testing on multiple cross-posting

testing on multiple cross-posting

Creativity Upskill in 2012

Quick! Writing these things down before I lose them in my head.

1. Master Dreamweaver and the Web (CSS, HTML, Wordpress, the goings-around of the web, and the technical mumbo-jumbos).
2. Make at least 4 Picture Projects for 2012.
3. Continue to document this life in pictures (one photo a day).
4. Draw something simple, draw something intricate. Learn to observe with the eyes and feel it with the hand.
5. Continue to be creative in Photoshop and Illustrator, everyday.
6. Buy more books. Read, understand, and take it to heart.
7.

Well-being In 2012

Since the past year has been personally a wonderful ride, here's to 2012 and the things I am excited of to be doing:

1. Have a more focused, concentrated and powerful brain. I am slowly developing how to use my brain effectively, as well as to maximize and sustain my regenerating energy. Well, to do that, I am balancing my sleep patterns, my food and nutrients intake, my conscious breathing, physical exercise and sweating, along with sustained deep meditations, praises and thanks.

2. It's fun to think and think of Fun! Don't overthink a lot of things. Just Do. Be. Do.

3. Show up. Pay Attention. Live your Truth. Do it. And Do It Some More.

4. Smile. Talk. More. And Share. I get my experiences from everything.

5. Let's write some more, read some more, dream some more, draw some more. It is abundantly replenished.

—
There should be some more and I'll continue to keep adding to this list.

Train Strains

I hate trains. It’s my daily commute, and it has been a part of my life for some 10 odd years already. It was my awakening to the rabid commute to the farthest school I have ever been in, my A to B in the shortest amount of time, on regular hours. We push heavily starting from the steps on towards the ticketing, the balcony, then everywhere. The people, the masses, the multitude. It doesn’t stop.

I used to take the bus / FX / jeep in the pre-MRT era. I loved it, and love it still. But the time convenience just affords my reality that I am always in a rush; about the perplexities of my uncommon existence, and the rush to stay still.

For about a month now, I’ve had this strange relationship with trains. I will be there in the morning, waiting for her to arrive, amicably sitting and retaining my last thoughts from the night before. People walk passed; some stare at me. I look back without flinching a smile. Like I let my eyes gorge their silly thoughts, and silly dresses and silly walks. Then she arrives, sometimes on time, and mostly, not. Sometimes she arrives with a full hedge of life in her; those of turmoil, or those of gleam. And sometimes, there, empty, to be devoured by people just like me, to squeeze every inch of themselves and make her full, and let no other man come inside. I am selfish to want to get in right at that moment. I can wait, I know. But I am always in a rush.

Inside, there is a mad sea of feelings. The hot and cold air swirl around and meet at some gully. Perhaps on my nose, or my lips where I can taste the foul air in the morning. Sometimes the air brushes my hair, and sometimes the sun glistens in my cheeks, and yours as well. Mornings can be a bit weary sometimes, especially for me, for lack of energy, from the nights I’ve spent exhausted, on your precious back. I can smile, and smile back at her. Because I know I am safe, inside her heart, where she turns and follows her rails. I notice eyes twitter around and look for others. Their stories, their lives, intertwined without knowing. Our lives. Back and forth. I’ve set my feet apart to stand still and sway gracefully inside her vessel. We dance, she and I, although she doesn’t want to admit it. We enjoy balance amidst her rocky ride.

But just as every good passing moment comes, I arrive at my station; where I get off, and where I head out to graze and ponder my resiliency of un-attachment.

Beyond this, outside, people ruin the moment. We ourselves long for hurt, the urge, the shove, the persuasion, the want to antagonize, and so forth. I love the push. I love the riot. I love the turmoil. Hell, I wrote songs about it.

After that, once you’re out, it’s all calm, like anything never did happen. Just sweat on your brow, to know that there was that ride.

I used to hate trains sometimes, on what a wreck I can feel, from what can be made from a fleeting mad love affair.

—
* an old story I thought I posted here, and which it is now.

Back to Wherever

Here. Again.

Short Fictions: In-house

"So if Bob Maddock didn't get his way, he'd punch you?" Sylvia asked.

Yeah. Umm.. I guess. Penny thought to say but couldn't open her heart from trauma.

"I mean, what are you going to do? We're stuck." She closely leaned on her and looked in her eye. A streak of wind rushed by and patted their cheeks. She then gave some sort of an awkward smile, and wrapped her body to hers.

I...I...I... And a few seconds after, Penny stopped trying and simply exhausted the remaining tensions in her face; sighing to a relief of warmth and a broken spirit.

I'm in Auckland and I have space to write

I'm in Auckland and I have space to write. I forgot that I have all this space in the internet to write down the things in my head, those everyday murmurs. I forgot that this place exists and that I am a part of it. I forgot that I came from somewhere. I forgot that I have my own story to remember.

