Satan Was An Insomniac. It's True. Ask God.

The Joey and Jade Show

2008-06-18T00:25:00.000-07:00

It may be funny. Or it may be entertaining. Or it may be too self-serving. It may be meaningless. It may be all that. Or not. Fact is, if you’re reading this, you are probably as bored as we are.

By Joey Dizon and Jade Maravillas

you see, when you're used to throwing big parties overflowing with alcohol and what-not every year on your birthday, you sort of start to get tired of it. not that any of it hasn't been fun and worth it, but it seems that this year, because there was a lot to get done and i've been a little busy with work and the band, i started to miss doing shit for fuck's sake. i mean, there's nothing that beats doing shit for... er, shit. doing stuff mainly because you want to, having no purpose whatsoever, having no reward, but just being able to say "godammit i'm doing this!" for the sheer humanity of it.

well there is something better: doing whatever with someone who knows what it's all about. yeap, as the title reveals, i got in touch with my BSB Fan Club co-founder Jade, sent her a shitload of questions that would undoubtedly keep her from getting any real work done for at least thirty minutes, and bugged her to do this with me. why? i have no idea. it could be because i miss hanging out with her a lot, or it just could be that it made sense to bug someone on the opposite side of the world since bugging just anyone who's in the country is easy as shit.

but honestly, i think i chose her simply because. so read 'em and weep, guys, girls and gays. this is what us professionals do while you're all concerned with matters of great consequence.

Q: First of all, how the hell did you two meet… and how did you sustain a rare, above-average diplomatic relationship between two human beings? (known as “friendship” to others, but sounds way cooler that way… and less gay)
Jade: He had me at “hellow poh.” In all seriousness, it was 2004, I was a mere publicist for Sony Music and he was a mere Managing Ed for Pulp. I like the word mere. It’s like the French word for shit if it lost a D. Oh sorry, back to Joey (although there’s a word somewhere in that previous sentence that I associate with him…) French? Joey? I think you’re better at this than me.
Joey: Yes, i think it was 2004. I was literally sleepless (as usual), and she dragged my ass to the then-Sony BMG office for a 6 a.m. phone interview with Slipknot. I knew there was something different about Jade because not even the fucking second coming could drag me out of bed that early. you know us blasphemers, we only come out at night. then strangely, it all worked out. or so we think it did.

Q: What was the first statement that popped in your head after spending 5 minutes with each other?
Jade: "Oh My Fucking God. he’s like, the coolest guy, like, I’ve ever met. I’m sleepy – I need coffee… coffee…"
Joey: "So... this is Jade from Sony. Why is she up this early? Fucking weird, man."

Q: Which musicians or what bands were the first you both liked?
Jade: Did we bond over BSB right away or was it Bloc Party? Kidding… I introduced him to Mae, he introduced me to Copeland, and it’s been true love ever since.
Joey: I think we both pretended to like Slipknot first. was a work thing. But yeah, the Backstreet Boys could have been it. She tried in vain to get me to listen to Jamie Cullum and other crap like that. But yeah, the Mae bit stuck to me, and the Copeland thing was a sign she was worth the time. And that we were both into gay music.

Q: What are you doing now?
Jade: Eating microwaved porkchop with whole wheat bread. Not kidding. I forgot to cook rice for lunch.
Joey: Smoking away, and working on an ice-cold bottle of Coca Cola and staring at a half-slice of Sbarro white pizza. Yeah i'm sure it seems gross and fattening to all of you, but you probably want it as bad as i do. mind your own business. can't you see me and jade are eating?

Q: What was the first band you both hated? Why? Please do not hold back, and feel free to use expletives if needed.
Jade: Skychu… oh wait sorry. BOTH of us hated? Hmmm that’s a toughie. Do we abhor any musical group collectively? Because I know you hate Bloc Party and I abso-fuckin-lutely love them. In fact I’m going to be spending a few hundred $ to see them at VFest in September. No shit.
Joey: Oooohhh... hehe, i sense somebody hates the fact that i hate bloc party. very mature. let's see... we both didn't care for much a lot of local mainstream bands here right? i think we both hate bloc party dude... so save your money. you just haven't realized that i'm right about them and you're, er... not right. but i am pretty sure i am right to say we both probably hate that god-awful nu-metal band disturbed, right? fucking sucks eggs man. trust me on this.

Q: What is your opinion of the Backstreet Boys? What is the real reason Kevin left?
Jade: We are co-presidents of the BSB Friends Forever Fan Club. (insert picture below for proof) Kevin left because he decided to move to Manila and spend the rest of his life with a certain Jose Dizon. (insert picture below for proof)
Joey: They're a great band man. honestly. we saw 'em when they were here in manila. nick said "hi" to me and that was great. it could have been he was saying "hi" to the girl with big boobs sitting behind me, but it felt like he was saying "hi" to me. so there. jade was lucky enough to be within a few feet. i was about ten feet away. boo.

Q: Seen a good film recently? Tell us about it. Or better yet, go straight to the ending.
Jade: Last movie I saw was Sex and The City. Shut up, I’m a girl. Big leaves Carrie for me.
Joey: Sex and the City?!! Jeez, alright, i'll shut up... but jeez. Fucking Iron Man for me man. Juhhhhn, jen, jun-jen-jen. Jen-jun-jen-jun-jen-jun- juhn- juhn- jen-jen!!! everybody now!!! Say you love satan!!! Been meaning to watch Kung Fu Panda... just meaning.

Q: Which gigs you both went to ended up being great ones? There probably aren’t a lot, but feel free to share… not because anybody cares, but because you can.
Jade: Hands down, BSB and Gary V (separately though) in Araneta Coliseum. The fulfillment of childhood dreams for the both of us. Maaan if I was home for Thursday that would have been another great one!!! And if you were here for Smashing Pumpkins, Rise Against, Mae… that would be sicccckkkkk.
Joey: Yeah, it'd have to be those two. i think they were the only twp shows we went to together... ah no wait! we did go to Good Charlotte, but technically that was work. and i wasn't shrieking like a girl at that one. Gary V was fun, it was also pretty memorable coz i think i sort of knew it would be the last concert we'd get to catch before yo left. Tama ba? or am i just being overdramatic about things again? anyway, i remember you couldn't finish the show and after i saw you off, the guard at the araneta center came up to me and said "ser, bakit 'di man lang tinapos ng kasama mo 'yung concert?" of course, i didn;t have a fucking answer so i blew smoke in his face.

i have since stopped going to concerts and having fun since you left. ay wait, loko lang. ano ako, gago? hehehe Thursday was great! so was Shadows Fall! you should have been here man. But then again, you got to see the Pumpkins, so i guess, i should have been there.

Q: What do you do for a living?
Jade: In all honesty, since most people don’t know who I am (but know who Joey Dizon is coz he’s populars like that) I used to be International Label Manager for Sony BMG in Manila and a part-time publicist. Now I work for Universal Music Canada’s Quebec distribution company DEP as Sales and Marketing Coordinator, I’m also a writer and photographer here in Toronto.
Joey: I piss people off for a living. Some people call me Editor-In-Chief, but most people just think i'm an arse. at least i'm not gay or shit like that. i also have a band... not that anyone out there cares or so. we're releasing an album soon, and jade's part of it, believe it or not.

Q: These gas prices, huh?
Jade: Who cares. I take the subway.
Joey: Yeah, tell me about it. oh, the other day, i just found out that i didn't give a flying fuck. life's never fair so quit your whining.

Q: Who among the two of you would probably win in a thumb-wrestling contest?

Jade: Thumb-wrestling??? Mud-wrestling!!! Oh bad visual…
Joey: I would. dude, have you seen me? i'd feel pretty embarassed losing to Jade. but then again, i remember her thumbs being extra buff. or were they someone else's thumbs?

Q: When will it all end?
Jade: That’s exactly what I’m thinking Joey… I have 5 more pages to answer???
Joey: the aztecs say 2012. i say: give me all your money and worship me. yes jade, you will answer every question i have sent you. cause you said you would.

Q: Which are cuter: a) puppies, b) kittens, c) bear cubs?
Jade: Kittens. Joey: Bear cubs man. Puppies and kittens don't have the ability to rip your head off when you're up to no good, pare.

Q: Describe Bloc Party.
Jade: Bloc Party is the greatest and most innovative band in the history of mankind because they have a black guy and an Asian guy. Yay.
Joey: Bloc Party is the musical equivalent of gayness. watching them is like watching a benetton ad... a gay benetton ad. why do i hate them so much? because i can. any guy who dances and calls himself a rock star should be shot in the streets.

Q: Was The Smashing Pumpkins reunion and album a good idea?
Jade: How can you call it a reunion if you only have 2 of the original members in the band??? Unless you’re Simon and Garfunkel. Or Hall and Oates.
Joey: Yes, anything they do is good. even if it's...bad. How can it not be? If you ask me, they're the shit. Plus, they also had an asian guitarist... once. If jade comes home, i'll immediately start plans for a SMashing Pumpkins tribute band. i'd be Billy Corgan of course, since i'm bald, and Jade could be Ginger Reyes/D'Arcy, since she looks as good as they do. plus she'll have to learn bass since i already know how to play guitar. so yes, my answer would be yes.

Q: So, come here often?
Jade: What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?
Joey: No, only when i'm fucking hostile and kicking your teeth in.

Q: Did you know that on average, women say 7,000 words per day, and men manage just over 2,000 words?
Jade: (blank) Joey: No shit? whoever the hell told you i cared? if you ask me, EVERYBODY talks too damn much.

Q: What’s your favorite Bible verse?
Jade: The Lord Is My Shepherd (Psalm 23) because I won a speaking competition at 3 years old, I memorized the whole thing. That’s right. I was a Promil kid.
Joey: "Do what thou wilt shall be the mote of the law." Oops, sorry wrong bible... it'd have to be "All these things I will give You, if You fall down and worship me." pretty gnarly, climactic shit, if you ask me. but then Jesus declined. he got the cross for it.

Q: If money was no object, what gift would you give Joey/Jade next Christmas? Of course, it’s impossible, but it’d be nice to think of now, wouldn’t it?
Jade: I doubt if I can top what I gave Joey last year but I think he’d like two pairs of Puma Clydes in black and dark blue. O, ha. Next next year na lang yung kotse.
Joey: i'd start off with a private jet so that she could do her travelling shit and work and at the same time, have no excuse not to visit. then it'd probably be some camera i'd know nothing about so she could do the pictures-thing. then maybe a bass guitar for our Smashing Pumpkins/Hale tribute band. why the special gifts? coz she gave me the best gifts last year.

Q: Do ants fart?
J: What The Fuck?
Joey: Probably. I know they're made of vinegar or some shit like that.

Q: What ever happened to Glenn Medeiros?
Jade: He’s now living in Hawaii (yes, we’ve kept in touch because nothing’s gonna change my love for…)
Joey: hung out with Bobby Brown too much. he's probably singing "she ain't worth it now" and is as high as as a fucking kite.

Q: Choose: a week on the beach, countryside, or massage parlor?
Jade: Massage parlor only if my tour guide is the great “direk” RA Rivera.
Joey: massage on the beach for one week. then after that, i'd jump in the water to end it all.

Q: Top five ballads. Go.
Jade: Too many to mention. Sorry Joey I don’t make lists unlike you.
Joey: Boo, Jade, Boo! 1) "Sana Maulit Muli" by Gary Valenciano. 2) "Hanggang Ngayon" by Kyla. 3) "Miss You Like Crazy" by Natalie Cole. 4) "Never Let You Go" by faith Evans, and 5) "You Got It All" by The Jets. Easy as a shit-pie.

Q: Top three Boyz II Men songs. Go.
Jade: Okay maybe I can attempt to answer this. “Doin Just Fine”, “One Sweet Day”, “On Bended Knee”, “A Song For Mama” and “Can You Stand The Rain”. I had to go with 5, BIIM are awesome.
Joey: i'm gonna have to go with the mainstream hits on this one Jade. They're pretty much the reason how i found out about them anyway: 1) End of the Road. 2) "Four Seasons of Loneliness" because Shawn;s falsetto lines are simply da shit. and 3) "On Bended Knee" because they sound like they're all dying in the end.

Q: Top 2 boy band songs. Go. And top 2 worst boy band songs. Go.
Jade: Best: “Until The Time Is Through” by 5ive, “The Day We Find Love” by 911... Oh my god! there’s just too many to mention!!! Worst: there are no bad boy band songs. Even the really bad ones are just so darn good.
Joey: hmm...5ive! impressive, impressive, i must say. your knowledge of boybands amazes me. but i'll have to go with 1) "All or Nothing" by O-Town. i mean, "i've had the rest of you, now i want the best of you?!!!" fuck that's so motherfucking nasty! and they were loud n' proud about being a manufactured group. that took some balls. for my number two choice, i dunno... i'll probably have to go with "Freaky Time" by Point Break. and you're right, you can't go wrong with boy band songs. they sound good even when they're crappy.

Q: Imagine yourself looking into the mirror. What’s the first question on your mind?
Jade: Is that a new pimple? Wait are we getting Boy Abunda-ish here???
Joey: "Since when did i get a fucking mirror?"

Q: Quote a favorite line from a song a lot of people know. Or maybe three favorite lines… so that even people with no taste in music have a shot.
Jade: "I never had a dream come true, till the day that I found you…"
Joey: "Auschwitz, the meaning of pain, the way that i want you to die/slow death , immense decay, shadows that cleanse you of your life/ Surgery, with no anesthesia..."

Q: If you had an album, independent release or major label release?
Jade: Indie for distribution under a major. Naks.
Joey: Same here. Jade will probably be the only person to give it the time of day, so sige... fight.

Q: Usher or Justin Timberlake?
Jade: Usher circa 2004
Joey: Usher. Then he'd jam with Justin circa N'Sync.

Q: New hoodie or new sneakers? Why? Are you sure?
Jade: New sneakers to add to my growing collection (27 as of last count). I only have 2 hoodies. Yes I’m sure.
Joey: Hoodie. Guys need an average of about 4.5 pairs of shoes. anything more than that is just plain gay.

