Feeding Escapism

i've jumped into the mmorpg bandwagon and got SkyBlade: Sword of the Heavens. been playing for two days and really, it's beginning to work its charms on me.

... (silence.)

(thinks thinks thinks of something to write. maybe write about SkyBlade. ooh. i'm almost at level 11. hmm. maybe i can upgrade my weapon already. and get that nice glowing sword thingie.)

... (thoughtful silence.)

(tap tap tap tap...)

... (nervous silence.)

i think i'll play again. hee hee...

On A Lazy Sunday Afternoon

ok, enough of growing old. after all, what did that kooky girl in "Under The Tuscan Sun" say? "Never lose your childlike innocence." so i'm determined i won't.

right now i'm at a public terminal because my stint at having free internet access via csb infonet is over. i'm assuming first term has already come and gone. which means i'd have to be doing something once second term starts rolling in. so i'm half-hoping i get this job, half-hoping i'd get another one -- maybe something involving either graphics or web design. and a friend asked me if i would like to play english tutor to koreans. will probably try my luck there as well. crossing my fingers.

Little Boy Hiding Under The Covers

excuse me while i wiggle my legs back to its solid state. sheesh. i just finished my morning interview with a company i applied for. they told me to come back at 2:30 for a test of sorts, and if ever i pass that one, i'd be called in for another interview tonight. TONIGHT! sheesh! i don't even have time to hold my breath! things are going waaaaayyy too fast.

mike told me one foot was already inside, all i had to do was go in. i'm in the process of going in. i'm half hoping they won't shut the door on my leg, half hoping they'd push me out. i'm getting scared of the big picture -- how much of a grown-up it would warp me.

most of my life has been spent doing away with systems of any sort, although i inject myself once in a while just to live somewhat normally. even my mother said i was weird ("anak, ang weird mo."), and i was ok with that! i reveled in it! i was proud of the fact that i was different, more different than any other schmuck in a batman shirt and tattered shorts. i didn't grow old.

and now... now... i'm wearing a white long-sleeved top, black slacks, leather shoes, and i have a bag stuffed with my resumes. i look like an adult. boring, and in shades of grey. soon enough i'd be worrying about making more money and staying on top. i'd forget about making love on a stormy night or faking my death or working as a household help or loving like a trainwreck.

the only things keeping me sane are the cap i'm wearing and the songs playing on little podi. other than those, the kid inside this corporate-clad drone-to-be is scared.

scared of the big picture looming before his eyes.


PS: i'm overreacting i know, but guess what... WIMP WITH NERVOUS FINGERS TYPING HERE! i need a stress ball. to bite on.

Dissipate

it was amusing
how it happened
like brushfire
like flood
one moment there
and then suddenly
gone

i know it happened
because i saw it
and i didn't know
if it was blood in my eyes
but it was red stained somewhat
not like water
but more like fire

and i know it happened
because i felt it
hot and scalding
cutting a path down my cheeks
like knife cold
and glinting in the moonlight
not like fire
but more like water

and there was a light missing
and a note blown by the wind
(silently, cruelly)
with a message unread
and will remain a dream
unchased, unimportant
but suddenly
gone

--

the storm is really giving its best shot tonight. maybe i shouldn't have been so angry, or so sad. even the power's out. i hope it gets fixed soon. lappie's battery will last for another two hours at most, and i haven't charged little podi yet. plus, i slept earlier this evening so sleep won't be easy to catch in the next few hours.

and here's a secret... i'm scared of the dark.

These Foolish Things

i'm going to list down the things i want to do. most of them are ridiculous but i still want to experience them anyway. heck, most people i know like to bungee jump what the hell is that? (ok, i'm a wimp who cares.) maybe this will help lighten my mood some.

1. fake my death and live somewhere remote.


2. work as a house help for some filthy rich family.


3. learn to play the violin.


4. learn to drive.


5. learn how to read and write elvish.


6. join a rock group.


7. draw like this


8. make love on the rooftop of a very tall building at a stormy night.


9. shake down the stars

i hope that's not all of it. heh. i don't want to die just yet.

