catch Thirty-Three, I), which is definitely fine by me. And for the record, "Bleed" stands along "New Millennium Cyanide Christ," "Abnegating Cecity," "Cadavrous Mastication," "Rational Gaze," and "Shed" and one of its best songs ever.

Feel Good Drag

2008-02-05T17:40:00.000-08:00

There comes a time when you have to evaluate the path your life has been coursing throughout the year. For me, that time comes every January.

Believe me, it wasn't the easiest thing to do -- evaluating 2007. There were undeniably great moments, i.e. watching Youtube and sleeping on my desk during the night shift, summer escapade at Puerto Galera and Bohol, buying an Ibanez Jem Jr., but it was unfortunately overshadowed by really disheartening events that occurred during the later part of the year. Also, I most definitely underwent an epiphany that the stupid shits I have done and wished I did otherwise were, indeed, stupider than they seem.

So in essence, my January is the month to not only meant to make be feel like a million dollar douchebag, but it's also the time to clean out the bin of past baggages and make way for new trash to arrive. Ultimately, I end up shedding my old skin and growing back a new shiny coat in order to prevent the old crap from happening again, all for the sake of being a better man (even if not much) than the previous year.

As part of my skin-shedding fiasco, one of the first things I did was to leave from my current employer for a greater, funner, and more profitable opportunity outside. However, allow me to say I had a blast for almost two years with the company and have met the strangest, if not HORNIEST people in the metro.

Officemate # 1: gusto ko kumanta
Officemate # 1: pero gusto ko mic ni #!$@#$@# ang ggmit ko
Officemate # 1: ;))
Me: mic ni #!$@#$@#......
Me: :|
Officemate # 1: uu...
Officemate # 1: hairy mic
Officemate # 1: down der
Officemate # 1: :))
Me: taglibog ka pa rin

---

Officemate # 2: wag ka umalis
Officemate # 2: maganda ang [company name]
Officemate # 2: it's the first company I fell inlove with
Officemate # 2: and they have been good to you naman eh
Me: yes yes i know i know
Me: maganda vayad and shitz
Officemate # 2: no reason to leave
Me: ikaw rin
Officemate # 2: well as you can see dim ang future ko
Officemate # 2: so
Officemate # 2: yun
Me: dim like my pubic hair
Me: very bushy
Officemate # 2: yis

Finally, I seem to have met my match! Seriously though, watching YouPorn and other retarded hardcore sex videos will never be the same anymore knowing that they won't be around behind my back watching along with me.

Another thing that...well, nevermind.

But it's all good because I know everything will turn out fine in the end. I'll enjoy my soon-to-be job, I'll marry, find out that my sperm isn't fertile, will lose a lot of hair, and after that, I'll die sooner than expected. Amf!

"'Till I opened my eyes and walked out the door
And the clouds came tumbling down
And it's bye-bye goodbye I tried"

- Ben Folds, "Landed"

Following Instructions

2008-01-15T01:38:00.000-08:00

Hay. Read carefully.

Nominate your top 3 or 5 favorite humor blogs

post your list in your blog then go HERE and let them know who you voted

Include THIS LINK in your entry as well

Distribution of Points:

Top 1 – 500 votes
Top 2 – 400 votes
Top 3 – 300 votes
(Top 4 – 200 votes)
(Top 5 – 100 votes)

Ok. Now, watch me DOH it!

Top 1: The Mundane Side Of Road
Top 2: The Devil Made Me Do It
Top 3: The Badly Written Sitcom

Now, do steps 2 and 3.

Oh, and by the way, Kwentong Barbero

Okay, thanks.

Short Stabs At Reality

2008-01-14T18:08:00.000-08:00

Because I love doing late-notice blogs.

My celebration for the new year was unintentionally explosive, to say the least. I spent half of my time sitting on the toilet and unleashing my own brand of fireworks out my ass. I was suffering from diarrhea and every time I tried to eat something, I'm just gonna crap it out after 10 minutes or so. Considering that the food during this time of the year is nothing short of succulent and tasty, diarrhea blows. Literally.

This year is starting to be one of the worst in recent memory. Even the people that I know aren't too thrilled with hows things are going with their lives. It probably has something to do with personal and internal issues that remain unresolved, just like yours truly. However, I don't really like to think about it. As Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor in Moulin Rouge said, "Come what maaaaaaaay..."

Since late last year, a lot of guys whom I hanged out before, during, and after work have resigned, plans to resign, or fallen out of favor with their current accounts. In fairness, their displeasure for work is understandable since career growth is almost non-existent this company (as far as our track is concerned). With that said there's no more Webdate and no more silly banters and pointless gimmicks among co-workers (not on a grand scale, at least), which means more silent moments while watching lots of tumbleweeds roll from the distance.

Everything kind of fell apart in the end, but not on sour note. Still, closing one chapter of one's life is almost always sad, or not. But then again, people have to move on and go on with their life.

On a lighter note, I've began drinking again. Regularly. Like, 3 bottles a day. Yeah! As Aristotle and some Chinese Philosopher said, "Moderation is key."

And so I get to enjoy our gigs more. Usually, I don't drink when our band plays that evening because I'm manning the wheel and I don't want to crash and burn on the road like a prom queen anytime soon. But ever since I've started to drink beer in moderation in our gigs, I've become more, gasp, pleasant to be with!

Still, it doesn't change the fact that I'm still a chump and a whore. So there.

Again, on a lighter note: please do listen to Sigur Rós during your spare time. Search them on Youtube, download them on Limewire, I don't care. Just do it.

2008 Wish List

2008-01-03T16:32:00.000-08:00

watch all David Cronenberg, David Lynch, and Stephen Chow films

read five of the penned 'Great American Novels': The Great Gatsby, Moby Dick, To Kill A Mockingbird, Grapes Of Wrath, The Scarlet Letter

slowly but surely pick off Pablo Neruda writings off the shelves, in an attempt to bring back my fancy for poetry

have Kings of Convenience's "Cayman Islands," "Winning The Battle, Losing The War," "Homesick," "Manhattan Skyline," "I Don't Know What I Can Save You From," "The Weight Of My Words," and "Failure" down pat on the acoustic

FINALLY master the chromatic scale and sweep-picking

have the complete collection of Jim Lee's X-Men, all in .pdf format

memorize and name parts of the car without even having to look at them, a skill that alpha-males are inherently blessed with

list subject to change over the course of the month

Let's Do A Story!

2007-12-18T19:37:00.000-08:00

Word.

Title: everythingsfineeverythingsfineeverhtusjbfkdjfsfkhj

Characters: Lava, The World, Things, Sadness

Story: Lava came from the outskirts of the Bennysukks universe and has been considered as a failure by his fellow aliens in all the things he does. One light year, he decided to run away from the shits that have been flung to him since his rude awakening, and start life anew.

While traveling the galaxy with his vessel, he came across the World, a place filled with imaginations and possibilities that have yet to be unlocked. Amidst his observation of the World from a distance, Lava thinks of the place as suitable to start his life anew, while developing an intense fascination with blow-torched genitals, long-winded roads, and the concept of being a loser. Lava then transformed into a 20-something male to hide his heinous appearance (by human standards)and to appear normal.

Throughout the years as an inhabitant of the World, Lava begins to live life under his terms. He has had encounters with Things, those that make the World more meaningful, and has enjoyed their company from the very start. All this time, he thought that he had been free from the ghost that was holding him back in the Bennysukks universe. At least, that was he thought during that time.

It was the first time that fateful day when Lava met Sadness, a beautiful being who encompasses the physical realm. Sadness was a mere concept but exploded with feelings that the alien Lava has never felt before from Things, that of sweet and glorious pain. Lava then developed a morbid affinity with Sadness, that he ravaged and raped Sadness to everything that it stood.

Days after, Lava found out all of a sudden how Things no longer acknowledged his presence. When he was with Things, he felt dead and apathetic, feelings that he experience while in the Bennysukks universe. At the same time, his appearance as an alien was slowly showing in front of the Things -- his shriveled nipples, upside-down nose, bushy ass-hairs, and eyes attached to his balls. Realizing this, he immediately ran away as fast and far as he could on long-winded roads to hide his deficiencies, while left feeling like a loser. Although everything he saw was putrid and rotten as a blow-torched genital, he lost the luster he once held for it. Immediately, everything became Sadness.

In the end, Lava ate tuna sandwich and drank pineapple juice in the smallest corner of the world.

Moral: No matter how disgusting and gross they are, blow-torched genitals are oogy.

Problems And Bottles Of Beer

2007-12-17T22:57:00.000-08:00

Last night, I invited my friend to join me in a pity session of the ages. Rarely do I have somebody by my side to share my personal issues matters because I usually deal it by myself. I don't want other people to be burgeoned with my life inadequacies and insecurities, since I assume that they have their problems of their own. I could have dwelled with it alone like I used to, but I told to myself, "Fuck that shit."

In my valiant attempt to masquerade as a normal person, my friend and I ended up in this familiar joint we usually spend with our other friends during happier days. The benevolent '80s music blaring from the speakers of the dim-lighted bar proves to be a perfect setting for a personable conversation, happy or sad. What I was about to begin, however, is far from happy.

Of all people, he is the perfect guy to talk to regarding my situation for he has experienced the same thing a couple of years ago. He also asked to accompany him and his misery the afternoon he found out about his problem. We ended up spending that sunless afternoon repeatedly listening to Steve Vai's "Whispering A Prayer" instead.

However, last night turned out differently than expected. Instead of the usual gloom n' doom associated with manly heart-to-heart conversations, I was actually giddy and talkative -- two words that don't usually get associated with my name -- while relating my problem to him. Maybe I was concealing the fact that I have failed again and again as a human being, hence making me a miserable chap. Looking back, I concealed pretty well.

In return, he did supplant me with advice on how he dealt with his situation before. He mentioned how I never really shared much about myself before, about my past failures, and so I did. In the end, our conversation turned out to be more than just bitching about how lame we are, but also how beautifully distorted, and at the same time meaningful, our lives have become, all while gobbling on oily pork tips and chugging bottles of beer. Suffice to say, t'was a fruitful endeavor, minus the fruits.

After the emotional, albeit fun, outpour, we headed back to his car and played tunes from the late '90s, the time in our lives we will cherish the most, with the car windows down, driving on our way home. I never realized how I love Pearl Jam and Cranberries until that evening, or maybe because I was tipsy.

As we arrived in front of my house, he told me to listen to a particular song that speaks about my situation. I immediately went in front of the computer and downloaded it off Limewire, and search for its lyrics. And it goes:

So let me in
All that I wanted from you
Was something you'd never do
So let me in
Oh please tonight
Don't let this end
Tonight
I'll Fall

THREE POINTS TO CONSIDER ABOUT THIS BLOG ENTRY:

It's nice to eat more than you can handle.

I suck as a human being.

I'm getting better at pretending everything is dandy

Year-End Status Report

2007-12-04T17:30:00.000-08:00

2007 has come and gone, I don't really know where to begin. To be honest, it's not a roller-coaster ride, as everybody would say about their own. Although my year is filled with ups and downs, and the mandatory deep-down-under-that-I-don't-wanna-live-anymore feeling during July and August, I would say the year majority of the year went pretty well, minus the thrills and loops.

Things were unfolding in their boring way (a way which I thoroughly like) outside from the occasional slip-ups that I commit once in a while. However, my year took a tremendous fall from grace just this past week, for reasons that will never be disclosed. Imagine yourself jumping off the top of Mount Canyon, but in this case, the pull of gravity seems to last forever, deceiving me to hold a sense of false hope that I would fly and soar back to the top, until reality smashes my body down the ground. Stupid. The law of gravity states that what comes up MUST DEFINITELY come down, and yet I hoped otherwise.

Which is actually one of the worst feelings in the world -- an undetermined, yet inevitable fall.

People unlike me would probably take my situation with a grain of salt and move on with their lives. However, let me tell you a little secret that most of you unconsciously know about me:

I'm fucking abnormal.

Hence, I don't think I can truly recover from this debacle soon.

But I refuse to show signs of distress. I will not render my feelings to a limp, pathetic state because that's very high school. Thank God I'm old.

I have a saying that I try to follow once in a blue moon, and it goes, "The trick is to not care." However, I do care.

Merry Christmas Everybody!

Very Thoughtful

2007-10-17T21:57:00.000-07:00

As I was going through the notions of cubicle life here at my current job, i.e. seesawing between watching Heroes and doing part-time work, my fellow officemate The Blind Rage (writer of award-winning blog The Mundane Side of the Road, recipient of ZeXXXy Beast Award, and co-writer of How To Make Your Kuyukot Throb) hands me one of these ditties:

Now, I thought to myself, "What the hell? Somebody actually reads my blog???" Let's face it, I don't update my blog as frequently as before when I was unemployed (ah, those were the days), and then I get this.

Maybe it's because of me not sharing my thoughts anymore, which makes me...thoughtful? Yes, that's probably it. You're welcome too, by the way.

Summer Ist Krieg

2007-10-09T22:48:00.000-07:00

Pardon me for this long overdue entry. I don't really like talking about the events that its putrid form in my life, but since I have a lot of time to kill, might as well write something substantial.

This past summer has been one of the best experiences in my life so far.

