Rewind, R.Evolutions, and Beyond!

Rewind: and super fast.
It's Total Recall! already with these spankass robots, ultimately dominating the robotic milieu, then perhaps ...the world (with a Dr. Evil sneer and a Dr. Evil laugh).

0 8 is/was perhaps a strange one with spinning rollercoasters and emotional heavies heading the life zone all over. It was a bit unnerving at some point since too much of wanting things didn't / don't really seem to set it or push through as The Force wasn't force-full enough (on some plans). But generally, it was/is a good year. I took on personal challenges, won some small victories (personal; and then some), trained in the martial arts to some extent, tried to win over some (lady--and just threw it with the wind), starred in a movie, tried all day / all night dancing again, and more.

Robot Evolutions: the fun party.
Check out the hot 'chick' AKIBA


exactly my type.

and The Trons (New Zealand Robot Army)


Hopefully, I could get to watch them live, in the next few years. Awesome music. Awesome players; Ham, Wiggy, Swamp, Fifi.

Be yond er: Perhaps.
Perhaps I will fall in love with 'nine. I miss things with 'nine. Perhaps I can complete my 8-lists with nine.

Oh 8 v. beta!

a primer.
--
advice to the young at heart.


To someone who’s avoiding someone..
Let it go and turn it over to the clouds and let it float away.

--
“kung hindi ka pinapansin, eh di wag mo ring pansinin”
T: ‘If you are not being noticed, then don't mind the person as well’

there is a light that never goes out

..lighting the inner fire that never burns out.


(the smiths)

I've always loved 'art' in some way or another. The freedom and creativity has stretched my thinking into the 'not-so-obvious realm', like spinning cotton candy from air.

ah yes, imagination.

Framing Life on the Streets

Found this in the RFF forum.



Joel Meyerowitz on being 'street invisible'.

Nice moves though.

K-Light

Perhaps the vast trail of chaotic lights mean something.

..to someone else.

(photo taken somewhere in cubao, along the road, in front of plaza fair supermarket; 16 Nov 08).
----
I just remembered it was my Lolo's (grandfather) birthday on 16 Nov. We never got to meet him; he was shot in the head in 1968 by rebels during his mayoral term.

Magnumimity

..and it doesn't mean anything.

Despite the endless satisfaction of having photos printed in the 'daily', the other part of me relishes the experience of being behind the camera on that very day.


Out of the books I have, or what I’ve read about photography, I never really understood the ‘art’ that I make. I think no matter how many times I read self-help books, or books on technical mumbo-jumbos, or books on how to take ‘better’ photos, it really doesn’t feel like ‘art’ that I’ve created. It all feels lifeless, soulless, as empty streets, as hollow tubes, in wonderment of the emptiness that surrounds my shallow shell.

Henri Cartier-Bresson isn’t like that; he is always and continuous to be in his moment, in his life. He defines himself an anarchist, always in fight, thinking freely and ruthless with rules. He defines it as an ethic, an act, an attitude of loving. It is a philosophy in life, that if we all thought and breathe as it, we will be a society in ‘nirvanic’ chaos. In his interview with Charlie Rose, I cannot help but feel invigorated with his spirit while watching and hearing his heart and mind talk like scripture and psalms. I wrote some to put to heart. An artist, he says is anybody who is sensitive. What is art anyway? Is it just a bunch of things put together by someone? A casual observer could nudge the idea of anything to waste. The thing about it that makes it ‘art’ is the way the ‘artist’ has done his craft; it is how much you put your heart into it that grounds it into foundation.


Sensitivity, maybe in fact, be the ‘why’ an artist recognizes the moment to capture in frame. At that moment, there is a connection between the artist and subject. There is a reason to be interested. Nevermind the grey areas of unexplainability. It is perhaps the way the ‘artist’ interprets himself, affected by the subject. It might be so that Cartier-Bresson insists on being an anarchist, being passionate about his craft and his life.


.:All creativity is found everywhere in the universe and it is channeled through me.

