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Showing posts from November, 2010

Party on a Sunday

There's a weird thought about having parties in Sundays. It just doesn't feel right, innit. I still would, nothing's keeping me from having fun. But it usually is Fridays and Saturdays that capture everyone's go-to day. Understandably so since tomorrow is then Monday, first day of the week for most people and first day of work for the majority of everymen around the globe. I wasn't out on Friday or Saturday so this doubles up as reimbursement for my stress-induced week. Being bed-ridden without anyone bothering on worrying is the shit.

Said hi without saying goodbye

Red light beaming to and from the corridors of a mirage. I understood, I am not perspicuous. I aim to bid goodbye to my idiocy, and say hello to my sphericity. I belong in a menagerie of stray assholes. The world is too small for my desires, and my desires are grandeur in nature. Aim low, they say, so fuck them all. After achieving low, they say, aim higher, but not so high that you give Icarus a bad name. My wax no longer melts, the current weather disallows it. The pins, needles are susceptible to my pain, as I am susceptible to theirs. Blankets for cold, I require no refrigerator. The dark speaks to me in native tongue, and it understands me completely and unconditionally. Embracing it, I suffer more and suffer less. Neither of us complain nor explain. It was obviously flawed, a relationship so vile and sweet. Neither wanted each other nor cared, but it was evident we needed one another. The shadows began to slither on. Dawn is approaching fast. The light will put an end to this no…


The stench spread misery amongst the passers by. The wind no longer held its vibrant chill beneath the deep tunnels underground, it dissipated along with all the others' dignity. There was no indication of oppression within the transport, neither was there any sort of opposition, just another of those irrelevant and torturous mid-autumn angst. A man bellowed as he sat down with a newspaper in hand. He had no idea along with hundreds more inside with them. It was just one of those days.

It is I but I am not it

It started with a cry that shattered a heart into million tiny pieces. Shards which reconcile quite easily despite the fact. Although the impact that drove the other malleable hearts into deep freeze woke up just before the big departure, it still left a sour influence in the tongue. The like of which that would most likely haunt forth and linger throughout their entire pilgrimage and banter. Times like these are a tough nut to crack. And I am in the middle of it and loving it.
Schadenfreude. Tell me I'm cuzao, if you insist. The pleasure derived from the experience taken from the earlier demise was the thing I was waiting for all along. The reassurance for something I seemed to have longed for and forgotten. The misfortunes of others aren't for me to create but to blame me for my apathy would be entirely absurd. I was but an audience. I was but a bystander. The weight of the burden is fun enough to watch when the bright figure from the highest platform begins its own self-deto…


The need to sleep early on this night Overwhelming miraculously transcending Even if the lights are on I muster How does one snore like thunder in snow Urges futile resting eagerly Tomorrow the barren will pave the way What lies in store for us this week Answer lies beneath the stars speaking Let it be for, let it be me


Discreetly, the night began to show its nasty colours. It was tragic that he knew even before going what the implications were. It was instinctive of him to know, his paranoia aided him in lots of ways unbeknownst to others. He grabbed a pint of beer and sat in a corner while an orgy of perversity swooned across the entire area. People behind masks, masks that were for him tainted and stripped of all respect. She complained a little about the expenses and the time. He waited patiently, stealthily, like a vulnerable rabbit in wildlife during the hunting season. He watched in disgust his reflection as he entered the loo, the annoying position of his hairstyle, the ageing choice of clothing, his unbearable crooked smile, puffy cheeks, and negative connotations of his presence overall. They both went out for puffers carrying the weight of the glass with them underneath the frozen twilight. A familiar face crept from behind a few minutes before finishing a round, not the friendly one, he a…

Passive aggresive

The two wandering bodies walked side by side in the frigid outskirts of London in hopes of adding colour to their woeful existences. A dreadful impression overcame him as he listened to her speak, a sporadic smell of diarrhoeic mouth from the lady in disguise greeted him with unintentional regard just when he began to feel the undesired vibrant romance in the air. It automatically killed everything for him, but he avoided all the petty confrontations, he persevered, hoping to the stars his fate would change for something better. Unfortunately for him, every time he thought of something warm he thought of the equally cold figure from before. The same figure that has been lingering on to his thoughts for months on end now. This, he felt, was a day of reckoning, or immediate surrender. He came up with a preplanned itinerary for both his defence and counterattack in case something unlawful emerges from the dust, but he knew it wouldn't last for long. The first barrage of attack from t…

Before the fading

There was a fickle sense of authority looming in during that night he took the evening underground tube. Something was amiss, a sinister being of gloom lurking beneath the shadows in the tunnels. The reptilian mechanism zoomed in for the kill as he stood patiently on the side of the tracks where a yellow line in his feet signals him not to cross boundaries or suffer major consequences in the long run. When it came to a halt, he greeted the hostile air with mildly confident trepidation, walked in hoping to sit down only to be pushed back and forth by unruly stench of showerless blokes. He snarled to himself while he grabs hold of the bar. There was no way he could bow down to obscurity in such tainted fashion. This night will not bring him down. Only thing worth dragging down is a Northern bitch of snow and slaughter, the blissful tearing of disappointment, the suspect of heartache, who went down crawling from the tundras to greet the unwilling with despair and depression. He wouldn…

