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...

i don't know anything about you anymore...wait that is not true i still think i know something about you, the littlest of things, but somehow years effaced every traces of every connection i have about you.. first the real talk, then even the small talks... sometime along the way, i shrank, felt so lowly about myself, felt so fucking inferior i forgot how to talk to you, then everything moved on, except my stupid self, i was left there on my own, not knowing what to do, i still don't anyway...everything changed drastically, i didn't...i just grew weary and somehow just shrank smaller and smaller, you changed too, and i don't know how to talk to you anymore, you changed a lot, for the better, while i was stuck here in the mud hopelessly trying to figure everything out... there was a mistake along the way, i am irrelevant now, while you and everyone else became the dreams they chased, or at least i hoped so... i feel embarrassed, hopeless even, i feel like i can't really become something anymore, and seeing you again a few weeks ago made me realize how small i really had gotten... we are world's apart...and i am stuck with that old memory of you, there is no way you could remember her, like i did... i feel like you talk with a lot of smileys now, or lol or whatnot, to ever care about something about the past, what more something so uneventful and so boring and so mediocre that i think you buried it deep into oblivion never to return again...hence the present, which my exhausted self-deprecated self still can't fathom if there ever will be another chance, there isn't, but damnit something needs to happen, i can't live with so many vague little things, i am bad at comprehension, i can't find their true meaning, i define what i want  it to be, and then i half-heartedly believe there's no way it would ever be the truth, even i doubt this could ever shed light to something, i am so far down the point of relevance that i can no longer command even a miniscule amount of attention... what more yours... but there's a sliver of optimism in here somewhere,  a hope maligned by my own inadequacies and shortcomings, and i hope that will spark something...  i need anything that resembles a positive sign... merry christmas anyway...

Acceptance is not the answer... it is an escape... it is a cop out...

And don't ever let anyone teach you something, it will never get into you, they will never understand, they will never know, you are in complete denial, everything is gibberish trash, recycled and then redecorated with yet another more self-styled hifaluting gibberish cliche intended to make them actually look much better than you...in fact it isn't... well you don't know it do you, there is nothing that could change your mind, you are in denial of something you can't escape, nor have the guts to confront... acceptance is not the answer... you can't accept fear... you won't hear any of this, but it will never be gone, it will never stop... do not accept who you think you are... that was your first mistake...that is a stupid compromise... you will never know who you really are if you accept yourself now...this isn't the right time... this is a trap...stop trying to remind yourself, this won't work... you know that, but don't accept it as truth, because it isn't...
you can't accept what you don't know... you will lose...
















your mind...



listen to tame impala by the way...or not...ok don't...

My mind only remembers the little things
the speck of dust

the littlest glances sideways
a quick sniping look from afar
the parade of words i answered
to the remark i think i heard many times before
from you
nice to hear it again
i could treasure them all when i reluctantly bury myself deep again
sinking under the weight of my own failure
the apogee of the long yearning culminated
in a whimper and without even a fond farewell
two years late...
i faded
under the drizzle of the dark sky...

perhaps there was nothing beyond those littlest things
i always thought there was something else
something special,
behind the subtlest feelings evoked
by the littlest of moments we shared

perhaps those are the only things i can see...
or strongly feel...or do...
halfway from being light years away is farther than i realized
every thing i see is a speck of dust...
(in the wind...eric clapton gets it...he really gets it...this is a joke anyway)
from afar...but i still think something is special...
and the ghost of your memory still lingers
for some reason
and yeah they all came back after that little glance
and after i heard the little remark you uttered...



this is the actualization of every stupid shits i did and did not do, my life only ran tangentially with others, there's nothing for them to  look back, only the same thing all of them knew all along, if there's a time to regret everything this isn't it...let's wait for 8 years perhaps a better impression will come up...i can't look differently to everything while in this rut...i always feel desperate...feel lost...it's unfair...

and i still think there's something special in those little things, and i want to know what it is...because everything sparkles in the depths of pitch black mediocrity hell...

and yes the title is a reference to that paul mccartney-penned beatles song...