Q: What do you think of basketball?
Jade: Overrated.
Joey: retarded. ten guys fighting and sweating like pigs over one ball. why not just buy one each and leave each other alone since they all get such humongous paychecks?

Q: Describe the perfect meal. We’re talking drool-worthy.
Jade: I’ve had a lot of 5-star, gourmet dishes in my life but the only meal that’s ever given me a foodgasm (that I still remember) was roadside roast chicken with sticky rice in Krabi, Thailand. YUUUUMMM!
Joey: The lobster main course in Skoshi Koom in Okinawa, Japan. Lemon butter, perfect stuffing... has been almost two decades since i've had it, but i remember vividly how good it tasted.

Q: Coke or Pepsi? You can’t answer neither. Why? Because.
Jade: Coke.
Joey: Coke. Pepsi is for mormons and morons. Plus Coke is devilishly good because it's red. you figure it out.

Q: Vanilla or chocolate?
Jade: Chocolate.
Joey: Vanilla. Makes everything happier and sweeter. Chocolate's overrated.

Q: Would you be willing to trade jobs?
Jade: And deal with the hate-mail??? No thank you.
Joey: Nah... then Jade would be stuck in the Philippines and I'd be in Canada. Ganun din, so wag na lang. sniff*

Q: Tell us about your worst experience riding a cab.
Jade: Intramuros, 2002. Let’s just say there was drugs involved, and not involving the passengers.
Joey: Two nights ago. there were no drugs, but there was the driver's bodily gases and a good, strong aircon unit involved. oh and he tried to ask for an extra fifty bucks. i could have killed him. i really could. what stopped me? knwoing that the rest of his life would be miserable and that he'd die as a lonely fuck.

Q: Life. Ain’t it a bitch?
Jade: And then you die.
Joey: hey, don't look at me... i wasn't the one who said "love thy neighbor and be all groovy and shit to each other."

Q: If you were to be jailed for life, what law would you be least regretful of breaking?
Jade: The law of physics
Joey: hehe good one, Jade. i dunno... the law of gravity? i know, i know, tis lame. but this is my blog, so if you think it's lame you're very much welcome to get the fuck out of here and read someone else's blog you fucking internet geek. i'll kill your family. all of your families!!! whoops, sorry, i get upset sometimes... it's just these... voices... inside... my...head. they're calling me... vincent? is that you VINCENT?!!!

Q: Describe music to a deaf person. Yeah, it’s a stupid, cheesy question, but answer it.
Jade: Music pays my bills. Yes, that’s true, and that’s a clever way of avoiding getting cheesy with this question.
Joey: music is the stuff that makes your crotch go insane yet is perfectly legal and moral, even to the most devout catholic or jesus-freak.

Q: Which celebrity is hot? Which celebrity is not?
Jade: Oh you know who I just discovered yesterday? This Pinoy guy Vincent Bueno who won the Austrian talent show. He is HOT!!! Who’s not? Half the people in local showbiz who just get by on their questionable mestizo facades. I dare not name names not because I’m scared but because my lunch break is almost over and enumerating each and every person is just going to take time folks.
Joey: i dunno. locally, i'd say... hmmm... i'll go with... nobody. but Elisha Cuthbert really got to me in "Girl Next Door." i wanted to kill myself after watching that. but i didn't.

Q: If they made your life into a movie, how long would it be? And yes, yes, who would play you?
Jade: The standard 1.25 hours because anything resembling 2 hours makes it qualify as an epic movie and I spend half my time stalking other people’s blogs anyway so those can be chucked on the editing board. Who would play me? An Asian Scarlett Johanssen, because according to Francis “Koks” Reyes I remind him of her. Nakampuch walang bayad yun ha. If she’s not available according to Yael Yuzon back in 2005 I remind him of Elisha Cuthbert in “The Girl Next Door”. Patay. Yan na. Porn star. Who do you think would play me Joey?
Joey: wow, Elisha Cuthbert playing you... that would be great. my movie would be like fucking 24 hours long. it'd be my entire life story. the young joey would be played by the kid in "The Sixth Sense." then the teenager Joey would be played by Dave Navarro. Then the present-day Joey would be played by Kenan Thompson (of Nickelodeon's "Kenan and Kel") then the old me would be played by Al Pacino circa "Scent of a Woman."

Q: If your life was made into a book, who would you authorize to write it?
Jade: Jose “Joey” Dizon III
Joey: i dunno. i'd write it myself to save money.

Q: What’s the story behind your Hale cover-band?
Jade: Our honest shared love for Hale’s first eponymous album, our excellent cover of “The Day You Said Goodnight” including harmony (!!) and wanting to have Omni as our drummer. Oh yes, sober Saguijo nights brings out our creative best.
Joey: Good ol' fashioned boredom, if you ask me. yes it's funny, not a single drop of alcohol when it happened... so you could just begin to imagine what could of happened if we WERE drinking... we'd probably be rich rockstars now.

Q: What is the capital of Turkey?
Jade: Ankara. One of my best friends grew up here.
Joey: ask Jade.

Q: What do you do when you have no money?
Jade: Hustle
Joey: be a prick. oh wait... i do that ALL the time. so... i dunno. i whine?

Q: Favorite alcoholic drink?
Jade: BEER!!!!!!!!!!!!
Joey: Depends. Jim Beam is really starting to become my favorite. But yeah, i would probably just drink beer if Jade was around. she already knows too much about me.

Q: Sausage, Pepperoni or Veggie?
Jade: Sausage party!
Joey: eeeewwwwww! now that just spoiled it for everyone now, didn't it Jade? Ugh. Disgusting.

Q: React to the following: a) Madonna. b) Christianity. c) Socks.
Jade: a) ang ganda ng lola mo! b) I’m a devout Catholic so nothing offensive to write here, let’s leave that to Joey c) I only loved socks when I moved to Toronto. Socks keep my feet warm in the winter. I don’t mind getting socks for Christmas anymore. Socks are <3.>
Joey: a) not bad for someone who's been in the music business for more than three decades now. b) the best business in the world. c) whatever people say, white ones rock harder than black ones.

Q: Top three reasons it sucks that you’re in different countries.
Jade: No more 2 hour-long coffee breaks. *sniff sniff*
Joey: 1. no more 2-hour long coffee breaks too. 2. no more going to other people's offices and prying through their CD collections and what-not. 3. no more fun. period.

Q: Willy Reviallame. Hero of the masses?
Jade: Is he still alive? I don’t get TFC here.
Joey: Stupid. Just plain stupid.

Q: What would you name your new pet? Seriously.
Jade: I don’t want to think of pets right now (I’m still in mourning)
Joey: new kitten? Mittens. new puppy? George. new bear cub? Bear Bear.

Q: Up all night? Or early to bed, early to rise?
Jade: Sleep all day!
Joey: up all night. don't ask why. some call it guilt. i call it "caffeine."

Q: Which is scarier: vampires or werewolves? Which would you, if needed, rather go up against?
Jade: I think vampires are sexxxy. You don’t see emo kids calling themselves werewolves. And I think emo kids are the sexxx. *barfs*
Joey: scared like a bitch of both. i'd probably freeze if i saw any of 'em. it'd be a really pathetic death... without a fight, screaming like a faggot.

Q: Which would you rather be true: ghosts or aliens?
Jade: Santa Claus!
Joey: Me too! Me too! ok lang kung ghost basta si Casper. or si Patrick Swayze. The he could slap some sense into demi moore.

Q: Make a haiku about Joey/Jade. Or make up something that rhymes. Doesn’t have to be good.
Jade: Joey joey boboney bananafanafofoney
Joey: wish jade was here. then give me money. lots. and hoodie. beautiful blue sky meets red sun and resilient bamboo and japanese lantern and gyoza and shit like that. that haiku-ish enough?

Q: Is it just me, or is it you?
Jade: It’s just you and me baby.
Joey: Oo nga e.

Q: Best hotel you’ve stayed in?
Jade: Hotel Intercontinental in Sydney and Gallery Hotel in Singapore.
Joey: The Courtyard by Marriott Shanghai in Pudong, China. I don't know... being at the penthouse for an entire week was just magical. made me think about a lot of things. really.

Q: Best place you’ve been to?
Jade: I left my heart in Melbourne and I’m coming back to get it.
Joey: it's a toss between China and Singapore. I was too young to enjoy California, and like i said, i found out about a lot of things in China... it was the saddest and the happiest i had ever been outside Manila. Singapore was just great coz i close to three thousand US dollars in my pocket and was buying everything is sight for fuck's sake. it made me feel... okay. ha! money can't buy you happiness, but it can buy you a lot of cool stuff. and know... it did not make me feel empty inside. so there. take that you jesus-freaks!

Q: Where do you find peace?
Jade: Spending a day with myself. Eating alone, walking around alone, taking pictures – perfect day. I also found peace on top of Pre Rup (Angkor, Siem Reap, Cambodia), Easter Sunday, 2007.
Joey: I'd have to agree with Jade. eating, traveling and walking around alone. sure it's sad sometimes, but it seems i've learned to like it that way. wouldn't mind it if Jade went home once in a while and joined me for a reasonable japanese meal from time to time, though. whaddayasay Jade? your treat. sagot ko soy sauce.

Q: Last time you cried so hard it was pathetic?
Jade: Last week when I had to give my cat back to the Humane Society. I still don’t want to talk about it.
Joey: Ex-girlfriend thing. Same here. I still don't want to talk about it.

Q: For or against?
Jade: Rise Against!
Joey: Now we're talking! Rise Against! Fuck yeah!

Q: Politics or showbiz?
Jade: Is there even a difference?
Joey: Yes, there is. Celebrities are paid more. people are actually stupid enough to hand over their money. Politicians are just plain thieves.

Q: Worst thing you ever saw in your entire life?
Jade: Human roadkill
Joey: People killing dogs, cats and seals for fun. People and cockroaches should be killed for fun, not harmless animals.

Q: Finished?
Jade: HOORAY!
Joey: Oh i'm just getting warmed-up...

When People (and Parts of Me) Pass Away

2008-06-10T02:53:00.000-07:00

it's funny how i used to have so much shit to write about. albeit it was mostly ranting and meaningless shit, i always found time to at least say a few things here, whether or not anybody cared to read or what-not. i guess i just used to be moved by things a lot easier than now. i wonder why.

you see, a lot has happened since my last lame post. more concerts, more great shows, a hell of a lot more drinking binges with buddies. many people in my life went through changes, i've ended relationships and started new ones and plan to end and start a few more in the near-future. but for some, weird reason, i no longer felt the need to write about it.

it could have been that i've been busy with the band, or maybe a little busy with work. but it seems kind of fucked that i had nothing to say about all that. there were numerous attempts, believe me... but none pushed through. it's been a long while since events in my life erupted into 30-minute, thousand-word marathons here.

which has got me kind of worried. this possibly means i'm no longer angry, or i've given up and settled for second, or i'm just not motivated as much by the simpler things.

or do i actually not care anymore? i've always talked about it, but am i finally walking the walk? it doesn't seem to be as cool as i thought it would be. not-giving-a-fuck.

jesus christ. it's actually kind of stupid to be thinking aloud about shit like this.

+++

or i might have trouble catching up with myself. and the shit that has happened around me.

in the past month or so, a few people who i've known for the longest time and who have seen me grow up from a small kid from Okinawa to the moron i am now, passed away. i'll admit, it wasn't all Partidge-family-like between me and those people, but they were faces i felt belonged in my life and would remain there for the longest time. from the dude who had hand-sewn all my high school and college uniforms, to the nice old lady who lived near our house (who was always involved in volunteer work and always said a polite "hi" when we see each other on the street) to the friendly guy who owned a small store across our house who provided me with all my basic needs for more than two decades: candy, soda pop, crappy local toys, then eventually beer, then ciggies then what-not. then it was my barber's wife, who was almost always there when i went to get a haircut. the guy who shaves my head now is the same guy who cut my hair since the fourth grade. it was terrible sight to see the guy almost break down when he told me what happened, as he was sharpening his razor and planting a firm grip on my head.

again, even if these people weren't really what most people would say "close to me," there was definitely a kind of bond that i had with each of them. and when i heard the news on each of them passing away on four consecutive weekends, even though i wanted to be sad about it, i just couldn't feel anything. it made me disappointed with myself. it made me feel guilty that i wasn't emotional about it. it was a terrible, terrible feeling... not... feeling.

i dunno what to call it.

but now, as i write this, it seems to all be coming in. it's as if all these thoughts and emotions are rushing into my head so quickly, it feels like my head's gonna burst and splatter all sorts of brain and skull bits.

and for once in my adult life, i don't want my head to burst. even though i've always joked about it.

i'll miss those people. they now make me miss who i was all those years. probably because the person who i was to them has passed away too.

i need a cigarette.

and some ice for my head.

Intolerant Opens For Shadows Fall

2008-03-22T03:33:00.000-07:00

Let The Good Times Roll, Motherfuckers!

PULP presents: Shadows Fall Live in Manila
(feat. Intolerant, Valley of Chrome and Sin)
March 15, 2008
A-Venue, Makati Avenue, Philippines

Coffee Talk

2008-01-28T10:06:00.000-08:00

we've got our hearts dipped in time release–
we've got the know-how, and the elbow grease...
we've got our victim all cut-up down here on the floor
(over and out the door...)