Warm.. only to burn

A slight indication was evident that a cold, bumming night was imminent ahead. Music woke him up, ironically to the Rage Against The Machine song Wake Up. He was too disoriented to care about the song. He knew something would have to happen tonight, even if it meant there wasn't anything at all to begin with. His droopy eyes gazed at the apparatus beside him in bed, a laptop, pulled the noisy thing out and postured lazily like a sloth trapped in a contemporary cage of comfort. Checked all the things needed to be checked. Mobile blurts out a sudden agonizing noise. He hates it, unless it's something he cares for. It usually isn't.. so why bother?
The first step out of the bed is always the most gut-wrenching one. It's either you trip over from laziness or sleepiness or nothing ever happens. That's the only two choices available. There is never a good option, an amazing one mayhap. He still had a couple of hours in time to prepare, and he loathes that anxiety, he knew…

She's probably with her other half by now

So I guess this is good riddance? Hasta la vista? Time sure does fly quicker than one can imagine, that includes the pain and heartache from before. No worries for me. I can't blame the heart that fell last. To be in comfort with the arms of another, how I wonder. How does it start? How does it even finish? Or does it even finish at all? How do you know it exists? How do you know for certain its authenticity? How do you even acknowledge its presence, its fervour, its melancholy?
It slowly creeps in and out of the system, that I know of. It's not like I've never been in this situation. Hopeless romantics are a sight to behold. All that rage, that pent up frustrations, those displacing defence mechanism. Where does it all flow through? Who instigates it? Even the shortest moments, a mere second, may last an entire lifetime, affects you entirely, body and soul, and it becomes you, defines you in every little precise calculation you may or may not do. If you stand up or if you …


I have never been the genial kind of person. Consider myself borderline antisocial and critic to all things that eat and breathe. Branded myself the term antilove, as opposed to hero and antihero. No wonder I hardly have any friends that truly last. The fact is, the people that do stick I feel are only those that deserve redemption on this up and coming Armageddon.

Make a mountain out of it

Had the tuna smell of salad stuck on me Took the bus home when at the gardens stood still the time Two dead mobile phones I met Febrile in the cold night weather Strolling along the silent streets of old My barber says hello in a car Alas, he remembered me! At least somebody did Brought a smile to my face

Theatrical script

I was planning to make a theatrical script for tomorrow's big event presentation at the studios but then I lackadaisically slept the entire day away, slashing off the sufficient time needed to process the whole thing. I disappeared from naked eye during two of their devising classes and I missed an awful lot of things due to that. I need to make amends somehow, don't want people to think I'm a pushover.
I have no idea how to make stage scripts. Not even particularly sure what the difference is between stage and screen scripts.
Not to mention I'm not feeling perky and at best in this current state. I still have a bit of an acrobatics hangover from last Friday but it surely was fun. Never regretted a single moment of it. Keep pushing myself hard, I guess. Last night was the last straw, I reckon, but that's another different story in itself.


Despedida de Julia @ Hoxton


I would say pull my hairShe would then grab me by my ears I would shriek in agonizing pain Then bleed from my nose Turn to collapse Drop dead on the floor There goes my artistic freedom

Coupled with other things

May have done something to heighten this dreaded feeling I do now, as if a hypochondriac. Woke up to a forced, chilly morning fearing the backlash of being tardy every single first subject considering that Debra is the first one to greet us every Tuesdays. Ironically was still tardy but not within range of acceptable tardiness. Four minutes late, if I remember correctly. That sent headaches down to my thigh. That’s only the headache problem. To make matters worse while taking the tube the urge to crap was unbearable. It was disastrous. Joined the class feeling so limited in my bodily range of motion due to this unfortunate circumstance. Found it very difficult to wiggle my chest and pelvis because felt like something inside me is going to burst out and spread meconium spray all over the studio. That’s the craptastic other. Marianna didn’t like the food, go figure. ‘Twas the most despicable puto I’ve ever tasted in my entire Philippine existence. Everyone seemed to love my Piattos thou…

Happy birthday dad

I punched thin air as the wind blowing sent chills up my spine. Worst cold weather I have had since forever. Finally I can sincerely say my flip flop skills are put to rest, it was awful! It chewed on my toes as if it was merienda. I stopped by Earl's Court hoping to buy something for Marianna tomorrow. She can be quite a stoopy character, prone to irritation and mild anxiety. Little did I know (and I just realised when I reached the doorsteps to home) it was my father's birth date. Fortunately I didn't eat which I almost did, and lingered not too long as well outside which I should have but didn't. The planned dinner wasn't as bad as I pictured it to be. The layout could have been improved even for a little, but who's complaining? White wine for me after meal.

