Lust. Music. Blue Skies.

otto mann

2008-11-19T23:29:00.000+08:00

For only P30 at Toy Palace in Farmers Plaza I got Otto of The Simpsons rock n’ rolling in a graveyard. Awesome.

no shit

2008-11-10T21:35:00.004+08:00

The grapevine has it that they will be guest performers at the Red Horse Beer Muziklaban grand finals on Nov. 29 at the Marikina Sports Complex.

komiks

2008-11-02T13:04:00.003+08:00

In college, my friend Dennis and I collaborated for an "underground" comics called "Madness: Tales of Mental Decay." It was supposed to be a series featuring stories of, well, insanity. We were able to crank out a well-received first issue, but that was it. We graduated, discovered girls, and simply lost time for such creative endeavors. Anyway, the whole thing has been posted in Dennis' Multiply site. Nice. I still can't believe we pulled this one up and impressed people.

dennis & ditas

2008-10-23T23:34:00.004+08:00

In our little college group, Dennis (3rd from left) is the last person we thought who's into marriage. We couldn't even imagine him wearing barong and acting solemn. It was just... unthinkable. But then again, we were a bunch of dweebs who know nothing. So congrats to Mr and Mrs Mendoza.

finds

2008-10-23T22:53:00.001+08:00

All these for less than Php600. Thank god for Booksale and SM three-day sales.

to rest

2008-10-19T09:12:00.007+08:00

I need to unwind. The last three days have been a crazy blur of bouncers, whores and beautiful bridesmaids, of late-night beer and bad weather, and my system, badly needing nutrition and sleep, is succumbing to the stress. I feel like Layne Staley on the last days of his life.

the mist

2008-09-23T19:39:00.002+08:00

It was all mist when my wife and I, along with my sister-in-law and three of her friends, trooped to Baguio over the weekend. We were boating in Burnham Park 4:30 Saturday, but we couldn't see the other end of the lagoon. Boats emerging from the fog reminded me of ghost ships and the Philadelphia Experiment, of cold Transylvanian mornings and that brilliant Stephen King novella. It was both eerie and beautiful.

billiards

2008-08-25T23:47:00.002+08:00

Playing billiards with my sister-in-law Nikki in Doña Jovita Garden Resort in Calamba, Laguna.

outing

2008-08-25T23:36:00.002+08:00

In the pool with my wife Charmaine and Nikki, still in Doña Jovita Garden Resort.

books

2008-08-07T23:07:00.002+08:00

Books, books, and more books. I don't think I'll get over this obsession. Backlog? I stopped counting at 150, and that was months and many new purchases ago.

sona

2008-07-28T23:30:00.001+08:00

Am I the only one who thinks today's SONA was the most boring one ever? SONAs are usually boring, but this one was a real snoozer. Those well-dressed morons at the Batasan Complex must've pumped their systems with tankfuls of Extra Joss to be able to bring themselves to clap 104 times.

Likewise, the so-called People's SONA by militant organizations was equally rubbish. The nation is in deep shit, we all know that. What good does stating the obvious do?

I should've stayed in bed. If only I had that choice.

Suddenly I miss Baguio.

piss school

2008-07-21T23:41:00.003+08:00

Literally pissing on the country's education system. Photo taken in Teacher's Camp in Baguio City, where my wife and I spent July 10 to 14.

sabado night

2008-07-01T21:10:00.004+08:00

Saturday night out with Tina, Lot, Marky and a bunch of other dudes and dudettes, first in Seventyseven in Kamuning, then to Beluga's along Katipunan Avenue, both in QC. I was a zombie at work the next morning, but so what? People are not supposed to work on Sundays, anyway. It says so in the Bible.

loss

2008-06-15T11:51:00.004+08:00

Our dog, Hershey, barely six months old, succumbed yesterday to canine parvovirus, a particularly deadly disease among puppies, about 80% fatal. She spent Thursday and Friday nights in an animal clinic; on Saturday we received an early morning call from the vet telling us that Hershey's in "grave danger." My wife and I skipped breakfast and sped off to the clinic, but it was too late. Hershey was still warm when we arrived. Blood was dripping from her mouth and nose. Her eyes were half-open. It was a heartbreaking sight.