It all started when I was moved to the night shift, from 9 P.M. to 6 A.M., because my work schedule entailed me to do so. Not that I hated that fact, but, thinking about the gigs that our band could have performed on during the weekdays, it was disheartening to say the least. Plus, I was the only one moved from our original team at work (I'll refer to them as the Webdate team), so I didn't have anybody to talk to during that time.

However, as nights had come and gone, I just realized that the night shift is loads better than the regular shift! Imagine this scenario: no traffic going to office AND back home, peaceful environment, pacified (or lullabied) co-workers, and best of all, exclusive only to my line of work, only three (3) hours worth of labor time! The remaining six hours I do part-time work, watch a couple of videos, and you have a happy man who slaves his weekend in front of the computer looking for people to talk to in the wee hours of the morning!

It only gets better from here, folks.

This past summer also heralded my passion for the beach, and it curiously began with listening to "Cayman Island" by Kings of Convenience. Nothing that overtly suggests images of sand and salt water, but the song's wistful melodies and sweet lyrics are reminiscent of basking under the hot sun and having yourself carried by the sea. Not drift far away and get marooned in a lonesome island with a coconut tree - that ain't lovely at all- but drift near enough that I could get back to the shore with ease. Of course, I am taking everything too seriously and should stop right about...now.

Anyway, the first stop was to take my sojourn this past April with the Webdate team to Puerto Galera - a poor man's Boracay, I must admit, but it did get the job done. Nothing really spectacular about the place, just lots of people, like gremlins crammed in a jar. Although this would normally put me off my gaiety, it didn't really bother me at all since I tremendously enjoyed the company of the guys from Webdate. I got hammered, did stuff, shouted stuff in public, ran like my ass was on fire in public, and just...stuff - the good kind, of course. I'm omitting the things that occurred without my full knowledge or consciousness of it, so don't bother.

However, the best thing that happened to me in Galera was when we crawled under a hill to reach the lagoon on the other side the next morning, and by golly, time stopped and my heart raced as I lay witness to one of the best sights I've seen to date. Actually, it was nothing special, a small body of clear water separated from the beach. I'm sure people have seen feces with shapes and sizesmore awe-inspiring than the one that I have displayed here, but the timing and the mood did it for me. I had "Cayman Island" playing in my mind while swimming from end to end, touching the stones and having our pictures taken while still hung over from last night's drinking binge. It's awesome, to say the least, that a piece of land or a plain body of water, in its simplicity, can evoke the profoundest of emotions, the highest of highs. Up to this day, it is my Cayman Island. And for the record, except from alcohol, no recreational drug/s or medication/s was/were taken during the whole Galera shebang.

Of course, how could I praise this past summer without mentioning my Bohol experience. I wrote an entry about it, so read it if you must. To add, I hope Bohol doesn't get raped and pillaged by foreigners horny for white sands and exotic destinations. Let it become the country's best kept secret since Joey Ayala and Cynthia Alexander started making music.

This past summer taught me to keep my feet grounded on the important things, namely: the country's natural resources, simplicity of life in rural areas, and spankin' ass tunes by Kings of Convenience. That's how we roll in the P.I., muthafukkers!

6

2007-09-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, someone (Tina) "tagged" me into one of these you-better-not-break-the-"tag"-chain-or-else-I'm-gonna-scrap-your-balls-with-a-barber's-razor schlock. I thought these "tag" blog entries have run out its course late last year, but for the 13420489th time, I have been proven wrong. So, without further ado, let's get on with this shit.

The rule

"Each player of this game starts with 6 weird things about you. People who get tagged need to write a list of their own 6 weird things as well as state the rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says you are tagged in their comments and tell them to read your blog."

*Sigh* Here it goes:

I have a pattern when I walk on tiled floors. I step inside the floor tiles, and I don't step on the lines that separate each tile from another (forgot what that shit is called). I also step only on the tiles with the same color. Furthermore, if the tiles are regular (1x1), I walk with my one foot cross a tile, while the other foot crosses two tiles. Of course, I won't tell you how I came up with this, or where I actually do this weirdness, simply because I don't want you to make fun of me while I do it. It's not like I don't have feelings, you know.
Here's another shitty weird fact: I eat with a coordinated number of servings for the rice and toppings (unless I don't get to put the food on the plate). I usually take two (2) spoonfuls of rice, followed by (3) spoonful of toppings. It's actually a complicated ratio of food-to-rice servings, and it would probably take me a long time to explain it, so I'll stop here. I accidentally came up with during high school when I wanted to trim down, which seemed to work.
I get depressed during the months of July to August. Must be the rain, although I do love the rain. Reminds me of listening to Elliott Smith or Agalloch at home while drinking a warm cup of Swiss Miss. Still, I have yet to understand why my mood fluctuates into a downtrodden and pathetic state during the given months.

Although the word happens to be thrown a lot by people who think they are suffering from such a condition, being depressed is more than just losing a purpose to live or feeling the emotions robbed away from you like your virginity; it's simply taking a sort of exam from the guidance office that determines whether or not you are depressed. Apparently, I took that test and scored so low that she didn't even bother to show me the results.

I equip myself with an extremely low and depraving self humor. I call myself stupid and shitass (add that one to the dictornary, folks!) most of the time because I made a minor mistake. I have some people call me gay just for kicks, even though I'm really not (I'm not), but if my friends heard of this, well, let's just say they won't like it one bit.

I obsess over failure. I don't like failure, but when I do fail, I won't be able to sleep. I'll look back at where and how I made a mistake, and I'll muse over the things that I could have done differently. I'll turn on my self-hibernating mode (more on that later), play a depressing song on the radio, and just THINK about what would have been if I did it right.

I'd rather be alone most of the time. Not that I don't like the company of people, but I find it therapeutic when I walk alone inside malls or watch movies by myself. I'd rather lock myself up inside the house than going out with friends and doing normal shit. Loser noh?

So there. Although I ended the blog on a sour note, it's still good, dude tsong pare. Whatever.

I tag: Doy (haha), Yumi, Cams, the Amazing Fred, Sir Jomi, and Florangela. Hopefully, they're gonna find out that I still have my crap-ass blog here at Blogger. Happy huntings to them!

Dugyot Sa Cebu

2007-09-18T08:19:00.000-07:00

Video Game Memory Lane

2007-08-31T00:15:00.000-07:00

A few hours ago, I have been updating myself with the video game world. Yes, I am a product of the video game console generation, starting from Atari 2600, to the Sony Playstation. I consider Super Mario World from the Super Nintendo and SaGa Frontier from the Playstation as two of the best games I have ever played and beaten. However, after graduating from high school, I severed ties with my fascination towards the gaming world after realizing how Tekken Tag Tournament alone took about a thousand pesos off my allowance money, while toiling hours on role playing games such as the Final Fantasy series nearly killed the development of my social life.

However, out of curiosity and watching too many Angry Video Game Nerd videos from Screw Attack, I was compelled to check out the featured videos of Final Fantasy and Metroid from Gametrailers.com. My curiosity turned out to be a look back in the good ‘ole days.

Watching the Final Fantasy Retrospective was awe-inspiring. The orchestral theme from Final Fantasy VII still gives me goose bumps up even after a decade, while my ass hairs grow a centimeter longer. Ah, the sensation. Anyway, Final Fantasy VII deserves the high praises and recognition from gamers and is known as the game that broke Squaresoft into gaming mainstream consciousness. Despite the release of countless RPG titles that led to the eventual saturation of the genre, FFVII will always stand out as the game that started it all.

But I would like to remember FFVII as the game I played late every night with my friends during the summer of 1998, just after playing in our annual village basketball league. Next thing you know, I was transported back to my childhood, when all that mattered were playing video games, eating baked ziti from Sbarro, and listening to “Save Yourself” by Stabbing Westward and “Dropping Anchor” by Jimmy's Chicken Shack ad nauseam. The Retrospective featured on Gametrailers.com reinforced the notion that video games do indeed make for good memories.

On the other hand, watching the Metroid Retrospective, an awesome 2-D side-scroller turned first person adventure, had me thinking of buying either the DS or the PSP. Maybe I’m still not yet through with gaming after all.

Phooey

2007-08-04T14:52:00.000-07:00

The last day of July has finally come and passed, and yet I still feel apathetic in writing something to commemorate my 12-month employment with my current job, the purchase of an Ibanez guitar (JEM-JR) that was long overdue, and my 23^rd birthday. In fact I’m actually forcing myself to write something, anything, to add something in my personal ingenuity. Well, as of late, I've been running low with it.

However, after listening to Slowdive with a couple of friends while drinking brandy during my mother’s birthday a while ago, it reminded me how I was once looking for a full-time job after an unsuccessful stint as a contributor for the Manila Times while drifting with that particular band's music. I remembered how I was handing my resumes to different companies, some of which were not even looking for applicants at that time, while expressing success through long sleeves and well-trimmed slacks.

In fact, I miss the feeling of applying to different companies and enjoying the luxury of their seats inside their cool and comfortable offices after taking a long walk looking for its address under the rain. It was fun because everything will have to change from hereon. This means no more academics for me, at least, not for the meantime.

Aside from this, I remembered how lowly I thought of myself. After graduation, I felt having squandered my college life mulling over which career path to take. As much as Philosophy has been of great help in my growth as a person, the course left me feeling, as the previous title of my blog suggests, inadequate.

This particular feeling subsided after the couple of weeks going in my first full-time gig. After developing rapport with my co-workers and getting acquainted with leading a professional career, I have not looked back ever. This was all before July of this year.

Despite the great things that happened this past year, July ultimately reminded me of the things I didn’t like in life just by being with people. I’m not a misanthrope, at least not anymore, but I can’t add anything regarding this matter that would make it less complicating. I may be experiencing one of those months in which I am ultimately bound to feel like shit in everythingI do, and has Sartre’s immortal line “Hell is other people” as my motto for the time being. “Lagi na lang walang gana,” as my co-workers would aptly put it.

I assume that this feeling isn’t going to last forever, as with my previous encounters with downer months, but still, a stable job, a spankin’ new guitar, and a number added to my age do not change me one bit. I’m still the same wilting wallflower adorned on the deepest corners of the room, trying in vain to be unnoticed. In other words, there’s still a lot to be done.

So much for commemoration. Time to live.

The Death Of Music

2007-06-09T11:30:00.000-07:00

Phoughts To Tonder

I normally wouldn’t put certain things into writing, but for the sake of “finding my voice” as a pussy-ass writer, and for the fact that I have nothing to do this 1 o’clock in the morning, here it goes.

Two weeks ago, our PC had to be reformatted because the ever-so-crappy Windows would crash every time the log-in screen was loading. The culprit, as I later found out, happened to be a spyware under the name svchost.exe. Or was it scvhost.exe? Anyway, I had to start from scratch and retool the PC from the ground up. Spyware sucks, I say.

All of my documents which spanned from high school to my current job have been erased from the hard disk. Yes, it does blow, especially if the synthesis paper that was considering among the best in the batch was also deleted *coughcoughBUUUUUUULSHIT!cough* Anyway, that’s not the reason why I’m writing this “blog.” That day also had me bidding farewell to my six-year old .mp3 collection which spanned over 2,000 songs.

I know the number of songs in my collection pales in comparison to other people, and you’re probably thinking that I should just download them again from the Internet using a DSL or cable connection. However, that is beside the point. Most of these songs are downloaded from Napster (!) and Soulseek using a 56K dial-up modem. It usually took me about 30-40 minutes to download a 4mb song, so you can probably imagine what I’m feeling right now realizing that the 100+ hours I have invested downloading those songs off the Internet would only be wiped out by a single spyware in a matter of seconds.

Most of those songs have become sort of anthems for me during college. Apparently, you become affected by music if you keep on listening to them endlessly during the day. I won’t have to list down the name of the artists since it’s pretty irrelevant at the moment. It’s just that every time I listen to their songs, I get transported back to the Rizal Library in Arnnnnneow where I always fall asleep on the desk while reading Kant’s Critique Of Pure Reason for our Philosophy class. God, that was fucking boring.

Having your songs erased from your hard drive can be compared to having your diary stolen by your bratty brother, or that your underwear has gotten crusty from too much use and not much cleaning. Even if you tried recapturing that old feeling, writing the same thoughts from your stolen diary or purchasing brand new underwear from the same brand will surely fail to produce the sensation and spark that you once felt for them.

And right now, trying to write off the loss of an .mp3 collection still leaves a bitter taste on my mouth.

---

In related news, I just found out that Anneke van Giersbergen is leaving the Gathering. The death of music, indeed.

Things That I've Learned in Bohol

2007-05-21T16:23:00.000-07:00

- I never really realized how 'special' ubes are made in Bohol until this trip. According to locals, only women are allowed to make ube in Bohol. Busty, naked women under the full moon, that is! The breasts of the woman would "kiss" the ube before it is reaped, or something. After the ube is ripe for the taking, a crack resembling a woman's genital would appear at the surface of the ube. Now, imagine Sunshine Cruz making them ubes. Tasty.

- Locals have also a tale on how the Chocolate Hills were formed. There are actually three versions of the story, and one of the stories had something to do with feces. However, the tour guide only narrated the romantic story, so that disappointed me a bit.

