6.28.2009
Hang Me Up To Dry @ 11:46 PM
sketch sketch sketch. need prismacolor.
this is Dobie/ Jaguar. he's a little devil, but I love him anyway.
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My problem is that I know how to write a good letter.
I can express on paper, with my hand, what I can't in the air, with my voice.
I'm trying to write a letter to my brother (who seriously hangs out with prostitutes, sometimes treats beer like water, and is very likely about to throw his future away.) I love you, and I need you to stop. Please.
Where do I even start?
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I'm planning a grand adventure. I can't speak until all is set. :)
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Dear, I fear we're facing a problem
you love me no longer, I know
and maybe there is nothing
that I can do to make you do.
Mama tells me I shouldn't bother
that I ought to stick to another man
a man that surely deserves me
but I think you do. (Love Fool lyrics, originally by the Cardigans. good song)
-currently eating up the NFG version of LoveFool from From the Screen to Your Stereo Part II.
These days, it's all about covers.
Labels: adventure, contemplation, family, Random
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11:46 PM
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6.24.2009
I Want to Paint You @ 6:11 AMThere is a man on the moon,
I wonder if he can feel the weight of my stare.
filled with longing-
a longing that the night imagines
while starving to build a stellanarious bridge
from the craters of the moon to the
surface of the intangible,
only to burn it down with the breaking of day.
I do not know you.
The façade that I recognize, the voice
Oh the voice that sings
and brings the erasure of despair.
I can’t know you…completely.
To paint you would be a wonderful fallacy
but it is the life within-
a mother-of-pearl smoothness that the
cover captures the contour
and reflects back the world in all luminescence.
I would paint feelings and a thousand imagined
colors.
I would paint summer day after summer day,
gentle waves
and raindrops as they fall from eyelashes.
Shape and form as they appear
would disappear in dark caves.
I don’t know you.
But I want to paint you-
Alla Prima
strokes slowly revealing
peeling off layers,
the tips of brushes swaying within arm’s reach.
Within my arm’s reach,
but you are far from everything.
The man on the moon,
he is far from everything.
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I am trying desperately as desperate gets, to rid myself of this writer's block. This is the first I've written since many moons have passed. There's so many beautiful things to write about, and for once, I wish I could spurt it all out, throwing up words and swallowing descriptions. That time will come. Waiting waiting waiting.
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In other news, our cat, Garfield is back, after being gone for 12 days. :D
Labels: contemplation, Poems
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6:11 AM
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6.22.2009
One Word. @ 6:41 AMStolen.
One word answers.
and For the sake of fast internet and waiting for Saw V to load online.
Where is your cell phone? dead
Significant other? waiting
Your hair? dancing
Your mother? laughing
Your father? drinking
Your favorite thing? paint
Your dream last night? eggs
Your favorite drink? Orange Juice?
Your dream/goal? happiness
What room are you in? bedroom
Your hobby? observing
Your fear? goodbyes
Where you want to be in 6 years? universe
Where were you last night? dreamland
Something that you aren't? angry
Muffins? penguin
Wish list item? peace
Last thing you did? smiled
What are you wearing? clothes
TV? Dexter
Your pets? Mick.
Friends? forever
Your life? most-amazing
Your mood? happy-go-lucky
Missing someone? always
Drinking? nope
Your car? scion
Something you're not wearing? hair-tie
Your favorite store? eclectic
Your favorite color? sea-green
When was the last time you cried? hmmm.
Who will resend this? _________
Where do you go to over and over? dreamland
My favorite place to eat? house
Favorite place I'd like to be at right now? ocean
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6:41 AM
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6.17.2009
A Failed Attempt at Speech @ 8:02 PMThe clock mocks
my waking hours,
screaming distance! distance!
Look for the moon
in June,
and soon you’ll start to see
his dance-
across the sky
in a beautiful line.
We share his silver-bullet
color,
his wide-eyed eyed shape,
his other face
and when he says goodbye
to one, hello to the other.
I send my thoughts with
the moon-
He knows that soon
and somewhere, someone
wakes to bend their neck
in search of a
reply
from the other side of time.
A sign! A sign!
That’s all I need
so will you speed it up?
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I wish I was a writer. I wish I was a physicist. I wish I made more wishes on shooting stars. I wish I saw more shooting stars. I wish Iwishwishwish.
It’s been a while since I wrote anything worthwhile.
It’s been never since I understood completely how the universe works. Just the pull of gravity. I understand that because I feel it. “Gravity isn’t only what makes us fall, it’s what makes our muscles strong.” But, it isn’t all a vertical attraction to the ground we walk on, you know. Sometimes I feel gravity, the center of it being walking beings, mere walking beings. You, me, and them, the center of gravity? How do you explain the pull that you have on me? The natural inclination to gravitate towards your direction? Everyday I bump into strangers, and just as easily, I feel a force of repulsion. But for some reason, for some reason, being around you feels just like following the law of gravity.
It’s okay if you don’t believe me. Look around you, and you’ll start to feel it.
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I am still laughing from the mental image of one of our maids slapping the hell out of one of our dog’s face for barking insanely and profusely at birds. At birds!
I am still laughing from the vivid sound of my brother meowing at the dinner table.
I am still laughing from the feeling of waking up being tickled.
I have infinitely many reasons to laugh nowadays.
And I am still laughing.