I arrived here in Auckland on the 28th of September 2010. It was a 14-hour flight from Manila, and it was my first time to travel country to country on my own. I must have muttered a few hundred words during the entire transfer, with more words repeated over and over. I thought I was mute and that I can only communicate by hand."Yes", "No". These are the easiest things to say. It becomes difficult when you have to decide on a question that may change the course of your life. "What would you have for dinner, sir?" "Yes." And then I would not eat the meat she just handed. I thought to compromise my beliefs. After all, it's a long flight. I ate the side dishes. And I was alright.

I flew on a Monday, by Thai Airways to Bangkok. The airport I left from in Manila was suddenly dwarfed and ancient, compared to this grandiose of Suvarnabhumi in Bangkok. I kept looking up because the building never ended. It went on and on down and up to the points of view. I felt like a country mouse in big city. But beneath the awe and wonder, I am always scared of unfamiliar places at first. I get nervous and tight and cracked up. I stop walking and step aside, and I breathe, until everything slows down to silence where I am alone and become peaceful in confidence. I open my eyes, then they become familiar, and then I adapt.

Here, Auckland

I'm here. In Auckland. I hope it gets to be good down here.

--
The weather is terrible for me, for the fact that I love the heat in the tropics. But I can walk all day here with no sweat. I've started to smoke more, to keep heat. The air is so fresh I need to smoke to balance it all in.

---
School has already started. I look old, but there are others like me, wondering of a good future in a new land. I am lucky to where I am now.

Twit Conversations_

Twit Conversations_
S: On the contrary, it shouldn’t be any more distinctive than a twat flying around the house, like you do.
T: Well perhaps I’m guilty of over thinking the boundaries of self-loathing; I fear it.
S: Yes, it does sound more offish.
T: More offish?
S: Yes, you twit. Here, have some toast. Should go well with your fried brain.

GMA and the Weird Repressed Dream

GMA and the Weird Repressed Dream

The basterd-ized version was weirder; it’s still vivid now. I’m somewhere in Malacanang, in a very small secret room where GMA and FG do their thing. There is a loft. On the other side is a long corridor and a secret door to the kitchen. I don’t know how I got there; perhaps by a small door from John Cusack’s floor.

The pygmy leads me on hand to the loft. Up we go. Up on the bed. She faces her back, removes her panties, and proceeds to have a butt-fuck. I do. I don’t know why, but I do. I won’t describe the others.

So after ‘the thing’ or ‘the act’, a party ensues. My weird friends come in. Her weird whores come in and we have a Party, like Peter Sellers. We’re all soaked with foam and drunk as hell, prolly stoned too. The drinks are lavish and sweet in cute martini glasses with a frolic of the umbrella and a paradise within. We were all lucid and this big orgy happening with the evocativeness of immeasurable delight. I was stamped with hedonism.

This—happened days after watching Coraline, and having a Recollection over the weekend. How F@#$@# I am.

rumblings and grumblings

<<<<>the worst rant--ever.

I could not have been the computer literate person or the ‘pc geek’, and yet my family relies heavily on anything electronic related. I fixed simple DOS systems, HD crashes, rebooting, formatting and the typical pc maintenance. The internet arrived and I was in the bandwagon for online music, films, zines, websites, and the surf-to-surf wall of an information era free of sweat (except for mousing and carpal tunnel-ing). And yet now, in the office, with a super slow internet connection, I became an old-timer, not understanding CSS, KSS, RSS, HTML12345, JAVA, FLASH, WEB 2.0. WTF. Seriously, I feel that I’ve been thrown out of the technological information wagon. I’m stuck moving browser tabs by minutes and all I can do now is stare, complain about the ‘super slow internet connection in the office’, and write—this nonsensical rant.

This has what the new age of freedom has done—made Us (I think I speak for the majority) impatient and at the same time creative in relevance to the nature of being slammed to the wall, and dead. And being alive again.

--

The good thing is that here, we can store wine in the ref. I’m having one right now. I sing, Nakatikim ka na ba ng kinse anyos? (to the tune of ‘have you taken a bath in a sea of garbage aka MV’s super LSS song of the century ‘nakaligo ka na ba sa dagat ng basura?’).

In Memoriam

a couple of Reminders to Remember, you know, for my insipid memory.
o P-O-P-C-O-R-N Rules!
o 7 Secrets of Naturally Lucky People
o Brain Exercises
o For NZ, when I'm there already


For now.

(My) Best.. Worst.., Whatever of 2009

I’m not the list-y guy, like Rob in High Fidelity, or even Jack Black’s ‘fave’ guy; I roll on and off, with the punches, like Dicky Fox in Jerry Maguire. So for 2009, I don’t have lists, but memories, of what I can recall or ‘listed’ down.