+++

i've learned over the years that there are many kinds of conversations with many kids of different people. sometimes... actually most of the time, it's bullshitting and the only real question after the whole shenanigan is whether or not the experience was funny, entertaining or just plain worthless and irritating. i mean, be it friends, co-workers, whatever- the world is plenty of B.S. reason why i mostly choose to keep my mouth shut when i'm out.

but then, there are certain people and certain conversatons i truly enjoy, being the notorious chain-smoker and coffee-guzzler i am (we're talking REAL brewed coffee here, not some fancy, whipped cream, cherry-on-top bastardization all these fucking fashion victims like to death). most of these conversations are one-on-one, and i notice that time passes pretty fast when i find myself engaged in one.

however, don't be fooled that there's any deep, intelligent, emotional exchange between me and my java buds engage in. we fucking talk about the most retarded things. but they all have one thing in common: they make sense to us.

during the second week of january, i got an unexpected call from mau, a friend i affectionately call "Octopus." i haven't been able to hang out with her in ages, and we're both pretty busy with work these days so not much for hanging out has been possible for about more than a year now. though it was simply too sassy and icky to admit that we missed each others' company, you coould tell by opur conversation that a lot of catching up was in order. though i can barely remember the 4-hour plus exchange between the two of us, i can remember the topics/arguments of our little sub-convos:

1. the color yellow sucks becasue it reminds you of piss
2. starbucks' making a stuffed toy of a rat to clebrate 2008 was a stroke of genius
3. an argument if ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends should have little or no business with each other
4. more reasons why i should never be taught how to drive
5. more reasons why i should never be taught to speak in Cebuano
6. easy living tips (how to eat without having to wash dishes, how to have a party without the effort and hard work...)
7. rice cookers and microwaves rock
8. the pre and post-holiday blues
9. why 2008 might just be a good year
10. life at present

i know, i know... definitely not impressive to chronicle or whatever, but the best thing about hanging out with mau i guess is the fact that it takes no effort to do so. i mean, if people could only hear the political incorrectness and the sheer nonsense of our opinions, they'd probably burn us at the stake. but that's what makes the whole thing special: they can't, and we share something only two octopuses can.

actually, in the past few days i have been enjoying more talks with more people, one at a time still, and found that it somehow makes sense when all you got is an open ear and someone else sitting across you. the pssibilties are endless. just when you think you want to scream and fucking lash out after going through so much shit, the real answer to everything is knowing how to listen.... and knowing when the company you're with is full of shit.

i like to think that even if you talk shit and talk about nonsense, it's what both you and the person you talk to get out of it is what really counts.

and i can say that i basicall got stuff i'll tell over and over again til my dying day.

or maybe i'm just missing a lot of my friends these days.

twas nice seeing you, mau.

+++

I guess we only settle in to what we know...
I guess we always settle in, and we know:

that there is comfort in a world where darkness is the only thing we see -
and cold is all we have to breathe.
where affectations keep us company ,
where the lies we tell to the eyes that roll in doubt-
are somehow out of our control ...

Endings. Beginnings. And Shit You Just Want To Forget. (Single Words Are For Bullshitters)

2008-01-10T09:50:00.000-08:00

it has been a while since i wrote anything personal... like REALLY wrote. occassionally, i'd be thinking to myself: "holy shit! i'm running out of fucked-up shit to say" or "holy crap, i'm burning out!" it's surprising, but i seem to be getting a lot of actual work done... which is pretty good, considering the fact that honest people pay me money to write. it's just a little weird for me i guess, being the guy who's always complaining about this shit and that shit, the guy who always has an opinion regardless if anybody and everybody's asking for it.

maybe i'm not so pissed off anymore. am i actually (take a deep breath) "fine?"

that's what's been fucking with me for the past few weeks. not that i'm losing sleep over it though. it's just something i think about whenever i'm in the shower, or sitting on the toilet, or having lunch solo.

the holidays were quite amusing. not great or anything spectacular, but fitting enough for someone like me to write about. though the usual work load was a tad double-timed so i could have the luxury to party, i found myself breezing through the stuff that had to be done. a few misses but a lot of hits, if i may say so myself. great parties, lots of wine, even more packs of marlboros, lots of great music. it was nice seeing friends. getting presents, and being greeted. and even though there was a definite air of caution with the christmas and new year festivities, i managed quite a few half-smiles and got through many hours without looking back on past events that have ultimately defined who i am today.

on christmas eve, i got to spend time with my mom in church (of all places... go figure) and i was pretty roud since i knew it was one of the most unselfish things i could give since it would make her happy. then i slept christmas day away... which made ME very happy. then the day after that, i went to work, then was pleasantly surprised that Jade, who was home for the holidays, was in the area. great talk, nice food, and the best christmas present i received so far in the past four years: a fucking plain black hoodie that was just the right fit and just the right style. and in the bag it came in was a DVD of Slayer's Still Reigning concert. fucking great. what can i say? there are people who actually know what i'm about. and she is truly missed as she is now back in canada. jade is so... perceptive-and-lacking-of-bullshit. too bad she didn't meet the rest of the troop.

and in the remaining days of '07, i was able to undergo quite a few 25-hour hangout marathons with buddies and, well, people worth-the-time, in general. i like that phrase: "worth-the-time." "worthwhile" may actually be the more correct and eloquent term, but hyphenated phrases stress points. single words are just for intellectual bullshitters.

yet there were certain instances where i almost lost the groove. i was thrown off by a couple reminders, messages and other shit that i really worked hard on shoving into the back closets of my psyche. call it an escape, or call it cowardice, but there are just some thigns that deserve to be there. and they actually tried to resurface during the last days of the year. some unconsciously, some a little helped by instances i always knew would come anytime, anywhere... but hoped so much that it would never come, knowing that i hadn't planned how to act out in these situations. you can't plan for shit like this... you just have to feel your way through it. and most of the time, "feeling your way" means "fucking screwing up big time."

reconcillations were offered. half-apologies carelessly uttered. reasons were thrown to the wind.

forgiveness was sought. sympathy was asked for. new friendships were suggested.

i gave... none.

i don't mean to be a cold, selfish son of a bitch... but it's a matter of self-preservation.

it's a matter of NOT doing anything when something is expected of you because you know you're entitled to that right. it's a matter of being angry with an ineffable amount of class: you're fucking hostile but cool enough not to let it show. it's a matter of principle... not to make mountains out of molehills that shouldn't actually be there in the first place. it's a matter of learning from your mistakes by letting your past become one of those small, yellow post-its on your refrigerator; shit you want to ignore, but somehow need to remember.

it's about not letting your guard down. no one is invincible, yet it's all about harnessing all the negativity and all the bullshit you've been through and being human enough to admit to yourself that it all really happened.

i guess the real trick is still yet to be accomplished: when one finally gets rid of the yellow post-its. hopefully, i'll get there in this lifetime.

so in some major way, i remain thankful for the yearender memories and look forward to slugging it out in '08. it's all i can do, really... but those worth-the-time instances will keep me company.

I'm gonna ride this plane,
out of your life again
I wish that I could stay,
but you argue...

I'll do anything for you...
kill anyone for you.

So leave yourself intact
'Cause I won't be coming back
In a phrase to cut these lips,
I loved you...

Let Me Know When It's Christmas

2007-12-19T08:21:00.000-08:00

i have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the christmas season in manila.

i remember when i was a kid growing up in Okinawa, Japan, that christmas was always something i looked forward to. to sum up all the small details, it was always an all-american christmas for me between the ages of kindergarten and the fourth grade... we lived on-base so i was surrounded by mostly american people, save for the handful of asian/mexican/black american people who also had parents in the service. i knew nothing about the Philippines and its holiday traditions, so christmas meant wearing sweaters and my pajamas all throught the entire day, waking up to the smell of hot cocoa and hefty breakfasts which consisted mainly of waffles, breakfast sausages, ham, bacon and marmalade, and sitting near the christmas tree and flicking the ornaments while i watched cartoons all day. my mom must've loved it too, since i wasn't the pain in the ass brat that i was: lost in my cartoon world, watching the chipmunks and charlie brown christmas specials for the nth time, quiet... thinking nice thoughts. in fact, we all weren't morons: my sister, my dad... we all had our little personal quiet times during the days before christmas, and we unconcsciously made it a point to be... well, good. we each had stockings even though we didn't have nor need a fireplace, and they were all overflowing with gifts and candy and all that nice shit.

but then we all grew older. and after my dad retired from the military, we all came home here.

you see, it's not that i've never had a great christmas here in the RP. it's just that, maybe, i guess people tend to hang on a little too tight to the best memories. you can't blame us for that.

anyway, i've been here for a hell of a long time... and i've adjusted quite well, in the sense that no one would mistake me for being an american citizen or would think that i never spoke filipino or spent my childhood travelling. but it seems i've never been able to experience that magic i remember so vividly during those times overseas. i dunno, maybe it's because the christmas season there wasn't so extended... compared to manila where the -ber months signal the start and the end of the first week of january signals the end of the holiday season. i mean, maybe it's because there's so much pre- and post- partying that the actual day ends up being a day to sleep-in. i dunno.

all i know is i'd give anything to feel those magical moments again. i'm seriously considering spending christmas next year somewhere else; in a different country maybe. i know it'll be sad, and i know i'll miss the RP once i'm there counting down the seconds on christmas eve, but maybe that's what i need: the feeling of actually wanting...longing to spend christmas here. fuck, i might as well join the other hardworking OFWs abroad. they seem to be having the most fun every christmas here in our country.

regardless of whatever i said above, i guess the feeling just weirds me out. that ol' bittersweet tingling and tugging at the heartstrings. considering that i love the fact that it's nice and cold and that i've gotten a shitload of great stuff already and that everybody's at least TRYING not be as moronic as they normally are (save for, again, the bus drivers and jeepney drivers who cause traffic till midnite on EDSA, and the asshole cab drivers who don't give you change because, er, its christmas...), christmas is just, plain... lonely, in more ways than one. think of it as a yin-yang thing: in our happiness, we remember the sad stuff. in finding comfort and warmth with the people around us, we suddenly miss those who cannot be beside us. in receiving great gifts, we're somehow reminded that there are thousands starving, for either material shit or, well, acceptance.

call me cynical, call me crazy, whatever. all i know is, Hallmark must make a killing out of people like me. there's always that one, perfect and ridiculously over-priced card for every occassion... even bittersweet christmases.

so what is there to do? nothing. i ain't crazy enough to go out and buy a shotgun and blow my brains out.

but it somehow makes sense for me to go out and buy a shotgun and blow somebody ELSE'S brains out.

ho-fucking-ho.

+++

so in an attempt to combat this boredom and general unproductivity, i present you my list for the day.

THE TOP 5 TANGIBLE THINGS I GOT (EITHER PARTLY OR ENTIRELY) BECAUSE IT'S CHRISTMAS

1. a new guitar. even though i'm addicted to music and playing the guitar, i always believed that one is all any musician ever needs. but since i was feeling a tad fuzzy and generous, i made it happen so that i could get myself a new axe. a Paul Reed Smith. welcome to the family, you-expensive-piece-of-wood. you shall sit beside my main Ibanez RG470 axe, and my demonic 666 Gibson Nighthawk. now all i have to do is think of how i can make this PRS a servant of satan.

2. a new cellphone. i actually hate spending on cellphones. i mean, the most important thing is that i can call and send text messages, and have at least one mindless game installed so i can kill time when waiting for spectacularly late friends/bosses/clients, and during spectacularly boring meetings/dinners/sundays. but i decided to get a fancier unit this year, since the prices dropped because everybody and their fucking brother is buying a CP. i could've bought a decent guitar with the money i used to buy this new thingie... but oh well.... 'tis all good.

3. the more-than-usual-amount-of-cash. sudden bonuses. the fact that everybody's lazy so they throw extra jobs/tasks your way in exchange for the higher-than-usual honorarium. hell, even my band, Intolerant, is making money. i mean, i ain't rich by a long shot, but surprisingly, i've had fucking money in my wallet every fucking day for the past two months. wow, NOT finishing college and learning how to literally stay up for days is finally paying off. whoopty-fucking-do!

4. alcohol, mostly beer. my friends know me so well. i've gotten cases and cases of beer, bottles and bottles of red wine and shot glasses and coasters all that shit. and it isn;t even christmas yet. and wherever i go, when i see someone i know, a bottle or a shot glass is thrusted in my hands. fuck, no wonder everybody's nice. it's because everybody's drunk and out of their minds. which is...quite nice, actually...

5. a new hoodie. well, it might not seem so great for you guys (and gals) out there, but let's see you put on a hoodie in the middle of summer. it's just plain stupid. you wouldn't last 30 minutes with a hoodie onif christmas was in april. fucker.

Now Presenting: The Word of the Year

2007-12-13T00:49:00.000-08:00

retarded: \Re*tard"\ (adj) : relatively slow in mental or emotional or physical development

like most writers, i am addicted to lists: the top five songs to rock out to, the top five composers, the ten most outstanding whatever, the three best vacation destinations, the 20 most influential this and that...whatever. if it occupies space and time, i'll list it down among other things that also share its existence, and rank 'em and do whatever for nothing. call it a habit, call it the will to be productive in generally small, useless doses, but don't call it uninspired. you can't... i'm not sure whether or not the entire human race (or at least a good 5% of the country's total population will benefit from these lists... but scram if you don't like it).

anyway. i've finished writing most of my lists (and storing some in the backroom of my puny brain...), except for this particular one. it's not actually a list. i actually hoped it would be, but as most people know, i didn't really go out as much this year, therefore, didn't really get to interact with so much people (i.e. talk, laugh, drink, etc.)

so instead of a Top Five Words for the Year 2007, i only have one. you guessed it, the word on top. bingo. you are a genius.

anyway, i think "retarded" best sums up the entire 2007. why? because everything was. not only personal shit limited to the plainview of yours truly... i'm talking EVERYTHING. every-fucking-thing!

so instead of coming up with a personal essay and wasting more time trying to edit the whole damn thing to make sure it's coherent and has substance and the thoughts are organized and all that crap they tried teaching us back in journalism school (only a small percentage of people i went to college with actually became writers...), i made a (drum roll, please...) list. whoopty-fucking-do.

The Top Ten Reasons Why "Retarded" Is The Word Of The Year

10. two words: Ortigas Elevators i've ridden way better ones 20 years ago in Okinawa, japan.

9. five words: People-Who-Ride-Ortigas-Elevators they complete my daily existence, nonetheless. but why
can't they die?

8. it's a tie! between: three letters: M-R-T it's the women and children who love to shove... i say take away their
rights to be the first ones saved in case of a nuclear holocaust or natural disaster. every man for himself! and
again, three letters: L-R-T it's worse because people are actually EXPECTED to act worse since it's the cheap-o
version of progress and economic growth (...my ass!)