When Ghosts Fall Silent

sleeping has never really been a problem for me. i'd be contented even if i get only four to five hours of sleep, never mind the time of day. but recently it's been getting insane, my sleeping patterns. it's beginning to shape up like how i wash my hair -- two days conditioning then the next day shampooing, except with sleeping, it's been more like two days awake through the night and almost half a day of sleep after. like last night, i slept at 9PM and woke up today almost 11AM.

i used to not mind it. after all, i get work done. but right now i'm feeling all sad and cosmic about it. it's weird. feeling sad because of not getting sleep. maybe it's because an hour or so after waking up, i prefer not talking. i just want to move around and do my things in my ugly out-of-bed self first, until the gloom of waking up dissipates silently to the air and the thick cake of sleep is gone from my eyes. then maybe i can be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for another twelve or so hours being awake.

but those hours of keeping silent are slowly stretching throughout the day. i want to keep quiet and just plug my ears to music while going about the whole day. the brightest my eyes can reach is when i make the effort to smile, and that's a lot. give or take half a twinkle. (i miss my dimples.)

right now it's almost four and i haven't uttered a peep. not even txt anyone. i might be going home around 6, then wait until dinner. go online for a while, talk with people, play neverwinter nights for maybe an hour, and then sleep.

ok i sound like i'm complaining again. i'm not, i guess. i've been doing things that i like -- getting some writing done, practicing layouts, drawing a lot, talking with people i like...

sigh. i guess it's just human nature to want something more. that life can be better. i want to do a lot of things, reach out to a lot of people. love like a trainwreck.

O'Tanjoubi Omedetou!

Happy birthday bug! :) (I forgot Sumomo's ribbon!) Har har...

There's A Kind Of Hush

i know it's all over when one uses a carpenters song as a title, BUT WHO CARES? it's friday night! :) the whole week has been, in three cruel syllables, merciless. me and lappie have been working nonstop (and without enough, never enough compensation i might add) in conceptualizing, designing, and coding website layouts. my eyes are beginning to twitch at the sight of CSS or HTML and my fingers are raw from typing and clicking. now i understand why the matrix people wear shades. sheesh.

and last night was the crux, the proverbial thorned crown. i spent all night CSS-ing and HTML-ing the new progay website. i've decided to publish it in blogger instead of the usual geocities since with blogger, the progay president, mr. oscar atadero, would be able to update the website himself by just posting articles. no fuss. i told him if he needed to rehaul an entire section or something then that would be the time to call on me, instead of having me go all the way to laloma, qc every week and spend the night in a different environment where i wouldn't be able to have the pleasure of working in the nude. heh.

but despite of being tired and feeling all beaten up, i feel rather... useful. productive. more than ever in my whole sordid life. sure there have been bonks on the head (and the heart) for me this week too, but somehow i can't think about it as much (even tho there's this little voice in my head telling me i should). the feeling of doing something for the community is more overwhelming. damn, this is nice to say the least.

plus, bug and i watched the stepford wives at greenbelt 1. nicole kidman always had the ability to make my heart skip several randomly distributed beats whenever she appears on the screen, and matthew broderick does not grow old. and as for the movie, it's been a long time since i've watched a dark comedy, and this one hit the spot right there. it wasn't really spectacular like that, but what counted was the feeling of gid i had after stepping out of the theater. mm... delish.

and to top it all off, my brother is in cavite for his overnight retreat and my sister is spending the night at a groupmate's house doing i couldn't care less. i have the house all to myself until tomorrow afternoon. the world is at peace. w00t.

PS: meanwhile, nickelback's playing on the background, singing, "somethin's gotta go wrong cos i'm feeling way too damn good..."

lol screw that.

Panic Panic

ok, so i tried publishing my blog to an ftp server. and then it didn't work. and then i switched back to blogspot. and now it's not publishing. not correctly anyway. but it looks ok in my browser. oh god oh god let's hope nothing went wrong...

ok, publishing again...

UPDATE UPDATE: thank goodness i managed to fix everything. whew. the place looks clean and pristine. 'cept for the banner tho, but it's ok. it's the first time i'm using a pentel-pen based drawing anyways. heh.

wow. anyway, so my new URL is http://www.juantamad.com/whiteroom/blog -- which is a lot longer than the blogspot address, slower in publishing, and nothing really spectacularly different. but hey. i'm not complaining.

in other news, it's 3AM and i'm hungry as heck from all that brainwork all night. (yawn...)

gotta split...