One good thing is Google Calendar. I used to write my weekly schedule on paper, and then moved over to Excel. Since the file is in the office, when I get home, I forget what’s written, entirely. Since I’m online most of the day, I’ve then used Google Calendar for scheduling things. It’s super. And I get to share the details (If I want to). I can also sync it to BlackBerry; but of course, mine is archaic and I’m not the techie guy either.

I have somebody with me now. Like a deep relationship kind of somebody. Even love is a too broad and misunderstood word (or feeling). We agree on most things (and most would mean about almost everything in human psyche, even those that border parallel realms, dimension, insanity and cute things—like weird laughs). We don’t agree on taste and anything I’m aloof on. What I won’t say would spurn more arguments and angry sentiments.

I still don’t know what my interests are. And I mean f-u-l-l interests. I know what I like, sometimes. But what I would die for, or electrifies my nerves, I don’t. I used to think: cars, art, graphics, words, movement, bodies, dance, music, cinema, and the like. I don’t. Because with my forgetful brain, they escape me all the same. Now I’m not the most forgetful man, but I tend to lose information when I’m nervous, agit, impossible. Imagine I’m at a photo shoot and I keep on forgetting my stuff (batteries, wires, memory cards, poses, lighting, smiles, etc.) I drink to calm myself down.

I’m not exactly a thrifty person too. I can save and not eat lunch. But I pay double on postage and bid excessively when I want something. So part of this year was spent buying things I want and not used that much.

This year would be my decline in music. Imagine the whole day online, with itunes and genius, with a ‘new’ ipod, with last.fm, and more net radios, classical music, I still can’t hear the difference between a Bach and Beethoven (it’s exaggerated). We’ve (band) also started recording, yes, but live playing and influential music coming in—zilch. Although this year, I’ve heard more Jeff Mangun and Kristian Matsson, for personal and romantic reasons.

This is also the year I’ve seriously started to develop my photographic skills, even though it’s still shit. I’ve delve more in the works of contemporary artists, and trying to do more ‘commercial’ skills. Funnily, I can’t seem to pose someone for a ‘nice, commercial, likeable’ portrait of a friend; Artists, they can pose on their own, I don’t have to do anything, just arrange the lights and click. But seriously, looking at my flickr for the past year, I haven’t produced anything substantial (in my sense). I was supposed to submit a portrait portfolio for a workshop, but didn’t push thru because the lack of material.

Actually, that sums up the year. The lack of production—on anything. Two screen-printed shirts! C’mon. *Face Slap!*

---
Now gearing up for more pieces of everything this coming decade.

Pakikinig ng Musika ng 'Lucksmiths' sa Wika

Siguro mga halos kalahating araw naka repeat lang sa mga kanta ng Lucksmiths yung mp3 player. Pero panalo talaga ang bandang iyan, lalo na kapag alam mong minamalas ka. Ika nga ng isang kataga, 'when you're out of luck, your out'. Kung totoo man iyan, hindi ko alam. Malamang ako lang nagsabi niyan. Kaya siguro kumukuha ako ng suwerte mula sa mga kanta. Malas sa lagay ng pagtatanong sa limang piso ang 'oo o hindi'. Parang may panig ang tiyempo at palad sa 'hindi', 'huwag'. Hindi mo alam kung ito ba'y babala, maski mamilit ka na 'eto ang gusto ko'. "Kung gusto, maraming paraan, kung ayaw, maraming dahilan", sabi ng guro ko. Pero pag gusto mo, at ayaw ng mundo, ayaw ng tadhana. Papaano iyun?

Kaya sa hirap ng tanong, magpapalipas muna ng oras. Iba ang maupo sa tabi at makinig lang ng makinig, paulit-ulit. Iba ang karamdaman na nagmumula sa awit at karanasan ng iba. Lalo na kung ang kanta ay parang ikaw, parang katapat ng buhay mo. Siguro ganoon naman talaga ang mga kanta, at ang buhay. Sumasalamin lang sa isa't-isa. Nasa paghahanap lang iyan, at walang tigil na pagtugtog.


---
Kung sa pagsusulat ng pormal o impormal sa wikang ito'y napakahirap sa akin sapagkat maski ako'y nabubulol habang nagtatayp ng mga salita at kung ano pa. Marahil dahil ang panahon ng pagiging pnoyz ngayon ay ang pagiging 'westernized' at ang matagal na nating problema sa paghahanap ng sarili.

Yung Filipino, ay dahil hindi raw maintindihan ang malalim kong ingles (sabi ng mga ibang nagbabasa, at may nagbabasa pa pala nito).

Isa pang 'note'. Parang diretsong pagsasalin lang mula sa Ingles ang pagsusulat ko, may saysay man o wala.