7. busses and jeeps: they're filthy, cause traffic and automatically carry an average of two retards per vehicle– the
retard handing out the tickets/change, and the retard behind the wheel. two is already too much. and this is not
counting the retard who sits beside you and pretends to be sleeping when you're trying to pay the fare, or the retard
mother who won't keep her pesky little brats in check.

6. crooked cops... can you believe i got in trouble with the cops twice in a span of 5 months this year?!!

5. Willy Revillame and Wowowee because they abuse the fact that there are more retards than normal people in
this country

4. People Who Watch Willie Revillame and Wowowee (they're a lot worse because they choose to be
retarded and are practically begging to be treated like retards)

3. Heroesi know, i know, it may very well be a good show... but because people can't fucking stop talking about it
every chance they get, it sort of ruined it for people like me who are trying to get work done when it's supposed to be
done. thanks a lot, retards! besides, what's so amazing about superheroes? if you ask me, none of 'em "heroes" can
do anything that satan can.

2. "rock" music 2007 it's dead. now every fucking nerd and whimp thinks he/she can start a band. every fucking
major corporation is making money more than the actual musicians do. now every-fucking-body thinks that it's
"cool" and "hip" and "accepted." nothing can be any more retarded. as most of you know, MTV is to blame for this.
plus all these crappy, poster-boy-bands with instruments. and people think I'M fucked for listening to Boyz II Men.

-and number one, numero uno, the tops, the one that takes the cake, the definitive reason of all:

1. the state of the nation. the bombing of glorietta and the house of representatives, Trillanes' fucking up big-time,
the recent "curfew," food poisoning in the provinces, the government's lack of support to victims and would-be
victims of natural disasters, etc. i mean, there simply is no greater reason as to why "retarded" is the word of the
year.

next year, our word for the year would most likely be "more retarded" or a phrase, "just-plan-fucking-hopeless."

Out of the Frying Pan and Into The Fire

2007-12-06T07:24:00.000-08:00

i sort of can't figure out how i'm going to make it through the holidays.

although it's been quite an eventful year for me, and already, i've got countless of both work-related and non-work related big things lined up in the first quarter of '08, it seems that the magic and the charm of the season is getting to me already. it's not like i'm some grinch or something, i like the season– it's cold, traffic's bad but at least, with valid reason, and everybody's making extended attempts at being nice (futile attempt or not, i appreciate the small gestures...). yeah, christmas is definitely that time of the year, but sometimes, it can be pretty depressing.

i mean, i'm sort of having thought whether or not i should spend it alone again this year. mind you, i'm not saying that i'm lonely, just alone. there's a world of a difference, chumps. i think people can be happy even if they're alone, but when people are lonely, they're totally fucked.

good thing that things with the band are doing okay. lotsa gigs, lotsa good reviews. holy fuck. this seems serious.

good thing jade's coming home soon. she can prolly think of a million things to do or even more ways to make hanging out enjoyable.

got a chance to go to cebu. that was refreshing, and the in-flight turbulence was a much-needed kick in the ass. never really got jumpy about anything these past few months. my buddy frey made sure we had a good time even though he was in the province for work. though it was rainy and everything seemed to be slow, i guess i appreciated the fact that i didn't know what to do. for the longest time, it was all about not having enouogh time for all the work, the plans... everything. now, i had the most enjoyable challenge: to think of how to spend my day. i mean, most of the day was sleeping and chowing down on some native lechon and barbecued treats and eating like kings, but it was mingling with new people and feeling like a stranger (and being humble enough to admit it) that really changed my perspective somehow. i dunno. i wouldn't say was an eye-opening experience (China, my friends, was eye-opening...) but i guess it's just always nice to retreat there.

the hospital experience was pretty hilarious too. my left eye swelled up like crazy after i got back from Cebu, so i rushed over to medical city. it's cool there, coz the convenience store where you get your drugs (aka "medicine...") sold Nerds and Gobstoppers. those things rock.

the lady doctor was nice. she put up with me, even though it was 3 a.m. and even though i wasn't very charming.

me: hi. my eye looks like it's going to burst. what do i do? and can you fix this up coz i gotta head back to the office...

dr. nice: (laughs) okay, one at a time. what happened?

me: beats me. it just got all red. now it hurts. bummer.

dr. nice: oh let's see... any allergies?

me: nuthin...

dr. nice: ...allergic to any food or medicine?
me: nope. just people. i'm allergic to morons.
dr. nice: (laughing again) haha, okay. let's get you in the laboratory. i'll check it out.

being in the hospital was nice. was quiet, and peaceful, and people minded their own business. even though i took more than hour in the lab, it seemed to whiz by so fast, i didn't have time to complain.

dr. nice: okay, so that's it. you take this capsule four times a day, then eye drops twice a day.

me: will this cost a lot?

dr. nice: do you have a medicard?

me: i left it at home.
dr. nice: oh. ok. then... yes.

me: i appreciate your honesty.

dr. nice: don't mention it.

you see folks, now THAT was a nice conversation. direct, but polite enough to remember. i hate it when people use the bullshit niceties and fast-food etiquette. it's all just too...fake and insincere. clearly, this doctor was a smart person.

no wonder she's a doctor.

+++

home. (plus: stinging comebacks from my mind)

2007-10-09T00:37:00.000-07:00

i haven't seen my grandma for the longest time... so it was pretty weird going home to Navotas for the first time in literally years. in a way, it's tiring, but the trip alone keeps you grounded. cabs don't usually go that far, and they charge you way too much since the streets are narrow and traffic is more than just a bitch, so you gotta endure the traffic just like everyone else. everywhere you go, there are kids playing in the streets, the local drunks are getting it on as early as noon and everybody around you gives you weird stares, knowing that you're not a resident there. i do have a lot of memories of the small town though... when i was a kid, we'd spend summer vacation there, (since okinawa is pretty close to the philippines, a two-hour plane ride...), and i was sort of the favorite since, i guess, all my relatives thought it was the cutest thing to be visited by some dumb kid who looked a hundred percent filipino, but couldn't speak filipino. though i pretty much didn't know what the fuck i was doing most of the time, i knew one thing: that i'd get all sorts of free shit like toys and candy and clothes, then i was spoiled silly. everything went my way. i was their master. all i had to do was try and pronounce one tagalog word, goof it up, then vpila! pat on the back, smiles, laughter, then candy for me.

during college, when i was busy being the rebellious and youngest kid in the family, i moved into my grandma's house. again, i got away with murder. though it did teach me a lot of things, and conversations with my grandma were pretty much okay, things were way different. everybody was kind, and they still looked out for me and all that, but a lot had changed. no more free stuff. the laughter died down. my charm was worth squat. and i still struggling to get out and do things on my own, even though the resources were plenty.

i think now, i realize, that the thing that might be so weird about going home- be it to my grandma's place or at my folks' place in bulacan, is guilt. i mean, i wasn't THAT terrible back then, but somehow, i think i'll always have a lot more to prove to all these people who were cool to me. my parents, my aunts, uncles, grandma...(i'm talking about my mother's side-relatives, by the way... i don't really give two shits about relatives from my dad's side... long story...none of your business.) but when i think about it now, during nights when i'm out smoking on my current pad's second floor veranda, and thinking how stupid it must seem for a guy to live alone in a rented three-storey town house, i sort of ask myself why the hell anyone would run away from such a warm environment like my grandma's place.

it sometimes makes me sad, but my moving out of both places was really important for me to find out who i was then... and who i am now.

anyway, last weekend, i got to my grandma's house around 3pm. surprisingly, my mom was there. and even more shocking was, i unconsciously brought a little something with me... a box of krispy kreme doughnuts. twas something i bought, but not for me... for people who mattered. and it sort of felt good. i guess i haven't done that in a while. we enjoyed the sweet treats, we talked about, of course both my mom and grandma took turns breaking my balls about smoking and drinking and staying up too late, but then my sister called. another surprise. it was a bit like christmas... all of us hanging out. no heavy feelings toward each other. no problems on our minds. just occupying space and time together. like a real family.

there's something about that short but perfect afternoon... i don't want to like it too much, because in a way, with it comes recollections of the bad stuff that happened in the past. and in a way, it sort of reminds me that one day, we all might not be able to enjoy another perfect afternoon like that.

shit like that scares me.

when me and my mom went home to bulacan in the late afternoon, i decided to hang out in our backyard. it was the same backyard where as a kid, i'd go fishing and catch an average of 8 tilapias a day, only to throw 'em back in the water. twas just me and our 12 cats, who were all awake now, but too lazy to get up. they just stared at me, watched as i took out a cig and smoked away, looking into the horizon which made the waters in the lake out back gleam like gold. there was a nice early evening breeze, and the air smelled perfect, save for the smoke. and i wondered how i ever wished living so far away from all that.

then i remembered that sometimes, the only way to learn, was to do something (or things...) incredibly stupid.

i'm pretty much free to go home anytime i want to and enjoy all that, but i think it's too late to really go back... i've gotten to an age where it's important to move forward. either that, or disappear into the nothingness of forgetting.

+++

but there was one thing that peppered-up that day, and proved to be a most entertaining escape from the drama of going home. while riding the jeep home to bulacan with my mom, a woman who looked familiar got on. it was one of the teachers from my high school. she was never MY teacher, but she pretty much knew who i was and vice versa.

surprisingly, we had the most retarded conversation... that everyone on board (including the driver) could hear. what was more retarded were the comebacks in my mind. have a look for yourself:

teacher: oh my... you're joey dizon, right? you're really fat now, aren't you?!! i mean, you're okay with that?
what i said: i guess. but i'm not as fat as this dude beside me... and as fat as the driver (pointing to the dude beside me and the dude behind the wheel, in an effort to make things funny...).
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: where the fuck do you get off screaming out the obvious? you know what else is fat? your big, fucking mouth! it's better to be fat than, you know...fucking...old and shit.

teacher: (in a loud, almost desperate voice) but why not exercise? have you tried exercise?!! i mean, it's not really pleasant to look at if you're fat. i hear fat people have a hard time with everything... clothes, dieting, breathing...
what i said: (again, in another effort to be wholesome-ly funny) yeah i tried exercising, only to find out that answering worthless calls almost 24/7 at the office and writing articles and helping out in improving local music wasn't exactly called "exercise."
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: exercise? alright, maybe fucking slapping you in the face and beating your eldest son to a pulp might help me lose a few pounds... oh wait, your eldest son is like... a bum right? i'm sorry, maybe i can raise him and do a better job at it and then lose a few pounds by doing so.

teacher: so where'd you come from? you still can't go to places without your mom?
what i said: i just came from my grandma's place. i haven't seen her in the longest time. my mom happened to be there. hold on, somebody's calling on my cellphone... (i lied...nobody was calling)
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: i came from... your face. die bitch die.

teacher: you're related to (name of my aunt who's also a teacher), right? how is she? i heard she was raising her kids pretty badly (again, said in a loud voice for everyone to hear...)... they say they caught her eldest gambling at some wake. you should tell her to be a better mother.
what i said: er... ok. is that the mature, christian thing to do? i'll do it if you want me to. you're the teacher.
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: she's already a better mother... because she's not you! what the fuck are you trying to prove?

teacher: susmaryosep! it's not the christian thing to do... it's the right thing to do. why the sarcasm? don't you go to church? i heard you were in a band... don't tell me you're in one of those devil-worshipping rock groups i've been hearing about... you should be ashamed... you went to a good catholic school.
what i said: er, ok. (at this point, i was trying to ignore her by putting on my earphones and fiddling with my ipod, didn't work...)
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: as a matter of fact i am! jolly-fucking-good, ain't it? i worship lucifer, the morning star, and have come to spread death, famine, disease... and all that cool shit! Fucking daddy Satan's going to get medieval on your ass when you die... in five minutes, and burn in hell you stinking, righteous Jesus-freak! Ave, ave satanas! Hecate! Hear me, infernal majesty! Take this soul into thy wing, and burn her into kingdom come! (don't be afraid... this is not some weird incantation... this is just how i think one'll sound...)

teacher: so where do you work? does journalism graduate make a lot? how much do you make in a month?
what i said: i work for a music magazine. it's ok. it's fun...for me.
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: i make four times more than what you earn, hag. i can actually buy you and your fucking righteous family. i can also have you killed. you're an idiot. i'm an asshole...by choice. what's the difference? i'd say about twenty grand...

teacher: oh music! i see. so you've interviewed rachelle ann go and sarah geronimo? there's this really good band i know...cueshe?
what i said: exactly. yes, that's exactly the type of music i enjoy. (because stupid people deserve to be treated stupidly...)
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: exactly. yes, that's exactly the type of music i enjoy, you stupid, stupid lady.

+++after 30 minutes of more retarded echanges...+++

what i said: uh, we get off here... it was nice seeing you.
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: FREEDOM! SWEET, FUCKING FREEDOM! see you in hell lady! fuck you and your college dream! fuck your bible-organized-religion shit! fuck you and your principles! fucking burn, i say... BURN!!!!!!!!!
teacher: God bless you, iho.

+++

"what do you mean i'm not kind? i'm just not your kind."
-Dave Mustaine, Megadeth

picking up the pieces

2007-10-04T10:52:00.001-07:00

it's looking to be good yearend, especially with the band kicking in... i'm still a bit weirded out by the fact that i'm active again, playing gigs in and out of town, and that the band- albeit being a newbie compared to my previous one which really spoke for itself- is getting such good feedback. not that i really care about it that much, but i guess it only proves that when your heart is in one place and chooses to stay there, then you really got something worth putting yourself in.

right now, i'm pretty proud that we've been able to pull through. four really different people, yet in some ways, four people with the same frustration, the same shit to deal with everyday, the same morons around us.

i guess the happiest day in any man's life is knowing that all the headbutting, stubborness and general refusal to accept reality for what it is finally got somewhere. i'm pretty sure that this isn't something as fucking life-changing like some shit epiphany or whatever, but it something to keep you grounded. and something alright to have faith in.

the only daunting thing about accomplishing anything is knowing that there's much more lined-up. and knowing what's lined-up won't be as easy.

especially when it means making a personal change. i've always considered myself selfish enough to do what i want, but maybe it's time to do something for somebody else.

willingly, of course. this ain't no fucking "we are the world" shit. this isn't that grand. this is just one person we're talking here. maybe it's time to get back int he game altogether.

or maybe not.

i'm just glad shit's happening to my band. they have made me proud. and i will not let these guys down.

check out pulse.ph friends. hope you all enjoy it. i did.