Once upon a time, there was a giant who had a fascination to a townsgirl in Carmen. Unfortunately for the giant, he could only admire the girl at a distance because she already has a boyfriend. And so, the giant gave up on pursuing the girl of his dreams. Well, almost. One day, the giant caught a glimpse of the women taking a both somewhere in perhaps one of the lakes of Carmen. The giant was simply awestruck by the nakedness of the woman that he inched closer to the scene. For he can no longer keep his desires inside, the giant lunged at the woman and embraced her. Little did the giant know that his passionate embrace accidentally suffocated and killed the women. Griefstricken, the giant wept endlessly and let out huge teardrops at the land. Thus, the huge mounds.

Looking at the picture, I wonder how the feces version would go.

-Loboc prides themselves as the town with the best singers in the Philippines. Collectively, they destroy 99.9% of the singing population in the country. The best singers of the town happens to be between 8 to 12 years of age. In fact, the town has an ensemble who has performed on international competitions, most notably in Spain. The contest requires each participating group to sing at least one Spanish compostion, and apparently, the Boholano kids not only bagged the crowd, but also kicked the living shit out of the groups who even had Spanish as their native language. Now that's Pinoy (does the thumbs up gesture)!

- The beaches in Bohol are the best. I shit you not, my friend. It is definitely better than the overhyped Boracay, unless you prefer nightlife partying than pure island getaway. But since I am such an anti-social bitch, I'd choose Bohol in a heartbeat.

Balicasag is among the top 3 snorkling spots in the Philippines. The first one, if I recall correctly, is in Palawan. The tour guide was not able to recall the second best snorkling spot, which leaves Balicasag at number three. It takes roughly around 45 minutes from this place in Bohol which I forgot (stupid me) by palm boat to reach the island. Not a lot of people in Balicasag, I would say. In my humble opinion, the island's white sand and clear salt water pisses all over the commercialized beaches in the country. The snorkling experience was grand. Really, swimming at the deep blue and seeing the corals and the school of fishes make you wonder at the profundity of existence, and you suddenly feel this tingling sensation of wanting to experience all of these beauty in one single flush. But then again, that's just me.

Panglao is seen to be Bohol's version of Boracay. Again, white sand and clear water never dissapoints. One thing that is different with this beach as compared to other beaches is the division between its public and private areas. People coming from the palm boats have to pay a little bit more to enter the private area. The discrepancy has never been much more evident as the public area is loaded with people while the private only boasts a handful of fortunate tourists. Yes, such a system in the beach may appear to be snobbish and elitist, but not unless you reside on that side. Apparently, we were on the private area.

-After coming home from this vacation, I would pretty much save up enough money to go back there again. Seriously, I have yet to go to the Bee Farm and this cave they were talking about, among many other things. A little bit on the expensive side, but this is the real deal, folks! Bohol is d' best (does the thumbs up gesture yet again)!

A Tribute To Webdate

2007-02-26T10:36:00.000-08:00

As of writing, it's already 2:27 AM, with our stomachs filled from eating "lunch" at the pantry room (chicken strips...mmm...) I'm also currently annoyed by one of my officemates right now, rubbing my crown with her fists, messing up my hair (not like it's fixed or something, but you get my drift.) On my left, two cubicles apart, my other officemate is listening to A Perfect Circle, Cradle of Filth, and Slipknot on his headset, but with volume that screams indifference. to the world around. Two cubicles away to his left, is another officemate of mine. Well, she's not actually there right now (as of most of the time,) because she's hanging with her friends across the room. All in all, another regular day here at Webdate.

This is what I'm going to write if I were to add another decrepit entry on my lameass blog two months ago.

A lot of changed since then. The client pulled out, leaving all of us "floating" in the office for quite a while. Some have found accounts as quick as you can say "HB," "Trax," and "Delwood" in a sentence (Bravo to Tina, Paeng, Ed, and Gil,) while others continue to drift away while singing the annoying "Welcome To The Black Parade" and making crazy dance moves in the Training Room. I'm sure you'll all get clients, Raffy, Renzy, Ed (again,) and Rhae. Especially Rhae.

I got to see all of this transpire, but whether it was fortunate of me or not, you decide. Waiting at the Training Room for something, anything, to happen was as painful as getting stuck in a middle of nowhere. I simply felt that I should have been doing something instead of taking naps and frequenting Paul's desk, watching "Story of the Year" (secret.) As waiting for an account got a bit exhausting, the days got a bit longer, and life moved, but paused at the same time.

However, last Friday night, I got a call from Paul, saying that he got me an account scheduled at night, and my tenure would start next week. So there. I got what I wanted, an account. Yahoo.

But then, everything slowly sank in to me. Night shift. Account. This is what I wanted, right?

Kind of. It was cathartic, the fact that I'll be beginning a new chapter in my life, while closing what seemed to be one of my more entertaining moments in recent memory, being with the guys from Webdate. Kinda like orgasm gone awry.

Webdate was, for the most part, a dysfunctional group; a collection of individuals with contrasting personalities, of polar opposites (Renzy and Tina.) But like yin and yang, they stabilize the balance of the office space, as well as annoy certain accounts and project managers with their death-defying stubborness and their proclivity to piss people who are against them.

At the same time, Webdate are hooligans who knew how to have a great time together. From the hallowed bed scene incident in Tagaytay, the office romances, and the publicized sexual frustrations of some of its members (my lips are sealed,) these bitches definitely know how to stir shit in the pot, a pot which I would gladly dive if given the chance, as long as I won't have to dive along with shemales and/or erect horses.

Thanks for the seven months, Webdate. And, quoting a literary master, " I hechu all!"

P.S. Ginawa ko 'to dahil board ako. Yeah, you read that right! Board!

2007-01-24T22:32:00.000-08:00

Over the past few months, you readers (however few you might be, or I may be just talking to no one at all) have noticed that I haven't been as prolific in writing blogs as I was back in April to June. Well, I can easily explain myself for that. In fact, this explanation of mine has been long overdue.

During those days, I haven't been employed yet, so there was really nothing to do but fill my empty time writing shit on this blog. Yes, you heard me. Shit. Those Phoughts To Tonder entries I did? Shit. Anyway, that all changed after I became a "writer" for a certain company. However, what I didn't know was that being a "writer" for that company meant that...shit, I shouldn't even be saying thist. Point is, eventually, my "writing profession," as one may aptly see it, took its toll on my blog writing because I am basically doing the same thing in INADEQUACY and my current work. You know, bitching, rambling about how smelly my ass was, and writing about why I'm writing about nothing at all. I hope the last one made sense.

So what is the moral of this blog entry of mine? Emptiness makes us do something in our lives, no matter how meaningless the things we do might be. Holy shit, I better stop now, before I make less sense...

...lest we forget the year that has come and passed...

2007-01-05T03:47:00.000-08:00

By the time I am writing this, I have finished my "work"earlier than usual, as I'm nonchalantly chatting around with the people from my YM list, and searching some music videos from the 90's at Youtube.

Just like you, everybody else will have downplayed the fact that it's already 2007, since people would probably expect the same shit to happen to them ("Different day, same old shit," as people would say.) However, looking back at the year that was, I would honestly have to say that it's one for the books. Consider:

I graduated from college last March, just before I was about to give up on studying.
My writing started to get better, thanks to my exposure in writing feature articles for Manila Times, and now, my current job at iWebmasters.com
Descant Gott participated in last year's Red Horse Beer Muziklaban. Although the band didn't win, it proved to me that all the time and hard work I invested on this band wasn't laid to waste. Add to the fact that the Red Horse Muziklaban 2006 was just released weeks ago would only (fingers crossed) bolster the interest of peopel to the band. Sorry if I'm getting ahead of myself, but I'm just glad that the band is here to stay (again, fingers crossed...)
I got a sweet-ass job at the aforementioned iWebmasters.com. Although I have to admit that I could have gotten a better job with a more challenging workload and a more lucrative paycheck from a different company, this isn't bad for a first job. Plus, I have gotten to meet some of the best officemates in the world, ever. Top that, beyatch!
I have gotten to rid myself from purchasing a lot of CDs that I probably wouldn't listen to anyway. (WARNING: I will meander for a moment...) I mean, music is so cheap nowadays, with people having their iPods attached to their bodies like accesories to signify their status or something. Whatever. Forget what I said.

So there. Obviously, I'm just happy that I'm getting older, meaning that I'm nearing my death and all that jazz. Actually, I'm not really happy that I'm gonna die soon. It's just that I don't know how to end my blog. I mean, my officemate's spinning her chair just behind me, and she's feeling quite dizzy right now.

Oh yeah, I just remembered that I'm currently obsessed with Urbandub. Yeah, they rock! "Frailty" is probably my favorite song right now. Nothing can beat the line, "Awaken this sleeping heart of mine/ and be here now..."

Smelly Underwears and Weird Looking Clitorides

2006-12-12T13:53:00.000-08:00

Before I begin, did you know that the plural form of the word clitoris is clitorides? Wow!
---
Ok, I have 7 minutes before I finish my shift, and I've been itching to write something substantial on my blog for eons already. So what my point for saying these things? I say screw my shift! I'm gonna type something 'til my fingers bleed! Haha! Even though my officemate is sitting beside me cleaning her dirty feet! Wahaha!

First off, my Yahoo! account has been hacked. Over the weekend, I tried to access my Yahoo! email at my friend's house to kill some time, but after typing the necessary information and clicking to log in, the screen reappeared and stated that I typed the wrong username/password. I tried doing it again and again, but to no avail. I simply cannot access my account anymore.

I can't remember changing my password prior to this, so I guess the only logical reason for this is that my account got hacked. Yes...so much for my contacts. And my email, my precious emails!

On a lighter note, it's weeks away before Christmas, and I still haven't finished buying gifts for everybody. So that means I still have to waste money to buy things that I won't get to use.

Come to think of it, that actually sucks. And this blog entry is far from substantial. I may have wasted 10 hours on your life, or even more! Haha! Wahahaha!

YOU SUCK DONKEY BALLS!

The Greatest Song In The World, And It's Not From Tenacious D!

2006-11-29T00:19:00.000-08:00

INTj Uncovered!!!

2006-11-19T22:42:00.000-08:00

from http://www.socionics.com

If there were a Weirdness Olympics between all 16 types then INTj would be an unbeatable gold medallist. In fact INTjs are so weird that they do not just appear weird to people who don't know them well but to other INTjs as well. This is because INTjs take little or no notice of what other people think. What they think themselves is much more important for INTjs. That is why if everybody are certain that bridges have to be build across the river an INTj may contemplate the possibility of building one along the river. There would probably be a logical reason for that since INTjs view everything through the square prism of logic. And as long as logical rules are obeyed everything is fine.

"I think, therefore I am" once said Rene Descartes, clearly delighted about the fact that he can think. But what he really meant was "I stink, therefore I am" since INTjs can often deprive themselves of a good bath and can happily live in a pigsty when nobody watches. They miserably fail to understand the basic needs of their bodies and therefore do not address them as a first priority. This goes for food and sex too. But do INTjs enjoy tasty food and sex? Sure, when you stick it under their nose. And what do they do to have plenty of fine food and meaningless sex? Precisely nothing. The latter one could be explained by the fact that by default INTjs are socially handicapped. Combined with their closely guarded fear of intimacy this makes it pretty hard for INTjs to get laid, resulting in many INTjs being either virgins or remaining celibate for a long time. (NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Marked with inability to clearly read people's true disposition towards themselves, INTjs compensate for it with their acquired ability to piss people off. This is rather a defensive than an offensive mechanism. It works on the principal that an angry person has very little control over their emotions and therefore cannot suppress their true feelings, which often prevents the truth from coming out. INTjs normally do not apply this principal to anybody unless they are unsure. So as long as you are true and sincere with an INTj you should be fine.

Something you can't deny is that INTjs are pretty adept at many things but one thing INTjs are really good at is at over-tightening the screws, whether it is said in a metaphorical or a literal sense. Having a natural inability to judge amounts and distributions of forces often leads them to overdo things. If you ask an INTj to design a good chair to withstand the weight of one adult, when it is finished it will probably withstand the weight of one adult elephant.

Finally, if you hear a sarcastic remark from an INTj you should know you are on dangerous ground i.e. you said something stupid. To continue in the same direction would be unwise. However if you want to enrage an INTj all you need to do is to make the same stupid remark over and over again but more importantly you have to stand by your words, i.e. show that you really mean it... Why would anyone want to do that?

Packin' Sheet at 5 A.M.

2006-10-09T13:29:00.000-07:00

1. Anong bago sa'yo ngyon?
:: next question...

2. Kumain ka na ba ng balot?
:: hindi pa. jologs ko talaga.

3. Sumuka ka na ba sa sobrang hilo?
:: sobrang hilo sa pagka-lasing. Huling naalala kong suka ko yung sa inidiro namin. Kulay orange.

4. Nakagulpi ka na ba ng tao?
:: hindi pa kasi alam mo yun, mahirap na kapag nakasakit ka nang tao. Biruin mo, baka mamaya, binagastusan mo na yung pangtubos sa yo sa presinto.

5. Nang mamanyak ka ba?
:: panong manyak ba? Ganito na lang, hindi ako naninilip, hindi ako nanghihipo, hindi ako nang-hihit-on sa kapwa tao ko, pero nanonood ako ng porno. Pwede na ba yan?