Nothing lasts forever

I stood back and watched myself sufferStaring at me in first-person view Slowly as I drop down rushing from the freefall It was the vertigo that held me up high More often than not it's always something I hate falling even metaphorically Everything it represents is being at your lowest point Including now as I watched shadows in broad light Too proud to flicker As if it serves major importance to the world But it doesn't really, or does it? How should I know subjectivity When all I am is toadstool with halitosis Not a care in the world Too abstract to matter

November Rain

I'm just waiting for it to rain so I can sing and post again this song. It would be epic (not really). The other night where I commuted from West Ham to home (most fucking dreadful) it rained but was too depressing to think of doing anything else. It took me four hours tops to get home that time.

Sunday morning

Conflicting thoughts immediately consume and compound me, punching like invisible tiny creatures walking in and out of my cognitive processing. It's difficult to trace the outline but it really doesn't matter because it barely makes any sense. I just want to lay low and allow myself to be gobbled up by my laziness as per usual. 
I don't feel like doing anything today. But, yeah, I just remembered my father mentioning something about a baptism thing to go to somewhere in Upton Park. Ugh, the distance is agony plus three. I might go there for food and a little bit of socializing. Not necessary, but could somehow work out for something better. Hopefully.
Aching to go somewhere in a couple of weeks. Somewhere that I've never been to. Vacation of sorts. Away from all these negative vibrations surrounding. Grab some happy soda and spend outdoors like mediocrity demands from all those who suffer. If only I knew.
And I really want to have an international driver's license now…

Philippines FC

Tonight we went out for a short while and had a couple of drinks to commemorate Marcos' departure in two weeks. I had Guinness and rhum+coke as intended, not so bad considering tonight was Saturday. Met new people along the way. Yelda introduced me to her footballer boyfriend. I'm not much familiar with football, to be quite honest. There was a Brazilian girl and one which I failed to engage in communication, sucks. It was fun though. We all went to the dreaded studio together which was all sorts of awful. Rarely do we meet each other especially now where people go on their own separate ways. It seems only Yelda remains the apocalyptic survivor among us who still remains in the studio even up to this moment. She seems intent on leaving as well some time soon.
Anyway, this footballer boyfriend of hers that she always talked about had plans on making some kind of visit to my country and create a football club or college. I said, 'Why not? Seems like a good idea.' Not too …


Acrobatics. What a mixture of torture and pleasure. I feel so strong and powerful at the same time feeling so weak and distressed. I can sense the electrifying tingling in my fingers as I lifted my entire body down the mat using just my hands, that reckoning would have broken my neck in two places. I struggled back up over and over doing the same acts of masochism, and now I'm sore as a pickle. I swear I could feel my entire anatomy bulging in shape all except my arduous belly of death. Fuck my glug glug tummy.
Kokey is on telly. Fuck.

That urge again

It’s funny I’m getting that same urge over and over without putting too much effort in it. Finally I have succeeded in alienating myself from the people I work with and the people I value the most. Unfortunately not all of them are included as of yet. Do I really want to finish until the very last one? Probably so. Solitary comfort isn’t easy, but neither is companionship. All I need now is a safe haven to call my own and I would be ready to go, burst forth into the horizon like an eagle in the night, all blind and fragile. With regal wings that dare not spread unless the sudden outburst of need arises. That’s what basically happened to unsung heroes. Maybe I am an unsung hero. If not, will I ever be? Do I have the potential? Since we’re discussing urges might as well mention the inner urge in me wanting to partake the fame game. Never will I perish without a legacy to behold, to avenge myself against the same people that ridiculed my in-born potential. The champion within me arises l…

Ugly recoil

It is not something I expected wholeheartedly. It hurts like hell and it makes my thoughts go in all directions. You can say I am in a process of withdrawal. Love withdrawal, you might say, cheesy as it awfully sounds. I know time will heal it, but it still fucks me up big time. I can’t even think straight. It’s always bugging me, annoying me, pissing me off wherever I go, whenever it wants to attack. The only safe bet to avoid this is sleep but I can’t even sleep. My face is always on Facebook chat, hoping, waiting, knocking on wood something miraculous would happen. Sometimes something does happen, but more often than not there really is nothing there. Like a blank state of melancholy, chewing away at my insecurities and heartaches. I go home and eat and pretend nothing bad happened and sometimes I wank, hard as I might to avoid it, but still nothing eases this unlawfully accepted state. I tried for an alternative. Maybe I do need an alternative. But hard too as I might, it’s anothe…

Found a ball? Pound a bowl

Half-life @ Queen's Market, Upton Park, photo by Elina.


She a playa. Shove it. Hope she hangs. So frustrated. What a bitch. Tantamount to manslaughter. Wasted time. Loser child. Burning eyes. Expensive haircut. A little bit solitary. Meant to be. Soul is squeezed. Red hot way. Fistfucked life. Smiling sad. Pepsi night. Photo white.


My first-ever Halloween party!

She’s just playing with me

I just know it. I can feel it. I can sense it. I am not that naive and stupid. I can see through your succubus ways, woman. A fool such as I, there never was, I cried my tears so well. I know I’m going to regret this, sigh, but here we go again! Fuck!