Damn, I Can See Your House From Here

i can't believe it's been almost a year since i last posted something.

right now, i'm chuckling. can't stop snickering at the painting, a self-portrait from a year ago. damn. i beat myself up too much over that whole hullabaloo. it's like looking at yourself after a boxing match with demons. or clowns. i'm not sure which is more comedically frightful.

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what a diffence a year makes! let's see, how has my life changed since then? well, that painting looks so alien now, that's one.

cynicism aside, i'm in a really good place right now.

i'm still this man, struggling to suppress the inner curious kid. i'm hitting the big 3-0 in a couple of months. my only saving grace is the fact that i'm age-indifferent. it's not really a big deal for me. i just want to get it done and over with.

what else? oh yeah, i've moved out of my folks' house. got a condo - as far away from my comfort zone as possible. scared shit but i love it.

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i'm also in love now. notice how haphazardly i threw that word out. haha. it's true, though. the universe still cares for this walking contradiction that is my skinny psyche.

a few months after my last entry, i spiralled out of the black hole i've fallen into. i was a bit shaken, but i managed to get back up. i dated for a few months. and then i meant him.

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if only i can still track all of the stories left unpenned when i went into blogging hiatus. perhaps, in little chunks as i go along.

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you know how in your head you sound a certain way? before, i had the "ralph fiennes-reading-neruda-poems" pretentious schtick. well, now that voice speaks in a hybrid british-ilonggo accent. hahah. i kid.

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achievement: i've learned to love myself more. i'm a loving older brother to my younger inner self.

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i just want to sniff the air again around here. i really can't stop writing. not ever. it's my muse, my escape.

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You are an illuminating anchor
Of leagues to infinite number
Crashing waves and breaking thunder
Tiding the ebb and flows of hunger
You're dancing naked there for me
You expose all memory
You make the most of boundary
You're the ghost of royalty imposing love
You are the queen and king combining everything
Intertwining like a ring around the finger of a girl
I'm just a singer, you're the world
All I can bring ya
Is the language of a lover
Bella luna, my beautiful, beautiful moon
How you swoon me like no other

-Bella Luna by Mr. A-Z

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i'm excited.

MadStringsManifesto, now on its second symphony.  

Saturday Ponderings

i've slowly inched my way back to sanity. have i, really?

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the labyrinth has been beaten. has it, really?

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a new wall blocks me. where do i go now? as the gold liquid slowly but surely sips away all my sorrow, i think i see a small crack on it's foreboding face.

the flowers break into song. lovely melody tonight. i think i might just sit by this wall and let the serenade lull me to sleep.

Wednesday Ponderings

sometimes i feel like i am getting tired of living inside my head. i'm getting sick of that inner voice. lately, i'm getting sick of myself.

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i need a jolt. i need a reckoning. i need a kick.

-

i think the walls are talking to me. and the paintings too. 

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help.

Monday Ponderings

i felt a rumbling a while ago. the tremors are reaching even our shores. i get a bad feeling in my stomach thinking about the "what ifs"?

how ready are we for the big thing? god forbid. we are already messed up as it is.

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somehow, the tragedy gave me a shift of perspective. all the things i've been beating myself up over, all the hate i've been throwing at this guy, all the games i've been playing, all my selfishness and pride - all those things do not matter anymore. they are but trivialities.

it's all just whining.

what is that compared to those whose problems are way bigger? those who did not have a CHOICE?

i can always choose to be happy, but the poor people in that prefecture can not "will" the ocean to ebb.

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on the lighter side of things:
i went out and saw ZsaZsa Zaturnnah Ze Muzikal last Saturday. it was a riot. not as polished as i want it to be, but i noticed that they've updated some of the jokes (ex, about Sharon C.). Eula is as kickass and as funny as ever. and still smokin' hot even at the age of 42! the new Didi (not the Yakult guy), is effective enough (although not as much as the original one). and to stage this during a period when there is no big competition is a smart move. im pretty sure the The Tanghalan racked in the dough.

i just thought the only bad decision they made was to cast Rocky Salumbides. this guy is scrumptious from head to toe. he has all the curves in all the darn places there should be some (ha!). but he CAN.NOT.SING!  maybe not even if it is to save his own life. i mean, the original Dodong was not expected to be Pavarotti, but at least he can carry a tune. Rocky on the other hand, murdered the two set pieces given to him. it would have been passable if he is just a minor character...but he is the damn male lead!
arg! Eula, girl, your vocals can move mountains, but don't force your boyfriend into our pitiful ears - no matter how hot he is!