7. Umiinom ka ba hangang hindi ka na makatayo?
:: Hindi. Sabi nga ng tatay ko, drink to enjoy, not enjoy to drink.

8. Nka sakay ka na ba ng kalabaw?
:: Ay oo! Nung bata ako.

9. Naramdaman mo na bang mamamatay ka na?
:: pano ba ang mamatay? Kasi imposile mo namang maranasan ang pakiramdam ng mamamatay ka, kapag hindi ka pa talaga namatay. Anlabo ng tanong na to. I can't answer this!

10. Nayakap mo na ba crush mo?
:: SABI NANG HANGGANG PORNO LANG AKO EH!!!!!

11. Naglalaro ka ba ng apoy?
:: hindi ata.

12.Napa iyak ka na ba sa sakit ng katawan?
:: hindi. That's like, so gay...

13. Masakit bang masuntok?
:: Mas masakit ang matadyakan.

14.Marunong ka bang magRO?
:: ragnarok online? inde

15. Handa ka bang mamatay para sa iniibig mo?
:: uh.....eh?

16. Masarap bang kumain ng pagkain?
:: Depende. Pag malungkot, walang kalasa-lasa yung pagkain. Pag nakikipagdaldalan, pucha hindi naman ako makakain.

17...??asan?? :-??-- oo nga nasan?!

18. Namamato ka ba ng bato?
:: Hindi. Pero may kilala ako dati na namato ng tuyong tae kasi akala niya bato yun.

19. Nagtaksil ka na ba sa kapwa mo o kahit sino nman..?
:: ay hindi ha.

20. Nakatapak ka na ba ng tae?
:: yesssssssssss...

21. Nakatanggap ka na ba ng regalo sa buong buhay mo?
:: oo.

22. Nag-iimagine ka na ba ng bad?
:: see number 10.

23. Nakikita mo ba sarili mo sa salamin?
:: yes.

24. Alcoholic ka ba?
:: hindi.

26. Nakapanood ka na ba sa sinehan?
:: Of course! E ikaw, takilya, nakapanood ka na?

27. Gusto mo bang pumatay ng tao?
:: Hindi, kasi ayon kay Immanuel Kant, masama ang pumatay ng tao dahil labag ito sa katangian ng isang nabubuhay na tao. At ayoko gumawa ng masama.

29. Nakasuntok ka na ba ng kaibigan?
:: Dati, sa braso pahinahan ng suntok. Una, sumuntok siya, mahina. Tapos nung ako na nilakasan ko. Tas sabi ko “Talo ako”

30. Gusto mo na bang mamatay?
:: ayaw.

31. Nakipag away ka ba na umabot sa OPiS?
:: hindi. Taena pag ginawa ko nun, di patay ako. Malakas mang-alaska yung mga tao dito sa opis eh.

32. Nawala na ba ang id mo?
::oo. Bakit?

33. Nawawala mo ba pera mo?
:: nakalimutan kong kunin yung P500 na sukli dati sa gasolinahan.

34. May nagsabi na ba sayo na tamad ka?
:: lagi kong sinasabihan sarili ko.

35. May crush ka ba?
:: meron ata.

36. Sinabi mo na ba sa crush mo ang nararamdaman mo?
:: hindi

37. Napaaway ka na ba?
:: Panong away, suntukan? asaran? Alaskahan? Sigawan? Hindi pa ako nakikipag-suntukan. Asaran, oo, pero lagi akong talo. Ganun din sa alaskahan. Sa sigawan, oo, pero nauuwi siya sa alaskahan at sigawan...

38. Nagsinungaling ka na ba?
:: oo naman. gago.

39. Nakikinig ka ba sa teacher?
::madalas hindi. Basta sinusulat ko na lang yung mga sinasabi niya sa notebook ko kasi madalas naman dun nya pinaghuhunan yung mga tanong sa exams niya eh.

40. Namimis mo ba ung crush mo?
:: hindi naman.

Creative Writing

2006-09-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Teach Me More

It's really surprising how one experience from the past can determine your future. See, not only am I a member of the XXXXX community, but I am also currently a kindergarten teacher in Ohio. During those times, I developed a passion for education, and having students understand and appreciate the things that you're teaching them is one of the most gratifying experiences one can ever imagine. But of course, this realization was all triggered by a particular event.

I was neither bright nor diligent when I was a college student, as I have been known to skipping classes and failing exams because of my laziness. I would consider myself as one of the hotter personalities on campus, where guys salivate over me because of my luscious body. I'm the kind of person who has sex on her mind, in which I would hang out with guys and engage in a hot, sexual orgy with them instead of studying for my midterms.

One time, like any other time in the lecture room, while one of our teachers were returning our exam papers, in which I failed miserably, our professor wanted to talk to me and asked me to stay after class. It was late in the evening.

Our professor has led a storied carrier in this university, earning the respect and esteem from his colleagues. He's on his way to his fifties, with his thinning flaxen hair and crusty skin having served time in this world. However, his stout features and sturdy built has been able to preserve his appeal. Not that I find him attractive or anything, but he looks more handsome than people his age. Still, his reputation leaves me wondering what would happen next.

He was sitting in the chair of the lecture room where he held our classes while browsing through my papers as I stood there waiting in anticipation at the side of his table. He dropped my paper, and turned his chair to my side. We talked about my pathetic academic record, which happened to concern the other faculty members. He said that everybody saw the potential in me to become a great student if it weren't for my absences and tardinesses. I answered boorishly, saying that studying doesn't really fulfill me. His face did not really show a hint of surprise, and he calmly told me that I need to give at least a reason why I should pass the next term. I couldn't think of any.

And then things flashed before my eyes, I don't want to get out of school. I don't want my parents to know that they've been spending their money on nothing!

He then posed a proposition to me that would probably salvage my academic life. He unzipped his pants to show his erect penis to me. He told that I should suck his cock and then he would appeal to the board of directors to give me a passing mark. At first, I hesitated, thinking that this shit ain't worth it. But thinking of what my parents would say and do to me, I started to think that it's fair enough. Plus, his 9-inch boner seems inviting indeed.

I felt more secure knowing that there were no students roaming around the premises late that evening. I knelt down between his legs, pulled up my hair, and began to insert his cock in my mouth. He let out a moan after giving him head for quite a while. At times, his dickhead reached to my throat, which gagged me a little, but suddenly, the urge of making him cum was taking hold of me. I want his cum so bad, that it's not about my grades anymore. I was feeling wet in my pussy.

I stood up, leaving my professor hanging in the air. But as soon as I removed my pants and panties, which were soaked between the legs, he let out a devious smile. While still sitting on his chair, he spread his legs as I sat comfortably on his groin, with my back against his body, pushing his cock inside my pussy. His cock felt sensational sliding up and down inside as I grind my ass down to his cock to get it deeper in me. It was great. Never in my life have I thought that I would get fucked by a man in his midlife, and that I would get it good. This would even top the other younger guys that I had!

The climax approached as we were in the heat of the moment. I was getting more wet inside with every thrust from his cock. He wanted to get his cock to penetrate faster in my pussy, but our position wouldn't allow it. And so I decide to stand up and kneel down in front of him again, as I jacked his cock with my right hand while masturbating with my left. He was left helpless with pleasure, as he wanted to move, but there was no place to go. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, as the pleasure reached its critical stage. I, on the other hand, found enough satisfaction to play with my pussy. My fingers were enough to get me running, as I came out with force, having the cum splash down the floor. After continuous beating of his cock, he erupted violently in my hands, covering half of it with his man-juice. But before the moment he came out, he said in an exhausted manner, "You would definitely get an A from me!"

As soon as the both of us cleaned up and got dressed, the professor told me that my records would be reconsidered, and that there is nothing for me to worry about. Most importantly, what happened between us would forever be kept a secret. He calmly left with his things and walked out the door like a man of his stature would, with class and dignity. Seeing him leave from the room gave me the chills, something that I have never felt before. It made me wonder how a man like him still remains to be esteemed by the university.

And then from that point on, I want to be like him. I want to be respected, and at the same time, get laid by guys even if it's against their consent. Just as long as they have failing marks, I'll have them in the palm of my hands. And so, I shifted my course from Mass Communications to Education. And then, I straightened up my studying act, and graduated with honors. I never knew studying could be so much easy!

But like any other good teacher, I should continue to experience other things as well in order to learn more. That's why I joined XXXXX and created my account under the name XXXXX. With the different available guys on this site, it's not enough to become a teacher. Sometimes, you got to be a student once in a while.

The Road to Red Horse Beer Muziklaban 2006 Grand Finals

2006-09-11T07:11:00.000-07:00

This was the first picture taken from the moment we arrived at Starmall, Las Piñas for the Red Horse Muziklaban 2006 Semifinals . The band just came off a grueling 2-hour trip from Pasig while listening to Slayer's Reign in Blood, with their hit single "Angel Of Mine" ("Angel of mine/Monarch to the kingdom of the dead!") and Sepultura's Arise ad nauseum.

Like the previous round of Muziklaban, bands were asked to arrive early for briefing, at around 1:30 P.M., even though the competition itself would begin at roughly 8 P.M. The band had a lot of time to kill, where they spend most of it goofing around, and to visit the nearby Internet shop flooding their YM and Friendster accounts with messages asking people to vote for them via text message *coughcoughlameandpatheticcough*

As of this point, at around 6 P.M., half of the band were tipsy after drinking a glass of Red Horse Beer with their empty stomachs. But just before their share of beer, all of the bands were asked to have their prerequisite 5-minute soundchecks in order to get the feel of what to except from their crappy (oops...) equipment. The bands who just had their soundcheck were greeted with applause and cheers from the other competing bands. However, by the time Descant Gott finished their soundcheck, everyone was silent. The bands who were cheering before didn't cheer this time. Only our friend who was with us throughout the entire event belted out in desperation, "WHOOOOO!!!!!" After this, I thought to myself, this is gonna be interesting...

Fast forward to the time when we played. It was around 11:30 in the evening, and people were jampacked in front of the stage with their sweaty bodies. By the time we were delivering our first song, the crowd roared in approval. I was taken away by the reaction of the people. As usual, I fucked up a lot of notes, but surprisingly, it did not matter. I have never played in front of such a huge crowd before, and to get this kind of reaction from people is extraordinary. Plus, the shot that was taken by our friend was awesome. Her shot made us look like we're really good, but the fact is, well, nevermind...

After the set, we just chilled out. Actually, I can't remember anything much at this point, except that the band gets to advance to the 2006 Red Horse Beer Muziklaban Grand Finals, and I was able to get tons of free backstage beer. Plus, each of us got a free Muziklaban shirt, and a 20% discount from items at JB Music.

Weeks before the Grand Finals, we had our gig at Mayrics. First off, I can attest to you with all my heart and being, that we are not, I repeat, NOT a lazy band! However, due to academic priorities (Jay and Loubelle), work schedules (Joji and I), and whatever (Carlo), the band was forced to make do with their remaining gigs prior to the Grand Finals and treat it as preparation for Muziklaban. As a result, we did fairly well. I think. Wait, I made a mistake with the last note of our song, thus destroying one of our stronger sets for quite a while...so there.

A week later, and we're at the Cultural Center of the Philippines Open Grounds at Pasay, waiting for the Red Horse Beer Muziklaban 2006 to reach its 'exciting' finish (more of that later). Again, the remaining bands were asked to wait for the whole day, starting at 10 A.M. To make matters worse, the bands were trapped in this open wasteland where the ground was muddy because of last night's rain, and the scorching heat of the afternoon got us sweaty and smelly. And the gig hasn't even started yet. Even the camaderie that the bands shared prior to this afternoon was slowly set aside before of the frustation of waiting and doing nothing.

To give you an idea of how the evening went before we were summoned to the stage for our set, it has something to do with the new pair of shoes we got from Converse. See, the day before the Grand Finals, each of us were given a Converse All Star pair that was part of the deal after getting past the Semifinals leg of Muziklaban. Just to show you how much we were stoked to get the pair, the drummer and I wore the shoes at midnight and jogged along the halls of Robelle House where all the bands were staying, and we barged in on the rooms of some of the competing bands, most notably Kamia and I.M.O., and ran around their rooms flaunting our new pair of shoes. Of course, they have their own pair, but point is, I love my new Converse shoes!

Now, the Muziklaban organizers told us to wear the new Converse pair on the Grand Finals, since Converse is one of the sponsor for the event. If not, the band would be disqualified from participating in the event. Crappy rule, I might say. Still, in this case, rules are meant to be followed, especially when the P800,000 is within our reach!

However, walking through the Open Grounds immediately soiled, nay, defiled our brand new shoes! The feeling of desparation sinked in as everybody walked in the mud, which all of us did not except, while trying to keep their pair of Converse clean. The disappointment was palpable, as everybody, well, I, struggled to keep my composure under the heat of the sun, just because of a bum shoe.

And it didn't stop from there. Before the event started, which were spearheaded y opening numbers from Monkshood, 13th Issue, Mayonnaise, and the almighty Fuseboxx, the rain started to pour hard. Real hard. Not only were everybody's shoes destroyed, but we got, how do I say this, wet. Real wet. Great.

Unfortunately, this would serve as an ominous sign that cost us a good performance during our set in the evening. While we were setting up after Black Heaven's set, a great progressive rock act at that, drops of water were seeping from the roof, and the stage was quite wet. Still, by the moment we played the opening guitar lines of "Forgotten Paragon" to the crowd i.e. the ones who were moshing just below the stage, they completely went apeshit.

