(yesterday i woke up sucking on a lemon...)

a crimson hue pouring out of thick skin

from a razor thin cut

etched by an accidental

light graze of a knife...


everything in its right place

looking forward to a life you tried hard to ignore

to a love confusing and spiraling out of nowhere

that you cannot ignore

to the  old life you wanted no part of

reaching out to you

and you tried hard to ignore


everything in its right place


minsan gusto ko na lang pumunta ng New Zealand

maganda siguro dun

pangako ko makakapunta ako dun

and I am not even a Lord of the Rings fan

maybe I'll look for Jermaine and Bret

at wala rin itong patutunguhan

everything in its right place

wherever you are


(no.1 and 2 na ata sa most visited site ko yung mga accounts mo sa social media sites... stalker ba yung ganun?... paulit ulit na pinupuntahan... sorry di kita makausap eh...wala pa akong accounts sa mga websites na yun... loser much...yan siguro sasabihin mo, pero dahil hindi tayo nag-uusap di ko maririnig yun...wala rin naman akong maibabahagi na maganda, kaya tatahimik na lang ako...kahit na ayoko naman talaga...)
everything in its right place...

alam mo yung pakiramdam na para kang nakatira sa sarili mong mundo?

tapos facebook lang

yung koneksyon mo

dun sa mundo ng iba...sa mundo niya...

tapos wala ka pang kwenta magfacebook

ugh

pano ba yan

para aka tuloy nag-iisa

pasensya na

walang magic dito

o super telekenetic mind connection

hindi iyon ang kailangan mo

hindi mo yun mahahagilap

sa panaginip

para ka lang tanga

Read More 

too young to feel so nostalgic...

and too old to still feel so irresponsible...

i never really aged well...

ugh...

the pacing is off...

tangina kasi sobrang self-conscious kahit walang ginagawa...

sobrang lubog na lubog ako eh...

out of place kung may sasabihin ako...

"we used to dream, now we worry about dying"
-japandroids



thinking about something a lot of times, and no matter how hard you convince yourself, does not make something real...

i will just make do of the cards i am dealt... or not dealt...

elliott smith is a great companion in the wee hours of your birthday anyway...

thanks ninjas...

The past is a grotesque animal
And in its eyes you see
How completely wrong you can be
How completely wrong you can be

The sun is out; it melts the snow that fell yesterday
Makes you wonder why it bothered

I fell in love with the first cute girl that I met
Who could appreciate Georges Bataille
Standing at Swedish festival discussing "Story of the Eye"
Discussing "Story of the Eye"

It's so embarrassing to need someone like I do you
How can I explain, I need you here and not here too
How can I explain, I need you here and not here too

I'm flunking out, I'm flunking out, I'm gone, I'm just gone
But at least I author my own disaster
At least I author my own disaster

Performance breakdown and I don't want to hear it
I'm just not available
Things could be different but they're not
Things could be different but they're not

The mousy girl screams, "Violence! Violence!"
The mousy girl screams, "Violence! Violence!"
She gets hysterical because they're both so mean
And it's my favorite scene
But the cruelty's so predictable
It makes you sad on the stage
Though our love project has so much potential
But it's like we weren't made for this world
(Though I wouldn't really want to meet someone who was)

Do I have to scream in your face?
I've been dodging lamps and vegetables
Throw it all in my face, I don't care

Let's just have some fun
Let's tear this shit apart
Let's tear the fucking house apart
Let's tear our fucking bodies apart
But let's just have some fun

Somehow you've red-rovered the Gestapo circling my heart
And nothing can defeat you
No death, no ugly world

You've lived so brightly
You've altered everything
I find myself searching for old selves
While speeding forward through the plate glass of maturing cells

I've played the unraveler, the parhelion
But even Apocalypse is fleeting
There's no death, no ugly world

Sometimes I wonder if you're mythologizing me like I do you
Mythologizing me like I do you

We want our film to be beautiful, not realistic
Perceive me in the radiance of terror dreams
And you can betray me
You can, you can betray me

But teach me something wonderful
Crown my head, crowd my head
With your lilting effects
Project your fears on to me, I need to view them
See, there's nothing to them
I promise you, there's nothing to them

I'm so touched by your goodness
You make me feel so criminal
How do you keep it together?
I'm all, all unraveled

But you know, no matter where we are
We're always touching by underground wires

I've explored you with the detachment of an analyst
But most nights we've raided the same kingdoms
And none of our secrets are physical
None of our secrets are physical
None of our secrets are physical now


of montreal's best song...