Rehaul To White Padded Walls

because i don't feel so red and angry and enraged anymore. besides, the cute 38-pixeled height of the blogger navbar should shine in all its glory. heh. plus, i feel kinda good having to use one of my drawings as a layout image. finally, i didn't need to bastardize whatever picture i could get my dirty little hands on in my hard drive.

the girl, by the way, is another one of my renditions of Death. and that's the main theme for this layout. the little verse is from an anonymous author i got somewhere off the net. it says:

remember friend as you pass by
as you are now so once was i
as i am now you soon shall be
so prepare for death and follow me

morbid as it may sound, Neil Gaiman's Death is actually very cheerful, very optimistic, and if that's not enough to describe her, she often likes saying, "peachy keen."

We Are Not Second Class

ok, forget about sleeping early. i was bloghopping through my dailies and read an update on dalai banana's blog about australia banning gay marriages. i thought more people should know about this so, i'll be posting one of the banners dalai made in protest of anything australian.

except kylie minogue. :)

Fresh Blogger Goodness

the blogger navbar is a cool replacement to the boring and ugly google ads, but it screwed up my layout somewhat. i've been doing some tweaking with the codes and this is the best solution i can come up with.

i guess i should take this as a sign to cook up a new layout. i've a couple of ideas percolating anyways. hmm.

UPDATE: great! i managed to cover the navbar up temporarily. but i want it to show. so i will definitely have to work on a new layout. tomorrow. right now i need to sleep. (yawn...)

From Delight To Delirium

i personally don't like it. but i feel like i have to use one of my own sketches now, instead of always regurgitating other anime pictures. still. i feel like there's something wrong with it.

sigh. this is more difficult than i thought...

but anyways, i'd like to thank jasper for hosting my site. wow. many happy dances of joy to you sir. hehe...

in other news, a friend taught me how to color in photoshop last night. so i spent most of the afternoon and some parts of the evening trying to color my drawing of Delirium. another one of Neil Gaiman's Endless. i like the retro look. altho the background color looks like the new yahoo messenger. oh well. must keep practicing...

--

"Delirium is the youngest of the Endless. She smells of sweat, sour wines, late nights, old leather. Her realm is close, and can be visited; however, human minds were not made to comprehend her domain, and those few who have made the journey have been incapable of reporting back more than the tiniest fragments. The poet Coleridge claimed to have known her intimately, but the man was an inveterate liar, and in this, as in so much, we must doubt his word.

"Her appearance is the most variable of all the Endless, who, at best, are ideas cloaked in the semblance of flesh. Her shadow's shape and outline has no relationship to that of any body she wears, and it is tangible, like old velvet.

"Some say the tragedy of Delirium is her knowledge that, despite being older than suns, older than gods, she is forever the youngest of the Endless, who do not measure time as we measure time, or see the worlds through mortal eyes. Others deny this, and say that Delirium has no tragedy, but here they speak without reflection. For Delirium was once Delight. And although that was long ago now, even today her eyes are badly matched: one eye is a vivid emerald green, spattered with silver flecks that move; her other eye is vein blue. Who knows what Delirium sees, through her mismatched eyes?" (From The Sandman, Season of Mists)

I Have Seen God

and he is the most cutie patootie thing EVER.

i am delirious. seriously.



[photo copyright MJS; e-mail: thelittleprince@philwebinc.com]

Death & Desire: Inchoate

it's been quite a while since i sat down with a pen and doodled something. and because it rained tonight and i was out with bug stuck at starbucks 6750, i was able to draw a couple of Endless fanarts -- Desire and Death. they may not look much, but still. i actually almost fell in love with Death. lol.

i have to admit... i'm a bit proud of them. considering i've been focusing on writing lately, i thought i won't be able to pull it off. but my hands just kept on creating the lines one by one, stroke by stroke. like it MISSED drawing something. the feeling was surreal. i wish i could polish it off some more tho. oh well. will try to work on that.

--

"When the first living thing existed, I was there, waiting. When the last living thing dies, my job is finished. I'll put the chairs on tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave." (Death, Sandman #20)

--

"Desire is of medium height. It is unlikely that any portrait will ever do Desire justice, since to see her (or him) is to love him (or her), -- passionately, painfully, to the exclusion of all else. Desire smells almost subliminally of summer peaches, and casts two shadows: one black and sharp-edged, the other translucent and forever wavering, like heat haze. Desire smiles in brief flashes, like sunlight glinting from a knife-edge. And there is much else that is knife-like about Desire. Never a possession, always the possessor, with skin as pale as smoke, and eyes tawny and sharp as yellow wine: Desire is everything you have ever wanted. Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Everything."