Seeing people get into the band's songs has an effect on you. Suddenlym I was just banging my head like I've never banged it before, I'm doing things on stage that I don't normally do. Suffice to say, we slayed on our first song.

The next three songs were shit, so it's not really worth mentioning...Well, just to give you an idea, the distortion sound that came out from the amp I was using started to sputter up until the end of the third song. I tried kicking the effects that I was using, trying to turn the cables around, but the sound continued to sputter. Even though I was able to fix the sound before the fourth song, it was too late. That was the end of it for me.

The series of events after our set became a haze. But if I remembered correctedly, Hard Boiled Eggz won the Grand Prize (Congratulations!), and...there.

Hay.

Music Keeps the Motor Running

2006-08-19T05:22:00.000-07:00

The night was still young, and Descant Gott just finished playing as the sixth band of the Red Horse Muziklaban 2006 Eliminations round at Live Van in Marikina. The bar was quite huge, with a second floor reserved for the performing bands that night. We headed to that place after our set, and we got to see a nice overlooking view from the balcony, where the audience laced with black attire stared unto the stage, with Kevin Roy of Razorback leading the festivities.

I haven’t performed with the band for almost a month now because my work schedule would not allow it, and we held our practice a week prior to the actual event, but somehow, with all the people watching and the prize at stake, I wasn’t really nervous. However, throughout the duration of our set, I did fuck up a lot of notes, particularly my guitar lead from our first song, and I accidentally stepped on my distortion pedal on our cover of Sepultura’s song “Arise,” which made a sputtering clean tone from the amp. It’s a good thing I was able to react quickly as I stepped on the pedal again to turn on the distortion and get our shit back to normal.

My face was also sweating like a leaking faucet as it constantly washed my forehead and nose, and I was even able to taste my sweat as it ran through my mouth. Drops on the floor were visible from were I stood, and it was quite embarrassing for me to be seen by people sweat like a fucking waterfall. However, unlike your usual salty sweat after Gym class, my sweat tasted like water. This actually has happened before, whenever I thoroughly enjoyed playing with the band.

I actually miss playing with the band after my month-long hiatus. Playing our songs and hearing it from a live setting made me feel free and refreshed like breathing air from outside a packed moshpit. Even the mistakes I’ve committed with our songs didn’t matter because I was drugged by this music, making me feel insignificant over this massive sound lording me. Even the people who attended with the other competing bands showed their approval by flashing the devil’s horn and banging their heads as well. It is simply one of those things that you wouldn’t trade anything for, when people get floored by the music that everybody in the band crafted and created.

Even before this set, I was not intent in winning something like Red Horse Muziklaban or an musical accolade for that matter. I was contented in just playing in front of an audience, who would hopefully appreciate the shit we’ve been churning out for more than a year, sell the demos that we burned ourselves, and give them some reason that would make them live their lives to the fullest or something.

As it turns out, the band itself laid out plans for the five of us, plans that are far greater than I imagined before. No matter how we see it, the opportunity for the band to be bigger and better than it used to be was just around the corner, and it is up to us whether we should seize it or not.

By the time our name was announced as the first-placed band to advance to the semifinals that night, it was simply crazy! Some of the band members went wild as the spotlight slowly turned to us at the second floor. Others screamed and offered their well-wishes, while the crowd cheered in approval of our win.

But I, I raised both my fists and extending my arms over my head, sticking this moment in the air, where the sound enveloping my senses suddenly turned silent as I stood at the balcony, basking in this strange comfort. It was like I was expecting this win, and didn’t at the same time. But maybe I just needed an affirmation, a sign to tell me that our collective efforts with this band were not in vain at all. Well, this is that moment.

Then after realizing this a while back, I want to win this shindig, not because I want to get the grand prize of Php800K, but more importantly, after all the good times and the awful shit I’ve been through with this band, I want to give something back to the people who’ve made this possible for me. You know who you are (damned if you don’t). This one’s for ya, punks!

---

As of this writing, the band has advanced to the Final Round of the Red Horse Muziklaban 2006. My neck hurts like hell, but it’s all worth it…Congratulations, Descant Gott!

Scene from the Office Space

2006-08-03T00:14:00.000-07:00

About Writing Erotic Stories:

Characters:
Me, I
Person #1
Supervisor

Setting: 10:30 in the evening. Person # 1 and I are writing an erotic story, as requested by the supervisor. I was on the verge of finishing the first page of the story, which is about fucking behind the closed doors of an office. I was on a roll. My fingers were blazing through the keyboard like a forest fire, typing words that I wouldn’t even imagine myself saying in public (or would I?) However, I encountered a problem with a particular scene from my story. And so it goes…

Me: Alam mo yung tawag sa pag-ganun (does the swiping motion using my left arm, as I draw the movement with my left hand almost touching my right chest, and it goes across, extending my arm to its far side) kapag gusto mo tanggalin yung mga gamit sa lamesa? Ano ba yung word na yun in English?

Person #1: (stops typing for a while, and faces me to her left) Ano ulit?

Me: Yung ganito kapag gusto mo tanggalin yung mga gamit sa lamesa (I repeat the motion as I did before)? Yung parang kapag sa sex, bago mo ilapag yung tao dun?

Person #1: (laughing) Hindi ko alam eh. Tanong mo kay supervisor.

Me: (looks at Person #1 with a dismayed expression) Eh. Wag na lang.

There was a pause for a couple of second. The supervisor didn’t seem to hear us from the other side of the room, and so I was about to turn into my computer and think about my problem alone, when suddenly…

Person #1: Supervisor, alam mo ba yung motion kapag tinatanggal yung mga gamit sa lamesa (also does the motion like how I did it before).

Me: (I faced the discussion by turning behind the back, on my right side, and further elaborated on the issue) Yung ginagawa just before sex…? (Again, I did the motion of swiping my left arm and extending it).

Supervisor: Hmm…(He thinks for a while)

Everybody was silent again for a couple of seconds, as I turned back to my computer, still staring at the screen, my progress halted because of an elusive word that would be integral in relating the ‘office fuck’ story in writing.

Supervisor: Why don’t you just write (set aside)?

Me: Uh, I don’t think that it’s appropriate kasi parang malinis yung pagkakagawa.

Silence again.

Me: Atsaka I thought of writing ‘removed’, but I don’t think it’s appropriate as well kasi parang inisa-isang nilagay yung gamit sa sahig.

The three of us were stumped with that one word. One goddamn word. Then, suddenly…

Me: Oh! How about ‘brushed’?

Supervisor: (face lights up and eyes wide, as if he’d seen Maya unveiled, and nods slowly) Yes…that’s the word.

Tasty...

Man Juice for the Soul

2006-07-23T19:04:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I was working for a client who is involved in the porn industry. Basically, I write reviews for various porn sites that he asked me to visit. At first, it seemed like a dream job: I sit in front of the computer, the client hands me the password to the sites, I gain access and download its pictures and videos, and I write what I think about it. However, I was brought back into reality when the client demanded reviews of not less than 500 words discussing the quality of the site, its layout, resolution of the images and videos, and acting of the models (!), among other things. To top it all off, the client was very anal (no pun intended) about the grammar, syntax, and spelling of the words and sentences of the review. Porn, for once, became such a drag.

Within the span of three days writing for the client, a lot of changes occurred to me. I lost approximately 5 lbs., I think. Just for the record, I didn’t “choked the bishop” or “peeled the banana” or “skinned the cat,” fancying over the porn material. There were people in the room, for crying out loud! I just skipped dinner simply because I didn’t have the appetite to eat food during those times, aside from also being “busy” writing the reviews. Also, my sleeping habits dropped from the usual 7-8 hours, to 3-5 hours. What’s even stranger was the fact that I didn’t feel tired or sleepy at all by the time I got out of bed!

Days after getting relieved from the job, stating that he wasn’t impressed with the work I’ve been doing, however, everything slowly returned to normal. I started eating REAL food again, calories, cholesterol, and all that junk. I also get to sleep longer nowadays. Just recently, it got me thinking about what brought this sudden transformation from a normal omnivorous sleepyhead to a walking zombie feeding on bread and lots of water.

And then all of a sudden, light shone upon the heavens and blinded me into the answer!

I think that my appetite has been fulfilled by something much more satisfying, something food can never supply in a lifetime. And I just found out that watching and writing about the videos from CumOnJugs, Latin Adultery, and My First Sex Teacher can actually fill the needs of a human being. By watching and writing about porn, one can forget that s/he actually needs to eat and sleep, because s/he transcends the physical desires of the human being!

I don’t know the scientific explanation for this, but I think it applies to most people I know. My teammate during that time was reportedly fat before I got aboard. But after weeks of laboring over porn (oh, the irony!), that teammate of mine got thinner, and was sleeping 1 ½ hours per day! Another person who was also working under the same account admitted that he even forgot to eat dinner while working. Forgot dinner? Who the fuck would forget dinner?!?

What’s my point? Forget those lame diet programs. Stop taking caffeine. Throw away your personal copies of Chicken Soup for the Soul. If you want to get thinner and wide awake in the wee hours of the evening, watch porn. And write about it.

Philippine Nationalism

2006-07-19T05:48:00.000-07:00

"Oo inaamin ko, sila ay mga yakal, lawaan, apitong at narra! At kami ay saging lang! Pero maghanap kyo ng puno sa buong Pilipinas, saging lang ang may puso....SAGING LANG ANG MAY PUSO!!!"

Mark Lapid, hango sa pelikulang Apoy Sa Dibdib Ng Samar

(thanks to Sublumina Girl)

The Luxury of (mis)Fortune

2006-07-15T07:40:00.000-07:00

Hay.

It's been difficult these past few weeks.
Let me count the ways:

After three days
of being employed,
my very first client
from my very first job
dropped

me.

Days after, I realized
that I left my sister's USB
worth
in the office, which eventually got

lost.

Wait.

I just realized

that it's not as bad

as it seems.

And why the fuck

am I writing like this???

---

On a positive note, I've seen Clockwork Orange. Gloooorious.

Lovely

2006-07-07T23:10:00.000-07:00

Smile!

2006-07-03T08:05:00.000-07:00

The Zambales Files

2006-06-26T20:04:00.000-07:00

¤ It was such a blast playing soccer against Koreans. My friends and I traced lines in the sand that would serve as the field where we are going to play soccer. We were playing our crappy brand of three-on-three soccer that rainy afternoon where nobody among us, save our varsity friend, actually played the game. Then, all of a sudden, these guys who just finished playing volleyball on the other side of the beach challenged us to a game, a race to three.

Not surprisingly, we lost, although it was not a walk in the park for them. I still for the life of me can’t figure out how we were to score two goals. Unbelievable shit. In the end, some of us suffered major blister on their sole and toes. Good for me (or not), only my thighs are hurting, and I can’t even walk straight up until now. Despite the outcome, however, the whole experience was fun.

¤ Prior to the football game, we also played a two-on-two rugby game, and I’m not talking about that smelly adhesive that dries up your brain. My friend brought his rugby ball to the beach and he taught us how to play the game. Talk about a global sports weekend.

¤ The evening was dedicated for camwhoring on the dark seashore. I just realized what alcohol and a group of friends would make you do in front of the camera. And Spandau Ballet rules my world.

Steve Vai's "Boston Rain Melody"

2006-06-25T19:34:00.000-07:00

It was almost 11 o’clock in the evening, in front of the shore on one of the resorts at Iba, Zambales. The tide has tremendously risen up…All of the benches were taken by other lodgers, mostly by Koreans from another resort, so we were forced to sit on the cool sand. Nevertheless, it would not deter us from listening to the CD player and the portable speaker we brought down from our room.

We prepared CDs with music conducive to the beach environment, as we already imagine floating on sand and the sight of sea. We were enjoying the CD I compiled a couple of years back, made just before summer of year 2004 started. Some of the songs on that CD are not even beach-worthy material, but we chose to listen to that CD because of one particular song.

It starts of with the sound of thunder, while drops of rain slowly pour from the speaker. Then the tender and clean guitar intro follows suit, generating a flowing effect reveling with the rain. The song continues with mesmeric verse lines from the guitar, filled with memorable slides and enchanting melodies clear as the sand underneath the coursing water. The tasteful leads treading the rhythm of the water further adds mystique to what is already an orgasmic song.

But just before he returns to the rhythm of the song leading to its end, he pulls off what I think is the climax of this sweet instrumental; finger tapping while tugging the whammy bar of his Floyd Rose, his signature trademark move. This part simply feels like a sonic deluge surging inside your body, suddenly drowning your sense of reality, and forces you to bask into the vitality flowing from this sound, pure and unadulterated. And then you land back into solid ground, holding grasp of yourself.

I remember the times of rain pouring under the gazebo of our home, while my other friends and I were intoxicating ourselves through the wee hours of past evening. I played the song on the player just before everybody got themselves drunk. They, too, were drawn by the inevitable beauty of the song’s overflowing majesty. After that particular drinking session, every time we whip up something leading to someone getting wasted, we make it to a point that we use the song as our background music in order to enhance the drinking experience.

Leading back to the scene at the beachfront, I remembered a lot of things that made me feel cathartic. I remembered the time I first heard this song from my blockmate’s CD player. I remembered during one day from the Holy Week, when the darkened clouds of the afternoon painted the first signs of rain in that summer season, I rushed to the CD player and played the song, just to anticipate and feel the moment.

