famous (not last) words

if they luvv u

like they sayy they do.. nuthin will change that.


ur big news will NEVER faze them.


they wont even flinchhh.

- from somebody who thinks way above average *thanks*

nausea days

16:56:00
21 November 2007
Axis' room, Gali residence, Paranaque
fondo nombre: Life, Our Lady Peace

Ateng,

Ola! (Like the good student I am, I will faithfully practise my Español from now on.)
It's already been a fornight and I haven't, for the life of me, seen hair nor hide of you anywhere en la universidad! And, goodness, what a fortnight it has been - between adjusting to mi nuevo cursos (not to mention mi nuevo catedraticos who're plain pain in the ass) and all that jazz, I think I may be going loco. Anyhow, I'm just muy alegre that we got to hang out today and see hermano Troy and Felicidad (Felicity, lol) again.

I've missed you mucho!
Quinn

pop art

~ another flair of colors ~

since i am on a streak...

... let's have some more of Vernonica Mars. Yeah, before we all say goodbye (I still can't fuckin believe they chucked the show). Got clips off of the released dvd and I'm positively tingling and I'm still freakin missing the third season and I now hate them pirates for being so sluggish and I'm just plain in need.



Holy crap! She's an FBI agent! It's so bitin. I am definitely gonna miss her. *sad*



All I'm gonna say, whoever you are, you s e r i o u s l y have to watch this shit. Coolness.

the hardest part of this

I suppose one of the reasons why I listen to My Chemical Romance - apart from Way, of course - is that their songs are ... weird. There's just NO other word for it. I mean, don't tell me you've listened to Mama and wasn't creeped out by the music, the words, and the insane way Gerard Way sings. Come on! He sings like an effing pyschiatric patient. He writes like an effing pyschiatric patient. Majorly disturbed is so an understatement. And then they go about including Liza Minnelli in the album? What's up with that? And I'll give you head if you can tell me one other artist that does concept albums these days. Okay, so I'll probably give head if you were able to think of Nine Inch Nails or Dream Theater, but what-the, they ain't the type of music I listen to. Too ... psychedelic(?)



I've listened to this song for no less than 50 times today (thank god for the repeat button in my player's remote)that I'm quite sure I have the words correct, and that's without even using a pen. MCR, they may not be picked first in any of my playlists but they sure as hell could go last.


check this out:

from Sean in buzzgrinder.com

This chart got like 900 comments. I think it's pretty funny. What I also think is pretty funny is the way each person 'argued' their point, if you could call telling each other to kill themselves 'arguing'. I'm sure there are more than numerous David Bowie fans out there, and some may not appreciate comparing him with MCR, but one of the responses in the site said it smack right for y case: "This chart is accurate, but I'd listen to MCR over David Bowie any day." I am in no way being condescending to David Bowie and fans here, I'm just saying that I didn't grow up hearing Space Oddity blazing in the background, I didn't age to present 21 swapping casette tapes of Ziggy Stardust with long-time chums, and I don't think I ever bothered to find out if the original Under Pressure track was a collaboration of whom with whom until I heard the cover last year, which I think is as brilliant as the original (fuck you twice Vanilla Ice!) That's also probably why I may never have the profound ability to appreciate David Bowie's songs as much as you fans of his think I should.

Turn away
If you could get me a drink
Of water cause my lips are chapped and faded
Call my Aunt Marie
Help her gather all my things
And bury me
In all my favorite colors,
My sisters and my brothers, still,
I will not kiss you,
Cause the hardest part of this,
Is leaving you.

Now turn away,
Cause I'm awful just to see
Cause all my hair's abandoned all my body,
All my agony,
Know that I will never marry,
Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo,
But counting down the days to go.
It just ain't living
And I just hope you know,

That if you say
Good-bye today
I'd ask you to be true
Cause the hardest part of this,
Is leaving you

Cause the hardest part of this,
Is leaving you

all hail to mars

One big shiit! I just found out today that Kristen Bell (aka my female counterpart)is in HEROES! I am sooo happy! *grinning like a fool*

She's gonna be playing a new character, Elle, for a multi-episode arc of the series' second season. She'll be seen on 13 eppies "as of now", which means it's all undecided yet and she could be appearing for a longer time!