In between plus and minus

Beyond the light and shadows we seek peace and tranquility. Behind this desk, I write my forlorn wailing. I am lost in a cloud of negative thoughts right now. I am blurred by self-imposed inadequacies in life, love, work, family, friendships, and all the other crap in this world.

I can still smile somehow, eating lunch in front of this splendor of a window. I smile looking forward tomorrow.

Dinner in familiar lives

KFC - Ayala MRT station

I was in a corner, eating shrimp rice and soup just about past 8 while I was waiting for the MRT line to shrink down. It was simply another evening in another night in the same life. These were things that are always kept in repeat.

I noticed this man in front of me, having dinner all the same. He was alone, as was I, and as well as the others who were doing the usual rounds--work, eat, sleep. It never stops. Tomorrow, we would be waking up, taking baths, dressing up, then off to work.

...

It never seems enough.

Kkhole's Bday Show

20 Oct 08
Conspiracy Bar

Kkhole's bday show. It was a delightful event as Khole celebrated his 'orbit' in singing songs in 'songwriters' night'.
--
What would be your greatest fear? I'd list being on stage in a solo act. I've done shows where I was back-up, singing, dancing, tinkling with me bass guit, but doing it alone, and stripped of electronics is surely an oven.

Khole does it all here. Armed with an acoustic guitar, the stage lights seem to rattle the shaky voice. But with a tremendous spirit, he did 3 compositions with flair.
--
A nice way to celebrate your life; try conquering it.

V

self-portrait

On personal thoughts and self-help

Right.

Self in the Office

Self in the Office
Originally uploaded by buccino

It's just too easy to change moods during the work hours. From a malfunctioning email process, I am a happy nut, taking vanity 'artsy-fartsy' photos of myself while my officemates are careless of coffee breaks and the 'darters' I'm looking at, are just plain busy with their 'work'. If that's what you can call it.

Aside from being 'relegated' to 'promotion', I am an affirmation away from taking on ruthless challenges of being a Team Leader.

Of course the glory is always the love of it.

Dusk, View from just outside the office

Dusk, View from just outside the office
Originally uploaded by buccino

9pm and I'm still in the office. This could have been yet another beautiful dusk, if I had just looked outside the window

CD's CD's CD's (20-20's)

CD's CD's CD's (20-20's), originally uploaded by buccino.

This is the first series in my 20-20's collections (pictures of randomness with specific elements of fancy).

Actually, this is more of a forced attempt to continue to learn the art of photography and make 'stunning' pictures. So daily, there are 20 pictures of what-nots.

And, I'm trying this flickr blog thing and see if it works with my blogger

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Twenty / Twenty's 0000

!!! yes !!!

This post is supposed to have pictures! and pictures! 20 pictures of random things in a day. My eyes, and its transformation.

So, I say !!! yes !!!

And Again.

Right now, a Saturday in the midst of a dreary one, I feel discontent; alone and silent in things I've tried to be mum about.

I always try to fill my Saturdays with something to do. But today, I was dragged by sleep a few hours more. I woke up alone with nobody in the house. Perhaps they've left, or tended to other things. Perhaps, as signs would do, show me of a glimpse of my life in the every unknown future I'll be going to--a place where nobody knows me, but I'll be desperate to want.

I just took this photo, minutes ago, of a chair isolated from else; forced to be in a corner, sitting on olden wood planks leading out-in or the other way around. On the other corner, there is a lamp, framed with its head cut off, and plugged in the world of increasing electricity rates controlled by monopolies of desire and greed and inane things. Its switch, far below, lying on the floor needing to be swooped on to illuminate the world with its burning heart.

This is me.

This is me today.

I am as sordid as wires enveloped together in a black space of fleeting things.

I cannot make anything out of it except that one way or another leads to another.

There is a start. There is an end. A journey in the hurricane that spins me around like a top. On a hard flat surface, I drill this temperamental earth etching an array of lines.

This could all be in loops; in rewind; in flux.

Like ourselves, in a state of holding breath, in moments of panic.