And now, I’m back to where I started, albeit with the rising tide crashing in on the shore. Considering having gone through other things in life leading to that exquisite moment, the music played at that moment reminds me of those other things.

Just things, I suppose.

Slowdive - Machine Gun

2006-06-20T08:21:00.000-07:00

They're walking and I know, she's my friend, again

Just the way that the water, drags me down, again

Please don't think I'm a [...] it's my friend, oh yeah

It's just the way that the water, makes me feel, again

I went to HMV store in Hong Kong. I remembered the first time I got there years back. A wide array of artists and bands to choose from, from rarities and obscure albums, as well as classic and foreign movies, just blew me away. Not much by any stretch, considering that record stores are supposed to offer different titles anyway, but comparing this store to, say, Odyssey XL or Tower Records in the Philippines, it just had my mind spinning. If it were up to me, I would, for the life of me, stay here the whole trip and ogle at records that I haven’t even heard of. By the time we’re leaving, I can say that our family vacation in Hong Kong was a totally out of body experience.

On this visit, it was no different.

Saw machine gun

I saw you down

Saw the arrow

I slow you down

It is all I need, yeah

The first move was to buy an album. Despite the temptation to buy zounds of records that would harbor me for at least a year or so, I was intent on buying just one. Just one, I keep telling to myself, before I lose my money on the first day of our vacation in this country. Before actually searching for titles to choose from, a song immediately popped into my mind.

"Machine Gun".

I went to pick up Souvlaki by Slowdive. I held it in my hands. It felt like all unsold records should feel like, jewel cases wrapped in plastic. On the front, the album cover was a pitch black canvas with the group’s black and white photo on the lower right portion of the cover, with the words “slowdive · souvlaki” on the upper left corner. The back continued the black theme, with nothing of particular interest, except that the album includes bonus tracks that is not available on local release. Peeking at the corner of the album, the inlay was not thick, so it obviously isn’t gonna be read-worthy, the inlay, that is.

"Machine Gun".

I remembered hearing that song the very first time, immediately after downloading it from Limewire. “Alison” was great, but this track was just mind-numbing. Imaging floating on liquid sedative, in the middle of nowhere, and as the substance drags the listener into the slow ebb of its waves, a muffled voice from the dark deep hollers a lullaby, mesmerizing and ensconcing the listener into a sleep of a mysterious blue dream.

They're walking and I know she's my friend, again

Just the way that the water, drags me down, again

Please don't think I'm a [...] it's my friend, oh yeah

It's just the way that the water, makes me feel, again

Enough, I said to myself. I have to see other records before I totally lose my mind like I always do. After a lengthy and thorough search, I was on the verge of choosing between Jeff Buckley’s Grace and Elliott Smith’s posthumous album, its title I quickly forgot. At first, I simply have to own Grace, an album I was drooling over for the past 2 years. As for Elliott Smith, owning his very last album would be a fitting tribute to an artist who made a living using depression, emptiness, and sadness as his muse. I was torn. Both of these albums are not available in the Philippines (I heard that Grace was available on local stores, but so far, I have yet to see it.) But the power of "Machine Gun"’s chorus drags me in again into its wonderful world of black obscurity, and this time, it won’t let me go…

Saw machine gun

I saw you down

Saw the arrow

I slow you down

It is all I need, yeah

The Daily Vault

2006-06-13T23:05:00.000-07:00

---
Staff Writer
e-mail ---

BORN: 1984
JOINED THE DV STAFF: June 2006
HOMETOWN: Philippines
NOW LIVING IN: Philippines
SPOUSE / KIDS?: No.
FAVORITE ARTIST: The Gathering
OTHER ARTISTS I LIKE: Ben Folds Five, Devin Townsend, Elliott Smith, Jeff Buckley, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Faith No More, The Beatles, My Bloody Valentine, Alice in Chains, Yes, Agalloch, Iron Maiden, Megadeth, Anberlin, Immortal
BEER: San Miguel Extra Strong, Red Horse Beer
OTHER HOBBIES: Books, movies, blogging, playing guitar, playing/watching basketball, surfing the 'Net
PERSONAL MOTTO: And that is why.
I WRITE MUSIC REVIEWS BECAUSE: ...it is the only thing that can validate my existence, aside from an awful hangover…

enter the vault...

Them 'Old Filipino Action Movies...'

2006-06-12T20:09:00.000-07:00

There was this scene on one of Gardo Versosa's movies where he cocks a gun using his feet. His feet! And the most amazing thing is that he did this while in mid-air! In MID-AIR!

Perennial action star Lito Lapid did what no other men did back in the heyday, when during an action scene he was holding a knife and a gun with one bullet left with two enemies still after him. Usually, a normal, sane person would just use the remaining bullet of the gun to shoot one of the baddies, and throw the knife or stab the other.

But not Lito Lapid. Nope. What he did is that he placed the sharp side of the knife in the middle of the gun's barrel, splitting the bullet in half as he fired the gun, and hitting both his enemies. Pure classic, I tell ya!

---

From hardware store to builder’s depot

Tiles—these seemingly trivial home fixtures transformed a small hardware store into one of the largest builder’s depots in the city today. And this fact Wilcon Builders Depot founder, president and CEO William T. Belo is always proud to proclaim.

On May 24, Belo gathered friends, family and clients to Wilcon’s Libis, Quezon City showroom to celebrate such triumph. Various home fixtures were put on display, but the attention was on tiles—the store’s specialty product since its inception.

click here for the full article

Kachow!

2006-06-09T07:02:00.000-07:00

Kachow!

I have done what few people have achieved in their lifetime (but maybe they have done it, and they just don't brag it in their blogs like I do). It has taken me 3 months to finish the book. I have dismissed the book for a while because it was overbearing and overwritten...Imagine 200 pages worth of philosophical critques and inquiries about her damned Objectivism...not really an easy reading. But I am not a quitter...No, I'm not a quitter! I was determined to finish this 1000+ page of a monster. After reading it, the book was not as infernal as I thought it was. So, without further ado...

Kachow!

What I don't understand with Cars is that, during the scene where Lightning McQueen tries to chase Sally on the road, Sally runs over the puddle of water on the road, splashing water at Lightning from behind. Lightning's quick reflexes allowed him to evade the water, as he laughs victoriously, foiling Sally's plans. But suddenly, while taking his eye off the road, Lightning gets mud splashed all over his front. Now the question: Where did the mud come from, especially since I observed (nerd) that the road they were travelling wasn't even muddy at all? Second, is that really mud, or is it some filthy discharge from Sally's behind? We will never know...

I have got to get a job...

Kachow!

George Lynch

2006-06-05T20:31:00.000-07:00

I went to a guitar clinic at Yupangco in Buendia, and their guest was none other than Mr. George Lynch (who?) promoting his Yamaha L-Series. I'm not really familiar with stuff from Dokken and Lynch Mob, but I did get to see a guitar video by this guy. From what I remembered (although I could be very wrong here), he's got quite a dirty style, but unique nonetheless. And his nipple kept on popping from his loose tanktop. Blame the 80's.

It was my first time to attend such event, so I didn't really know what to expect. But I did imagine that there was gonna be a lot of guitar virtuosity shit and all that.

Before the actual event, a video played showing how a Yamaha acoustic guitar is made. Mixing the lutherier and guitar player standpoint, as well as advanced and traditional techniques of making the guitar, it was really fascinating...

Enter Mr. Lynch. First 3 impressions:

He's buff!.

He's wearing a tanktop.

He's gotten real old (d'oh)

His style has gotten bluesier and more melodic, and he's as good as any other great guitar player out there, so no problem there. Basically, he just played 30-minutes worth of great guitar lick, and although he candidly admitted that he was fucking up all over the played, he still seemed to enjoy himself. Which is the most important thing while playing.

Now comes the mandatory question and answer portion. Probably my most favorite answer I am gonna hear this week, or month for that matter:

"Stop clapping to my answers!"

Now the really interesting part: After the guitar clinic, the emcee announced that there was gonna be an autograph session with Mr. Lynch. But since I'm really an autograph kind of guy, I was intent on leaving the event. But before that, they were raffling off stubs for some goodies, so I kind of stayed just to try out my luck.

They called my name. I won a free poster.

As I returned to my seat, my mind went blank, still in disbelief of winning the poster. A friend told me that I should get the poster signed. Mind still blank. I grabbed for my bag while still sitting on my seat. Blank. Still sitting...

...

Wait! I shoud get the poster signed by Mr. Lynch!!!

And so I did. End of story, and I lived happily ever after, just after I got off the congested MRT ride.

A few side notes:

¤ A lot of known guitar players showed up to the event, namely the guy from Rivremaya, the guy from Death by Stereo, and the girl from Sanctus/Massacrida, among others.

¤ Mr. Lynch's nipple didn't pop out from his tanktop, which is quite a shame. That would have made the day better.

you don't see mee

2006-06-04T10:14:00.000-07:00

It has been a long time...

A Phought to Tonder

Last Saturday, well, Sunday at 2:30 a.m., I was reading a book while lying down on the bed of my room and having the radio play random tracks on the airwaves when suddenly, '3 Libras' swoons the room with that undeniably mesmerizing sweet-ass guitar plucked intro. I immediate put down the book I was reading and started to be hit by this thing they call 'good music'. At that moment, while memories surged and feeling drowsed in my head as I stared blankly at the ceiling, 2 things pop into my mind: 1) NU 107 Remote Control Weekend is the best thing on the radio especially past midnight where they usually play songs during my high school daze, and 2) with that song, Mer de Noms has reaffirmed itself to be one of the better album I own, although I usually keep forgetting it.

Oh, I also remembered another thing; 3) write this as a blog entry.

I remember during high school, when I had my aunt buy A Perfect Cirlce's debut from the States, I kept on listening to it, not because it's deliciously dark and hauntingly romantic, but it's only one of the three CDs I owned that time (lame-o). Anyway, the most memorable thing I remembered with this album was that, every after class at 3:40 in the afternoon, I always walk down the cushy, rubber-y track and field path in the middle of the school where I go straight to the car that sends me home. The walk is nothing spectacular, just a long, lonely tread to the eventual destination (lewser), and the spectacle of a bunch of grade-schoolers jockeying and scuffling around on the green grasses inside the track and field oval is nothing to scream about. Instead, I entertained myself by singing the lines of the song 'The Hollow'.

"'Cause it's time to bring the fire down

(mumbles) this indiscretion

long enough to edify

and permanently fill this hollow"

Remembering that very moment made the ceiling less of a ceiling. The sun burning my skin and the heavy bag I was always carrying during high school and which also became the source of my back pains and scoliosis felt real, and really painful. That moment is nothing fancy in itself, but I don't know. I really liked that day...

...which leads me to another thought; 4) I really had a boooring high school. Seriously.

-

2006-06-04T02:25:00.000-07:00

SM Mall of Asia
Where everything is big

FILIPINOS love malls, and it’s not only because they like to buy things for themselves. It’s because they love to hang out and enjoy the comfortable environment just as much.

The date May 20, 2006, will go down in history as proof that Filipinos cannot get enough of shopping malls with the colossal opening of SM Mall of Asia—SM’s grandest mall yet—at the tourist hotspot that is Manila Bay in Pasay City.

click here to the full article

hangover

2006-05-26T23:19:00.000-07:00

hangover

hungover
hongober
hangover

All the elements are eloquenced by eternity...

2006-05-23T22:48:00.000-07:00

Phoughts to Tonder

I have been so blind all along! Instead of feasting and salivating over Bay Area Thrash scene, I should have listened to balls-to-the-walls Joisey Thrash (read: OVERKILL!) They're pretty much the most soild, consistent, and fairly prolific Metal band, and after listening to some not-so-heavy music as of late, this is a nice, swift Heavy Metal™ kick in the nads. Slayer sucks, Overkill p0wns j00!!!!

A Life Milestone

I am one of the first people in the world who has taken a piss on SM Mall of Asia on May 20, 2006 , a day before its grand opening, at around 2 p.m. Respect me!

Day Late

I just remembered this morning that X-Men: The Last Stand is premiering today, and to my dismay, I cannot see it today because I'm too lazy to do so. I'll just settle for tomorrow.

Past Revisited

After months of not listening to this album, for reason unknown, I have decided to give it a spin. It turns out that The Focusing Blur by Vintersorg is an underrated gem, a diamond in the rough, a hidden gold in an unexcavated, unadulterated mine, a...oh, what the hell...A damn fine piece of Cosmic Black Metal (wha..?)

"A microscopical macrocosm,
Of distant mountains and inner plasm,
All the elements are eloquenced by infinity
A microscopical macrocosm,
I and Me float through its chasms,
Filtering the universe through a living internity"

- A Microscopical Macrocosm

Something to really think about

Since 97.69% of my entries are pretty useless ramblings and a pathetic excuse for non-fiction writing, here's something to gnaw your teeth with.

WHAT'S WORSE THAN DOING NOTHING, IS DOING SOMETHING AND NOT DOING GOOD AT IT.

Now think about that, foo'!

lameness moves me

2006-05-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

NBA's 23

2006-05-20T09:08:00.000-07:00

In the NBA, Jersey number 23 simply means Michael Jordan. As simple as that. This indication is an apt tribute to one of basketball's finest players, if not the finest.

However, there are still a number of players wearing the number 23 on their jerseys. It is understandable that these players are paying homage to their basketball hero, but it is disappointing that a lot of players happen to have used this number in their careers.