Elle is said to be a " a sexy, mysterious young lady who has ties to the supposed death of Peter, H.R.G.'s past and the future of Claire." Variety also says "Elle will kick off her arc by committing a serious crime, though it's unclear whether she's good or bad." Bell also revealed, "I have a really awesome power." Ooooh. Well, we all know Peter's not gonna die, right? Nuh-uh. What, we don't? Fine. Anyway, putting aside my dumb question of who H.R.G. is, I think it'll be pretty interesting if she goes weevil, won't it?

Some more news: In the interview Bell seems to confirm reports that she'd turned down a role on Lost this season, and decided to do Heroes instead. "How do you make the decision between [Lost and Heroes]? Basically, being able to stay in [Los Angeles] was a little bit of a factor for me [in terms of turning down Lost]," said Bell, who noted, "I was honored to even be considered by Lost. I really, really was, because I love that show." Bell said pre-existing friendships with several Heroes cast members helped begin conversations between her and that show, including a talk she had with Zachary Quinto ("Sylar") on a train ride back from Comic-Con last month, in which she told him she'd love to work on the series.

See! She really is some hotstuff these days, ain't she! And she's friends with Sylar! I wonder when Heroes is gonna nab ME for a role?

right about now

omigoodness. im like the most foul-mouthed person i know and now im getting shivers up and down my back in this net shop hearing this dude, fuckin right beside me, cussing his lungs out to his headphones, having a most colorful fight with his..his.. ionno! the other name on the ym is edgar! muddafurrrrk!!!! i think hes drunk! he smells like it too! everybodys lookin at him already! ooh scary! im having fun!

naulan

punyeta.
martes. sumakit na naman ang ulo ko. ewan ko ba, tuwing tuesday ng hapon na lang laging parang binibiyak ang ulo ko. last time nakdagdag pa si cuevas ('yung tech writing prof ko na pustiso na ang ngipin at tingin ko eh silahis pero meh anak, then again you can be gay and have kids, can't you?). leche. leche s'ya. ang tindi ng kirot sa sintido 'pag naririnig ko s'yang magbigay ng mga sangkatutak n'yang assignments. sabi nga ni marie, "i'm headache!" feeling ko tuloy minsan hindi lang si harry and meh konek kay you-know-who. 'lammo 'yun?

uwian ko na. 'di ko na binalak pang pasukan si cuevas this time. so technically, uwian ko na. yey. kaso naulan. peste, kaninang pag-alis ko ng bahay tirik na tirik ang araw ta's ngayon uulan? anong klaseng weather meron ang pilipinas? imagine, 21 years na 'ko dito pero 'di ko pa rin ma-memorize ang takbo ng panahon. ano na lang sasabihin ni ernie? baron?

isinusumpa ko ang araw; mahal ko ang ulan. pero naman, 'yoko din ng nagbibitbit ng payong! hassle times 2. cubed pa. hay. walang choice kun'di sumugod. hinayaan ko na sila olan at khriska dun sa hot pink na payong nila. mahal ko naman ang ulan. sana lang mahalin din ako ng ulan. at bigyan ng warning kung kelan n'ya na-trip-ang mag field trip sa earth.

pagbaba ko sa fx, naulan pa rin. lumakas pa 'ata. fuck. medyo meh kahabaan pa lalakarin ko, 'di kakayanin ng tonsil kung susugod. mukhang magtatagal ako sa ilalim ng lrt ah. hala, sige, hintay. hintay lang. titila din yan. hintay pa. pasensya. kaya yan. konti na lang. tangingang shet. nadaanan na ko ng lahat ng kulay at klase ng payong at lahat pero 'di pa rin natila. two minutes na lang at babaha na sa taft. oras na para sa plan b.

ayun si aleng tindera, pasulyap sulyap sa'kin. kung di lang naulan, sasabihin kong meh pagnanasa s'ya sa'kin, pero hindi. labas akong singkwenta. malutong. "ate, pabiling payong!" smile si aleng tindera. benta ang huling payong n'ya ng walang ka-effort-effort. "50 lang, 'nak." hmm. mukha namang desente ang estado ng payong ni ate. divisoria o baclaran? pagbukas ko ng color lumot green na payong, what-the-fak. parang minsang gamitan lang at 'di na ulit s'ya magbubukas. daig pa ang diaper sa pagiging disposable. goodluck naman sa'kin. ok lang. at least, nawaglit sa isip ko na masakit pala ang ulo ko.