All because of ...

In my vast desire to be something of a 'learned' master, or a simple minimalistic wise man in the realm of photography, I cannot help but be frustrated and overwhelmed in the things that I do not know of but wished to do so.

I have a set of eyes that are as normal as a cup of coffee or a 3-in-1. I have eyes that see what you do. I have eyes that quiver in the light of a bright sun. Under cloudy skies, we see the same shade of beauty.

What troubles me is my inability to awake a demon to burn my eyes out. I bought colored filters to see in irony the deep set of blacks and whites. I tried to replicate this fashion in digital. But they all look oh so the same. Everytime.

I read and read and read and read, unable to grasp a simple thought.

And, yet again, I am malcontent.

Perhaps...

Yes, the veritable word. Perhaps.

Perhaps, I should shift my seat, go out, and do it again.

Hunger and Thirst

..or is it thirst and hunger?

Losing a dart match really is a smack down today, coupled with being a forgetful twit on siomai orders, sms-miscommunication oceans, getting the wrong shirt, ganging up on the repetitive nature of 'the office', and yes, 'relationships' (per se).

At the end of the workday though, it is surmised that everything from love to sanity, revolves around the whims of the stomach.

After 6 chocolate bars, I guess I could say, "gutom lang yan".

---
more after eating

Miss Yapity

I miss writing yapity things, especially when our IT guys in the office have a weird sense of blocking websites. Block this, block that this time. Access this, access that sometimes. So the times I write, there's blogger being loaded.


Say hello to a hundred characters in my head, this is your writing persona 'writing'. What I'm doing now is not so uncommonly different, but weird for my 'the office' mates. In my world, I'd say they're either weird, or plain flat heads. How could not talking to oneself be not a joy when you can appease yourself and enjoy the whole nature of your persona. Apart from being the sole 'loner' in our team, I'm quite annoyed sometimes when I'm being bugged when I'm either focusing on sound tripping, surfing for photos in the web, ym-ing, or what. Please. Don't bug people because you can't find anything to do, or you can't please yourself. Bug me when you need some work from me, not when I'm in my enjoying-my-life zone.

...
I'm cutting my yaps short. I'm heading to Anawangin, Zambales tonight to take pristine photos of the place. My head is focused on experience sunny weather up northwest deep in the storm.

Drilling conversations and motivational speeches to/with self

I take it that, *sigh*, I'm more remorseful as ever. Have to cheer myself up somehow. I'm wondering that I, as forgetful as fleeting moments, couldn't get this image of a 'what-would-have-been' out of my head. It's odd enough that it's like reruns of romantic TV shows and I'm on an acid trip.

If, if, if…

"If I could do just one near perfect thing, I'd be happy".

Now Belle and Sebastian words it perfectly for me.

…if she wants me.

before i forget, 8 mayors junk single ticket scheme

before i forget, 8 mayors junk single ticket scheme

oh yessireee!

more on this after eating dinner.

HW and the works

The recent evictions of some sites that I often browse to by 'ze offiz pirates' led me in reading articles at cnn. There's this quirky little read on the odd jobs in America. Some of which are really, way out there, like paper towel smeller and the underwear smeller. What the?!? At the same time, I've been watching the show "Dirty Jobs" on Discovery Ch wondering about the people involved in loving grime, or simply those who just have to.

Which led me to this picture portrait project ek ek. I've already had this idea in mind but after reading that article, I'm more pressed to do something like it but more with a very emotive positive feeling than can somehow nudge this country's apathy into something consciously productive.


PROJECT 00X: People in shadows
There is a definite intent to honour those people who are there everyday, doing service to this country. These are the individuals who pick up your trash, make your clothes, help you cross the street, and so on. We do not realize it, yet still, they struggle to build this nation's foundations with their very hands.

---
more to come, after I've actually started it. But right now, it's still in my head.

'And off you go now'

jibber jabber

I don't know why I made a new blog (again).

I just like to start things, and never finish them, I guess.

Oh, and I like the word 'yapity' too.