+++

"Millions long for immortality who don't know what to do with themselves on a rainy sunday afternoon."
-Susan Ertz

Revisiting Old Haunts

2007-09-12T00:27:00.000-07:00

June 14, 2006

I'm going to ride this plane out of your life again. I wish that I could stay, but you argue... More than this I wish you could've seen my face, In the backseat staring out the window… I'll do anything for you, Kill anyone for you. So leave yourself intact– 'Cause I will be coming back. In a phrase to cut these lips, I love you.

***

Sometimes all you need is a brilliant flash of light. That light bulb above your head that sort of says, “hey, your brain’s still working!” or “You want purpose? Here’s your purpose!” You remember that time in your life when the biggest problem of all was what game to play the next day even though you were consequently right in the middle of playing something else. There was this constant itching to live life to the fullest, that time was running out and you had to get that Christmas tree in the middle of July. That you had to go to bed at five o’clock in the afternoon so that you’d wake up by the time the monsters would crawl out of your bed and scare the fucking bejesus out of you... that you had to be constantly on the move to enjoy every minute of something often treated as trivial; that the worst day of the year was when your Halloween bag was half-empty. And when your dog died.

But that flash of light, that specific glint in the eye that says “I’ve got it!” and that indescribable feeling of weightlessness has been gone for quite some time. You begin to wonder if it was ever there actually: you can’t decide if you just were too young and too dumb to ever think that it was a genuine feeling of security, or if it really happened to people like me and you. You pace the streets. You stare at the ceiling. You watch mindless cable t.v., you turn on the radio, go to the bar and drink like crazy, you blindly get into relationships and forget about all the promises you made (or vice versa) just because you can… and then, it’s the short end of the stick for everybody. For some, they call it a lack of faith. Others call it hormones kicking in. A few still believe it’s progress (too much milk in the cereal… or too much gin in the tonic, whichever your pleasure may be…) but I simply don’t know. I call it sad. I call it hate. And I call it love– this lack of inspiration. It’s there even in its absence, and just like all mad, intangible things go, it may not even be there when you think– when you believe so much that you feel you know it is, but it’s not.

***

I love walking, as impossible as it may seem to visualize me in a continuous stroll that takes effort, patience and good ol’ muscle and backbone. One foot after the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. You feel the cold wind brushing against hardened cheeks and your dry forehead. You feel relief off our chapped lips that have since been formed into an irremovable frown. You open your mouth as if to breathe in the cold chill, and exhale heavily feeling bits and pieces of your soul escape.

You observe delinquents, social vampires and drunken bums asleep on cardboard boxes; their lives simplified by the constant longing for small, brief escapes: money, food, alcohol and so forth. Escapes that in a way, have become a lifestyle, a so-called privilege of the common, average man. Escapes you’re dying to get away from.

On your left, there’s a significant number of figures rushing off to matters of seemingly great consequence: I remember the time when at midnight, nobody who didn’t want to look like an idiot would be dressed up in office attire, look nervously at his/her watch and/or not even have the common courtesy to say “excuse me.” Behind you, you hear a car screeching on the street, playing some loud techno/rave shit blasting at a rate of 600 decibels per millisecond while they’re all screaming like hell in an effort to hear the other’s raves and rants about living the shallow-life; they’re wishing it would all end, but then you find yourself laughing and smirking to yourself that these low-lives have absolutely no fucking idea about anything. That their trendy little principles don’t mean a good-goddamn to the 80% of human beings being given the short end of the stick on a daily basis.

And in front of you, you only see the glaring headlights.

It’s only after when you hear the screams, see the flashing lights and feel that one, solid yet brief pang to your body.

As you fall silently to the ground, it seems to be the most glorious moment in your life. Even though it isn’t.

***

I got up on a Saturday, feeling like a Monday. I went to the garage and sat down with him. He was silent, but his eyes talked to me.

“Hi Joey. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing much man. In fact, nothing at all… I should be happy, it’s the freaking weekend– Saturday, the champion of all days, the most favorite day of the week, the best excuse not to actually wake up and sit here in the garage, the day when cartoons are on the whole day, the day when you have no use for the radio (radio stations know that they’re useless so they end up playing a more significant amount of crap on this day…that’s a fact.) and the day when you start thinking about not what not to do with your life. (Sundays are the days when you do, and when you feel most guilty about stuff like procrastination and when you ask yourself why the hell you’re not doing a better job at being a good person. In short, Sunday is officially “Kick-yourself-and-smash-your-head-in-a-brick-wall-but-do-the-same-thing-all-over-again” day. And Sunday is church day. No wonder they make a killing.”

“Wow. You talk too much. You think too much. For me, Saturday is leftovers day. And Sunday is the day when you start getting goofy and make no sense. It actually pisses me off.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really. You’re weird. They should tie YOU up.”

“Tough luck buddy. You can’t trade places.”

“Well, so be it. Excuse me, but I believe it’s time for my lunch. Get out of here…do something. Write. Go out, watch a movie… then tell me about it. Or better yet, sleep. You obviously need it. That’s why you’re losing it.”

“Nah… I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Anyway, was nice talking to you again. See you before dinner. Or after.”

He didn’t answer back. He just wagged his tail and sent me off with a quick glance.

Dogs rock.

***

I got a pen and paper. Scribbled and doodled. Long lines, short lines, dark lines, circles, grids… A sunset. It was the most beautiful ting I ever so. The end of a day. I remember many sunsets like it: the sunset in cold, cold China, in the city of Shanghai. Wearing a black shirt and cargo shorts, staring outside the top floor of the Marriot, seeing a few snowflakes calmly floating to their impending doom (aka “the sidewalk”) and suddenly recalling that it was only the first night of a week’s stay.

It was also a sunset I remember seeing in the Philippines, in Cebu… as I sat on the comfortable bed in the hotel, trading stories with a most pleasant acquaintance. We laughed about the most mundane of things, even shared a common hatred for many other objects and people, and felt more of the exhales than the inhales. The sunset was as enchanting as my companion, yet we didn’t mind it ending. It’s been such a long time since then, but I love remembering it.

But sunsets at home are sunsets. Sun goes up, so it must come down. Gravity. The earth’s rotational axis around the biggest damn star there is. It’ll happen again tomorrow, then the day after that, then the next…

I miss my passion for sunsets. I obviously can’t afford to go to China and Cebu on a weekly basis.

And don’t get me started on sunrises.

***

My drawings suck. I made a list of (guess what?) who I am. The results were quite hilarious. The world is one big fucking contradiction just like me. Call this an existential attempt at self-flagellation. Yet the ironies speak for themselves.

About Joey Dizon:

1. I am the Editor-In-Chief of a local music magazine.

2. I never graduated.

3. I play guitar for an underground death/thrash/hardcore metal band.

4. I am dying for some peace and quiet.

5. I have quite a collection of the latest gadgets.

6. I don’t know how to use the latest gadgets because I never read the manuals.

7. I am a notorious meat-eater.

8. I believe that man has no right to kill defenseless animals.

9. I like massages, expensive food and wine.

10. I can’t even buy decent shoes because I am more broke than a poet on payday.

11. I don’t give a flying fuck.

12. I get hurt.

13. I think Incubus is a group of fucking pussies.

14. I think Barry Manilow rocks.

15. I hate reading letters of self-pity.

16. I especially love writing ‘em.

17. I don’t like labeling myself as “religious.”

18. I have quite a strong amount of faith and spirituality in things I needn’t feel or see.

19. I hate so much that I’m often selfish.

20. I love too much. So much that I forget about my self.

No wonder I never got the job working at Hallmark. The owner would have a fit if the stuff that made me come up with this list would ever make it to one of his greeting cards. People are so uptight. Everybody’s gotten loosen up a bit more. And they call me boring.

***

“They say that God created man after his own image. For his sake, I hope “they” were wrong.”

Go figure.

Try to imagine that: Nietzche sipping sweet wine with God who was dead as a log.

***

I am the simplest of all men. All I want is boundless love.

***

I've learned through hope and faith, The curves around your face… That I'm the one you'll hold forever. If morning never comes for either one of us, Then this I pray to you wherever: The morning will come In the press of every kiss With your head upon my chest Where I will annoy you With every waking breath Until you decide to wake up…

"They" Piss Me Off

2007-09-04T11:49:00.000-07:00

i just started to notice that i'm often irritated.

a select number of you may be guffawing your asses off by this time, especially for those who have known me for quite some time now. i mean, priests, nuns, elevator people, people in the office, people outside the office, bosses, subordinates, black people, white people, yellow people, Filipinos (Tagalogs and non-Tagalogs), Fil-Ams, celebrities, talk show hosts, noontime show hosts, sports show hosts, the rich, the poor, the profane, the intelligent people, the stupid, ignorant morons, policemen, firemen, doctors, lawyers, housewives, househusbands, cab drivers, bus drivers, tricycle drivers, jeepney drivers, Filipino drivers... nothing is sacred. there. period. crucify me. but nothing IS sacred. i believe up to this day that 99% of people on this sorry earth are full of shit. (95% on a good day when i've managed at least three hours of sleep and am left in peace in quiet in my first two hours of waking...). yeah, yeah, everybody says that these days to sound cool, but i, for one, have stood my ground and have told people smack in the face (or indirectly through the flip of a finger- guess which one...) how i felt about "their kind." why? because "they" seem to talk a lot... "they" don't know a goddamn thing about elevator etiquette, or worse, use... "they" cram God down your throat and forget about common sense... "they" blame the devil for ignorance... "they" can't look no further than their dirty feet yet go to church every sunday... "they" don't know how to line up... "they" don't know what they want but complain about what "they" don't have.

"they" choose to persecute the "they" they see in me.

i'm not complaining nor bickering... i find it amusing. i find it wonderful how people's egos have gotten so big that they have no more space for the ioat of a brain they used to have.

as you can tell, it's been quite the week.

then i have this conversation with someone who is not part of the "they" club.

the results were interesting.

She: "hey, haven't heard from you for some time. how have you been?"

Me: "you know me quite well enough, so i guess you know."

She: "wow. always has to be quite the unique answer eh? never a 'fine thank you" from you (laughs). but yeah, that's what makes you...you."

Me: "thanks for understanding. you see, people might think i'm basically a walking contradiction... i love the little details, i love the short silences... i like it when nonsense makes sense. yet i hate it when people try to squeeze out those small private details. i hate talking to people who seemingly have nothing relevant to say. i hate pretending that something is worthwhile to even mention. yet there are differences. i tell you, there's an obvious difference for me with those things. it's funny how i like to write but i can't explain it."

She: "errrrr... okay. my next question was if you wanted to get a burger. but all that stuff you just unloaded is making a cup of coffee sound more interesting. you got smokes?"

Me: "forget it. let's go for the burger. did you know the quarter pounder at mcdonald's looks like a 1/16th pounder now?
She: "no, i didn't know that. i don't really care, but if you say so, then let's see you prove it."

Me: "cool. then we can have a strawberry milkshake. i want coffee too, but this time of the night, Starbucks might be full of them "beautful people" who need three hours to finish their coffee. i might have a fit."

She: "ok then. check out that girl in the white top. doesn't she look good?"

Me: "yeah not bad to look at, but i bet you a thousand bucks she's headed to Starbucks right now to do her thing. you know...she's one of 'em. i can tell."

She: "oh yeah? how?"

Me: "i dunno. i just believe so."

She: "that's sad. you never gave her a chance. i dunno... i'll let you be. and keep you company. that's all i have to offer."

Me: "...and that's all i ever ...ask...for. Hmmm... kind of gets me thinking."

She: "maybe you should stop thinking. i think you think too much."

Me: "you're right. c'mon, let's make fun of the beggars along the way."

+++

"23"

I felt for sure last night
That once we said goodbye
No one else will know these lonely dreams
No one else will know that part of me
I'm still driving away
And I'm sorry every day

I won't always love these selfish things
I won't always live...
Not stopping...
It was my turn to decide
I knew this was our time
No one else will have me like you do
No one else will have me, only you

You'll sit alone forever
If you wait for the right time
What are you hoping for?
I'm here I'm now I'm ready

Holding on tight
Don't give away the end,
The one thing that stays mine

Amazing still it seems
I'll be 23

I won't always love what I'll never have
I won't always live in my regrets

It's All So Fucking Hysterical

2007-08-28T11:20:00.000-07:00

"I used to long for time alone
I used to long for a place of my own
and I'm losing faith in everything
I'm lost, so lost, i'm lost at sea, you'll see...

I used to long for broken bones
I used to long for a casket to call my own
I never had a problem facing fear
but I'm done, over and dumb my dear...

Oh mercy me
God bless catastrophe
There's no way in hell
We'll ever live to see through this

So drive yourself insane tonight..."

sometimes, i wonder... are people just so really full of themselves that they have to fucking rant about their problems all day long, and NOT follow your honest advice? are people simply always looking for the "right answer" and when you hand them the honest answer, they immediately think you're an asshole? is it a fact that whenever you try to reach out and be a nicer person that you'll end up getting fucked up the arse by someone who obviously couldn't give a good god damn about the word "decency?"

not too hard to conjure up images of people you've encountered, huh?

well, all this ranting, is not about being righteous. i could fucking be just as guilty as all these people are, but doesn't it get to you on some days? i mean, as bad as it may sound, i could fucking care less about whoever, whenever, and whatever. but why do fucking morons and idiots expect me to have the answer to the perennial question 'why me?!'

the answer to it is quite simple, lads and lasses, and everyone in between.

shit happens.

the solution?

deal with it, fuckers.

i think that there's no such thing as a problem that can't be solved.

there are just people who can't accept the fact that every once in a while, the dumb bug bites 'em big time.

it's never a crime to be stupid. it's a crime to say that you never were. and it's even worse to blame somebody else for it.

i mean, do people still actually think that other people can dictate what they feel? do people still believe that another person can actually control you, or how you act, or feel?

i'm pushing the envelope a bit here, but i mean, if you let a person dictate how bad you should feel, then by all means, you deserve to suffer.

either i gotta stop drinking or i gotta start slapping more people in the face.

as you can tell, i'm not the cheeriest of the bunch right now. so go to hell. fuck you and your college dream. when all this is over... i'll still be better than you are.

sincerely,

god

p.s. oh yeah, i'm dead by the way. that nietzche dude said so. quite a character. obviously had a better life than you did, you miserable fuck.

