There's always a definitive song that carries me through a natural trance and momentarily elates me, leaving my senses extra perceptive of the grandness of life. I'm not a junkie. But few songs certainly give me a natural high. This song is one of those I wish I could have written myself to feed my ego a pompous euphoric feeling of relevance. Some carnal euphemisms are ought to be told this way.
November 18, 2014
October 28, 2014
When I was younger, I've dreamt of love as pure and enduring as Carl and Ellie's. But as I experienced it for the first time, my insatiable appetite for all its frivolities kept me searching for more. It was all about the spark and the magic. Then I was caught up with reality. I've become too self-aware that the spark is just a spark and the magic is just a spell. They all faded right through my eyes, sometimes as feebly as the fireflies. I grew tired of it. I stopped yearning for it. But in those unguarded moments, when you least expected to see it, much worse in an animated movie, that gripping display of pure unadulterated love made me sob profusely. The loneliness was magnified exponentially, it became unbearable. Then I would try to "remember when," but I could not access anything worthwhile. My memories failed me. Sometimes a song is all it takes to launch me into full-blown melancholia. It's cruel.
October 8, 2014
Coffee shops have been my refuge, offering a solitary crib in its nook and cranny as I either transfix into my current bibliotherapy - the oftentimes funny but mostly poignant memoirs of gay men that came before me - or eavesdrop on the melodrama of its patron's predicament on work, love or whatever consumes them at the moment. Sometimes it turns out to be a fresh form of entertainment. Different personalities and discourses lingering through the ambient interiors and symphonious acoustics almost make up for the humdrum of my "plus-one"-less coffee table situation. These places are silent witnesses of the kaleidescope unfolding of colorful caricatures of the cosmopolitan. It gives me a kindred sense of belongingness no matter how seemingly detached I am with human connection.
August 25, 2014
VMA 2014 is still Miley Cyrus' party! I knew then it's a savvy media strategy to survive the oblivion in a cutthroat music industry. And she commits. If this is the Game of Thrones, she's the wrecking ball who will destroy the citadel of the Red Keep. Miley definitely outwits them all. She shall have the rightful place as the Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms. She shall be hailed the Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, etc. etc. Well-played Miley Cyrus! Sorry Taylor Swift!
Link: MVA 2014
August 22, 2014
I've been recently hooked in the make-up transformation craze. It's fascinating how through a single photo grid we get a peek at a person's subconscious vision of his alter ego. The paradox of "makeup transformation" is that no matter how much layer we put on our facades, we are always one less layer stripped down to self-revelation... that we all feel beautiful inside! The cool part is we don't feel vulnerable because it's rendered in the context of humor.
June 18, 2014
I sit here at the same spot along Ayala Avenue right after work, like I always do, waiting until the gated pedestrian lane opens at exactly 8:00 pm. This I do because I'm too lazy walking the extra mile and climbing several flight of stairs from the underpass. My body maybe languid. But how my mind lingers from one thought to another makes up for its lethargy. It's a love-hate relationship with this brief window of free time. It's almost inevitable. Mostly I allow myself to be vulnerable with it. I light a cigarette or two, pondering how my life turns in a way I'm always anxious about. Some days are good though, when I savor little victories from the rumpus of daily labor. Some days I want to be Dynaerys Stormborn and command my dragons to smolder everyone and their pathetic sensibilities into ashes.
|Flicker Image from Daniel Guy|
A lot of things consume me. I should not allow it. But time was wasted from my youthful transgressions, I have no more room for mistakes. I need to take it in all at once. I need to accelerate, to compensate. But sometimes it gets too much, I need to break free. Maybe I need this brief window of free unadulterated time to engage in this insanity, so I can be sane again as soon as the gate opens. Then I'm ready to cross the street and leave all these behind. Tomorrow's another day.
May 15, 2014
I miss you. I miss the feeling of really being home, its idyllic warmth and comfort only mothers can fill. It's never the same without you. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, I get fully conscious that you're no longer here. It becomes excruciatingly painful. The nostalgia can get so unbearable.
But I gather my own strength and peace of mind in knowing that you're in a much better place now. I still miss you, terribly so. I remember hugging you while screaming, "You're so fluffy!"
You will always be the sweetest thing, Mom. I think I got that from you too!
Happy 60th! I love you... always!