I wish I'm one of those people who, though not exactly cruel to animals, are just indifferent to them. Those who would look at a dead pet, shake their heads, mutter "Kawawa naman," then go on with their lives as if nothing happened. Those who could say, "Para aso lang e." Perhaps that way I wouldn't be as deeply troubled and affected as I am today. *Sigh.*

a warning

2008-05-27T23:24:00.002+08:00

I heaved a sigh when I learned they were only joking.

re-issues

2008-05-11T16:16:00.006+08:00

I don't know what's the deal with Odyssey, but I was in their Megamall branch last Friday and I saw a couple of re-issues that made my eyes pop in disbelief. To wit:

* Skid Row's Skid Row
* Skid Row's Slave to the Grind
* Van Halen's The Best of Both Worlds (2-CD set)
* Black Crowes' The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion

I also saw Mastodon's Blood Mountain, which I, though not a big fan of the band, am also itching to score since it's not everyday a legit metal album finds its way to our shores.

Anyway, kudos to Odyssey - or to whoever brought them here - for these releases. (I'm not sure if they're available in other stores.) Now I've something to road-test my new spanking Citibank credit card with.

message

2008-05-07T22:34:00.000+08:00

Saw this message on a girl’s t-shirt while on my way to work earlier.

“Buy a ticket.
Quit your job.
Get a tan.
Fall in love.
Start a new life.
NOW!
Before it’s too late.”

Inspiring, if not thought-provoking.

paintball

2008-05-04T11:02:00.001+08:00

Last Saturday I joined my wife and some of her officemates – Lorian, Meng, and Arvie – in La Mesa Eco-Park for Paintball (and also for some nature-tripping on the side). It was fun. The competition was between boys and girls, with them winning the first round and us reigning the second. In the first round I got hit in the face by Lorian, who was fresh from a bitter break-up with some guy and therefore was on a warpath. In the second I ran out of bullets trying to shoot my wife, who proved to be an expert in concealment.

jellyfish

2008-04-23T09:18:00.002+08:00

Taken at Sunrock Resort in Antipolo, on the day before my wife's birthday (April 20). More pictures here. Yeah, as if you care.

toto

2008-04-10T19:45:00.006+08:00

My wife and I saw Toto last April 3 at the Araneta Coliseum. I didn't think the band played their hearts out, but it was fun nevertheless.

Anyway, my take on the whole gig here.

turning japanese

2008-03-17T21:06:00.005+08:00

With my wife and her best friend Lorian - both addicted to anything Japanese - at Tempura Japanese Grill Restaurant in Ayala Avenue for Chris' belated birthday treat.

apathy

2008-03-16T07:58:00.005+08:00

I'm sure somebody out there will crank out some time today a blog entry about his/her Shadows Fall experience last night. It will be a ham, full of sweeping adjectives, boring. I wish I am that blogger.

I rather not discuss why I wasn't at A-Venue last night. Too painful. Anyway, moving on...

Sunday morning now. Am I the only Filipino who's not even half excited about the Pacquiao-Marquez rematch? Does that say something of me as a citizen of this nation?

an invitation

2008-03-08T10:01:00.002+08:00

An excerpt from Chris McCandless' letter to a friend:

"So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun. If you want to get more out of life, you must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter type of life that will first appear to you to be crazy. But once you become accustomed to such a life you will see its full meaning and its incredible beauty. In short, Ron, get out of Salton City and hit the road."

Striking words. I think I'm gonna cry. Sob.

threesome

2008-03-04T22:39:00.003+08:00

At Mogwai in Cubao X with Multiply's Tina "Tinaloops" Hamdorf.