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on the drunken side of things:
we had a drunken night at Malate (surprise, surprise! how redundant of us! ha!). you know that feeling when you are in between tipsy and totally smashed. you know...the g-spot of drinking? well he's my best friend now. lol.

Dangerous Times

and here i was going into my so called austerity measures. i've been a taxi rider for the past 4 years. i know no other means of transportation. that was until i've learned that mofo taxi cabs are raising the flag down AS WELL AS the per kilometer fare. doing the math, i would be spending 450 pesos per day on transportation alone. considering i am a bottomless pit of hunger, i would spend 300 pesos at least on food. and that is on a "i don't feel like eating" day.

damn.

so i decided to swallow my elitist pride and decided to take on buses. yes, those same behemoths that i curse because of their reckless abandon on the road. lo and behold, i got to know aircon buses. new ones at that! with fancy seats, flat screen tvs, surround sound system. the works. this other day, i got on one that was showing a movie that is yet to be shown in cinemas. damn! what rock have i been sleeping under? ha.

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so i had been on this discipline thing for 2 weeks now. i realized, i've been saving a lot. who knows, i might just be able to get that car of my dreams this year if i keep this up.

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and then tragedy.

if countries have a face, the Philippines would be so covered in sooth and grime, even it's own mother would be aghast to look at it.

i feel for the family of the victims of this violence. they who were going about their lives, ordinary, helpless, no beef with the terrorists.

why does this kind of evil exist?

and i don't see the logic that form in their twisted heads. they have a vendetta with the government, yet they prey on the hapless citizens. why not just go straight to the root of their war? bomb the f* out of each other! let them throw their volley of explosives against those in power, the moneyed, landed gentry, the military. let them snuff each other out. that way, they help the country...terrorists and crocodiles end up in flames.

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let's pray not only for the victims, but also for this country. 

Part Time Show Off

why do we bother going to these parties? simple. we have the yearning to be seen in our best. doesn't matter what the original intention was. all people want is to be noticed/admired/deified. everything is so superficial.

damn, i hate parties.

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that is not to say that i am not going though.

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one of my pet peeves is a theme lacking in imagination. one of my friends said theirs was: Wear Red. LOL. it probably took, what? a year to conceptualize that.

tonight, i'm coming in a 3 piece suit. Oscar's Awards Night...2 steps above whoa, stupid; a half step above unimaginative; and 3 steps below amazing. so so.

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i've never been the "look at me!" type, but tonight, damn i'm gonna kill it. LOL.

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what is your company's theme this year and what rating do you give to it?

School or Wheels? Response

several posts back, i asked this questioN.

now i have an answer: i am now a certified blue eaglE.

three factors made me consider post grad studies over a cAr. the first is my former flame (you know, the one that sputtered out?). well he may be scum, but at least he inspired me to get the degree rather than the wheels. i'll just think that's his contribution to the story that is my life.

second consideration: time. and by that i mean my youth is soon out the door. in 2 years' time, i would not be in that bracket anymore. heck, not even the "young adults" one. i say, bring it on! haha.

third, well, to be honest, pride. pride in where i am at right now and where i want to be. the incessant pursuit of pride.there, that was hard to spit ouT. at the end of the day, much as we wouldn't want to, we tend to feed that little monster inside of us. if left unchecked, it will devour us. so here's what i'd like to do: i'd convert that sin into something that will drive me.

i want to be a better me. how's that for a cliche? Ok, try this: i will rise above what my genes, my heritage, and my status quo, dictates me to be (wait, that is not a cliche?). i would think that the box is a diaphanous veil that even though it's there, i can look way past it.

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while my schedule is a killer (school then work then everything elsE), i am actually looking forward to more of this. yup, i have this really bad case of masochism.

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and so the school year started. 2 years of my life already on track.

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i told my thunderbecky friend (who is into straight guys): "mother, i now know how it feels to have a scholarship foundation!". close to tears of joy, he said "finally anak, welcome to the club! sinech ang bagets mo?" to which i simply said: "me".