or to my wonderful  readers (or lack thereof) that still linger here along with 10 spammers that always persuade me to buy something for my sexually-inactive life (viagra)... (they miraculously disappear after this entry...)let's go all-out for all my missing spectators and to those that still miraculously stumble upon whatever you call this sorry sack of shit, by accident or perhaps by suddenly remembering that sometime in the past, the author of this sorry sack of shit was thought of as someone that could actually write a couple of somewhat interesting paragraphs, although granted most of the time it was me who always stumble this sorry sack of shit when i reminisce about those interestingly heartbreaking years where you try to pull out metaphors from out of every mundane and boring days spent trying hard to recapture moments that, in retrospect, might not be there all along, such are the vicissitudes of a human being lost in ennui, there was nothing redeeming in such mediocre tragedy, just another useless painful sighing that will always come out in a faint hush, slowly receding into thin air unnoticed...and it wasnt an air  of flatulence stealthily emitted, as sophomoric toilet humor would make you believe, but just another moment solitarily remembered and forgotten from time to time...

now, if only you have read or continued to read everything i wrote here (which i thought you would have done 5 freaking years ago) you would have realized how fortunate you are with your current life, which isn't worse than what you lead yourself to believe in...at least you should have known that there's someone in deeper shit than you, and you will never ever recognize his paltry existence anymore, he was left out somewhere sometime, forgotten, yet still trying to reach out from the deepest darkest abyss from which he now stupidly dwell on, there's no dream there, or silver lining, which could have been you, but never was and never will be i guess, it was just a stupid make-believe which is still yearned to actually come true...yes, there's life far worse than yours...but that isnt the point i guess...

 illumined by nostalgia everything feels heartwarming, everything feels so right from a distance in time, nobody can hurt you, it was already done a long time ago, this is part of a bigger reality, which the neglected always try to deflect, the answers weren't there too, it's a cop-out, although we still need them, it's an assurance that somehow the present, if reflected from the past, will still look somewhat surprisingly bittersweet, no matter how useless your life is or how painful everything else around you is right now...that's the illusion and we need to fall for them sometimes...that's why we look for a reflection of our life somewhere else, a tinge of nostalgia perhaps, we always want to feel like somebody can relate to you, that you are not alone or helpless, but mostly we just rely on television (or movies or books or songs), specially those shows penned by dorky nebbish neurotic writers, they seem to always know our pain...they know what it feels...they know us...or so it seems...

and even though i know this won't be read i still hope and think that you redeem yourself, this is hardly reassuring anyway but at least i tried hard  to fail in something i really wished and wanted to do, anyways, i am in a rut, or hell, in worse shape than imagined, yet i still try to find something to salvage from this forsaken existence that i currently living, and yes my pursuit might be unnoticed and quite possibly in naught, but that isn't the point, at least the feeling of doing something of worth will temporarily lift your spirits up, that's a tiny underwhelming positive step, for what its worth, and if lucky it might lead to something bigger.. even though in my case it doesn't... but you are in better shape, you have a bigger world, you have lesser obstructions and obstacles and you have more people surrounding you, you have more facebook friends, they will rescue you, you have far more hands to seek help and hold on to, and i will try to push you up, even if i will look stupid when my effort will never be seen, it will always be there...you deserve a better life not worth moping for...can't say the same for my own...

if you still think there's life for you beyond your 30th birthday you're still in a pretty good life with a pretty bright future... unless you're in a misguided attempt at living a wonderful life, i will welcome you into the misery you never ever deserve in your life... this is a wasteland... i have a tunnel vision in a rose tinted glass and a pipe dream to look forward to deeply in my sleep every night...i might need a hand too...or motivation...i fucking hate this...so fucking bad...



from afar everyone looks the same...

Live, live, live live because you love love love.

And love will make you give give give.

And give in when you break,

But you just want to fix yourself.



Just to break again.