lakad. iwas sa kulay jebs na tubig na naiipon unti-unti sa mga biyak sa kalsada. eww. pasok ako sa nadaanan kong net shop. kelangan mag-research para sa pol gov. ano daw ang reaksyon ko sa naging hatol sa kaso ni erap. since hindi naman ako fan ni erap, pelikula o politika, todo search naman ako sa google. bahala na. pamamanghain ko na lang si sir gamit ang aking incredible vocab skills. o di ba. ang sipag kong gumawa ng assignment kahit madyo basa ang medyas at masuka-suka sa sakit ng ulo. kung alam ko lang na 'di pala papasok si sir kinabukasan. pendejo.

nakauwi akong bahay sa wakas. tinapos 'yung pol gov at naprint. kinabukasan na ng mapansin kong nawawala 'yung bago kong payong. naiwan ko 'ata sa net shop, 'di na kasi naulan ng pag-uwi ko. ni hindi ko naisip na balikan pa 'yung payong dun. kahit nagde-decompose na at lahat, sigurado akong napag-interesan na 'yun ng mga kagaya kong tamad magdala ng payong. o kaya pinick-up na ng isang bata para ibente dun kay aleng tindera ng payong. aba't recyclable din pala 'yung payong ko. hay. sayang 50. isang meal ng shark's fin din 'yun sa pao tsin. free iced tea pa kung sa school ako nabili.

ang tanong: mahal ko pa ba ang ulan? oo naman.

ayaw mag-picture?

con - ceit [kuh n-seet]
- noun
1. an excessively favorable opinion of one's own ability, importance, wit, etc.



. . . surely, they weren't talking about looks when they mentioned etc?

Apung Gari

On her birthday a few years back, my grandmother had told us that the one thing she asks the lord was to let her reach 80 years old before she keeled over and died. She was a fairly healthy lady at 70+ so we only thought of her little death wish as silly.

Now, t's been a fortnight and some since we, the fam, buried lola. I won't speak for the rest of us but I can't say I didn't expect this happening. I mean, she was 81 and all. And she kept making visits to the hospital these past months, a little more than her doctors liked. Or, admittedly, we, for that matter. Seems like lola got her wish.

I don't know, but remembering lola, for me, is better if I thought about those days when she wasn't glued to her bed, like she had been most times the couple of weeks before she let go. It's definitely a lot less depressing if I think back to the lola that had virtually no qualms in saying antak in front an eight-year-old with a booming voice that carried through six houses past ours. Or the lola who wanted her daughter to bring her back some "stainless" longganisa from the market. Or the lola who, while waiting in a semi-classy restaurant for a table to be free, would sit down at another's and make chitchat with total strangers like they were friends since World War II. Yeah, my lola could be a piece of work if she wanted to. People LOVED her for that. I still do, matter of fact. I wish I had her guts. The kind of wit and humor and charm that she had.

Lola never got mad at me. At least, as far as I remember. But why would she? I was the favorite apo! No offense to my brothers and Jovane (only cousin) but this IS a fact. I mean, is Keannu Reeves queer or what? Being the second grandchild, I grew up being lolo's "adopted kid". I slept in their house, in their bed every (and I really do mean every) night. The wooden balcony in front of their house was my sandbox. When I haven't started school yet, Lola would take me to frequent trips to Manila (we lived in Pampanga), and in a few years I'd find myself grateful to her whenever on a bus trip and my brothers got motion-sickness and I didn't (and, my, wasn't I proud). I'd present my back at night to lolo and refuse to sleep till he scratched it to my satisfaction, or until his arm gets all dead.

When lolo died, I clung to lola. She'd tell me tons of stories about her experiences in life and I'd be left bizarred out of my wits by the time she finished. Her stories were always entertaining, no matter how many times I've heard them, and I was more than happy to listen for I could tell that when she tells these, she fondly relives all of the memories. Much like I am now.

I miss my lola.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the only grandparents I ever knew:

When it rains it pours and opens doors
And floods the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry
And in the midst of sailing ships we sink our lips into the ones we love
That have to say goodbye

And as I float along this ocean
I can feel you like a notion that won't seem to let me go

Cause when I look to the sky something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here

- Train

marie

God made a very obvious choice when he made me voluptuous; why would I go against what he decided for me? My limbs work, so I'm not going to complain about the way my body is shaped.