i have gone too deep
and have watched too much people get their brains
blown out scattered and their skulls
bored with a bullet hole...sometimes twice...
have watched too many lies
and too many small victories
that never actually mattered in the bigger scheme of things
all things considered
a victory tainted with the vile stench of failure...
there are no payoffs...just a life so profoundly dark, ready to move on into the inevitable, and nosedive straight through hell...
with a life deeply entrenched in the stinkpile, you can never ever look good anymore...
nothing clean will come up, everything is besmirched with the same dirt...
this world is not colored in black and white... only dirty shade of gray and pitch dark blackness...
this is how it rips your insides out...
wrenching it with a bayonet
your eyes can't look the other way...
no matter how gutwrenching and sordid it all feels
this is compelling
there is no other way
red to black
black to red
its all part of a bigger game
and you always lose

i still have that book
for that chance for small talk
and i still have a lot of time
but now i am not so sure
upright here, in the outline
of the jaws of earth
ready to swallow us whole
but now we're fine
we never really know
when we will be shook
by the most painful of truths,
of reality beckoning to happen
deep down, and we are
so oblivious, so stupidly in love
to things we are unsure
almost always half of the time
deeply enamored
yet deeply out of touch
and
when the crack starts to grumble
God forbid, we'll be out of time
and out of reach
and perhaps too deep in shit
and in fear, we'll be speaking in code
to no one... under the falling weight of
the earth, sleeping
and losing
every chance we had...
and wherever we are
we'll now comprise
the new statistic
in every ticker crawling
and flashing steadily
underneath every body else's
stupid tv screen
showing worldwide...

and this scares me
to no end...
anyways when do you want your book back?
its been overdue for who knows how long...



anyways, this is the longest pregnant pause...


im so tired i havent sleep a wink
im so tired my mind is on the blink
-beatles

he keeps mumbling to himself, keep looking everywhere, uttering words whispered and told a thousand times to no one in particular. it is a nice day, the sun partially overlaid by a big bulbous bushy ball of cloud, shimmering and pampering the soul warm enough not to burn the melanin of the overly exposed skin of the rush of power dressed people in their busy lives moving to and fro with nothing but destination in mind, or traffic, or being late, or another smelly day in a crowded train. this is how a normal life begins. he was still asleep during that time, still, it was really a nice day, with the sunlight permeating through his red curtains refracting a crimson overcast in his small room, it was a nice day to die. but he won't be, at least not yet. the scene was repeated for almost a week now, no one hears him anyway, the room is shut, and so was his mind, to a world that looks and feels real, but is not, and he never really care, he can't anyway, and now he has his escape rope, spinning faster and floating away and into the entrance of some lowly cave he just recently been trapped into, he was in seafoam islands, but that dream was from yesterday, a shallow pointless dream about catching them all to the tune of catchy 8 bit melodies, and that dream  does not matter anyway. this is his life now, disjointed and fragmented, hollow snippets of fake reality he neither could not reciprocate nor enliven, this was not his life, but this is what he sometimes accepts, and sometimes only where he really makes sense by mumbling words he even cannot clearly remember afterwards. four hours later, he would soon open his eyes, and will awake to a life he left last midnight, in the same uncomfy bed where everything but himself is dead, an uncomfy coffin for his dreams and ambitions that easily crumbled and shattered  with each passing day, each shards a reminder of what he is and more importantly what he really is not nor will ever be. after the dream he is back to an empty space horizontally alone, living an empty shell of a life, still drifting farther and farther, away from the busy life from which he was left out few years ago and the death that always looms in such nice day and to the waiting life of irrelevancy .  he is still there, in the burrows of humanity that he dug, in the horizon of life and death, a shallow grave six feet above from where his life currently is reposed, at least in the meantime. still there, planning his way out of the rabbit hole.


***

we need a myth...

everything is not what it seems...or at least that's what it looks like...
The more you LOOK, the LESS you really KNOW...


i miss writing, or at least trying hard to write, about certain mundane things that happened in my day, those simple activities unnecessarily stretched into four walls of paragraphs, describing every inch of every details that may or may not be overtly deemed as subtle metaphors for something you wish to tell someone else...the chances of it happening now is fat goose egg, as i still stubbornly linger here, that's not to say that it ever really had a chance to be told to that someone, in the first place, i never stood a chance to be honest...even now, even when i am more desperate and less sure about every thing else...i compound my mistakes, and now i confound the littlest of details to something bigger, something that meant more, and deeper, when in reality, it might not be what it seems to my perception...now i feel like i deliberately distort my perspective, intentionally fooling myself into thinking that i still meant more, i still for whatever reason still be seen or noticed, even from where i am now... once the stagelight is turned off, once you are engulfed by the darkness you really deserve in the first place, you will realize how alone you really are...there is nothing to mistify you, nothing to conceal you the truth, it's just you bared in the ugliness and emptiness of it all... it wasnt like this before, although now i am not too sure... i deserve that fat goose egg...


if you really want to hear about it...

watch coen bros anyway... 