*

from the torn pages of a stupid filler, i wrote this stupid anecdote...a few stupid months ago...

maybe it wasnt a good idea after all...looking back to what was then a wide-eyed glean to an awe-inspiring snippets of one individual's idealistic words and wisdom, you suddenly felt the urge, for the first time, of what would become an almost ritualistic reverie in pursuing eloquence and idealism, that was five years ago, and tumbler was non-existent only nolan's batmobile, and the road you traverse soon run smack straight into detour, still salivating for that glorious chance,your wide-eyed glean soon needed to look askance to the numbers and truncated words that sometimes do no not make sense displayed right in front of you, perhaps also glance to your real life flashing before you, this is suppose to be your life now, a sedentary job awaits you in four years time, you should have been behind a desk now but you are not...a year later you still wondered if pen and paper have the same effect to you, the potential abound it astounds you, the magical moment of phrases and poetic profundity, which does not make sense anyway in retrospect, soon deviate the task at hand, obsession with your own way of words ensued, still unexpressed, and consumed you, and now a hundred attempts for even a decent stanza later left you sleeping in your own pool of vomited words, dreaming of a broken dream, your wide-eyed glean into the depths of mundane now just a dumbfounded look of disbelief, there is still hope lurking, shrouded by your vile stench of failure, and your computer screen still stares back at you with at least the same deference that you once knew, and now you wish to try to come back to the codes, and syntaxes and error trapping that you tried so hard to dismiss, a saving grace for a future not worth having, and for those pesos invested to your education, more importantly,... but empty glares and glassy-eyed glances later on, you found yourself searching for the pieces of knowledge for what could have been your most perfect comeback...it wasn't there, now was it ever there all along...silhouettes of false memories and broken dreams cast shadows to your lifeless arduous journey, blindfolds your vision, going nowhere...struggling to come up with another excuse, i drowned, and choked, to my own bottled sadness and then wrote it in a stupid paper afterwards...
 a few stupid months later,
 i still try to convince myself,
this isn't your perfect comeback...
it will come...
at the perfect time...


it won't...



"On my way to you, old county
Hoping nothing's changed
That your pain is never-ending
That is, it's still the same
County Line
County Line
I left so far behind

You never even tried to love me
What did I have to do to make you want me?
I feel so blind, I can't make out the passing road signs
All that you would have me do is cross that County Line "
-cass mccombs

wala akong magawa

matagal ko nang di pinapakeelam ito

last year pa yung huling tagalog post ko

tinabunan na ko nang kung ano

pasensya di na ko makakabangon eh

putik ata o tae

di ko na rin alam nasan na ko

o kung may pakielam pa ko kung nasan ako

o kung ilang beses ko nang aksidenteng natapilok sarili ko

(may sprain ata ako sa kaliwang paa...o feeling ko lang siguro meron...para magmukhang legit basketball player ako...)

o kung may nangyari na ba uli sakin...

wala pa...

huwag kang mag-alala andito pa ko

kahit papaano humihinga pa naman

medyo kinakapos sa hangin

at sa pangarap

pero mabuti pa ko...

siguro sa isang taon uli

baka may magbago na

patuloy tayong sasalubsob

sasalubungin natin ang lupa

paibaba, una ang mukha

sabay nating huhukayin

ang mababaw nating libingan

at patuloy na magkukunwari

habang mabagal na ipipikit

ang mga mata at mabubulag

panadalian sa mga bagay

na ayaw mong makita

dito tayo magpapanggap na

tayo'y nangangarap o kaya'y

nananaginip at aabutin natin sila

sa kasuluksulukan nang mundo

di natin sila makikita

mangangapa tayo sa madilim at masikip

na espasyo nang ating mababaw na himlayan

at babangon tayo nang sabay uli sa susunod na taon

sana andito pa tayo para salubungin ang ating sariling

paggising

at paggapang

mula sa putik at burak

at magkukunwaring may naggawa tayo

kahit na meron

o wala

o ewan

bahala ka

walang kwenta

dun ka sa iba magbasa nang matino

irepost mo ung nirepost nung nirepost nung nirepost nung nirepost nung nirepost nung nirepost nung ni nirepost nung nirepost nang kung sino man...

And if i was some little swallow
had little wings
and i could fly
drop out of sight
of my own true lover
and there i'd sit
until the day i die

and if i was some little sparrow
had little wings
and i could fly
flap out of sight
of my own true lover
and there'd i'd sing
until the day i die

i would lie in the arms
of some weeping willow
sleep for weeks
once a year
wouldn't need nothing
but some weeping willow
and what i'd drink
would be my tears