Hell Is Other People: Quotes To Burn By

2007-08-23T18:36:00.000-07:00

"Send us back to hell, we've had our fill of heaven...
give us back our sins, the deadly one through seven
Keep us from their hearts, saving us like ashes...
Cut us down with dust, never trust in anything we're told."
-Alkaline Trio

though i find that my book collection is growing, i'm a bit frustrated with the fact that i can hardly make time to read. aside from my regular subscription to guitar world, i've been getting really great hardbound and paperback titles, including Lords of Chaos: The Rise of the Bloody Satanic Underground (which is a book that chronicles the past and present of the black metal underground...), The 100 Greatest Guitar Solos (which is pretty self-explanatory) and even an elusive copy of The Satanic Bible by Anton Szandor LaVey. in reading, i find myself vastly entertained, especially if it's material i'm fascinated with and am eager to learn about. i mean, there's definitely nothing wrong with added knowledge right?

but there are some things you don't learn from books. needless to say, you learn shit from other people. people you might even call your closest friends. it's funny because it used to be that the reason why you'd hang out with buddies is because you all wanted to avoid learning; avoid responsibility; or anything that would be productive for that matter.

and over the past two weeks, i've been given many opportunities to hang out with buddies and enjoy quips or two (or three) that are both amusing and in a sick way or two, teach me something, whether about life or, well, other people. Some of 'em are just outright mean, but hey, the funniest lines are never nice.

check them out. they're absolutely priceless. and entertaining. i have such great friends.

10. "Dapat kaya mong basagin sarili mo. 'Pag 'di mo kayang basagin sarili mo, olats ka mehn."

9. "I'm going crazy... no wait, I'm eccentric pala, because I have money. Only poor people are crazy."

8. "Fuck the mature thing to do. It's never fun... plus it gets you nowhere. So by all means, jack somebody else's shit. It'll make you feel better."

7. "Now what the fuck ever gave you the idea that I give a shit? So-fucking-what?"

6. "Acceptance is the anger and rage you fool yourself into believing in when you are no longer at liberty to pound someone's face in."

5. "Hope is the failure you choose to believe when you're left by yourself."

4. "It's your birthday today? Oh I didn't know that. Happy Birthday. You're not special. Where's the goddamned cake?"

3. "Why? I'll tell you why. Because... fuck you."

2. "People think I'm a fag? I guess that's okay... besides, they already think I'm an asshole, so what could be worse?"

1. "Tanga ka ba? O pinag-eensayuhan mo ba 'yan?"

everything must come to an end.

2007-08-06T11:33:00.000-07:00

"so there goes my life/my body aches, and it hurts to sing and no one is moving/ and i will see you again, a long time from now..."
- City and Colour

it was a great run. though i choose to be completely oblivious to the reason why great things must cease, i guess whoever designed this whole existence thing must have included it in the package of life and learning. i will forever be grateful for the years of playing, of developing who i am as a person and musician and i will forever be their greatest fan. there may be more in store for me and the dela cruz brothers, but there will always be a void, knowing that we are now cautiously contiuing to take different steps as individuals. though we will always know where each of us are, it's sad realizing that we will no longer be able to share the stage collectively. not in the near-future, needless to say. the best times in my life and the most meaningful experiences i have endured happened while i was holding a guitar and going completely insane onstage with robert, russell and rommell. i thank them for making me part of their family.

as a unit, we are all thankful. for the strength we've gained and the lessons we learned will forever guide us back to who we are and where we come from. and for the memories of many understanding as much as we did. that is one thing we can never lose, forget nor abandon.

hazed, wasted and blown away.

"goodbye" is sometimes done, not spoken.

2007-07-25T09:19:00.000-07:00

call it paranoia, or living with a constant fear of losing people or things or memories that make you happy.

it's life that scares me to death.

you see, having someone say goodbye via a painful silence hurts a lot. you know you can't fight it, and unlike death, the reality that the particular someone who has bid you farewell is technically, still around (but just not around for you) stings you at the chest like a thousand fucking needles. i admit, it may be selfish to keep a person from deciding to move on or try different things, but isn't it a valid reason when you're trying to keep a friendship going?

i mean, let's leave the ex-girlfrieds out of this... understandably, that's a different ball game. we're talking REAL buddies, friends, pals, partners-in-crime here. it's pure mindfuck. i mean, i have been to many places, lived in different countries and made a lot of buddies when i was pretty young and stupid, and i've had to leave them all behind to become who i am today. but it seems that not all of us are on the same page when it comes to keeping in touch with those who are closest - geographically and figuratively.

i don't know... i guess i shouldn't get my hopes up and expect so much, yeah... but wouldn't it be nice if all friendships were given an occassional check-up? wouldn't the world be a better place if every now and then, you and your buddies could fine-tune, update and brainstorm on new ways to grow together? i am clueless as to how people can go from one group to the otehr on a regular basis. i believe with all my heart that if someone's roots aren't planted enough to know when to stay, then it means nothing valuable was ever invested in that one thing you once shared with that person.

i'm probably also guilty of the crime. but isn't it a bummer to suffer and pay latter-day debts for sins done in the past? isn't there some sort of fine print that goes with this friendship shit that people carelessly don't notice?

but the real question is: how come it's almost effortless for some people to forget? how come the tragedy of not keeping close ties seems so trivial for others, when it scars us for life? why is the human device left at the mercy of such absurdities as work, a steady paycheck, and illusions of being made? does it really matter? isn't the acceptance of 5 real people worth a hundred fold compared to meeting the standards which society dictates? how come everybody's always saying that society is fucked up, but then almost everyone succumbs to its mediocrity, to its mundane nature?

why do i bother when the other person doesn't?

maybe it's because i know the feeling all too well. and for some sick reason, i have no plans of letting my close friends feel the same thing.

it's so stupid that it's tragic.

and yet i cannot begin to even mutter a word. i sit still, lost in the foolish comfort that maybe we shall cross paths once again in the years to come.

+++

"Desire"
(Zwan/Billy Corgan)

northern star
am i frightened?
where can i go to rest?

i can't sleep
and i'm still fighting...
wait, don't breathe

time destroys a man

a child who understands
that anyone who desires
is not my kind,
not my truth...

fade away, it's all we do.

fade away from the truth.

desires,
fade away-
desires...

and northern star
please enlighten
the lost prayers of my soul
childhood dreams
of death and titans
we were meant to be free

to give ourselves away...

so please don't be afraid,
of anyone who desires
they're not my kind
not my truth

fade away, it's all we do
fade away from the truth
desires

fade away... it's all we do.

i have no use for you

art, ranting and leftovers

2007-07-11T11:49:00.000-07:00

“Say you write a song about a chandelier, and the chandelier gives off light. And the light is the color red and red reminds you of the color your not supposed to wear around a bull. So you name the song 'Cow.' And then you ask me how i got the title for 'Mayonaise?' I looked in the refrigerator."
-Billy Corgan

i was walking in one of the more crappy malls near our office's area with a friend, and i couldn't help notice the opening of some art exhibit in one of the galleries on the top floor. now, i will probably be the first guy you'll meet who'll admit with an alarming sense of pride that i know nothing about art... you all probably know what i mean: the emotional-painting-weird-geometric-shapes-type of shit, alongside the weird scuplture, pieces of metal shit a lot of people seem to spend a lot of money on. call me a fucking simpleton and i don't care; it's just not my thing. i have almost been successful at keeping these unsolicited opinions to myself, but life has a way of tempting you into being some elitist, ignorant asshole you're honestly trying not to be.

so here's the scenario: i'm walking with, of all things, a doughnut in my hand. people are starting to spill out of the gallery, bottles of beer in hand, drunk as fuck, then the floor is soaking wet and starting to get muddy since the icebox has probably been there the entire afternoon. i hear two guys in spaceboy outfits talking about how a certain piece is so emotional, how it's moving and shit like that. fine. i stop for a bit, and look at a painting that looks like a hundred kindergarteners armed with brushes and paint went on a rampage. i squint to see the price on the piece. ten thousand bucks. i look at the rest of the crowd... drunken buffoons talking about how this artist also sort of did the same thing only better and more expensive... all of these people obviously came for the free cocktails and the free alcohol, and judging by the fact that they're still there, none of 'em have the money to actually buy something.

dare do i ask: what is the fucking point?

"art is definitely better when it's not talked about or made a big deal. art is better when it's... just there," said my friend.

"art is a lot like golf," i begin, trying to fill in the next moments with something of value to say. "it takes up way too much valuable space that could have been put to better use, it's fucking expensive, understanding it is like trying to put a small fucking ball into a small fucking hole miles away, and it pleases the rich while it buries the poor. isn't art supposed to be the opposite of all that? or at least something NOT exactly like that?"

we were in a mall that could seemingly fit thousands, but the silence that came after what i said was deafening.

it seems to understand art these days, you've either gotta be extremely rich and fucked up, or simply fucked up.

+++

"Don't judge yourself by somebody else's standards. You will always lose."
-Billy Corgan

i remember having a conversation with some dickless, piece of shit who was supposedly a fine writer, with a bright future. i mean, i don't really care enough about him to give two shits and write about him, but the simple mistake he made was talking to me about my writing:

dickless: i heard you used to write poems and stuff like that when you were in university. what happened?

me: drugs happened. then beer. then i woke up. then i finally realized who i was.
dickless: too bad... i heard you could have been like, a good writer... i mean, no offense, but your writing seems to be more like... a kid whining at how the world is unfair and shit. i mean...

me: what exactly DO you mean?!!

dickless: i mean, isn't it time you've progressed from ranting? i mean, it's always a good thing to grow. i mean, your writing for a music magazine isn't exactly the best place to exercise your literary writing skills, i assume...

me: really? you think so? lemme think about it for a min... no. i think a good thing is knowing when to shut the fuck up and mind your own fucking business. if people did just that, then i'd probably wouldn't have enough reason to bicker and complain about 'em.

dickless: haha. okay, didn't mean to tick you off there buddy. was just being honest and offering my opinion. i'd hate it if you'd rant about me in your blog or some shit like that [snickers].

me: oh don't worry, i won't blog about you. i only write about people, their fucked-up lives and my fucked-up life. i don't write about people who have no lives. now THAT would be pointless... "literary" maybe... but pointless.

so in closing this small, useless chapter in my life, here is an attempt to write something with literary value:

"Bad-Ass Poem" by Joey Dizon

Roses are red,
Violets are blue...
you have no penis–
fuck you fuck you fuck you
fuck you fuck you fuck you
fuck you fuck you fuck you
fuck you fuck you fuck you
fuck you fuck you fuck you
i'll make you my bitch
motherfucker
die die die
please die right-fucking-now
die.

sort of brings tears to your eyes, doesn't it?

i thank you.

+++

"Been there, done that, seen it, heard it, pissed on it."
-Billy Corgan

Leftover questions from my buddy Jerk Salvador, from the beautiful city of Olongapo:

"Do you believe in God?"
i guess, i mean to believe that people are the most intelligent creators of everything, or to believe that we're all there is seems to be a pretty crappy thing. i mean, there's gotta be something or someone having quite a trip laughing at the millions of morons and assholes he created and put on this twisted planet. i mean, you occassionally meet people who are actually decent, and who end up meaning a lot to you. that alone proves there is something more benevolent than we are, something with enough power to create anything or anybody decent.

i believe the question you might have been going for is if i believe in the catholic/born-again christian/muslim/protestant/buddhist type of god. the answer is not really. why would i believe in something or someone who causes wars and suffering? i'd rather believe in something or someone that knows the value of a good laugh, knows how to party and have fun every once in while. god would be the guy who would tell you to hang loose and not fucking bother anybody while you're at it... god isn't a guy who'd shove a collection basket in your face and ask for your hard-earned money; god isn't the guy who'll ask you to kill innocent people in his name. god isn't the guy who will forbid you from having a ham and bacon sandwich. god is sort of like you and me... only better.

Do you believe in Satan?
hell yeah. satan is the extremes: extremely good, like pantera, or slayer and the smashing pumpkins. and extremely bad, like kris aquino, willy revilliame and celine-fucking-dion. if satan were your friend, he'd either be the guy/gal who'd be on everyone's case but be the first to get pissed and walk out if the tables were turned, or be the guy/gal who'd always get drunk first and who you'd end up taking home on your shoulders.

it's a love-hate-relationship, but a relationship nonetheless.

Are you an atheist?
no, i'm a joey-ist. my only doctrine is don't fuck with me and we're cool. and my teachings are: don't kill the cute, furry animals. kill the roaches and send the jesus-freaks to hell. billy corgan for president... of the whole damn world.

only i dare to answer.

2007-06-27T10:39:00.000-07:00

yeah, yeah... it has been quite a while since i wrote anything. it seems my knack for self-flagellation and urge to ramble on senselessly has escaped me for quite sometime, mainly since i was fooling myself for the past few weeks that i simply had no time to write.

and yes, i did celebrate my brithday recently. twenty-fucking-seven. quite a number, especially if you're still the type of person who gets ticked easily, spends rather irresponsibly and is, ahem, single. i mean, i feel every single fucking year of my existence. it's been a long ride. and no matter how much of a riot i had celebrating my birthday with countless bottles of red wine, one smoke after the other and by trashing a popular bar without the owners even knowing it (what's beeter than being a spoiled brat? acting like one! amen motherfuckers!), it doesn't help you think any better. in fact, you start to question who you really are after all those years of learning and unlearning shit.

so, in all nonsensical excitement and pointless, unproductive urgency, i emailed a few people i knew. in an effort to remind myself of how much an arse i still can be (and in some small fraction, remind myself of who i am...), i asked 'em to fire off a bunch of questions for me to answer. now for those of you who need me to explain everything to the last detail, what i'm trying to say is that i decided to fucking make my own survey thingie for me to answer because i have absolutely nothing to do. capesce? god.

anyway, here goes.