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happy Sunday!

T.B.L. Vol. 3: The Game of Chance

T.B.L. stand for The Becklette Lessons. i would like to define becklette as a becky who is of the age of innocence (or lack thereof). anywhere between teen to early 20s. i want to impart knowledge to my brethren who are of the younger set. there are so many of them out there.

if you do not fall within this age range anymore, you have to admit, you were a becklette once. didn't we, at one point in our lives, say this: i wish i knew then what i know now? some of us grow older, but never grow up. maybe, just maybe, this could still help.

lesson #8: the fall

never fall in "love" on the first date then fall out of "love" on the fifth. it's recklessly wasteful to start something you would not be finishinG. you see, that's what make the becky culture so volatile. our people do not put value into a long and steady phase. nowadays, it's all "i find that itty bitty teeny weeny speck of imperfection in you and that's it, it's over". blame it on the horsed-faced lady from that show about how she found her man despite her horse-faced-ness.

you are not a quality analyst on a production line who throws away the refuse. embrace everything there is in that guy you are dating. just think of it this way: you are not THAT perfect as you delude yourself to be.

lesson #9: sometimes you are the Popoy, sometimes the Basha...
(a.k.a. watch One More Chance)

yes, I am deadly serious. the one with John Lloyd and Bea? yep. that's the one.

this movie speaks volumes of truth about relationships be it heterosexual or beckysexual.

even though lesson number 2 (TBL vol.1) explicitly said that there is no such thing as a 3-month rule in the becky world, we can relate to these heterosexual rules:

-there is always an inevitable end.
-either you will get your heart trampled upon, or you are the one who did the trampling.
-make up/break up sex is the hottest.
-losing someone could drive you to your madstrings.
-friends are the anchor to your sanity.
-there are also the stupid haircuts after every break up. (wait, what!? you don't do that?)

and since the becky world is getting smaller and smaller nowadays (everybody is somebody's ex), you are bound to flip flop between the two roles.

although here's my caveat: watch it on DVD and then end the movie when they say their farewell at the UST football field. that is where the movie truly ends.

lesson #10: ...but no, you don't get to speak your lines

yes, in your head it feels good to come up with lines such as:
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P: "Five years? Itatapon mo lang lahat?"
B: "Kailangan ko to, kailangan mo rin."
P: "Pero ikaw ang kailangan ko."
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B: "Ang totoo hanggang ngayon umaasa parin ako na sabihin mong ako parin. Ako na lang. Ako na lang ulit."
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P: "She loved me at my worst. You had me at my best. And you chose to break my heart."
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T: Mahal mo pa ba siya?
P: Ayokong nakikitang nasasaktan.
T: (She reaches out and softly closes his eyes.) Para kung masaktan man ako, hindi mo makikita...Mahal mo pa ba siya?
P: (He starts to sob) I'm sorry.
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P: Siguro kaya tayo iniiwanan ng mga mahal natin dahil may darating pang ibang mas magmamahal sa'tin - 'yung hindi tayo sasaktan at paasahin...'yung magtatama ng lahat ng mali sa buhay natin.

dear little drama queen, wake up and smell the celluloiD. life never sets you up to deliver these mushy killer lines. when you are at the moment, all you have are caveman-level thoughts, let alone the ability to utter coherent sentences. you only get to think of these knock out lines AFTER the event.

lesson #11: stop watching sappy love stories

if by any random circumstance you find yourself relating to a movie because the events that transpired eerily mirrored what's in your life, then it just means one thing. damn, your life is boring! why? because someone, somewhere out there, tapping on his/her keyboard was able to map out your point A to point B. it is then when you are no longer unique, no longer adding anything new to the tapestry that is the human evolution of love.

dear, go write your own story! enough said.
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it's a Friday everyone! go knock yourselves silly.

He Walks On

alas, i've officially overcome the drama, the self-inflicted pain, the unmitigated languishing. here i am, fresh as a daisy on a dew-filled morning. watch out world, here i go again. i hope you are ready for me, 'cause i sure am ready for you.