-marie

anak ng kaka lits, math teacher mi assumpta na maka four-inch heels agyang makalbug. bakit e na amana kang ma na ita, e yu na kukutang kanaku, e ku balu. balu ku mu, weird (im talkin bout positive weirdness) ya i marie. akilala ke first year. atatandanan ku pa section 3 ku, section 2 ya. ot pentunan na ku anyang abalu nang highest ku ketang exam a binye ng ma na! meh intimidate ku rugu (she was taller than me back then, and i was as skinny as a mop handle). buri kung isipan na akluguran ke kanita, oneng ali ata. haha.

kaklasi ke anyang second year ampong fourth year. abalu ku na potang kayabe me i marie, ALI ka pweding ali mayli. nuko, agya siguru ati kayu keng liobing, nung atin kang sakit pusu, kamate mu potang minirit (humirit) ne. angga ngeni deng jokes na keng text deng pamorward ku kareng kakilala ku, haha.

anyang meggraduate kami assumpta, ya mu ata (take note ata, so nobody gets jealous, hehe) ing ali ko melako communication. eku lulwal bale kasi kaya agyang di poste ampo i marcelino ala kung balita. marakal na ku rin kasalanan kaya: bertdey, pyesta, graduation, homecoming(?), and everything else in between. pero ali ya mimwa. madalas ku ring mamamatda baterya at e magparamdam pero ayus mu kaya.

im beginning to have a major headache trying and miserably failing to write fair kapampangan so ill end it here. this post is one of appreciation towards someone who has been there for me since, ionno, forever? i seriously hope she continues to do so. thanks marie. you deserve everything you have, i know it. im happy for you. and by the way, you with your voluptous beliefs hit the spot. ^^

harry potter frenzy

movie comes out tomorrow, the book on friday.
this week should be made harry potter week!

until we meet again

who knew.pink
If someone said three years from now
You'd be long gone
I'd stand up and punch them up
Cause they're all wrong



I'll keep you locked in my head
Until we meet again
And I won't forget you my friend
What happened?

An Hour of Waiting

Her name is Mancenido. I jotted it down on my notebook in case I forget it, which, for reasons I still couldn't quite grasp, has been a frequent hobby of mine lately. I didn't even bother with her first name. She had made such a lousy impression on me I simply didn't think it mattered. Well, that is, until we last met.

She wore a velvet black top that dove down in a V to emphasize her fair hued chest. It was a rather loose fit, and my keen eyes smirkingly spotted the glint of metal lodged at the point of the V – a sliver of a safety pin to keep her blouse from showing what was more than necessary. In her profession, decency was as crucial as it goes.

“We will not be having our discussion today,” she said through the cheers that erupted. “Your class is one meeting ahead of my other Rizal classes and mas maganda kung sabay-sabay na lang kayo. Ang hirap kayang gumawa ng prelim exam 'pag 'di sabay-sabay!”

I sat in my chair, wearing what I hoped was an expression of indifference. It wasn't exactly a treat to spend two hours in the humid weather outside waiting for 3 pm – your last class for the day – to arrive just to find out that the class was canceled, was it?

“Let's just wait for the checker and then you can all go. In the meantime, kwentuhan muna.”

Terrific. Just what I needed. An hour's worth of more waiting. God bless the Philippines. Sighing, I took out my phone, made replies to messages I got about three hours earlier, and left them to it.

To my puzzlement, my classmates seem to have grown a liking for her as, minutes into the 'kwentuhan', I heard giggles and snorts here and there. Then again, that puzzlement may have been a bit too biased. Don't get me wrong. She's really intelligent, I can tell. Put her in a game show and she'll probably answer the questions faster than the host could read them aloud. But the way she taught, people with lesser attention span than me would positively end up in torpor (and that's saying something, as my attention span resembles that of Dory's). Well, that's the way she taught Rizal, as far as I am concerned.

I was busy shutting all of them out, letting my eyes glaze and swim out of focus when she started writing an acronym on the white board: VMOKRAPI. Vision / Mission / Objective / Key Result A-whatever / Progress I-whatnot. I couldn't even remember the whole thing, for the life of me. But it was apparently our term project, and I supposed I was going to be hearing more of it sooner or later so I was safe. For the time being, at least. She wanted us to make a time line of our goals up till we reach 20(!) years our senior.