'mistress'

2008-02-26T21:00:00.003+08:00

Flanked by my wife (left) and self-proclaimed "mistress," Multiply's Anna May "Uglyassin" Badilla, in Starbucks-Araneta Center.

vitamins

2008-02-10T13:08:00.000+08:00

New books to keep me perky in these troubled times of adjustment and the loneliness it brings. I just wish I've enough time for my readings. So there...

shadows fall

2008-02-01T17:07:00.001+08:00

These bastards are going to perform in A-Venue in Makati Avenue on March 15, 2008. No shit!

wifey's new toy

2008-01-15T15:19:00.000+08:00

Who am I kidding? This is not her new toy; it's her new husband!

briefcase girl

2008-01-11T19:40:00.000+08:00

Her name's Chloe Dauden, and I'm gonna miss her now that Kapamilya Deal or No Deal is on hiatus. Sniff.

eb part ii

2007-12-30T12:24:00.000+08:00

Another EB, this time in Metrowalk (Dencio's, then later on Love 2 Laugh, a comedy bar), with fellow Multiply bloggers Belle (above), Grace, Tina, Marky and Chabs (below, left to right). We had to split early, though. The girls had curfews.

xmas on the road

2007-12-24T14:54:00.000+08:00

After midnight tonight, on the first hours of Christmas, just as when everybody’s burping from the noche buena, I will be on the road. Specifically, inside a Baliwag bus on its lonely way to Nueva Ecija. I will be without company except maybe for Tom Waits on my MP3 player, the late Norman Mailer in my pocket, and the expected hangover.

The itinerary: leave Antipolo not later than 1:30am, arrive in Cubao before 2am (possible without heavy traffic), and board the bus hoping there’s a window seat available -- for I enjoy watching the countryside rolling past me; makes me think of life -- by 2:30am. By sunrise I expect to be in Zaragosa for my wife’s family reunion.

I am both excited and nervous: Excited because this is going to be my first solitary long-distance travel in a long time, nervous because of the unholy hour. Regardless, I expect an adventure. It's what I live for.

Merry Christmas, everyone. Ad astra per aspera.

beat(nik) this

2007-12-19T12:08:00.000+08:00

Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg books courtesy of my father (thanks, dad!). Yeah, 2008 will rock n' roll as far as my readings are concerned.

With that, I just want to say RIP to Norman Mailer, who died November 10 due to acute renal failure. I only found out about it last Sunday, when my wife and I were at Fully Booked-High Street. Man, it was sad. I've read two of his works, An American Dream and Tough Guy Don't Dance, and enjoyed them immensely.

anniversary

2007-12-17T11:07:00.000+08:00

Celebrated it - alcohol-free, I must say - in Giligan's in Metro Market! Market! (Killing two birds with one stone: we were also doing some shopping.) Tasty food, fun conversation, good times. Just like the years ahead, we hope. And then we went to heaven...

Indeed, the recently opened Fully Booked branch in Bonifacio High Street in Taguig is everything the hype says it is: its neat, wall-to-wall array of books of every sort offers a decidedly splendid glimpse of heaven to bibliophiles. Needless to say, we were floored. All those Kerouacs and Ellroys, man.

sigh

2007-12-05T09:51:00.000+08:00

This is me spacing out.

What I want to see are clouds pregnant with rain and trees dancing to strong wind. Or a full moon, perhaps. A wondrous eclipse. Falling stars galore. Anything that can dwarf the glittery Christmastime nonsense around me. Expose the superficiality of things. There's a story in this and it's a sad wretched story so typical especially coming from me. My muse is with me today but she's singing dirges. Her words bleed misery. Life sucks suddenly. I want to talk but to whose ears? Everybody seems to be holiday-happy on the other side of the fence.

This is me soundlessly crashing to the ground.

loser

2007-12-04T11:11:00.000+08:00

Got this from my Multiply contact, Lang. In brevity, this explains everything I feel for this guy. Again, who voted for this freak?

i'm... notorious!

2007-11-28T11:26:00.000+08:00

I’ve just been informed that publication for my second novel, Sulyap sa Mundo ng mga Hayok, has been put “on hold” (euphemism for “rejected”?) because the distributor, Anvil Publishing, doesn’t approve of its title, cover, and – dig this – content. (They don't like the violence, the fact that two major characters died gruesomely in it, and the humiliation and near-rape of actress Ruffa Gutierrez.)

At first I was like, “Oh man, bummer.”

Then after about 10 seconds I went, “Oh wow. Cool.”