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you are never left wanting, so i've learned. if you can not find that elusive thing called love in one person, open your eyes because there are a lot of people with bits and pieces of it for you. fragmented, yes. but when you put it all together, it would be far greater than the love you'd get from one.

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my compulsion to shop is rearing it's head once again. i have a backlog of clothes that i bought last week that i haven't even worn yet...hehe.

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my friend S and i stormed MegaMall this afternoon. i can't believe the crowd. it's been ages since i've gone out to shop on a Friday (a payday Friday, at that). nevertheless, it was a blast. thanks, S!

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Teriyaki Boy, FTW! although, one kink in my orgasmic eating binge was the fact that they ran out of Shake Sashimi (Salmon). arg! but the rest of the dishes were delish.

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i have encountered a very bizarre Filipino phenomena...people flocking to Forever 21. and when i say flocking, i mean waiting IN LINE for a bazillion minutes just to get into the freaking store! the line snakes in and out of the perimeter of the store. and what's so mind boggling is i see people just patiently waiting in line. like they are in a stupor or a drug induced hallucination. maybe, in their heads, they are daydreaming of buying rainbows and unicorns inside the store. i just shook my head in disbelief. i've been in the store before, and i didn't see anything spectacular. it's like H&M-lite.

is this another fad? if so, i find it ...so sad.

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i feel just great. yeah. and i don't know why, but i'm again very optimistic about everything. maybe i've found my rose-colored glasses again. or maybe it's something else. no matter what, i feel something good is coming.

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happy weekends, becklettes and thunderbecks!

A Walk in the Mist: A Prologue

One hot summer's day a Fox was strolling through an orchard till he came to a bunch of Grapes just ripening on a vine which had been trained over a lofty branch. "Just the thing to quench my thirst," quoth he. Drawing back a few paces, he took a run and a jump, and just missed the bunch. Turning round again with a One, Two, Three, he jumped up, but with no greater success. Again and again he tried after the tempting morsel, but at last had to give it up, and walked away with his nose in the air, saying: "I am sure they are sour."

This isn't as hard as I thought it would be. 

I've never had a stick of cigarette my entire life. Back home, my mom and my grandma are walking pugons. I grew up swimming in a pool of smoke, thinking that smoking is as commonplace as the air itself. 

As the years passed by, I've probably inhaled more smoke from peers than they ever have themselves. It's easy to spot me in the crowd. I'm the only one without a stick in hand...and the one who keeps on raving maniacally against smoking.

I had a brief but life-changing thought over the weekend. If I must go on extolling the bad effects of smoking on one's health, how different am I to the fox who never got the chance to taste that luscious fruit?

Whose word would you listen to about the war: that of a soldier - all grimy, messed-up, toughened by the trenches; or that of a novelist who went around doing his little researches, all for the aim of literary integrity and poetic license? 

Mark this day for this is the one that will live in infamy (or glory, depending on what side your looking from, right Roosevelt?). My goal is simple: I will smoke for a year, then quit. Can it be more clear-cut than that? In the intermediate period, I will write about the experience as much as I can. 

Am I scared? Two answers: Of course not! and Hell, yes! One stems from the side of me that believes I have insurmountable strength to overcome this, and the other from the doubt lingering in my mind, what if I do not come out unscathed? The first premise is out of pride. The second is out of strong belief in the first premise, but uncertain about how much bodily harm is involved. 

I would have to lay down some rules for myself while in the process:

1. In line with my principle to never make the tycoon roll in more dough than I can ever see in a lifetime, I would NOT smoke any form of tobacco that came out of my own pockets. I would be a professional bummer, a slipshod moocher, a compelling cadge. It's my way of giving the finger to The Man. So, my dear friends, prepare! 

2. My limit is 6. Yeah.

3. In the process, my advocacy would never be put to a halt.

4. When all else fails, I pray.

Today, I was able to down 4 and a half sticks of varying brands: Gold, Menthol, Lights. And so my journey begins. Aesop's fox is now taking measures into his own hands. A simple step ladder would do the trick. Now the question is, will the fruit be something that will give him validation, or will it lead him down to ruin?

I do not have illusions of grandeur that this endeavor would change the world. Heck, it's even possible that nobody would even care. But for all it's worth, if I can plant an idea in others that it is indeed possible, then I will have fuel for my little revolution.