Just Pull The Trigger Why Don't You

a friend noticed it. i don't say goodbye. not the word. not even on the phone before hanging up or after a night out. i don't like the way it rolls off my tongue. ask me to say it and it wouldn't sound right. like someone saying "i'm happy" when one doesn't really mean it.

bad enough when i hear someone saying it. especially from someone i don't really want to go. not ever. i'm scary that way.

--

IT JUST KILLS ME whenever you say goodbye. goodbye and its different variants. bye, byers, g'bye... sneaky little demons clawing at my heart, telling me i won't see you again.

i guess i should be grateful. it's better than having you around, staying as a "friend," having to hear you say goodbye over and over and over and over...

but still. it hurts me so much that i want to kick you in the gut and tell you to leave me the fuck alone. leave me and my sorry little life alone. bad enough you're near to screw with my already screwed up mind a hundred times over...

SO WHAT IN THE LIVING HELLS DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

i've always wallowed in ambiguity. (subtlety nothing.) covering myself in thick mists no one has been able to penetrate. (as if anyone dared to.) but here i am trying to pick myself out from off of it and you're always somehow somewhere else covered in your own damned clouds, laughing all the way.

that's just so fucking cruel.

you're telling me that i'm insane for wanting to see a movie because i needed to cry. i'm insane for a lot of reasons but i don't think that's one of 'em. if anything i want to see that movie so i can cry because YOU'RE the one who's making me insane you little shit.

i love you ok. deeply, DEEPER than i would comfortably, that i would WANT to feel. so please if you choose to remain in your cubbyhole little comfort zone and refuse my outstretched hands (because now i'm not sure whether i'm the one who needs saving or you), i think it's my turn to say goodbye.

Honesty Is Not Forgotten

OK. Writing in first person is a bit weird. I infuse too much of myself in the character, and it's not really a very good thing. Still. I needed the therapy. The catharsis it gives me. And parts of it happened before anyway... Maybe I'm just dredging up too much stale emotions in me. Or maybe I just want to write and write and write and it wouldn't matter if I'm telling something about myself or someone made up or if I'm lying. (Does it matter anyway if I am?)

POINT IS, I want to keep myself sane. I want to work out who I am with what I write. Bug said I was greedy? Maybe I am. Let me work it out with my writings.

And so begins another one...

--

IT WAS RIGHT, WHAT he said. That he doesn’t know anything about the guys he’s gone out with. Fine, the longest relationship he’s had was like, four months, and FINE, those guys have mostly just been S-Teen hypocritical queens, but that doesn’t exactly cover everything that needs to be covered (so to speak) about someone. Heck, even a whole lifetime isn’t enough, when one thinks about it.

And I guess in a way, I understood that. It’s not even about the uncapped ballpoint pens and the bubblegum wrappers and the waking up in the middle of every goddamned night because of a perpetually nocturnal cold virus attack, NO, it’s not about the LITTLE things which SUPPOSEDLY matter. It’s about the BIGGER PICTURE in this person’s tapestry of life. And I can’t help but think I’m just a passing thread in his tapestry. It just so happened that our threads needed to intertwine at this point, linger, but will eventually, inevitably, and inexorably have to separate sooner THAN later.

That was what he meant, I so knew it. Having someone see the bigger picture as you do. And if not that, then it’s probably a close enough carbon copy. That feeling –- which makes you think that whatever threads his tapestry is made of, yours and his are the same. That feeling of familiarity, of coming home. That is what he wants.

And that’s what I want too.

Funny thing was I felt it in him. Although I can’t be sure. If it’s not then it’s a hell of a lot close. Bottomline is, it’s real. I was sure he felt that as well, subtle as though its passage may be. And as a matter of fact, he never failed to tell me promptly that he did. It caught me off guard to say the least.

He never missed a beat. Telling me whatever was on his mind, pre-empting it with, “I know I shouldn’t tell you this,” or “I’m making things easy for you, but.” If I didn’t resist the urge to slap him everytime he says something like that, he would probably have a face swollen as someone who stumbled face first on a beehive. (Or we could have had hot, S & M sex. Whateva.)

Anyway, that was it. Honesty. Too much of it. Not that I was complaining at that time. I thought it was kind of nice. And I guess I was the same with him too. It was odd sort of, but still pleasant, getting to sleep at night without having to bother thinking of the used-to-be-thick mists and the ambiguity between me and a guy I was feeling good vibes with. He even told me that unexplainably, it was only with me he felt really SOBER. Yeah, that was the exact word. He felt like he was totally himself. That it would be next to IMPOSSIBLE had he tried to lie or pretend to be someone else -– something he usually, automatically reverts to being whenever he’s dating. Not so with me, he says. And there was light. And it was good. “Clear,” sang the Hungry Young Poets, “like a brightly-lit crystal chandelier...” And for a time, the nights were calm and silent...