One of the most glaring is Lebron James, who in fact seems to be destined to become the only player in NBA history who wears the same number as His Airness to reach the level of which Jordan competed and played, if not surpass it. Both are similar in a sense that they have a complete game, although James is taller and has a better physique. And at this stage, he may be the best 21 year old player who played the game, and better than Jordan was when he was 21, no question about that.

Which brings me to the problem about his jersey number. Lebron has the gift, talent, and character to be one of the most identifiable players in NBA history, granted that he keeps his game. But at the same time, he would also be known as the player who used Jordan's jersey number. I know, it's not really a big deal, but he is on his way to making a name for himself in basketball, and he could have used a different number rather than a number from a player that is respected and revered worldwide.

A suggestion to Lebron James, and to other Jordan worshippers out there who are even planning on thinking of donning 23 in their jerseys: wear a different number fer Christ's sake! Invent a new number: 79, 57, 46, 63, 09, whatever that's not yet done before. Don't be like Jordan because you're not! You're a different player than he is, maybe similar but ultimately not the same.

If you're still intent on using the Jordan Number, kudos to you. Just don't complain if everybody's using it too.

THE DA VIIIIIIINCIIIIIIIIII CODE!!!!!!!!11

2006-05-18T05:29:00.000-07:00

Finally! After months of waiting in vain for this day to say these words, I now can shout to the world that...

I HAVE RELIEVED MY DA VINCI CODE BONER!!

Honestly, it quite failed to deliver the goods, not because the book is better than the movie (which is true, but that's not the point), but I feel that the storytelling is too fast and quick (or maybe I'm just fucking slow). It does not let the viewers digest every piece of information as much as they could have, which made the book so good. Aside from this, it was entertaining as hell, I didn't go to sleep during the film (always a good thing), and I didn't feel like a jackass after seeing it.

Da Vinci Musings (with Spoilers, of course!):

Paul Bettany playing Silas is just pure genius. He easily passes off as an albino, and his menacing look works as well.
Sopie Neveu's character was dumbed down, which is a bummer, and gives too much way to Robert Langdon to assume the hero role. Bullllllshit. On a positive note, Sophie Neveu gives justice to Audrey Tautou, especially when Teabing meets her for the first time, kisses her on the hand, and says, "You have a lovely smile!", or something to that extent. Truth is soooo hard to deny.
Ian McKellen's role as the annoying Teabing is played with amazing ease and comfort, and his smug and condescending attitude was watered down for the film, which is for the better.

The movie, unfortunately, tweaked the part where both Langdon and Teabing explain the "biggest coverup in human history" to Sophie. In the book, both men team off to explain that Jesus' bloodline was carried on in the present time. In the movie, however, Langdon gets into an argument with Teabing, stating that these are all claims and presuppostions that have yet to be proven.

Another disappointing change is found in the ending of the film. The ending, in fact, made the book so spectacular because it reveals a person, possibly Mary Magdalene herself, after Langdon cracked the code of the last clue that would unveil the location of the Holy Grail. But the person's identity was not revealed, so it makes for compelling intrigue and speculation that provokes the thoughts of readers. In the movie, however, we get to see Langdon standing on top of the Louvre, kneels down, then the camera goes straight down under the Louvre, where the coffin of Mary Magdalene was shown. And that's it. LAAAAAAAAAME!!!!

Changes of these particluar scenes in the movie could be attributed to the negative opinion surrounding the book's claims. Still, whether the content is preposterous or not, the film should not have compromised to social opinion, and should have carried on with what was written in the book.

Finally, some notes parts of the film worthy of mention:

The part when Silas smahes the face of the nun with a stone tablet was a hoot! I DIDN'T see that one coming!
Expect some people to sneer and belt out incredulous and nervous laughters during the part where both Langdon at Teabing explain the Holy Grail to Sophie.

musicmusiclalalamusic

2006-05-15T20:19:00.000-07:00

Thoughts to Ponder

I have seen VH1's Behind the Music of Pantera through YouTube, and although the whole thing was sufficent to satiate the average person's curiosity for the band, it doesn't really say anything new from what has already been said ad nauseum. As always, their glam years prior to their "major label debut" Cowboys From Hell were omitted, whether intentionally or not, which makes this documentary anything but a definitive statement of the band's legacy.

However, the segment where Terry Abbott shed tears over the murder of his son/Pantera axeman Darrell "Dimebag Darrell" Abbott during his performance on December 4, 2004 with his current band Damageplan, along with his brother/Pantera drummer Vinnie, was nothing less than touching. "Inside that rock n' roll exterior, was a boy." Bummer.

Let me take a moment to bask into the beauty of song:

Cody ChestnuTT

"Serve This Royalty"

off the album The Headphone Masterpiece (2002)

...unfortunately, I cannot find the lyrics. Lame.

Secret heart

What are you made of?

What are you so afraid of?

Could it be three simple words

Or the fear of being overheard?

What's wrong?

Let her in on your secret, heart

Besides the fact that I love unrequited and/or confessional love songs made for perennial losers, I also love Nick Cave. I really do. But not so much with The Proposition, where he wrote the script for the movie. The soundtrack, however, is killer.

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On a more personal note, I am hooked on playing solitaire on the PC.

all i want...is to be where you are

2006-05-13T22:45:00.000-07:00

The Gathering

How to Measure a Planet? (1998)

This album is The Gathering’s Rust in Peace, or Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, for that matter. If I were to stretch it, it will closely resemble Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness by The Smashing Pumpkins, aside from both being double-disc affairs. These albums share a similarity, where the bands charted new musical territories and progressive ideas into their trademark sound. As a result, Megadeth got more technical, Iron Maiden got more theatrical, and Smashing Pumpkins got more famous.

How to Measure a Planet? is a tour-de-force. It is the album where The Gathering finds their visions fulfilled, where they sounded like the way they should sound. They did away with the Metal and Gothic posing they fostered with their previous albums in order to create music without boundaries. They have basically toned down the guitars, and focused more on the dreamy atmosphere and the beautiful vocals. Anneke van Giersbergen has proven time and again that she is the BEST FEMALE VOCALIST EVER (quote me on that). With this album, she even solidifies that claim because her emotive voice fits better with this kind of music, where she can just focus on channeling emotions through her singing without having to coincide with the distorted guitars.

The album deals with distance, where the songs talk about yearning for someone (Rescue Me), the feeling of witnessing the vastness of an endless horizon (‘Great Ocean Road’), or the exhilaration of flight (‘Liberty Bell’) . Even the sound sympathizes with the theme of the album, embellished with the verdant and vivid instrumentations the band is known for.‘Great Ocean Road’ is easily one of the best songs ever recorded in music history, if one THE BEST (quote me on that again). The main riff just washes the listener away into the unknown deep, where dreams are forged real by just having the sound take you to your destiny. The powerful tapestry of sound becomes realized with the affective singing of Anneke. This song is just powerful, amazing, superb, and wonderful.

‘Rescue Me’ contains one of the best lines of a love song ever, “All I want/ is to be where you are”. The yearning music and the wall of sound in the middle create a feeling of desire in a lost world. The production with the song could have been lusher, but a good song is a good song. ‘My Electricity’ is another winner, a lovelorn, sentimental song with a simple arrangement, yet it is carried by the spacious and jangling guitars. ‘Liberty Bell’ is an upbeat, feel-good pop song if I didn’t know better. The song creates a feeling of flying with the uplifting, soaring music blasting through the speakers. ‘Travel’ feels like a dream sequence, a collection of riffs of previous songs serving as a culmination of the first disc. ‘Locked Away’ is similar to ‘My Electricity, only this time, the guitar blasts in during the chorus.

The only small gripe I have which prevents the album from getting a perfect score is the second CD could have been done away with. In fairness, the second half deals with the band’s proclivity to writing more daring music, as heard with the title track, and it ain’t bad at all, but at this point, hearing that the first half is just perfect, the second half is too indulgent for its own good.

I cannot recommend this album any further. One of the best albums ever from any genre! Buy this, and be swept off to your dreams! Hail The Gathering!

Instant Entry in 20 Minutes

2006-05-13T02:34:00.000-07:00

What are the things running through my head while downloading a 3.4 MB song off Limewire with a dial-up conneciton?

Ready...Go!

3% - The Los Angeles Clippers lost to the Phoenix Suns. Gademit. Obviously, I am rooting for the underdog, well, they're not really the underdogs of the series since Phoenix has been playing without Amare Stoudemire for the whole season and the playoffs, yet still managed to play superb basketball and grabbed the 2nd seed in the West, a feat nobody would have ever thought possible. However, great expectations weren't on the side of the Clippers as well, a franchise doomed to fail at the start of the season. Well, they're turned it around for the good, getting that 4th seed, which again not what everybody would have expected.

Still, I still feel that the Clippers deserve to win the series because not only do they have the talent to advance to the next round, but because they're the Clippers, and sometimes in life, some people just need to be given a chance.

37% - Jeff Buckley is the best artist of the past decade. His album Grace has ultimately propelled him to great heights, with songs like the explosive yet brooding 'Mojo Pin', the tender and impassioned 'So Real', the anthemic and amazing 'Eternal Life', and the timeless masterpiece that is 'The Last Goodbye'.

54% - I don't like cars.

57% - She may be the hottest contestant ever in American Idol, but Katherine McPhee yet has to go. Although she showed flashes of brilliance early on, she has cracked under pressure as the contest draws closer to its end. She has been shaky and pitchy on some of her songs, and that's just unacceptable. However, I still feel that she will advance to the finals because of the fact that she is the only woman in the competition and she will most likely garner the votes of the female contingent in America.

And I am worried that Elliott Yamin will be the one going out from American Idol. Fact is, he is the best singer that the show has to offer, but unlike McPhee and Soul Patrol (whose name I obviously forgot), he doesn't look good, and he doesn't exude any charisma at all. Sad.

100% - I really feel that all of the things I have written on this post is pure crap.

Bald(ing) Fashion Statement...

2006-05-11T09:54:00.000-07:00

Mr. Devin Townsend and his awesome skullet

Man, I have to get me one of these...

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Phoughts to Tonder

When you get to see things in a stupefyingly grey splendor, where the smiles of people are anesthesized by a seemingly removed and emotionless color, you know that there's something wrong.

What the Hell am I?

2006-05-09T06:17:00.000-07:00

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Disappointed Mode: ON

2006-05-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

:-(

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A useless blow-by-blow account on one of the dreamiest songs ever…

My Bloody Valentine – To Here Knows When

off their album Loveless (1991)

0:01- The song starts with an overpowering, swirling effect of keyboard arpeggio played over a drowned keyboard chord. From the get go, the sonic abrasiveness sets the tone of the song, where the listeners cannot help it but get devoured and swept away by the forceful wave of its rich melody. The rhythm section does not draw too much attention. However, it does deliver the backbone and framework where the keyboards, and later on the guitars, weave their magic.

0:20- The arpeggio goes out, and is replaced by the female vocalist singing along the tapestry of sound with a laconic, breathy delivery with a deep and lush cadence that goes well along the music. Also, the vocals add layer and depth to the song, since Shoegazer music isn’t about great vocal performances.

0:39- The guitar makes an appearance with single-note melodies rich with reverb and little delay effect (both a staple in Shoegazer music). Instruments on parts of the song appear to go off-key and awry, but it still maintains the dreamy atmosphere.

1:01 – This is the chorus of the song. The arpeggio returns to the fold, now along with the vocals, and the music becomes more monolithic, if not imposing.

1:21 – The song returns to the introduction part, taking a breather from the emotive chorus.

1:29 – It then carries on to the next verse, similar to the previous verse, makes use of the same elements, thus creating the same poignant effect (duh).

2:08 – Chorus again. See above.

2:48 – Some strange sound pops up, a heavy, droned-out tone accompanying the vocal crooning.

3:09 – Chorus. This time, the drone-out sound appears at sparse moments, giving the chorus a resonating, spacious effect.

3:54 – The climax of the song. As the chorus is still being played, the guitars enter the fray with its fiery, wailing, buzzsaw-like effect that complements the beautiful, pensive melody.

4:31 – The chorus slowly fades out.

4.48 – The guitar then fades in, accompanied by the bass, and plays a muffled, slightly-overdriven melody in chords, with a use of a tremolo bar (I think). It’s pretty okay, don’t get me wrong, but it just sounds limp and dry, and it does not go well with the wall-of-noise, dream sequence music that the song purports. Still, it doesn’t disvalue the fact that the song is still badass.

5:31 – Music abruptly stops.

Surreal

2006-05-07T20:58:00.000-07:00

Love, let me sleep tonight
On your couch..
And remember the smell
And the fabric
Of your simple city dress..

Oh... That was so real
Oh... That was so real
Oh... That was so real

We walked around'til the moon got full
Like a plate..
And the wind blew an invocation
And I fell asleep
At the gate..
And I never stepped on the cracks 'cause I thought I'd hurt my mother
And I couldn't awake from the nightmare
That sucked me in
And pulled me under
Pulled me under

Oh... That was so real
Oh... That was so real
Oh... That was so real

I love you..
But I'm afraid to love you
I Love you
But I'm afraid to love - you...
I'm afraid...

Oh... That was so real

..real real real...