But I guess the good news is that L na L, controversial title be damned, is now Literotika’s best-selling title. (For the record, I wasn't responsible for that title. Hated it, in fact. But my opposition fell on deaf ears.) A second pressing is in the works. My gratitude to those who bought their copy.

gaiman

2007-11-27T08:10:00.000+08:00

As expected, it's Neil Gaiman this, Neil Gaiman that these days, no doubt inspired by the Sandman creator's appearance at the Ad Congress hoopla in Subic over the weekend. Maybe if I enjoyed American Gods as much as Neverwhere I'd have a better appreciation of the hype. (Now my wife's telling me I shouldn't seek redemption from Anansi Boys. Argh!)

Between Gaiman and Stephen King, I'd pick the latter anytime.

But I'm glad I had my Neverwhere signed by Gaiman during his first Manila visit in 2005. That was awesome. I remember the looooong line and the hunger.

the gift

2007-11-26T11:56:00.000+08:00

An advance Christmas present from my wife. And I wondered what's keeping her in Starbucks lately, knowing her dislike for such hip and trendy places. Now I feel guilty for accusing her of becoming one of Them.

pinoy big blunder?

2007-11-23T18:59:00.000+08:00

When Formula driver/commercial model Gaby dela Merced voluntarily exited the PBB house last Nov. 10, I swear I heard her tell Mcoy, "See you in two weeks." Her voice was nearly drowned by the chorus of goodbye's and we-will-miss-you's from the other Housemates, but I heard her clearly, indeed.

Yesterday, Mcoy, vocalist of Orange and Lemons, together with comedienne Ethel Booba, left the "famous" house due to a reported rift with Big Brother.

Hmmm...

I remember the remark my sister-in-law, who's the only girl I know who doesn't know Sam Milby from Amay Bisaya, made over dinner last week. On PBB she said: “Mukang scripted naman e.”

Hmmm...
-----------------------------

addendum: aha!

So Gaby returned to the Big Brother house two weeks after her voluntary exit. That explains what she said to Mcoy. I stand corrected, so what?

obituary

2007-11-14T12:18:00.000+08:00

We found her body this morning, cold and with a bullethole on her back. We've been looking for her since yesterday, when she failed to "report" for lunch. It was a cold-blooded thing to do, shooting a hapless animal, and I'm praying for the worst kind of luck to befall whoever snuffed her candle. It was depressing.

tuna

2007-11-08T09:28:00.000+08:00

Actually, I had come to the conclusion long time ago. Then I forgot all about it. Then at lunch yesterday, home alone and too engrossed with that leggy Liveraide girl in Wowowee to do some cooking, I was reminded of it.

Century Tuna Hot and Spicy is the shit!

Simple pleasures.

finally!

2007-10-30T09:41:00.000+08:00

I have now penetrated National Bookstore, ha-ha!

suspects

2007-10-20T12:29:00.000+08:00

On the deadly Glorietta 2 blast last Oct. 19 that killed 11 people and injured dozens, some say it's LPG.

Some say it's ASG.

Some say it's MILF.

And then here comes Senator Trillanes. He says: It's PGMA!

Who voted for this dude?

shitstorm

2007-10-19T10:24:00.000+08:00

Funny how in a span of 30 minutes I suddenly find myself neck-deep in shit! There's this favor I'm doing for my OFW brother regarding important papers, which requires urgent and expensive trips to UP-Diliman, DFA and Robinsons Galleria. And then these last-minute assignments with ASAP deadlines from my boss-cousin. (And they say life of a free-lance writer is heaven?) Add to those the usual household chores and family obligations I am duty bound to attend to, and the fact that I'm writing my third fucking novel and I'm not even halfway throught it. Jesus! I'm already tired thinking about what a hassle these following days will be. Not even Tommy Chong could put a smile on my face these days. Forgive me if I get cranky. See you, blog, when the storm is over...

r.i.p.

2007-10-08T11:59:00.000+08:00

I learned last Saturday through Kapuso Mo, Jessica Soho that overseas there's a course called Mortuary Science, which, in essence, is the science of embalming.