~signed,

Advent

Sept. 21, 2010

ADDITIONAL READING:

http://www.freedom-of-choice.com/AS3.htm

http://www.lcolby.com/index.html

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oh and...in other news...my new look.

yeah. now pucker up and take it.

Come Hither

damn, i miss writinG.

i usually have plenty of time to write, except when the mind is preoccupied by the affairs of the heart.

speaking of which...

last time i had put my hand down to caress the keyboard was to talk about Venus Raj. rar.

lately i find myself in the clutches of Eros. i didnt really see this coming. but i've dreamt of it. and somehow i am beginning to think that The Secret actually does work.

i have always been Love's biggest fan. and this time around, i'm watching what could possibly be his latest and greatest performance.

at this point in my life, i feel that there is a whole wide world out therE. i left the world i'm getting too comfortable with because it can no longer handle my corners. i've outgrown it's walls. what held me once in rapture is now but a fleeting memory. you see, life is maniacally devious. just when you think you've seen it all and could never get that feeling again, bam! it hits you like a runaway truck.

whatever happens, i always go back to writing. it's a lovely sensation to hear the echoes bouncing off the walls of my mind.

a commenter in the previous entry said that he finds my stilted views entertaining. that really made me smile. everyone is stilted, some just more so than the others. and who can be more stilted than blogger who named his blog as such?

so here's a toast to the madstringsmanifesto, volume 2!

-this entry was brought to you by the color purple.

T.B.L. Vol. 2: Trust and Guns

T.B.L. stand for The Becklette Lessons. i would like to define becklette as a becky who is of the age of innocence (or lack thereof). anywhere between teen to early 20s. i want to impart knowledge to my brethren who are of the younger set. there are so many of them out there.

if you do not fall within this age range anymore, you have to admit, you were a becklette once. didn't we, at one point in our lives, say this: i wish i knew then what i know now? some of us grow older, but never grow up. maybe, just maybe, this could still help.

lesson #5: the timeline

as we are going through the becklette stage of our lives, we are afflicted with what i would like to call Temporalis Delusionis - the general lack of perception of time. a relationship built up in a fortnight (read: 2 weeks) is deemed valid and consummate, and a month is considered an eternity. what makes it more intriguing is when asked, the 2 weeks (or the 1 month) mentioned above is in reality a date or two over the weekends. 

let's put it in to perspective shall we? here is a very common case: a becklette relationship that claims to be in its 3rd month. wow, at first you are impressed. you go: "in becky years kasi that is times 2 because it's harder to maintain than heterosexual relationships" (i love becky logic!). now ask the lovely couple: ilang beses na kayo nagkikita, yung totoo? faced with this question, you'd be surprised that the so-called 3 months are actually, seeing each other over the weekends to watch a movie, go on a "date" of sorts and then going to their separate homes. let's do the math. let's be on the generous side, let's say they really dedicate the weekends to each other. Saturday and Sunday equals 2 days. 2 days multiplied by 4 (weeks in month), multiplied by 3 (actual duration). 24 days! realize that, we were generous here thinking that you spent both days of the weekend together. that's not even a month! that would be cut in half if they only saw each other once a week. 

and yet, there are so many becklettes or thunderbecks (coined by soltero! yeh boy!) out there who beat themselves up saying: "am i cursed? how come i never get past (insert length of time here) with anyone?"

maghunusdili ka! as you will (and should) realize down the line: you could never, ever get to know the totality of someone even after spending a lifetime (read: several years).

on the flipside, here's how you should look at it. do away with counting! you can make every moment count. the moment you start counting, you are just trying to validate the belief that you can make a relationship last. if you were sure about the guy in the first place, would there be a need to count?

which brings me to...

lesson #6: trust issues

remember this saying: "love is like giving someone a gun, having them point it at your heart and trusting them to never pull the trigger"?

my dear becklette, lemme say this: bullshit! in a becky relationship assuming you get past the honeymoon, ligawan, malanding kilig phase, either one of you is bound to cheat. there goes never!

that is a sordid reality. i'm sorry if this is a bitter pill to swallow. but you have to live in the reality we face today. if i may rephrase the saying:  love is like giving someone a gun, having them point it at your heart and expecting them to pull the trigger. when that happens, draw from that strength within you to heal, survive and wipe off the blood stains on the floor. 