What I forgot, was that the next line of that song was, “... there’s no tomorrow.”

So, after a while, and as I was expecting, guiltily at the back of my head, the honesty got a bit out of hand. Whenever we talk, it started to sound like a Focus Group Discussion. Still. I refused to think it won’t work. (I do believe in fairies, I remember thinking to myself.) But in spite of all the mental and emotional machinations I tried to bolster myself with, I knew the relationship was beginning its descent. And I was slowly beginning to drift to that long list of his, of guys he dated but gradually became friends with.

I panicked. So I used my last Honesty Card. I told him I was afraid of being the next one to fall on that list.

And then HE panicked. So he WITHDREW his Honesty Card and dealt the I’m Sorry Card.

That was the end of it. And I’d rather be out of his life than be on that list.

I would probably forget him, as I’ve forgotten a lot of spectacular guys who came my way before. And I won’t remember his name, or his face, or his voice, or the way I watched the silhouette of his chest go slowly up and down like clockwork while he was sleeping that night I spent at his place. I would probably forget the smell of his car or the songs he played, heck I might even forget the look of suppressed shock on his mother’s face the second he told her I was sleeping over, priceless though as it was...

But I won’t forget the feeling of total honesty. Of coming home. Of knowing that I knew someone, totally, inside out, without pretense and without compromise. And that feeling gives me a sense of victory. Something I know I could draw on when I feel like I suddenly have no idea who the person I’m holding hands with. Like right now.

--

PS: The threads this tapestry my life is composed of... it’s a hella difficult stitching with. But if one steps back and looks at it, it’s not so bad. I can’t wait to see until it’s finished...

I Need A Fluffy Pillow

ok. so. while the universe had a lot of fun last weekend at my expense, mother nature has been using my poor red nose as a basketball. i have a cold that is on full force and it cannot be stopped by any drugs, legal or otherwise. and the only way i can speak clearly is by typing.

the unshakeable horrible feelings in me have been mixing up quite gloriously, i can't tell which is which anymore. bug still isn't talking with me because of a misunderstanding which occurred last friday night. my being a techno-monster got the best of me and told him my toys are more important than him (with impressive conviction i might add) -- something one should not be disclosing to a significant other. i apologized yesterday. i told him it was a bit insensitive, what i said, but also he should know that i didn't mean what i said, albeit not 100%. (i'm too honest, no?)

i also wasn't able to meet up with a friend who spent the weekend here in manila from davao. i wanted to go, really i did, but apart from my nose which ceased to show signs of life, things just keep getting in the way. things, like what happened with another friend... which is just too screwed up for words. and another thing, which is very close to my heart, has been recovering from something serious for three days already, but i still won't be able to see until a few more days. i slept at 7PM last night from sheer exhaustion, frustration, and without resolution.

simply put, my weekend has been anything but fine.

bamboo's masaya is still in my player -- on repeat for five straight days now. (play count: 813 times.) and it doesn't look like i will be playing another song in the near future.

Worthwhile Distraction

alright! discovering the power of blogger has ignited the webbie in me. i created another blog solely for the purpose of mobile blogging.

pinoyexchange used to have this forum way way waaaaay back when i was still an active member -- the wireless journals. it used to be really fun (and not to mention really healthy) having to post on the web from any place at any time.

and, oh yeah, it was also thru wireless journal that i got to meet aajao.

ok, i feel like ending the post there. lol.

This Time Using My Phone

Gosh if this works, it'll take a load off my back.

Go MoBlogging!

Technology is delicious. Numnum.

Hyun's Story

And yet again, like this post about half a year back, I speak in third person. These are the times when I want to step back and figure out if something is seriously wrong with me. It would seem like it doesn't do much good, and at the same time, there is little else I could do about it (save for ingesting more coffee)... but yes, I write a story.

I couldn't remember looking at a mirror which was intact. In some ways, there was always some crack or chip, and the image becomes distorted. Little fragments fall off and I try to pick them up, seeing how my eyes look at that particular piece, and how different it stares back at me from the other pieces. I feel like I don't know myself sometimes. So yes, I write stories.

They say when you look at a mirror, and look through it, and you see your eyes staring back at you... you see Despair. Well then. From that gaze, I weave an unfinished portrait of Despair -- of someone named Hyun...