Disorders

Disorders, Disorders.

I have not yet eaten on time for the past two or three weeks or so. During lunch, I nibble my fingers surfing the web and doing the usual rounds of social networking and the like. There's not much to learn from there but kill time. Kill it like killing yourself--myself.

On mornings, the only taste I get is from my gum protective toothpaste (wow. Happee has gone scientific! and caring). Not that I swallow the residue, but clean teeth and fresh breath just feels awesome. And you do not want to spoil that cleanliness with food, ugggghhhh. I have fought hunger!

I eat skyflakes in the afternoon, getting credit from our officemate's 'sari-sari'.

I take in water most of the day, cup after cup, minute after minute. Hence the almost regular "I've-got-to-go-to-the-bathroom" thing.

At night. Just sleep.

I do wonder how I get by, and how I'm even able to think.


Now what to disorder> hmmmnn..

Timepieces

Round the ant goes in circles, and watches flying trickles

Elevator

The scene could’ve reminded anybody of horror sequences, or of panic and world destruction. I was in an elevator with 4 others. One was a huge baldy guy. One was stocky, like George stocky from Seinfeld. One was a construction worker kind of guy. And the other one was a construction supervisor. We pinned our hopes on him.

Rewind the sequences a little bit and I was just awakened by 6am, on a small single couch. I had slept most of the night while transferring photos from the memory card on to the laptop. Imagine how sleepy I was to get bored by that. I woke up from that transitory sleep, with daylight bouncing off the walls. I blindly got up, and switched off the lights and hurriedly went to the bed to sleep. By 930am, I woke up again, aghast that I was already late for work. Kept a few moans, but still dressed up and fixed my do. What was I thinking before I closed the door and left the condo unit.

From the 27th floor, the lift was going down, picking people up, opening its doors and smiling for it had new things to eat. It was all mirrors. We could see everything from where we were, even that hidden nose picking. I, on the other hand, just kept on looking on the floor display, going down, lower and lower. I could’ve sworn the car fell and stopped around the ‘13th’ floor. That hidden floor in-between buildings. It was the 11th. I stared at that display for 30 minutes. The fall wasn’t like anything in exaggerated cinema; it was like jumping the last two or three steps on the stairs. I couldn’t even react that fast to panic.

Baldy guy uttered something like, “2nd time this week”, and looked at the construction supervisor. It was a Wednesday. Mr. C-S, wasn’t panicking; we should know, he worked here, worked the elevators. It was always him they called when people get stuck in the elevator. But we were with him, inside. He kept pushing the call button and banging the doors.

There was a CCTV camera installed above the doors. Mr. C-S kept waving and no one answered until. ‘George’ was getting a bit impatient and was ranting; “Is the CCTV even working? Is there anybody watching us? There should be a guard down there to monitor.” After all, we were just there, waiting. Like henchmen, eager to go out and rob the world. Waiting for the boss for orders. Waiting to be unleased outside.

I didn’t utter anything or even mouthed words of senseless help and cries of despair. I was looking beyond the people and their reactions. We were stuck and I was claustrophobic. We were five and we had air, lights, and sweat. I was amused at these thoughts. Hey, it was my first time stuck. I could’ve imagined being stuck with Twins, the Hollman’s, the Taylor’s, The Barbi’s, the Jaboom’s... We could’ve partied or sipped tea. We could’ve had sex; I could’ve been worshipped.

I smiled some more, and just then, we heard a knock. Someone from the other side said we were halfway between floors and weren’t able to open the doors. They had to go up the roof deck and restart the whole system. He warned Mr. C-S what would happen. And after a few minutes, there was a blackout, and the elevator conked those weird robotic sounds of heavy lifting once it gained power. The voice from the intercom was telling that everything was ok now. We were going down, back to being grounded.

Hooky

I was downright bored in the office that I was surfing the waves most of the time. In real life, I couldn’t stand on a board. But on the net, waves were calm and there was no pressure. There was one good wave though (with a silent belch of ‘google wave’); I just realized that I had this Captain Hook impression (long wavy hair with an almost quaint laugh, a Briton in the 19th century, a seafarer of Neverland, a restricted right arm, and has a handlebar).


Funny, but that’s just like me. Almost.

On Long Hair

Another reason I keep my hair long is that it's too damn cold here in the office, and the hair helps warm my neck and ears a bit. A practical thing when it's freezing. I guess that's why Gandalf has his.

Oh, and I noticed that D leaves the guys who just cut their manes. Hmmmnn. (An interesting note).

A Day in The Life

I'm so unproductive today; there's only one sent item in the email outbox.


---
In other news, my 'ofzm8', who just came back from leave, looks to have gotten bigger breasts. Like drooling big. Her striped shirt has curved the space-time continuum.