ang haba no? but lengthy and more apt to our line of business. the love in our world is measured by the event AFTER the cheating. part of love is forgiving. let's say you found out he cheated, do you still have that capability to forgive? then tabula rasa. then by some god knows what reason, you cheat, does he have the capability to forgive? then tabula rasa. if at one point, the capability to overcome and forgive is already diminished, then part ways.

a simple excel equation (equation na naman?): IF "love" > "anger and pain", THEN "save relationship". IF "anger and pain" > "love", THEN "escape before you go crazy with plans of retribution!!!".

if i knew back then this simple equation, then it would have spared me and my partners, the waterworks. but then again, what would life be without the stories worthy of being aired on "Maalaala Mo Kaya"?

do not lose hope though, young one. the heart is made of a rare material that can withstand apocalyptic disasters. it is the one thing that makes us humans transcend. for every lashing you get scars. but the scars make you stronger. wear it proud! and do not be afraid to take more.

think of it this way: you survive ordeals and they change you for the better. you are not the same person than when you first started. you are more resilient and you have more capacity to love. so in effect, you make the next person you love a very lucky individual. he benefits from that wealth of wisdom. and it pays forward. i believe the most ideal love stems from a relationship where both parties are already "war veterans". if only both know how to make use of their medals.

lesson #7: pain and how it's related to the penis

pain is temporary. cliche. 

however, becklettes who dwell on pain several months after the fact, are not really in pain. what they are experiencing is a fate that most becklettes deny: they are stroking their bruised egos.

more often than not, the languishing pain is not really of a broken heart but of wounded pride. pride is the sin most becklette have an overabundance of.

at this point in my life, i've come to a zen like state of defeating the pride monster. for me, it's more of ok, the pain felt for the first few hours is real, anything afterwards is self inflicted pride-stroking. and why waste time?

pride is like the penis. we love showing it off. but if somebody injures it, shames it, we resort to jacking off til the time we want to show it off again.chow's that for a non-cliche? lol.

young one, it's ok to have your pride. but damn, keep it in check! do not let it control your life. just swallow it down. your experience, harrowing as it is, is a stepping stone to your next adventure.

to end this dialog, sing a little ditty.

Love, Hope, Sanity are onboard a bus 

destination: Moving On. 

but the bus isn't moving because one seat is still empty

Love asked, who are we waiting for?

we're waiting for Ego.

we can't leave without him

we can't live without him

but where is Ego?

oh he's in his room,

black and blue, looking out the window

let's all wait for Ego.

we can't leave without him

we can't live without him

--

have a great weekend, you bruised monsters!

Alas, I Am In ...

like.

--

T.B.L. vol. 1: The Ex-Factor

T.B.L. stand for The Becklette Lessons. i would like to define becklette as a becky who is of the age of innocence (or lack thereof). anywhere between teen to early 20s. i want to impart knowledge to my brethren who are of the younger set. there are so many of them out there.

if you do not fall within this age range anymore, you have to admit, you were a becklette once. didn't we, at one point in our lives, say this: i wish i knew then what i know now? some of us grow older, but never grow up. maybe, just maybe, this could still help.

lesson #1: the ex -pectations

in my numerous trysts with our kind, i must have ran across every single representation of our kind out there. but no matter what configuration they arrive in, you have to expect that sooner or later they will exit your life. it's a cold, hard fact. i just want to be upfront about it. it may be as spectacular as how they entered it, or it could just be a sputter.

in life, or specifically, in becky life you will probably have 4 great ex-es (plural of ex-). those 4 ex-es would determine how you go about in your other non-serious flings. they would always be the mold that you would pattern the replacements to.

lesson # 2: there is no such thing as a 3-month rule

wake up. you are not john lloyd (or bea, if you prefer). that concept is for them straight folks. they want to fool themselves into believing that there should be time after every break up. it's a way to give time for their wounded egos to heal.

as beckys we have more ego to spare than the straight ones. so much in fact, it seeps out. so no matter how desperate you are after a break up, most probably it's because you've only experienced it a couple of times. toughen up, soldier. you'll get to a point where you would soon be impervious to the coldness it brings. it's like stitching up a flak jacket. the more inexperienced you are, the thinner it is. as you face more wars, the flak jacket can take more shit coming your way and the higher the probability you'll escape unscathed.