Happenstance...



-----an event that might be arranged but entirely accidental...







these are the moments you thought where signs for something...you believe them...whatever the hell they suppose to mean...however you perceive them... you live your life through those moments... you thought life was telling you something... and some alchemy expert said that if you really want something, the universe will conspire to make your dreams and wish come true... you believed that guy, after all he found what he looked for, at least as far as i remembered it 5 years ago... this is how they conspired, how the stars aligned themselves... you thought these are true sign of a life you dreamt... there is no coincidence!... every chance encounters meant something special... a profound experience... you thought you are following a trail, that the stars are still aligned to keep you on track, that the universe's hand are there for you to reach... this is your life...you believed them... deeply believed that your actions based on dreams meant something... you thought their presence meant something to you... it sure look and feel like somehow it does...that it should be... those simple moments that should have never been glanced upon a second time, those words that you thought was suppose to be for you, that you actually read when you feel so fucking bad, were actually might be for someone else...even if those words came from someone you think is special you... and you thought there were signs that you might have a chance to actually say something to her, but everything was a make believe...there were never any signs in the first place... everything you deeply feel and believed was founded on a series of unrelated events that are coincidentally in each others presence... there is no dream... and she left a long time ago, while you were looking somewhere else...somewhere deeper... even when nothing else was there all along...in the immortal quote of the bluth family...i made a huge mistake...

there never was any deep-seated meaning behind, just chance encounters when you most expected them...life's way of making fun of you...such sharp and brutal sense of humor... like in party down...

although to be fair to myself, you were always almost saying the words i wanted to hear...mostly when i need some sort of assurance or whatever...even when i am fucking light years away...i drifted apart...everything is mere happenstance from afar...there's nothing of depth or meaning...just happened when you want something to happen...

watch fringe...and community...also watch fringe...

and perhaps my alternate version in the red universe is in much better disposition than mine... obviously...

pangako ko may mangyayaring bago this year... and this is not a resolution... basta... and my year already started much better than last year...(which i spent on our rooftop contemplating something that i knew i won't ever do anyway...like jumping perhaps...)i will be back ok...don't write me out yet... i will not die...even when i think i should have been, a long time ago, and i willclimb out of this shithole inch by inch dirt by dirt shit by shit, and i hope i can see you after i emerged out of my own personal boring hell, with gravity still pulling me down, notwithstanding...

this is not a sound of a new man or a crispy realization...as bon iver would sing somberly...

this is the unlocking and the liftaway... as bon iver followed-up still somberly wailing in his hushed falsetto voice...

your love will be...safe with me...


i promise i will try to be at least decent enough not to fail horribly at something i am not adequately good... i am not really good at something... especially at something i really fucking hate... there will still be broken dreams...even when i can never see myself at something... but atleast i will try to have a better year... God knows i have been bungling every given year that i think i supposedly does not deserve in the first place, if i am to be completely and bluntly honest to myself...

i will be back, but i will still not change... i can't now.. i will still not drink a lot because i am probably still not cool...probably still read a lot of books, watch a lot of movies and shows, and listen to a lot of music which i will unfortunately still enjoy by my lonesome...probably i will still be alone... only better... whatever the fuck that means... whatever the ancient mayans believed in their 5, 125 year-old calendar, i will promise myself one year off being better than my old self... it might not mean much, but atleast it's better than being in a shithole for 2 years, toiling in irrelevancy, with familiar faces passing by fast like strangers in a train... i want to be somewhere else but here... and i want to be with you (second person plural)...

happy new year... and somehow i think the excerpt below has some significant or whatever...


"...'The Three Little Pigs' is not the story that is fucking people up. Stories like  'Say Anything' are fucking people up. We don't need to worry about people unconsciously "absorbing" archaic secret messages when they're six years old; we need to worry about all the entertaining messages people are consciously accepting when they're twenty-six. They're the ones that get us, because they're the ones we try to turn into life.  I mean, Christ: I wish I could believe that bozo from Coldplay when he tells me that stars are yellow. I miss that girl. I wish I was Lloyd Dobler. I don't want anybody to step on a piece of broken glass. I want fake love. But that's all I want, and that's why I cant' have it. " --Chuck Klosterman




sometimes i wonder why we insist on going back...consciously or not... there's a hint of something special might happen...then nothing will... then we always end up frustrating ourselves...always half-glancing behind hoping to catch a glimpse, that somehow even by the biggest of surprises you will find what you wanted to see...then still nothing...