“Bonus na nga 'yan eh!” she said. “'Di kayo babagsak. 'Di naman p'wedeng,” she made a face and furious scribbling motions, grading a nonexistent paper, “Pangit.. ang.. dreams.. mo.. Sixty-five.” An antic that immediately earned gales of laughter from each row. I admitted it was pretty funny. I laughed. Then stared. Then listened. Oh yes, I actually listened to the 'kwentuhan'.

She took out a fat wallet – no, more like an obese one, and from it procured a folded piece of moss green paper. She splayed out for us the little square paper (side measurements: 3-4 inches max), on which were printed words only somebody the size of Tinker Bell could've written.

It was her own VMOKRAPI (Oh. So that's why she wears glasses?) The thing probably had no less than 200 words and she made the smallest possible yet still legible copy so she could stick it in her wallet and read it at those times. Read it whenever she has doubts about or tires of the track her life was rolling on; read it some more to remind her of the conviction she felt when she wrote those same words... OK. So she didn't actually say that. I was just being my usual put-some-drama-in-it self. Her drift was dramatic in itself, in any case. Touche was actually the first word that entered my mind. But then, I was never one to plan how twenty years of my life would span out, so I wasn't at all relative to those who know without doubt what they want to be once mid-life crisis strikes. I could only imagine the amount of pride they feel after the achievement of a (very) long term goal, or, if otherwise, what terrible disappointment it must be.

I did have my fair share of accomplishments, mind. Acing grade school, receiving a few academic awards, managing to get into one of the most recognized universities in the country. But those accomplishments didn't seem to matter much then. I don't see how they would start now. Disappointments were everywhere, but I tried not to think much of them either. See, somehow, I've evolved to be the cynic, the sarcastic, and the unbeliever. The point of being a control freak (i.e. writing a packed schedule for the next fifty years of your life in one of those heavy and sleek Starbucks planner) lost me somewhere in the Jurassic Period. So what unbiased puzzlement I had left surfaced when I began listening in rapt attention to her life plans.

At twenty-three, she was done with her MA, was teaching university, and plans to take her PhD next year. All in perfect order, she told. I couldn't help feeling a slight twinge of envy as I mentally reviewed my life: twenty years old, still in Uni, and wouldn't be out of it until the next national election. Or, until my mom has had enough of sending me to school, whichever comes first.

“Did you know, class, that there is this study that says 'If you don't make your first million when you're thirty, then you're never gonna make one'?”

Whatthehell?

I actually panicked underneath. I desperately wanted to make my first million bucks before I turned thirty-one. Seriously!

After the shock, she justified that when you're thirty, you start to have more responsibilities, like having a family of your own for instance. The million need not be in $$$cash$$$ either, real assets are also accounted for. And, of course, it was just a study some silly researcher did. However scholarly they were when it comes to statistics or whatever research license god gave them, that doesn't make their (stupid) study a universal fact of life. It wasn't something like two plus two equals four, no. And it was most foolish of me not to have thought so. But it affected me somehow. I kind of figured then, inside me, that I had to have that million come 2017. And although I realized that 2017 would only give me seven years after college, I still felt this thirst to prove something. And just like that, I – cynical, sarcastic and unbelieving – had set my first goal in my own VMOKRAPI.

Everybody was so absorbed in her stories I didn’t think any one of us actually saw the checker come and do his job. She talked about taking her sweet time finishing her MA while her contemporaries crammed each semester with as much subjects as permissible. She wondered why they were in such a hurry to graduate when “ang saya-saya kayang mag-aral!” She worked while studying (because that was how she wrote her VMOKRAPI), while also learning German at yet another school. She looked well enough like she came from an upper class family that I laughed when she joked about her mom lecturing her exasperatedly when she, for the nth time, asked her for tuition fee for German school. It was a joke, wasn’t it?

She mentioned opportunities here and abroad that she was looking at once she finished her PhD. It all sounded so fascinating that for a few minutes, I considered changing career paths and imagining the grandiose of having a PhD as my ammo in the complex art of job hunting.

“Masaklap s’ya,” was how she described her first job. She had opted for office work over the perpetually growing bandwagon of telemarketing in the country, and in turn faced the horror of being the newbie (not to mention freshie out of Uni). She was told to prepare the menus of the meetings, do six sets of Xerox copies of this and that, and such other trivialities my little brother is perfectly capable of doing. Neither did she receive the simplest thank you for her tasks well done.