I wonder the motivation of people who take this course. Most teachers get into the profession for the love of kids, right? Doctors, to help sick people. Lawyers, to protect people’s rights under the law. Politicians, to serve the people (although this is downright questionable). But what of mortuary scientists/embalmers?

Really, think about it. (The only sane answer I can think of is money. It reportedly pays Php250,000 a month if you work abroad. Other than that, what?)

I guess the old yarn is true: no matter what the job is, somebody has got to do it. And thank god for TV programs like CSI, dissecting a dead body for a living these days has become, dare I say, glamorous.

controversial

2007-10-08T10:31:00.000+08:00

My last entry, which I re-posted in Multiply for no other reason than pure vanity, had gathered a lot of opposition particularly from those who joined the online hullabaloo versus Desperate Housewives for its allgedly "vitriolic, callous and racially divisive remarks" against Filipino medical professionals. (Big words, I must say, but empty.) It has become my most controversial entry since I started blogging in 2003, and, admittedly, it made camp in my head the whole weekend.

Much that I want to refute all their arguments point by point, my head's just not into it today. Also, it's futile: they're not gonna kiss my ass, and I'm not gonna kiss theirs, and this shit will just go on and on until we all turn blue in the face. So why bother?
----------------------------------
addendum: aargh!

Times like this, I can always count on Philippine Star columnist Jessica Zafra to come up with a killer line.

In her October 8 blog, she writes: "It is not my policy to explain things to the irony-challenged and literal-minded – they’re not my audience..."

Man, I wish I've her way with words! I also wish I could rub that line to the faces of those who maligned my October 5 entry. But I already told them I will not utter another word on the matter, and urged them to do the same so as to not complicate things further. Wrong move. Damn!

mob mentality

2007-10-05T10:47:00.000+08:00

In the Early Modern period, Europe had the witch-huntings. Then, from mid-19th to mid-20th century, America had the lynchings.

Now, in 21st century Philippines, the practice of handing down judgment based more on gut reaction than clear-headed logic has evolved into something else. Now it is called "online petition."

What gives?

disinfectant

2007-09-28T09:06:00.000+08:00

"This has been a bad year for us," ma mused the other day.

We were in a cab on our way to the National Kidney Institute for her check-up. She was referring to a number of her sisters and relatives who are currently inflicted with illnesses and serious life-threatening diseases that require hospitalization, surgery, even chemotheraphy. In fact, as she was being interviewed by an endourologist, one of her sisters was under the knife at the adjacent Lung Center of the Philippines for complications caused by goiter. We visited her later and it was disheartening to see her wrapped in tubes, surrounded by cold soulless machines. I couldn't begin to imagine how her children must be feeling these days.

"I agree," I said.

backlog

2007-09-25T10:58:00.000+08:00

Latest additions to my clutter of unread books:

1. The Beach by Alex Garland
2. The Tesseract by Alex Garland
3. Zuckerman Bound by Philip Roth
4. Great Jones Street by Don DeLillio
5. Sometimes A Great Notion by Ken Kesey
6. To Skin A Cat by Thomas McGuane
7. Last Car to Elysian Fields by James Lee Burke
8. Quicker than the Eye by Ray Bradbury
9. The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
10. Tourist Season by Carl Hiaasen
11. Striptease by Carl Hiaasen
12. The Mile High Club by Kinky Friedman
13. Cuba Libre by Elmore Leonard
14. Dancing Girls and Other Stories by Margaret Atwood
15. Exquisite Corpse by Poppy Z. Brite
16. Ubik by Philip K. Dick
17. Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk

And with that, my backlog has officially reached the 100 mark. Good luck to me.

wifey

2007-09-16T13:05:00.000+08:00

My wife, Charmaine, enjoying Dencio's crispy pork sisig during our dinner date last Friday night. We realized we haven't been really going out that much since we got married last December, so... a dinner date! We agreed to do this more often.

e.b.

