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!*

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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.


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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..