Q: Are you a satanist?
(from some girl i met who happened to see my blog...)

A: I guess, to your average Jesus freak, i am. because of what i say, what i do, the way i live my life, and the way i laugh at how so many people fool themselves into thinking that going to church on sunday will save them from the fiery depths of hell and damnation... regardless of the fact that he/she fucked another man's wife/woman's husband the night before. or coveted thy neighbor's belongings, or is generally a fucking dipshit who preys on other people and causes trouble to those people like me who simply want peace and quiet and for everybody to shut the fuck up. but in all honesty, no- i am not a satanist. i just think the devil has all the cool music. i mean, have you tried listening to christian rock? have you tried listening to new age, enya-type god shit? it's all so fucking lame. boring. you know how they say god is a DJ? well considering how MOST (not all, mind you...) techno/trance/rave music sounds like, then fine... "god" and his "loyal" servants/children can have all that shit. i don't want anything to do with it. i made my choice, 666!

Q: What are the question/s you often ask yourself?
(from some un-creative fuck who was to lazy to think of something worthwhile to ask me...)

A: hmm, how unique. well, in the spirit of answering all entries honestly, here's the top five questions i find myself asking...my self.

1. "Why the fuck do i even bother talking to this shithead/these shitheads?"
2. "Who the fuck cares?"
3. "Why the fuck did i say/do that? I so fucking suck."
4. "What was i NOT supposed to do? What was i NOT supposed to forget?"
5. "When will it all end?"

Q: What's with the questions anyway? Are you thinking of making an "Ask Anything" -type of
column/website?
(from: Vanessa Reyes, buddy/former classmate/resto owner)

A: nope, this is out of 100% pure, unadultered boredom. and i'm actually struggling to get my groove back as far as writing's concerned. as you can tell, nada. zilch.

Q: Why are you always getting mugged? You don't seem to vulnerable from a mugger's point-of-view...
(from: Vanessa Reyes, buddy/former classmate/resto owner)

A: i have no fucking idea why. though there are the standard reasons that seem to make a little sense on bad days (i.e. god hates me, society hates me, society is fucked up, people don't like working for what they want and need, etc.) i think it's plain and simple: i'm too big to ignore. it's not like it's my fault though, right? i mean, god made me this way. lousy joker. ha-fucking-ha.

but i am vulnerable. i was just subconsciously taught by 80s mainstream top 40 radio useless lessons on vulnerability: "don't cry out loud, just keep it inside. learn how to hide your feelings." and who could forget that godawful sob-song that goes: "it was inside that i cried..." bunch of pathetic wankers.

Q: Where's the best cup of coffee around here? I'm always on the lookout for a good brew.
(from: Vanessa Reyes, buddy/former classmate/resto owner)

A: my first choice would be UCC Cafe, mainly because they have an airconditioned section meant for smokers, and they spoil you silly by having infra-red buzzers to call the waiters' attention. plus the food and coffee is excellently and ridiculously overpriced, so you can enjoy the company of people who will mind their own business and take their cups of coffee very seriously... people who share the importance of silence, and who don't drink coffee just to look/appear serious and trendy, or to hide the fact that they are nobodies lacking attention.

The Dome in Podium and at the Shangri-La Plaza is also pretty cool. smokers don't get airconditioned sections though (they have tables outside), but the biscuits are good, the coffee is decently brewed and tasty, plus older folks who are mature enough to mind their own business hang out there. so i love it there. plus they have only a few, if not just one or two, fancy whipped-cream-cherry-on-top-sorry-excuses-for-coffee on their menu. so again, it's for more serious coffee drinkers. don't you fucking hate it when your coffee looks like it's been prepared by tim yap or some fucking fashionista?

Q: When was the last time you cried?
(from: Laureen Tecson, friend/colleague from One, the official publication of the Shangri-La PLaza)

A: of course, it'd have to be the cheesiest time: when me and my ex-girlfriend broke up. it was a manly weep: no sobbing, just a few drops of tears, a lot of sniffing and no talking. i was drunk, yes. she broke my heart... so i broke open a lot of bottles of wine.

but the last time i cried like a faggot? when my dog Shi-she died. he was my most loyal and trusted buddy for more than twelve years of my life in the Philippines. i still miss him every day. hopefully, now, he's chewing up all of God's slippers and taking a dump in his backyard in heaven. "Shi-she...attack! Bite the man with the white beard! Chase all dem angels up in heaven and the crown of creation! Good boy...."

Q: Bading ka ba?
(from: Priscilla Abante, buddy/fellow brat/person who helps the less fortunate/born-again christian...by choice.)

A: dehin mehn. but i know who is. i can name names, but later na lang, when we hang out. more fun to backstab than to sprawl it all over here.

Q: Galit ka sa bading?
(from: Priscilla Abante, buddy/fellow brat/person who helps the less fortunate/born-again christian...by choice.)

A: about 99% of the time. i have met one gay guy who deserves to be treated with respect and who has brains and fucking manners. just one. he's not even popular or somebody you would know, so pretty useless naming him. the rest are just noisy faggots who make the daily elevator ridein our ortigas offices hell for me. indeed, god works in mysterious, fucked-up ways.kaw, galit ka ba sa bading? hehehe...wink, wink.

Q: Kung sakaling bading ka, sino papatulan mo? Name one local and one international celebrity, then
someone we know...
(from: Priscilla Abante, buddy/fellow brat/person who helps the less fortunate/born-again christian...by choice.)

A: Local? Si Boy Abunda. I'd trick him into getting into a room with me, and when it's just the two of us, i'd kill him for the good of the country. his fake intelligence and lack of self-respect is a travesty to our country, and is probably one of the main reasons why our economy and society is so fucked-up. no wonder friend siya ni kris aquino. Internationally? Hmmm, i'd have to say that guy, Dr. Phil... the male version of Oprah who is an attention-hungry personality and who makes money off of other people's misery and thinks he knows everything. i'd trick him into being alone with me in a room too, and slit his goody-two-shoe throat. Someone we know? Kaw siguro. hehehe it must be your macho humor and rare ability to embarass me with stinging comebacks and hideous questions.

Q: How does one become a friend of Joey Dizon?
(from: Tinay Du, coffee and grape shake buddy/girl originally from Davao/mother)

A: it's really simple. generally, all my friends are people who weren't really meant to be my friends. i mean, most of my friends live far away, are either NOT former classmates or former classmates who i didn't really hang out with during university days, and people who have absolutely no trouble as far as sticking it to the man is concerned... you've got be pretty-fucked up, or pretty open-mided when it comes to being fucked-up, if you want to hang with me. plus, you've got to know the importance of timing: being able to recognize a moment so perfect that both you and i shut the hell up at about just the same time. you've got to also be able to appreciate rarities: the perfect cheeseburger, the perfect cup of coffee, the perfect way to tap cigarettes, the perfect way to utter profanities and vulgarities. if you don't know the difference between what's perfect and what's mundane, then scram.

to be more specific, if you're a girl, you have to be pretty... i mean, not supermodel pretty, but you've got to be quite easy on the eyes in one way or many. it sounds bigoted and prejudiced, yes, but fuck it, i've always been straight up. i mean, i'm not good looking, so why would i want to surround myself with ugly female friends with "golden, christian-approved hearts and souls?" it's just too hypocrital of anybody to say that looks don't mean shit. guys who say that probably have ugly female friends... am i right? i mean, i'm sure it doesn't bother you and my other female buddies knowing that i consider all of you "friends." this is sort of indirectly saying you're all pretty. (so much for "indirect...")

for guys, if you're into rave parties, like talking about scoring with drunk college chicks, only have extreme knowledge about cars, sports, drag racing and stylish shirts with the collars-up, then stay the fuck away from me. bunch of fucking faggots. put some meaning into your lives. again, stay the fuck away from me or i'll kill you.

Q: Don't you miss hanging out with me and bitching about the world?
(from: Tinay Du, coffee and grape shake buddy/girl originally from Davao/mother)

A: i wouldn't say my entire life revolves around missing you... that would be an obvious lie, and i don't want to lie to my friends. but missing hanging out with you and bitching about the world is definitely in my Top 20 list of things i miss doing. and that's not bad, trust me...

Q: Is Goofy a dog?
(from: Aimee Marcos, drummer of The Dorques/fellow writer of interesting shit/cool person i've had the pleasure of meeting)

A: Goofy is God! "God" is "Dog" spelled backwards. Hallelujah! Bow to me faithfully! Here Goofy, Goofy, Goofy!

Q: What is your favorite time of the day, literally the hour?
(from: Aimee Marcos, drummer of The Dorques/fellow writer of interesting shit/cool person i've had the pleasure of meeting)

A: let's see, it's probably either 12 am or 12 pm. because i'm rarely working at both times. i'm either asleep or getting hammered on alcohol, or other nefarious fixes like caffeine or nicotine.

Q: Elevators or Escalators?
(from: Aimee Marcos, drummer of The Dorques/fellow writer of interesting shit/cool person i've had the pleasure of meeting)

A: In the Philippines? None. I'd love to be able to teleport my ass around. Why? Because even though it's been decades since both technologies were developed, about 90% of the people here don't know shit about how to properly use 'em, or don't know a goddamned thing about elevator/escalator courtesy. sometimes i think we fucking deserve to be a third world country with the way most people act.

Q: Did your mom ever catch you jerking off? When was the last time you got caught wackin' off? Have
you ever slept with a co-worker? Or had fantasies ? Your boss Vernon doesn't count, everyone has
fantasies of him...ha!
(from: Tony Bueno, aka Tony Tony, Radio DJ Magic 89.9/drinking buddy/maniac)

A: You are a sick, sick man dude... no wonder somany people love your radio show. whoa dude, wipe that spittle from your mouth. Keep it up, you won't solve our society's illnesses or end world hunger or poverty, but at least you'll keep our minds off of it for three hours every Wednesday. And for the record: yes, a decade ago, no and hell no. you sleazy bastard.

Q: What makes you blush?
(from: Tish, future nurse/pretty girl from New Jersey/only ex-girlfriend i still talk to...)

A: nothing. i have since abandoned all feelings or hints at emotion since finding the true salvation in the words and teachings of of our lord Jesus Christ... NOT! Seriously, though? Nothing nga ata e... never noticed and no one has ever bothered approaching me and telling me that i was blushing. bastards.

Q: If you were gay, what/who would be your alter-ego?
(from: Tish, future nurse/pretty girl from New Jersey/only ex-girlfriend i still talk to...)

A: what is it with the gay questions?!! i only listen to gay music occassionally naman e. i dunno, it's probably be me with some silly name, like Robin Nude, or Felix Ba-Cat. Or on a more serious note, i'd probably be Barry Manilow. sentimental, whining piece of...

Q: If there was one moment in the past that you'd like to replay, what would it be? Why?
(from: Tish, future nurse/pretty girl from New Jersey/only ex-girlfriend i still talk to...)

A: the day i fell in love with you... and all the days we spent together after that. why? because i was happy.

figured you deserved a serious, and honest answer. so there... one out of three isn't too bad now, is it?

Q: Since no man is an island, and god is no man, for you, what island would god be?
(from: Frederic Dimzon, demon brother/literary great/fellow metalhead/crazy-ass motherfucker i'd kill for...)

A: beats the crap out of me. i mean, hawaii? wild i guess, i just figured all those coconuts and hula dancers and volcanoes spewing bad-ass lava and ash would somehow be the geographical equivalent of a pissed-off deity. i mean, i'd be pretty pissed if i was god and had to deal with guys like myself who ridiculed me and refused to worship me without question. i'd fucking make the fool feel good at first, thinking he was in heaven with all those sexy hula dancers doing the deed and shit, then melt the bastard with some heavy duty lava, brimstone and fire shit. i'd be a mean motherfucking son-of-a-bitch, and demand human sacrifices. but only the dumb people. the cool people could, you know, live- and plant trees and harvest fruits and shit. good question bro.

Q: If you were to burn a church for whatever reason you may have, what church would it be? No
particular denomination, but it would have to be in GMA...
(from: Frederic Dimzon, demon brother/literary great/fellow metalhead/crazy-ass motherfucker i'd kill for...)

A: All of 'em. But i'll start with the Iglesia Ni Cristo, then the places where Ang Dating Daan and El Shaddai do their thing. Those are my top three most-hated religions. They teach people to be judgemental bigots, plus they don't know how to party. And what rhymes with "party?" "Joey." Seriously, i hate the religions. not the people. its not their fault that they need something to believe in. Surprisingly, the catholic churches are the last i'd burn. why? because i get to buy cotton candy and popcorn and all sorts of good food and get too see the animals and toys and balloons peddled in the church grounds... i get to see reality in motion, opportunism at its finest. it's not actually, the catholic church, anymore... it's the catholic zoo. And zoos are fun... in one way or the other. except this time, it's not poor animals who suffer... it's the people. quite entertaining.

Q: Which member of Cueshe would you pin-up a poster of in your bathroom?
(from: Frederic Dimzon, demon brother/literary great/fellow metalhead/crazy-ass motherfucker i'd kill for...)

A: Tough question bro... i'm tempted to say all of 'em since the band's music is perfect for taking a dump, but to follow your rile/condition of choosing just one member, i'd have to say the singer, Jay Justiniani (the one without a musical instrument). Why? i dunno. figured my answer to your question didn't need an explanation.

thirty three

2007-06-14T20:00:00.000-07:00

it seems useless trying to figure out one's self, no matter what kind of a time or day it is. i'm tired of losing countless hours of sleep with all this thinking. i guess that despite all the shit i did back in high school and college, all the substances i've smoked and ingested back in the day when my problems were the fact that i had no problems, there's still a risk of thinking too much. i thought my brain cells would be dead by now, i'd develope a surfer/weed junkie accent and be all droopy-eyed by now, but to no avail, i'm still that wonderfully awake and alert kid that still finds joy in cotton candy and sweetened popcorn.