2007-09-09T16:25:00.000+08:00

At Dencio's in Araneta Center, with fellow Multiply bloggers (from left) Marky (Markyramone), Badong (Trueasiatik), Janis (Genesis.Grace), and about 10, 000 bottles of San Mig Lite. It was my first eyeball in years, and it was fun. I went home smashed -- so smashed I wasn't able to enjoy Tool's music blaring from the jeepney's speakers courtesy of the two obviously drunk teenagers on the passenger seat. Anyway, it was one helluva night. Thanks, Janis!

i know jack

2007-09-05T21:30:00.000+08:00

From Slate, on the book that kicked open everything for me...

"Sept. 5, 2007, marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of On the Road, the novel by Jack Kerouac that gave voice to his generation's postwar experiences. With its energetic portrayal of the thrills and confusions of being young in the early years of the Cold War, it also helped usher in the "Beatnik" movement and many of the radical changes in American culture that took place in the 1960s. As you might expect, then, the mythology that surrounds Kerouac and the novel is as obscuring as it is fascinating."

Read the full article here.

x'ed

2007-09-02T09:52:00.000+08:00

Sunday morning and my throat is sore. I think I'm coming down with something. Jesus, not now...

The first of the 'ber' months has rolled in and yesterday in The Block they were already playing Christmas carols, telling me this is not the time to entertain the blues -- and to stay away from malls if I could help it!

Man, I feel like a character in a Tom Waits song. Perhaps that lonely guy in the bar singing I Wish That I Don't Fall in Love With You.

I need to slow down badly.

lo diyes!

2007-08-30T20:06:00.000+08:00

I don't get it. Everybody's yakking about this word war between Willie Revillame and Joey de Leon, hosts of competing noontime shows, one from ABS-CBN, the other from GMA 7, and almost always the talk evolves into this crazy-ass debate on which is better, "Kapamilya" or "Kapuso." Hey, what gives?

I don't know. I'm not a fan of both stations. Although there had been times I enjoyed a show or two, most of them documentaries and public affair programs and occasionally a talk show, those were few and far between because, admittedly, I'm not what you can call a TV person. Also, when I think of local TV I think sucky sitcoms, too much drama, an endless array of Asianovelas, game and talk shows galore. Not really the kind of stuff that floats my boat. (For the record, I watch Wowowee not because of "Pappie" but because of that chick manning the Liveraide booth during "Willie of Fortune." After that, I take my afternoon nap, ha ha.)

And now here's Sen. Mar Roxas II strutting his way into the madhouse by calling for an investigation on the alleged rigging of TV game shows, which is the root of this much publicized verbal joust between Joey and Willie. I may shoot my mouth later on, but I think something has been blown out of proportion here.

Philippine entertainment, ladies and gentlemen. Sit back and enjoy.

necessities

2007-08-17T09:26:00.001+08:00

Drinks? Check. Book? Check. Music? Check.

I'm all set for "Egay."

relapse

2007-08-10T08:06:00.000+08:00

Just as I thought I had sworn off chatting completely I found myself yesterday actively participating in a conference composed mostly of my Multiply contacts. It was crazy: one minute I was trying to beat a deadline, the next minute I was abandoning everything in favor of some silly talk from people I haven't seen personally and thus hardly know. What's crazier was that I enjoyed every fucking minute of it. I actually spent hours in it, man. Hours!

Flashback to the year 2000 when I was so addicted with this whole chat thing I was even chatting in my dreams, believe it or not. I dont't know if it's a particularly good experience or not, but since it brought me to a raucous rooftop party somewhere in Padre Faura one humid August night, drunk and high and French-kissing a coed, I guess it's good.

Ah, the memories of past craziness.

overcast

2007-08-08T10:20:00.000+08:00

Inclement weather the whole night, and this morning I woke up to a world sunk beneath inches of filthy rainwater. Everything is wet and windswept; to be out there is to betray one’s instincts.

And I'm worried sick about my wife, out there in the cold, on her way to work. Somehow it doesn't feel right: it's me who should be out there suffering for our little family. She should be home enjoying a hot cup of tea and the warmth and comfort it gives, the cool bed, the soft fluffy pillows, sleep, Frank McCourt, maybe CSI: Las Vegas on DVD. It's only kosher. I feel less of a man, so useless, as if somebody had ran away with my balls.