--

Hyun walked to the door staggering. Hypersensitivity assaulted his senses in his state of half-drunkenness. Silence was supposed to be blanketing the whole night, but it seemed even the slightest midnight breeze made a sort of un-musical sound in his ears. Hyun didn’t find it unpleasant at all. He didn’t mean to, but a chuckle escaped from the confines of his mouth. And it evoked the most exhilarating feeling.

He found himself in front of the door a few uneasy steps after. He couldn’t feel the keys on his hand, but he definitely knew he was holding it since the jangling reverberated around the sides of his face like a mad aura scrambling to his ear. Leaning on the door, struggling to put the keys into the keyhole, he let out a chuckle again. He licked his lips, letting the aftertaste of gin (or was it vodka) fill his senses again...

And then he stopped. And the wind stopped. And the crickets. And it seemed the like the only thing the whole cosmos focused on was his breathing. He didn’t even notice the keys falling from his sweaty hand. Didn’t even hear it fall.

He tasted the bitter ghost of gin on his lips. And he remembered the intermingling vodka aftertaste was Michael’s kiss.

Michael. Little Mikey. They’d been best friends since they were little and it seemed he only heard the name now. The usual nickname even felt alien to his ears, to his brain. Even the face was different… And this time he wanted to chuckle but his mouth wouldn’t let one out.

He decided not to go in the house first. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t have time anymore to think about what he has to think about. He wouldn’t have time anymore to close what it was he needed to close.

He looked down and caught the glint of his keys. He picked it up and put it on his pocket. He sat down on the wooden floor. And then he let the alcohol do its work on his memory...

(cont'd...)

Full Moon This Morning

kids today. so full of energy. all of it used for evil. my 2-year old nephew, josh, has been playing with the laundry. i've been telling him to stop, even tempting him with candies and chocolates and disgusting things he can slush his hands on, but to no avail.

so instead, i took a picture of his widdle boo boos. enough to make my day. heh. early lesson in blackmail.

         

Paghimlay (Ngayon, Alas Quatro Ng Umaga)

nag-aalinlangang panaginip
ang paglubog-litaw ng paghinga
sa gabing di mawari kung totoo

sa dilim lahat naantala
hindi maisip kung panlinlang ba
ang sayaw ng mga anino sa mata

marahil ay hangin
marahil ay ulan
ang mapanuksong pag-ibig ng umaga

at kung sakaling nagmumulto lamang
ang galaw ng bawat salitang dalita
ang ikot ng elisi sa aking isipan--

totoo ka
totoo ka
totoo ka...

OMG

OMG I LOVE THIS SONG BAMBOOS MASAYA OMFG OMGF I HAVE TO HAVE THIS OMG I WANT A COPY OH JEEZ I HEARD THIS THE FIRST TIME AND I WAS LIKE OH MY FREAKIN GODS THIS IS JUST SO SAD I COULD DIE DAMNIT IT KILLS ME OMG OMG OMG OH NO OH NO IT'S ALMOST OVER OMG NU 107 NOW NOW NOW NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111ONEONEONE

--

ako'y malungkot na naman
amoy chico na ako
ilang TAGAY na hindi pa rin tulog
tanong ko lang sa langit
kung bakit pumangit
nung dumating MASAYA
ngayo'y panay problemang
bumabalot sa BUTO
bakit ganito

ang pag-ibig
ganyan talaga
pag BAGO pa ang pag-ibig
ganyan talaga
masaya

pagkagising ko
nakita ko si juan
na syang ADIK
sa aming lugar

parang DROGA daw ang bisa
na ginamit niya kanina
sa una lang daw
MASARAP

ang pag-ibig
ganyan talaga
ako'y NILAMON ng pag-ibig
ganyan talaga
masaya

ang PAG-IBIG
ganyan talaga
ako'y nilamon ng pag-ibig
ganyan talaga
masaya...

--

pucha kung enabled lang sana ang audioblogger dito, kinanta ko na e, pramis! tangina! hindi ko kinaya!

[ lyrics via ]

The Dilemma Of Crossroads

a friend did a tarot reading on me last night. this week, he said, i will have something to be happy about, but i will have to face something compromising at the same time. i thought i knew what it was, and i psyched myself up for it too. but i will never, for the life of me, learn that life throws smokescreens in front of our faces in fatal flawlessness.

and cosmos help me, it happened sooner than i can prepare for it.