lesson # 3: there is always life after death...

of the relationship, that is. don't despair. if you will, try to let it simmer for just a day (3 at most), but not more than that! anything longer than that and it's just self-flagellation. what you come out as, depends on you. would you be a monster, ready to devour a hapless soul to get your revenge or do you take the high road and become a better man? you don't have to worry what road you take. everybody would eventually take both paths. it's just a matter of when. you would never know how it is to be a better man if you do not face the monster that is within. and likewise, how can you be a beast, if you don't know where to strike the honest man where it would hurt the most?

lesson # 4: do not lose yourself, but LOVE for all it's worth

give your 60% in every relationship (the remainder is what you keep true to yourself). a relationship that imposes you give more than this means you are taken for granted. let me tell you this, it would not end pretty. you see that splatter on the ground that was once a human becky? yes, that's what happens when you've lost the ground under you. you fall...to your death.

despite this, love like the end of the world is coming tomorrow. try to squeeze every single ounce you can out of it. never let go if you can still fight for it. always give it a shot. you never know.

for all it's worth, love!

be a romantic-realist. i know i am. ;)

Back Door Man

have you ever seen a porn so disturbing, it made you less horny than it should havE?

--

let's be honest, we've probably logged in millions of man hours if we combine our collective porn streaming. those who deny this: drop dead, liar!

--

try this really out there theme: power tools. i had a headache and a fit of nausea soon after viewing this drivel. name a power tool, it was there and it was perverted. it's one of those things so mind-blowingly revolting, you can't look away.

--

so there was this nelly bottom getting power hammered in the rear. they retrofitted this tool and attached a dildo to the end part. the result? madness.

--

and then, the nasty part. after an agonizing 15 minutes of getting power pounded, they took a shot of his ass. and guess what...let's just say it wasn't dry...and it was a color you wouldn't want to see outside of your restroom.

no more. i permanently deleted the file.

and i'm mentally SCARRED for life.

--

which brings home my point: what is it in butt sex that most of my brethren find so enticing? i mean, it doesn't even look remotely pleasurable. definitely not for the bottom because he takes the pounding; and for the top - how can anyone stand sticking it in that hole?

remember my mantra about not dissing something unless you've tried it? well i have every right to diss it. i've played both roles. and neither is anything resembling my definition of hot. a hot mess maybe a better description.

there are so many other things i can do to you that are equally (if not more) pleasurable than taking it in the/giving it to the behind. you just have to get your kamasutra on. ;)

--

whoever can get this reference, gets a cookie from me...

Mad Strings 7: Ready

at the end of uncertainty comes the uncertainty of the end...


--

scared.

...

ready.

Mad Strings 6: The Sly Ones

would you bite the hand that feeds yoU? the younger, less calculating me, would have. now, i ask: how do you extricate yourself from the feeling of being part of a bureaucracy?

power begets power. and those who get a taste of it feel like they need more. some aspire for the zenith all at the expense of trampling on other individuals. others want to be a beacon of integrity but fear the waves crashing on their sandcastles. do you sell out to reach the goal or do you hold on to your ideals even if it means losing?

it gets complicated when your dreams are at stake. ideals or dreams? which hold more weight? can your ideals sustain you, nourish your body, give you a roof above your head? can your dreams keep you from being ashamed of what you've become?

the struggle for balance is precarious. it's like walking along a path on the edge of a jagged cliff. one false step, and you kiss the gloom below.

why does it have to be like this? 

--

Howling Sucker

similar to the Pacquiao phenomenon (no crimes during his fights), expect this Saturday and Sunday to have the Edward/Jacob phenomenon.

instead of having no crimes, there would be zero sales from girl shoppers these days. establishments, you are warned! your store is lucky if you cater to both sexes, but if you only cater to the fairer sex, might as well close shop for the weekend. your clientele are all too busy analyzing frame by frame this supposed "like, the best movie of all time evarr!" to even bother shopping for themselves.

---

i've often wondered about that idiom, them girls being called the fairer sex. so...men are just...fair? lol. how bout for my kin? don't worry, brothers-in-arms, i dub us as the fairest (fairiest?) sex.