I need cigarettes badly. And a bottle of beer to boot. A pair of ears to confide to. Rain is still pouring outside, and inside I’m cold and damp.
-------------------------
addendum: magnifico!

About two weeks ago I interviewed this Italian dude named Giorgio Bucciarelli for an article regarding Volare, the newly opened pizza place in Araneta Center where he is head chef. The write-up appears in today's Manila Bulletin as cover story for its Taste section. I wish I could put an online link here, but there's none available and I don't want to trouble myself figuring out why.

facelift

2007-08-02T09:54:00.000+08:00

I just received news that Anvil, the distributor of Literotika titles, has just approved the new packaging for L na L. I don't know what the new look is like, but it's safe to say that you won't be seeing the cover pictured above since that's the one that got us in trouble with some bookstore people before. (Something about the word "libog.")

That kink out of the way there's chance now that L na L will hit National Bookstore shelves hopefully this month. Well, I hope so, because I'm pretty sick and tired of answering "Why isn't it in National?" inquiries daily on my e-mail. I'm just copy-pasting my retorts actually, but still it consumes time and that's something I don't have an abundant supply of these days. Some lazy, grumpy author I am, yes?

d-oh!

2007-07-30T10:55:00.000+08:00

My wife and I saw The Simpsons Movie last Saturday over at Gateway Mall, and what can I say? It's the most fun we had since maybe Meet the Fockers from two, three years ago. Hell, I even feel like scoring a DVD copy of the movie -- pirated, of course, screw Edu Manzano -- so that I can watch it over and over again until "Spider-pig" is bursting out of my nose.

Anyway, the flu had left my head feeling awfully swimmy. Writing is a freakout: I can't seem to string sentences together to make a decent paragraph. I've deadlines galore and most of them had come and gone and somewhere out there is a pissed off boss choking his secretary for my number. I'm glancing at my cellphone nervously. What the hey!

review

2007-07-27T21:50:00.000+08:00

Here's a review of L na L courtesy of Multiply blogger Dennis Mendoza. Perhaps it will score more credibility if he's not actually my friend, but if you know Dennis, who goes around calling himself Ill Diablo, you know kissing his friends' bums isn't his style.

And that's it for now. I've just survived a vicious three-day flu funk and my head's in a soup and nothing seems to be working a-ok on my part.

foxy

2007-07-21T11:44:00.000+08:00

Megan Fox from the Transformers movie: the only thing hotter than the weather these days.

new vox

2007-07-18T11:36:00.000+08:00

So 36-year old Swedish Anette Olzon is the new Nightwish vocalist, replacing Tarja Turunen who was unceremoniously kicked out of the band months ago. I'm listening to Amaranth right now, the single from the Finnish group's forthcoming album, Dark Passion Play, and although Anette's no Tarja (she sounds more like Cristina Scabbia to me), I'd say I like what I'm hearing. But of course these ears will miss Tarja's operatic croonings. Somehow, listening to Nightwish without Tarja takes getting used to.

monkey

2007-07-05T11:57:00.000+08:00

We've quite a backyard in our place, with trees and vegetation and stuff, and I've seen strange creatures in it - from toads the size of a full grown man's head to a swarm of dive-bombing honeybees to snakes four feet long. But this? (Pardon the blurry image; photography is not my shit.)

I don't know if he belongs to somebody in our neighborhood, but my wife and I took the liberty of calling him Jolly Cur, from that monkey character in the long-ago ABS-CBN cartoon, Remy. We are very fond of our Jolly Cur, even though we know the feeling isn't mutual.

a riddle

2007-07-03T18:04:00.000+08:00

QUESTION: What's soft and hairy and had been touched to the point of excitement by Jennifer Lee, Pauline Luna and Janelle Jamer?

ANSWER: Doglas, the latest attraction in Mines View Park, Baguio City.