I’m not entirely sure if she had said it or it was just a product of my almighty brain (specifically the part that is responsible for over the head imagination), but I thought I heard that her boss, who by the way she said had female canine tendencies, ordered her to make her (boss) a cup of coffee. She had to remind herself that her college degree wasn't limited to just fixing the superiors up some brewed beans. I thought it resembled somehow the initiation they traditionally do on neophytes in fraternities, minus of course the physical pain. She resigned the morning after a particularly heated argument with her boss. Apparently, it involved a line said in incredulity to her: “Where is your logic?!” To think that between the two of them, Mancenido was the one with the philosophy major. Talk about barking (pun intended) up the wrong tree.

One of the most condescending maxims in Philippine history was also dropped to her once by a colleague. “Papunta ka pa lang, pabalik na ‘ko.” To which she replied smartly, “Tama ka nga. Pero ‘yung napuntahan mo lalagpasan ko pa.” Wow. Did this girl invent the phrase ‘bring it’ or what? I don’t think I am yet in the possession of razor-sharp wits and sarcasm that are required to come up with retorts like that. Or indeed, the confidence to actually say that to someone who substantially has more words in their resume. It was a tad disrespectful of her, yes, but what the hell, being haughty and condescending is nowhere near saintly either.

The twinge of envy I had felt for her before was replaced with a surge of pride as I etched the words in my mind, subconsciously preparing for when I myself would have to utter the same stinging come back. Bring it on.

Alas, it was time to go, the hour was up. And what a surprising hour it turned out to be. It wasn't such a waste of time as I had expected to be after all, I actually thought I learned more in the past hour than in all the dragging meetings I had with my Philosophy teacher for a whole semester altogether. And I wanted to say that exactly to her as I passed her table on the way out but somehow the cat got my tongue. It bit it, stomped on it, flattened it, crapped on it and still my smile refused to come off. It plastered itself on my face like some heavy duty spellotape. I realized that my respect for the person whose first name I had deemed more immaterial than the exact location of Timbuktu has just gone up and through the CS roof.

who the fuck is string quartet? and why for the love of everything good havent i heard of them before??

Ask yourself the same question after you listened.



dream pop it is.

i make khristy's day!

because when you were right next to me, we were busy making fun of other people? ...no? ...that was more mo and mon and aris? oh yeah... jesus i miss those guys. and their antics. and us laughing at their antics... believe it or fucking not, i dont see aris and mon any more than you do and our phonelines share the same country code. say, could we be any better friends? sigh. hey, let's play pretend and buy packs of donutholes on the way to sleep over at mo's this weekend to finish up on brainwracking MPs for sir chua and then stay up until the ungodly hours of the morning just talking and gossiping and eating and drinking and fooling around and leaving all the schoolwork to rot. man, that'd be exciting.

i make khristy's day!

now enough of my gibberish.
it's eatin up all this too-little space they allot for comments made at three in the morning. comments by people who miss to those who are missed. very very sorely.

i make khristy's day!

mo, mon, aris, tets: ~said ill always be your friend, took an oath, ima stick it out til the end~


shit. mon's MIA in the photo. my deepest apologies.

oh, did i mention i make khristy's day?

Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?

Choose life.
Choose a job.
Choose a career.
Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance.
Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisure-wear and matching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday night.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves.
Choose your future.
Choose life...
But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life.
I chose somethin' else.
And the reasons?
There are no reasons.
Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?

- 'Renton' boy, Trainspotting

sweetest downfall

Samson. I heard this for the first time in PBB season two (yeah, I watch that crap). They play parts of the song whenever some love(?) shit comes up. That much predictable, the show is. Who'd have thought you could actually find something simultaneously entertaining and sensible on tv? I'm talking about the song, dumbass, not the love shit. I felt I had to hear the whole song for myself, whatever it took.



I have always been impressed by Regina Spektor. This girl is something else. Take some of her songs from the album Begin To Hope: Fidelity. On The Radio. Better. The quirky lines are too ordinary it amuses me to no end how they spur meaning nothing short of brilliant. "If I kiss you where it's sore, would you feel better?" Really.