---

expect to see movie houses in the Metro packed to the rafters this long weekend (long weekend for me, i follow US holidays).

anyways, here's a little something i did in the office while passing idle time by.

Advent's Eclipse queer pie chart:

Legend:

a. you've read the book, you've bought the soundtrack/posters/whatnots,

you have a shrine dedicated to Stephanie Meyer, you are the president of

the Twi-hards fan club, Manila branch, and have probably camped

outside the theater days prior to showing, just so that you are

the first in line.

b. you are an obsessed little 12 year old girl trapped in that body of yours

c. you don't want to be left out, "hey, everybody's doing it! might

as well..."

d. you want to see it for the superb acting and the soul searing 

scriptwriting that speaks to your very core...right.

e. Jacob's ABS. 'nuff said

--

where do you fall under?

--

can't say i wouldn't be watching though. i can not be squeamish about balot/isaw/betamax/adidas/insert-hideous-food here and pretend to act like i'm puking everytime a friend of mine eats it in front of me. why?

because i haven't tried it. ever!

my mantra is simple. one can not diss/lambast/loathe/scourge/pillage/vilify/abhor/destroy...or simply put, hate on something IF one hasn't tried it himself.

--

that is why while my sister was away in the US, i snuck out her collection of Twilight books to read the entire thing...

--

stop the presses! it's utter crap.

--

have a good weekend everyone!

Public Servant

for the first time, Mr. President, i felt inspired by you. contrary to naysayers (funny how now i am inching into the side of yellow), i admire your little touches of wrath in the speech. i earnestly pray though that this vengeance will be served swiftly and boldly. that is what this country has been needing. like Rizal's filibustero, i see a man who's on the side of good and yet bears a flaming hand. caution though: temper your wrath with justice!


and i really appreciate the fact that you acknowledged the people as your "boss". yes, it may be rhetorical, but no one has actually done that before. erap, maybe put it in words, but he's an actor and his speech was his script. everybody else saw the seat as a throne to lord over us mortals. that was mighty classy of you. not original, but classy.


keep this momentum going, sir.


i'm now a convert.

--

inauguration or concert? i was beginning to think the latter.

next time, Noy handlers, try to cut the crappy "OPMs". most notably, (no offense to fans) the APO. did age take away the creative juices? what the hell was that disaster? then came Ogie's regurgitated mess. Christian Bautista's You Raise Me Up was totally unnecessary. and then there's the cheesy group song led by no less than the master of cheesy oversinging, Gary V.

the only gem within the pile of garbage was Noel Cabangon. now THAT is a musician. able to blend mesmerizing harmony with haunting lyricism. and the passion in his voice. so guttural and raw. it was really coming from the heart and mind. it's music in action. i've been secretely admiring him eversince but for that performance, i am forever a fan. too bad, the people didn't get him.

--

overall, i would say that the inauguration was 100% pinoy.

--

there's hope for this country yet.

--

edit: as Somelostboy and Muggen commented, it's just 90% pinoy. why? there were no dance numbers! if there were dance numbers, then i would have changed my second verse to:


inauguration or Pilipinas Got Talent? i was beginning to think it was the latter...


LOL.

Mad Strings 5: Monday Somnambulist

the walls are staring at me. and i think i left my soul slumbering in bed. my mind is wandering off into daydreams. next thing i know, there's a sunflower on the carpeted floor in front of me, another flower with guns for pistils shooting at me. and here i am, dodging the pellets. 

my phone is ringing but when i pick it up, it's a red gummi bear. the bear whispers in my ears. i'm ticklish, you know. stop it! i know somebody is talking to me but i just hear the waves in the ocean.

i look up the definition of wonrotpsm. i think i read it somewhere. on the wall. or something.

have i told you my most favorite character in The Sandman is Delirium? She was formerly called Delight. until that thing happened. colored fishes in bubbles! Morpheus is next. he named his son after me. or something.

i take one more hit. more colored bubbles! and in the shape of boys! something popped them, one by one. oh wait, those are my fingers.

the tea party started 14.321 minutes ago. i can't find my bowler hat. i'll be late. hold the elevator for me, please.

who is the sandman? by gaimanms