Oh... That was so real
Oh... That was so real
Oh... That was so real

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A spectator’s notes on Earth Day 2006

Thank goodness for April 22—the one day in the year when the earth is remembered amid the rapid development of industrial sectors and modernization.

At the CCP complex, a celebration entitled Sibol was a revelation for this writer that the arts and culture is an effective tool in furthering environmental awareness and ecological issues, which society tends to overlook.

click here for the full article

Rebirth

2006-05-05T22:31:00.000-07:00

"Ba't ka nagpakalbo?"

"Ha?"

"Ba't ka nagpakalbo?"

"Ah...Eh, ganun talaga eh."

"Eyng?"

"Buhay...Ganun talaga eh."

"Ahhhhhh...Haha. Yun na yun eh."

Bow.

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INDULGENCE

:If the letters of my profile name are names of actresses/female TV personality/female artists/ fictional female characters…

T-ori Amos
H-eather Locklear
E-

C-ristina Scabbia
R-ei Ayanami
I-za Calzado
M-aria Ozawa
S-carlette Johansson
O-
N-atalie Portman

A-nneke van Giersbergen
B-ianca Gonzales
S-haron den Adel
T-oni Gonzaga
R-achel McAdams
A-udrey Tatou
C-harlize Theron
T-

Korean Filmz

2006-05-04T00:28:00.000-07:00

The beef on popular Korean films:

1. Funny.
2. The girl comes from a relatively poor family, and usually works hard to make ends meet. However, she has an infectious and bubbly personality despite her disposition. The guy, on the other hand, is filthy rich, spoiled and arrogant, and either a campus heartthrob, or an ass-kicking gang leader of some sort who always gets into fights for no apparent reason. Opposites attract, I guess…
3. Characters always frequent videoke bars, and they always drink. A lot.
4. Over-the-top cheesy "love moments", saccharine storyline…
5. …but it works!

The best I've seen so far...

my little bride

A really lame week, I must say...

2006-05-01T18:37:00.000-07:00

Phoughts to Tonder

From now on, every time I hear or see Within Temptation, two words spring to mind: dry humping. Don't ask.
I had my impacted, lower rightmost tooth removed. The first few hours were manageable although I really feel my jaw swelling. But after the anesthesia wore off, it started to hurt like a barbed-wire poking up my asshole. Moral of the story: when the time comes that your wisdom tooth starts to hurt, and you think you need to have it removed, don't.
I rekindled my confusing and depressing high school life when I borrowed World Coming Over by Type O Negative from my friend. Another two words: total ownage...
'I REALLY STUPID' Moment: I got lost taking the public transport from Bonifacio Ave. to Harrizon Plaza, in front of Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas at Pasay. I'll just leave it at that.
Things I really hate during a gig:

When I presume the guitar amp at the bar is gonna be good because it actually does look good (Fender), but when I start using it, even at maximum volume, I cannot hear a goddamn thing...
I have to plug my guitar to the mixer because there's only one guitar amp, a spankin' heavy-ass amp amp, and the other guitarist's gonna use it.
When I mess up a note during my lead.
When my equipment bails out on me. Aside from the amp sucking, my pickup switch screws up, my strings pop out while I was warming up just before the gig, and I don't have spare strings with me, I lose my guitar pick, etc...
When my guitar is tuned one step higher, and I just realized it when we were already playing.

Saw Shopgirl for the second time. The lines before the credits rolled were the most striking and powerful, as narrated by Steve Martin:

"As Ray Porter watched his Mirabelle walk away, he feels a loss. How is it possible, he thinks, to miss a woman whom he kept at a distance, so that when she was gone, he would not miss her?

"Only then he realized that wanting part of her, and not all of her, had hurt him both, and how he cannot justify his actions, except that...well...it is life."

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INDULGENCE

:if the letters of my profile names are songs...

T-he Last to Know by Faith No More

H- allelujah by Jeff Buckley

E-verything Reminds Me of Her by Elliott Smith

C-adence by Anberlin

R-ed Right Hand by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

I-n Motion #2 by The Gathering

M-ountains of Might by Immortal

S-eventh Son of a Seventh Son by Iron Maiden

O-ne Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces by Ben Folds Five

N-utshell by Alice in Chains

A-s Embers Dress the Sky by Agalloch

B-oston Rain Melody by Steve Vai

S-torm by The Devin Townsend Band

T-he Long and Winding Road by The Beatles

R-oundabout by Yes

A-mber by 311

C-rystal Mountain by Death

T-ornado of Souls by Megadeth

"I Cannot Remember Not Being..."

2006-04-29T23:37:00.000-07:00

Pain of Salvation - Be

Sounds like modern-day Yes (the 70's British Prog Rock band), with the propensity of injecting lame and cheesy philosophical/theological ideas. The music is an amalgam of bombastic sound arrangements, off-kilter time signatures, virtuoso playing, and rich harmonies. But the concept of nature and religion may be too pompous and overbearing even for progheads. A satisfying listen, but a bit too cerebral.

---

Last Music Video Syndrome...although 'alang pictures.

Just Hate Me

Pain

I gotta think of something

to make you think less

of me, that I am nothing

to hold on to, cause we are through

I dislike you

I wish that you could hate me

then things would be so easy

just get me off your mind

if the bitch would have a son

then I would be the one

so hate me

geese, flying from the winter

that's what I should do, do, door become a sprinter

and run away

cause we are through

I dislike you

I wish that you could hate me

then things would be so easy

just get me off your mind

if the bitch would have a son

then I would be the one

I am being mean

like no one's ever been

just hate me...

I wish that you could hate me

then things would be so easy

just get me off your mind...

The setting is in the near future, in outer space, inside a starship (???), where man and machine lives in harmony.
The main character is a robot/cyborg, a once esteemed creation by this balding, grim-faced scientist.

The scientist is currently undertaking a newer, bigger, and better creation, which renders the robot obsolete. However, the scientist is unable to complete his creation because it lacks that piece that would make it function. The robot enters his creator's room and witnesses him busy at work, without even looking or noticing the robot.

The robot leaves his master alone, going into his room. As the robot scours for something to hold on to in his divider, he finds a picture of him and the scientist, looking happy and glad. He hurries down to the scientist's room and show this to him, to harken back the times then the robot actually mattered to the scientist.

He got in, the scientist still busy at his work, and he taps him from behind. The scientist turns around, looks at the robot, and stares at the picture frame with their pictureon it. He pauses for a moment, as if remembering something important, then holds the robot's arm. Suddenly, he takes holds of a screwdriver and he unscrew the arm of the robot, opens it, and finds the missing piece that would actually complete his currently creation.

The next scene features the robot walking in the dark corridor, alone, away from the room, where the scientist is able to attach the missing piece for his current creation. However, the scientist looks away from the arm of his latest creation, and stares at the open space where stars dwell alone, and eventually die.

Then silence.

Under the Sunny Summer Steamy Sky...

2006-04-27T20:32:00.000-07:00

shopgirl

Agalloch - The Mantle

...is a grey area.

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This is the album responsible for inciting a musical movement called The New Wave of Swedish Death Metal a.k.a. Melodeath, more so than The Gallery, Jester Race, or any other album out there. The melodic, yet crushing sound have become the signature of Gothenburg bands. The album has reached its influences into broad areas of rock/metal music, especially with American bands like Shadows Fall, Lamb of God, Killswitch Engage, etc. etc.

However, on the other end of the spectrum, this album is vilified and scorned by metal purists, claiming that the band has sold out from its original sound to create this pop-structured album. This album single-handedly produced a stream of copycats that has diluted the metal scene, which eventually destroyed the movement the band once owned.

Now, everybody has their own opinion about this album. But as far as I’m concerned, Slaughter of the Soul is simply one of the better albums released in the 90’s, one of the best guitar-oriented Metal albums ever, and easily one of the most influential albums in the current wave of Metal music. At the same time, Slaughter of the Soul is a flawed album that shows flashes of brilliance, only to leave listeners ultimately unsatisfied.

The songs are typified by an in-your-face attack, heralded by the sterling guitar work, a mix between brutal Death Metal and the vigor of Power Metal, and tight, active rhythm section. The vocals are a mix of Hardcore shouts and Black Metal screams. The album is appropriately produced by Fredrik Nordstrom, notable for his guitar-heavy recordings.

The guitars really stand out in this album, production-wise, as well as song-wise. Slaughter of the Soul boasts some of the most visceral riffs in metal music. ‘Cold’, ‘Suicide Nation’, and ‘World of Lies’ contain creative and powerful guitar lines with loads of melody that makes the music whistle-able, ala Heartwork.

In ‘Cold’, At the Gates has crafted a timeless Metal classic that will surely stand the test of time. The crushing intro which leads to the lurching mid-tempo riff is the stuff made for headbanging. The off-kilter bridge riff and the serene acoustic part, leading back to the bridge with an overlaying short, but sweet lead is excellent. And the chorus is damn infectious. A must hear for any Metal fans.

However, the problem with the album is that most of the songs follow a verse-chorus-lead formula that becomes predictable as the album wears on, which renders them easily digestible. The songs have the tendency to be powerful and memorable at one point, but after repeated listens, they lose their luster and impact. Another gripe with the album is that the band recycles chord progressions heard on previous songs. Nevertheless, this doesn’t discount the songs from its greatness, since all of them are performed with venomous intensity and urgency.

Overall, despite its shortcomings, Slaughter of the Soul is still highly recommended. My suggestion: buy the album, and make your opinion about it.

The Inaugural Weekly Phoughts to Tonder

2006-04-24T23:50:00.000-07:00

I’m starting a weekly rumination entitled Phoughts to Tonder because I realized that I don’t really share anything substantial on my previous posts, it’s just lame pictures and dodgy English. So, without further ado, here it goes!

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I just realized that I am lame because I’m a hopeless Metalhead, although the artists and bands that I truly love (Elliott Smith, Jeff Buckley, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds) do not even contain a Metal element in them. All the sites I visit in the net are devoted to Heavy Metal music, album reviews and news. I write reviews for Encyclopedia Metallum. I post messages on rakista.com, and metal-rules.com. I need to get a better life...

I am starting to have faith with the band again. The last two gigs at Fairview and Malate were just powerful and crushing, thanks to Laney Hardcore Max amp and Boss MT-2 MetalZone. Ultimately, it’s the music that saved me from losing my mind on this one.

Do yourself a favor and buy a copy of Samba Rock by Trio Mocotô. Every time I listen to the first track, I imagine myself half-drunk and blindfolded in a wildass party as I attempt to hit a piñata with a spiked club, when I accidentally hit someone in the forehead as I took a full swing, leaving him bleeding and writhing on the floor. Yep, it's that fun...

Things that I learned in working for a newspaper:

Rule of thumb: ALWAYS bring a voice recorder.
Listen and understand what they’re actually saying when you’re interviewing them. Or at least try to appear as if you understand them.
Come in earlier than the given time, 15 minutes or so. They usually have freebies for early birds. I got a free CD player and a copy of Lira Luis’ audio CD which costs around P1,500($30) from her Round Table at Oakwood. Neat.
Don’t eat anything before going for a particular event. Usually, and I mean 90% of the time, the event provides the food for the guests.
In an event, anything can happen.

The people from Dockers drew my name up from the lot. While I was just minding my business on the corner, taking down notes and nibbling on salted peanuts, the advertising agent called my attention prior to the presentation of the winners, and told me I won. When they called my name and asked me to come up in front to get the check, I can't remove the damn smirk off my face. And that's not even the good news, because along with a gift check comes a bag containing Carlo Rossi California Red! CARLO ROSSI!

Most important of all, don't piss off your boss! I think I almost did.

Johnny Alegre Affinity, and Paul Magat

2006-04-23T11:13:00.000-07:00

I saw them perform at CCP Liwasang Kalikasan in celebration of Earth Day 2006. With all due respect to the challenging guitar playing of Mr. Alegre (top middle), Mr. Koko Bernajo (top right) takes the cake with his performance loaded with fills but still keeping check with the song's time signature. Pretty arresting stuff.

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Speaking of drum gods, I witnessed Paul Magat in action with Hellfire Theory at Greenvine, Malate. Hindi siya tao.

Virgin Beach Resort

2006-04-23T01:28:00.000-07:00

There is still a Virgin Beach

THE Philippines has long been famed for its beautiful and scenic beach resorts—a magnet for tourists to this part of Asia. Through the years, many of these hotspots have been saturated with commercialization and modernization, thus compromising the authentic experience of a tropical paradise.

Where then do you go for a genuine feel of the tropics today? Head out to Laiya in San Juan, Batangas, and try the Virgin Beach Resort. Life & Times recently discovered that privacy and the purity of sand and sea could be found at the resort, the vital combination for a total state of relaxation.

click here for the full article

Virgin Beach Resort

"The Last Life in the Universe" and Dockers

2006-04-19T21:31:00.000-07:00

Vivid in its lifelessness. More than adequate cinematography. Sweet-ass soundtrack, with music similar to Black Tape for a Blue Girl.

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Dockers paints luxurious San Francisco

NOTHING gets classier than Dockers. For the past 20 years, this Levi-Strauss apparel brand has been well known for its smart casual wear for men, ranging from khaki pants to functional attires. On April 4 Dockers further underlined its changing image from utilitarian to classy fashion with the opening of Dockers San Francisco, a new luxury-concept store on the ground floor of Glorietta 3, Ayala Center, Makati City.

click for the full article