Labels: contemplation, Random, Self
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6.14.2009
Pangarap Ko Ay Makita Kang Naglalaro sa Buwan @ 10:12 PM
some quick friendly faces: James (left), and Sylvester (right)
Ang alay mo sa akin ang gabing walang hangganan.
Hindi mahanap sa lupa ang pag-asa.
Nakikiusap na lang.
Himala, kasalanan bang humingi ako sa langit ng
isang Himala? Kasalanan bang himingi ako sa langit ng
Isang himala?
(Rivermaya- "Himala")
Today I woke up to an endless cobalt sky, for miles and miles no sign of anything between me and the early sun, me and the late half moon. Had it been dawn, my naked eye could have met the death of constellations minutes before sun-up. Days like this leave me believing that something somewhere knows that I am looking up, and that something mirrors right back through incalculable miles.
You can call me a blind believer. You can call me heretic, even foolish for having faith in things I can not myself prove. Einstein, now he said, “Our situation is the following. We are standing in front of a closed box which we cannot open.” True, and for these things left unknown, science and faith have always battled for. But to an extent I think the answer is better sought through the fusion of both. It takes faith in people to believe what science has proven. Consider this: our perception of life could be the greatest mistake in living, but how will we ever know? The world exists in an objective truth that we can only imagine.
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Forever is a really long time and infinity is a really large space (quite an understatement, actually). The idea of something that we cannot observe scares me beyond my wits, but a greater fear is that somehow, someplace, something could, could exist so that forever is but a second and infinity, an inch.
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I have always been in awe of aboriginal lifestyles, the ability to withstand the challenge of time and endure the temptation of a fast changing age.
The other day, I saw on TV school-aged Aetas (indigenous people of the Philippines) who walk 3 hours from home, having to climb mountains, navigate through forests and traverse rivers to get to school. On your next half hour drive or 15 minute walk to campus, please think about it.
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Garfield, our one year old cat hasn't come home in 3 days. :(
Labels: contemplation, Random
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10:12 PM
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6.10.2009
Insomnia, you know, that unbearable feeling? @ 12:41 AM
Sometimes I lay still, full attention on the capacity of my lungs to rise and fall. Sometimes I can feel the passing of blood through capillaries, so I close my eyes and imagine life. There’s this shape I can’t quite make out in the darkness of five am, but I know it’s there, because sometimes all you can do is feel when all other senses fail you.
There are cracks on the ceiling, spelling out messages my mind’s eye had once seen. Cobwebs have collected in the most desolate corners of my mind, places where spiders spin and spin and spin intricate patterns that imitate capillaries- fragile and tragically beautiful. Empty rituals that break the habit of mindless thinking…the taunting ticking of the second hand of his face, faster, faster…the cold side of the pillow ceases to exist…cotton suddenly starts to feel like the weight of the entire ocean…
I don’t know what force can keep me up so deep in thoughts of…nothing. At two am, I’m waging war against the seven minutes that promised deep deep deep slumber. At two-fifty nine, my mind refuses to accept the birth of another digit. Minutes pass like hours. Sometimes I can feel the ceiling crashing down, frustration building up and pushing it away, like helium balloons rising to the atmosphere, exploding for the desire of the sun. The walls have mouths, whispering in indiscernible tongues, and the vibrations are bouncing off my chest, so that I need to harmonize my breathing. I am walking the never-ending corridor of time, passing through door after door, creating shadow after shadow, then I realize that I am the light at the end, and I am burning.
Labels: contemplation, Random, Short Stories
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12:41 AM
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6.09.2009
Kaleidoscope, Layers of Dust, Edge of a Cliff @ 12:27 AMLife is a kaleidoscope. Colors and colors and colors fill your vision, patterns blind you with the unthinkable combination of explosion and fireworks. When you look away, you regret doing so.
Life is a layer of dust, collecting on table tops, unaffected, until some human fingerprints disturb the surface. At the point of contact, particles rearrange. Forever changed.
Life is the edge of a cliff, eroding, waiting to fall. The winds- carving out a work so abstract, so plain and simple, until the core, the very core of it, stands exposed and vulnerable.
Life is nothing and everything. Who am I to definite it?
"Those not busy being born are busy dying". (or something like it) Bob Dylan.
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Dear Vannalyn,
Not everything needs definition. Not everything needs calculation.
Do you believe me?
But is everything, everything an art?
Labels: contemplation
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12:27 AM
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6.07.2009
Lock and Key @ 6:19 AM
this is me crossing the International Date Line.“So many people enter and leave your life! Hundreds of thousands of people! You have to keep the door open so they can come in. But it also means you have to let them go!”
I wish I could write an encyclopedia of one word entries for people in my life. One word key that unlocks their heart, closing like a fist, opening up like a flower…
I know that-
Music is the key to my brother TJ’s heart.
Humor for my other one, Joervyn.
Chance for my dad,
Selflessness for my mom
I wish I could define the key to my mine. Right now all I’ve got is the lock.
I wish I could write an encyclopedia of one word entries for people in my life. One word key that unlocks their heart, closing like a fist, opening up like a flower…
I know that-
Music is the key to my brother TJ’s heart.
Humor for my other one, Joervyn.
Chance for my dad,
Selflessness for my mom
I wish I could define the key to my mine. Right now all I’ve got is the lock.
Labels: contemplation, family, Random