Now I'm all too familiar with Samson and Delilah's story just as everyone else is. What I didn't know was if Delilah came out repentant (or even just plain regretful) in the end..? Nevertheless, when I heard this particular part "Oh I cut his hair myself one night/ A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light/ And he told me that I'd done alright/ And kissed me 'til the mornin' light" all my insides melted somewhat. I mean, Samson couldn't play the "dakilang martir" archetype any more than that, but man, the message of that shit just surpassed the abysmal perception of cliches. Ah, love, it's definition escapes us all.


Samson
Regina Spektor

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
I have to go, I have to go
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
He ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
And history books forgot about us and the bible didn't mention us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson came to my bed
Told me that my hair was red
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed
Oh I cut his hair myself one night
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light
And he told me that I'd done alright
And kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light
And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
Ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed
Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down
Yeah we couldn't destroy a single one
And history books forgot about us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first

election epilogue

This is a response to a good friend's blog entry. I'm not waging war, no. I just hope I haven't struck anything below the belt.
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Point taken.

Maitanong ko lang, nasagi na ba kahit minasan sa isipan mo ang kahihinatnan ng bansang ito kung ang lahat ng Pilipino ay magkakaroon ng mentalidad patungkol sa eleksyon na hindi nalalayo sa mga paniniwala mo? Magkaroon pa kaya tayo ng mga pampublikong paaralan? Mga ospital kaya? Murang gamot na tayo mismo ang tumatamasa tuwing mababasa ng ulan?
Siguro, oo. Madami namang mga NGO na handang tumulong at magbigay.
Siguro, oo. Pero gaano ba tayo kasigurado?

I haven't the littlest right in saying this being it your own choice and any say whatsoever from me is unsought for, but really, can being apolitical truly mean you care when you yourself declared your proud partaking in that "unregistered-what-do-we-care club"? How can a person care when they treat election -- a national move to try and straighten out the complications pulling this country to even greater depths -- as immaterial and futile? It's relieving to hear that you still aim for change, having dissed everything there is to do with the local political system. You did say "political system" and not "politicians", which leaves me to assume you haven't yet deemed every politician out there as some selfish wolf doing everything it can to burn down the Philippines. How's that for insensibility?

Siguro hindi ito kaso ng paniniwala at pagdududang politikal. Tama. Nasa kagustuhan nga ng bawat Pilipino na umunlad ang sagot. Ngunit kahit iisa ang layunin kung magkahiwalay na paraan naman ang paiiralin (especially if they are the total opposite of each other), matutupad pa kaya ang mga kagustuhang ito?

I don't believe in god but I have never stopped believing in the good in every person, politician or not. And I haven't given up hope for this country basically because we are not as hopeless as most think we are, as most say we are. You say you've lost all hope. I say have you tried some faith lately?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I love you Aris, nothing homo whatsoever. LOL. And you did a great article btw!

playlist numero quatro

It's the first time imeem, my web source of all them great nombre, has failed me. Hard as I tried, the most decent thing imeem came up with when I checked (and mind you, check i did)was this fucking How I Go (Yellowcard) snippet, probably from some promotional website. The same thing happened with World by Five For Fighting. Dear me, like, I've just realized this is the most pressing problem I have right now. How did my life get to be this boring?

One of my better find Beautiful (Patrick Nuo) is catchy --too catchy really--, but Teenagers (MCR) is way catchier. Bowling For Soup material! Google up the lyrics and know what I mean. Hi Mr. Way.

Collide (Dishwalla), Nightswimming (DC) and First Time (Lifehouse) meanwhile are songs that I've tagged worthy the first time I heard them. A fact that is already established: I am gonna be liking a song (any song) done by these bands, 'cause them bands, they're like, my babies (shit, that dint come outta the way i wanted it to, diddit?). All good plays. Nightswimming is actually a cover of Dashboard; originally by REM. I've heard the original and it sucked, sorry REM. Oh and on a related topic, Stolen by DC is getting overly tremendous airplay everywhere nowadays I hate it. I wanna keep the song for myself! Wah!

Cannonball is one of those tracks that puts you to sleep to dream of clouds and waterfalls and all that cliche. Perfect. LOL. But exactly how can stones teach you levitation? I wouldn't say no to some tutorial, Rocky.

And the best one in this playlist? Drumroll, please! Love It When You Call by The Feeling! Wicked pop!