+++

i am missing you a lot. we said our goodbyes,
yet when the earth inevitably shakes and rumbles,
and the land beneath my feet crumbles,
it seems i immediately grab the closest thing i can
and i hold on tighter than ever before.
in that same silence where we find ourselves locking arms,
chest to chest,
i find peace. i feel loved.

strange, because we are thousands of miles apart.

+++

i honestly have nothing else better to write. but as the words of the great billy corgan have a knack for describing emotions, days and moods, here's a little something to choke on your tears with:

Thirty-Three
Speak to me in a language I can hear
Humor me before I have to go
Deep in thought I forgive everyone
As the cluttered streets greet me once again

I know I can't be late, supper's waiting on the table

Tomorrow's just an excuse away

So I pull my collar up and face the cold, on my own
The earth laughs beneath my heavy feet
At the blasphemy in my old jangly walk
Steeple guide me to my heart and home
The sun is out and up and down again

I know I'll make it,
love can last forever
Graceful swans of never
topple to the earth

And you can make it last,
forever you ...
You can make it last,
forever you.

And for a moment I lose myself
Wrapped up in the pleasures of the world
I've journeyed here and there and back again
But in the same old haunts I still find my friends
Mysteries not ready to reveal
Sympathies I'm ready to return

I'll make the effort,
love can last forever
Graceful swans of never
topple to the earth

Tomorrow's just an excuse

And you can make it last,
forever you...
You can make it last,

forever you.

race to the finish...

2007-06-13T08:31:00.000-07:00

it began as a promise to myself
to answer all the questions
i couldn't believe that my own hell
was lying underneath my good intentions
now i've seen people pull some crazy stunts
in my own lifetime
but they never tried to make me
fade into the cold and the blackened night sky

it's hard to believe that after all the pacts we made
that you would ever say the words
regretting the part of me that laid in your arms....

maybe it's time for you to learn
play with fire you'll get burned
maybe it's time for you to know...
i'm all set to let you go....

now it's time for me to hurt you
and you knew this day would come
for the last thing on your mind was leaving
while i was on the run to search for
the one true thing to say to you
cause i know you'd never cry
that's what you were good at and it's
funny how you never had to try

i could have been angry
i could have been fair
but now that i'm past all that
i don't really care

Red Wine, Lamb Chops, Sansrival... Food For Thought.

2007-06-07T22:40:00.000-07:00

it takes a certain level of maturity, i assume, to be able to enjoy the smaller details in life. yeah, it does sound downright cliché-ic, and i must admit that i'm still trying to stunt old age, but i think i'm slowly learning the value of real camaraderie... friendship and all that shit, in a time when it seems that we're all just going through the motions and spending our daily lives just trying to figure out how to keep breathing and how to avoid unnecessary conflict. i mean, there's really no point in trying to be some rich motherfucker with the bling-blings and the bitches to show in a country where people don't even have the common-courtesy to get their own shit together: fucking nobody practices elevator courtesy, fucking drivers don't know shit about safety, and all these damn christians trying to ram god down your throat while holding playing cards in one hand, and pointing fingers at you with the other.

so there are days when you really need to say the four words that have defined by post-adolescent life: fuck it and fuck you. has a ring to it doesn't it?

the past few days were pretty trippy. as you'll notice, i haven't been writing much; mainly because i was 1. a little busy with work-related shit, and 2. enjoying myself break the habit. sometimes, you gotta do something completely retarded, or way out of personality to really fire up your gusto and fucking keep yourself sane.

it started monday. i haven't been able to hang with my main man marben (who's in this band called Badburn) for quite some time, and it's been a while since i've hung out with him, his kid and his wife Myra (who's also in a band and is a solo jazz singer, under the moniker "Skarlet.") yeap, marben used to be the reputed bully-type back in the day, since he, well, really did beat the crap out of a lot of people at university. and though he still can kick anybody's ass from here to kingdom come, there's an obvious change in character and outlook for him... a change i've learned to respect. we kicked back and fucking threw down listening to rise against and lamb of god type shit. it's been a while since i've had more than a full bottle of wine, so we ended up downing three bottles of the sweet stuff, more bottles of beer, and we had a nice cuts of medium rare lamb chops to go with it. fuck, a little slice of heaven right there.

my Moyg band mate karlo also celebrated his birthday the next day, and we had sansrival and squid balls and tons of alcohol again. no bullshit, joining this band has really been therapeutic since they're basically a group of cut-ups and punks who fucking make me laugh til my stomach hurts. i sometimes envy the way how they can laugh at shit when it hits the fan, and how they're mission is nothing more than to be happy and content. after a lot of joking around and numerous rounds of fight night on the xBox3, it was a little sad to have to go home since i was having a hell of a time. it's nothing like those jock parties i hated so much back in college where guys try to get this chick drunk and fucking act like retards on alcohol and talk about football or basketball and shit. i fucking loathed those times when i had to go parties like that, always ending up in fights and shit.

our get-togethers these days are more like family- different people who you're genuinely glad to see and can talk about nonsense non-stop and enjoy more than just a few guffaws. sort of like the kind of friendship you share during high school, except all of you are way more mature enough to not break each others' balls all night i guess it's because all of us don't get to hang with each other as much as we want to, since we all got jobs and priorities to attend to.

i'm actually learning to hang out with new people, though i can be a goof at it sometimes, and some shit does feel awkward if the person you're hangin' with doesn't exactly know a lot of shit about you and vice versa. but it does look promising... and is quite an interesting feat to accomplish. maybe it's not so true that all great friendships stop when you're 15 or 16. last night i got a chance to hang with my buddy frey, and with Anna, who we met, of all places, at a Christian Bautista mall show. she's cool and she has a cool job, a food/prod developer for san miguel and it turns out those Eaji snacks which are so popular these days (the chips that come with dips and dressing inside, like cheese, salsa and chili...) and i must say she's fun to hang with. quite an odd trio last night, but worth mentioning nonetheless.

anyway, being the pessimistic fuck that i am, i know all this merrymaking and shit won't last forever. and at the back of my mind, i know all this happy shit will soon fucking turn into some doomsday bullcrap. but who cares... way of the world, right?

now all i gotta do is figure out a way how to sleep. i'm still stuck at this 7am bedtime thing. four hours doesn't seem to cut it.

It's The Wave I Ride (That Won't Ever Reach The Shore)

2007-05-30T12:06:00.000-07:00

what was i thinking?

when i thought that empty spaces didn't matter...
during the time when i fooled myself into thinking
that the comforting words would come as swift
as an old REO Speedwagon song on the radio,
or some blinding flash of light
that hits the veranda just before the full
enigma of the morning star's rays
envelope the insides of room cluttered

by smoke,
ahses of broken bones
and wounded hearts,
old letters,

stacks of CDs with anthems of
emotion,
heartache,

and pictures of moments that will forever be lost to
the failure of

m
e
m
o
r
y

and

the simple wanting to r e m e m b e r...

yeah, what was i thinking?

when i took the brrom and shoved it all out the front door.

my garage is now littered, for everyone to see.

enjoy. as the constant split-splat of rain
provides a deafening soundtrack to the demise of
one memory too many.
watch how the clouds color the nonntime sky
into the black that is i.

upon you i set the everlasting gaze of regret and forgetting.

I Am Allergic To Bullshit

2007-05-17T22:55:00.000-07:00

honestly i really am.
fuck everybody.
especially you.

you try and walk a mile in my shoes
and deal with a shithead like yourself.
see if you like it any better than i do.

they say god created man in his own image...

for his sake, i hope they're wrong.

hysterical. it's all fucking hysterical.

got shit on,
pissed on
spit on
stepped on
fucked with
pointed at
by lesser men.

but i draw the line at you.

Whaddya Mean I'm Not Kind? I'm Just Not Your Kind...

2007-05-15T06:07:00.000-07:00

don't you just hate it when you realize that despite the fact that we've come such a long way with our technology and ipods and gadgets and trends and fucking bullshit like that, there's more morons in this world than there are expletives in my writing?

yeap, i fucking have to deal with 'em everyday, from the moment i step outside the gate of the village where i stay (no i don't own the house i live in, i just rent it, so nobody can accuse me of being some rich bastard asking for attention...). i mean, nobody said the world was fair, i know that- but some days, it can really get to you... especially if you're the type of person who simply wants nothing more than his/her fair share of peace and quiet and a giant bag of cotton candy or a really good steak. i mean, i'm a pretty simple guy with a few screws loose, a sharp tongue and an itchy trigger finger. that's all.

first of all, you have to deal with the idiot cab driver, who charges you 20 or 30 bucks more than you're really supposed to pay. he voluntarily fills you in with his opinions on politics, what the weather for the day will be, or if you're in luck, he's a member of some born again, religious cult thing and try to convert you to religion... and tell you his sob story and how he was "saved." ideally, it's all good... if it weren't for the fact that you've had very little sleep and SIMPLY DO NOT CARE. i mean, i'll take on polite conversation any day, but why does it always have to be about politics? religion or the economy? i mean i already fucking know i'm going to burn in hell, i already know that the country is a dump and we have absolutely no money whatsoever, and i already know that politicians are made up of two kinds of people: idiots and assholes. i mean, why can't it ever be about simpler stuff, like plants or chlorophyll or how even which cigs taste better or whatever?

then you get to the office. the guard who sees you EVERY SINGLE DAY bugs you to pin your ID like your some kid in kindergarten. the dickhead in front of the line to the elevator is texting and doesn't notice the door open until its closing again and then everybody like yourself who would've punched in at the right time is five minutes late. then you manage to get a ride in the next one, then you're standing beside a group of giggling faggots. you try to ignore them and shit, but their voices are piercing, irritating and fucking driving you nuts. but then you can't say shit, because of gay rights and all that crap about being sensitive to other genders and bull like that. then the guy in front of you is pushing all the wrong buttons, and you all end up seeing every freaking floor until you reach the 16th. you can't get off, nobody's moving because they're all afraid the door might close. they're too stupid to know that there are sensors so that the elevator doors won't close on passengers getting off and getting on. you start losing it, despite your best efforts to control yourself. you shake your head, and the people look at you like some jerk who likes being irritated on a daily basis. i mean, who the fuck is like that? nobody... if people would just be more, i dunno... smart?

then you get to the office. no need to elaborate any further. save for a few decent people, almost everybody working in an office knows what i mean.

then you have lunch. lunch is the last bastion of freedom for the next 9 hours you have to work. it is glorious. well, it's supposed to be, after all, in 30 minutes, you eat, smoke and if you're lucky, have a nice, cold one to get your body working. but then more stupid people who don't know how to fall in line cut in front of you. you try to ignore it. you tell yourself that it's ok since you don't want to spoil the moment of glory. then you realize, the person at the counter hasn't even decided what he/she wants and fucking looks at the menu for a lifetime. then when the order's all punched in, even after a confirmation from the girl at the cash register, the customer in front of you changes his/her mind. totally. like water to wine. it takes 15 minutes for the goddamn manager to cancel the order, open the cash register and take out the punched out receipt. more menu surfing from the moron in front of you. you're hungry, pissed off and have to go to the bathroom, but you can't leave the line because it's as long as hell. you hold it for the next 30 minutes, which makes you sick and deducts about 2 hours from your life. you eat. somehow, it doesn't taste as good when you really have to piss. you curse, you smoke. then you curse again.

after 9 hours of slavery, you start making your way home. it's every man for himself. you get pushed by an old lady. you want to punch her... but then you remember how nice grandmas naturally are. you have an attack of conscience, and keep reminding yourself that YOU'RE the asshole, mainly because you have a tattoo, you listen to hardcore and heavy metal and you have very low self-esteem at times. you get pushed again by the lady in the office uniform. you pull out a cig and smoke. you curse again. you get pushed by a guy. this time you push back. he stares. you curse again. but both of you on't have the balls to pull out a gun and shoot the other away. it's ridiculous.

then you take the first part of your morning and repeat the entire thing.... asshole cab driver, check. traffic... check. morons who don't know how to drive.... check. jeepney drivers and bus drivers... check. you then decide whether or not tonight's the night you'll kill yourself.

but when you get home, you can't sleep. and fucking kris aquino is on tv.

there is such a thing as too much fun

2007-05-09T11:27:00.000-07:00

this depression shit is getting to be pretty annoying.

i mean, i had a great weekend: fucking got to see a great hardcore gig, the Tame The Tikbalang reunion at Mayric's (it's been a long time since i've screamed so loud and sang along to the songs that inspired me to play music and which i know by heart...) and we played two pretty successful gigs in and out of town. Subic is still great, lots of familiar faces, and Demon Dave from Badburn and Gil Christ lent us their amps so we really had an easy time providing the necessary ear-bleed with mondo gobs of gain and distortion. it has also been a while since i've played such a great set, with my ears ringing so bad that it was wonderful.

but that was last weekend. since monday, i've been in this irritating slump: i can't write, i can't focus and i can't even fucking sleep on time. could this be a case of depression i'm trying to push away to the far back of my mind? i mean, what the fuck is there to be depressed about?

money? no, no one in their right mind would go crazy over that shit.

love life? how can you be depressed over something you don't really have? so no, i don't think that's it.

could it be that being "happy" is quite a feat and so NOT normal that i'm actually having trouble dealing with it? maybe.

holy fuck. this is such a terrible problem to have. i mean, how do you fucking solve a problem like this? fucking shoot yourself in the kneecaps and sprinkle salt and gun powder over the wound then light it up?

i didn't even like Sylvester Stallone. so why is that infamous scene from Rambo III playing over and over again in my mind?

i have no motherfucking idea. it'd be easy to say i'm gay and have this thing for 80s action stars, but fuck... i'm not and i don't.

i better snap out of this soon. fuck, i'm not getting any work done.

anybody want a beer?

+++

Because I'm on the brink of something beautiful
and I want to sing about it...
But I don't know where to begin...

It's never been more perfect being alive.

But don't throw me a line, don't reach out your hand -

I've never been so satisfied.