For more Baguio pictures, click here.

baguio memories

2007-06-29T12:53:00.000+08:00

The last and only time I was in Baguio was in February, 2003, when as part of the Manila Times I was tasked to cover the annual PMA Alumni Homecoming in Fort del Pilar. I've fond memories of that trip: the raucous fireside booze-fest with then Defense Secretary Angelo Reyes and other top military officials who let their hair down, so to speak, for the night; sharing bottles of Carlo Rossi with Grace Morales while the guys checked out the bars; traversing the dark Kennon Road on a drizzly twilight while falling in love with Richie Sambora's Undiscovered Soul album on my Walkman. Magic moments; simply unforgettable.

Tomorrow, with my wife this time, I'll be in the City of Pines again. I don't expect much except for us to go home with treasures in our heads. Things to tell our kids and grandkids in the future. Will probably stay at Teachers' Camp and do some ghost-hunting in the night - why not? Drink coffee in this place in SM overlooking the world, as recommended by my good friend Joseph Orbeta. Go boat-riding in Burnham Park and stuff. Drink the whole place in in one smooth gulp. Already I am drunk with anticipation. Can already picture myself in the bus listening to Tom Waits, my face in the window watching everything...

baguio breather

2007-06-28T11:37:00.000+08:00

Lately it's been work, work and more work for me, and the migraine and loneliness that come with it. I wish I'm on a beach somewhere soaking up the sunset, sipping wine and dreaming away, and not infront of the laptop in the darkness of my brother's room, typing, swatting mosquitoes, feeling terribly low. But the hell with it. Wrong for me to complain, is it? After all this means money in the future, and bums like me can't be choosers, right? Right!

Indeed, my foot's in a trap and there's no escaping it. This thought is making me cranky as hell. Just ask Charmaine, my wife. Tense moments last night around bedtime, with me playing the role of an asshole. I got poison in my system, yes. Baguio the antidote? Hopefully, because what I think I really need right now is some fresh air, a strange place, and dozens of miles away from anything that is familiar.

Hopefully again, I'll emerge from our three-day, two-night romp in the City of Pines this weekend feeling brand new.

trinoma

2007-06-27T09:18:00.000+08:00

Had the opportunity to visit Trinoma yesterday because of an appointment. Trinoma is this swanky new brainchild of the Ayalas in North Avenue. It faces Mindanao Avenue and is connected to the rest of Metro Manila via the MRT. The place just opened last month so nothing's there yet except a few early-bird boutiques, the ever-ubiquitous food chains, and some shacked-up, soon-to-open shops all screaming for your money.

But despite that and the fact that it was a weekday afternoon, Trinoma was crawling with people. Everywhere it's families and students strolling and snapping pictures, window-shoppers coming in and out of shops, fashion freaks and assorted geeks flaunting their style. They were strutting the strut of people who knew they were strutting at the right place.

Malls and Filipinos. Indeed, there's a thesis begging to be written here.

kiss

2007-06-25T09:52:00.001+08:00

Got this yesterday from Toy Palace in Farmers Plaza for only Php70. Though I am not a big Kiss fan - I only own two of their CDs, 1996's Kiss Unplugged and 1998's Psycho Circus, and think they're good - I consider it a crime not to score a goofy-looking Gene Simmons, tongue and all, at such a price. Too bad I didn't have enough cash with me to purchase the rest of the band.

snag

2007-06-24T07:15:00.000+08:00

I consider it a coincidence that in my drunken stupor last night I accidentally deleted an earlier entry announcing the formal launching of my book, L na L, this month. A coincidence because I've just learned this morning that the project has been shelved for the meantime because of some not-so-nice events happening inside the Literotika office. Bummer.

But my book is still out, and according to my wife and sister-in-law who've been monitoring its sale, people are picking it up. National Bookstore still won't carry it unless something's done with the cover. But I've been assured by Belle Viola, Literotika's busty marketing director, that negotiations are ongoing, and that there's been some development, and that by August I might hear good news. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Meanwhile, interested parties could try the magazine stands inside the MRT-Ayala Station for their copies.

the dork

2007-06-19T11:30:00.000+08:00

Almost six months have gone by and she still can't believe she married this dork.

friends

2007-06-18T17:13:00.000+08:00

Had a blast last Friday night with my college friends in Congo Grille in Ortigas, drinking and clowning around and reminiscing old days. Special thanks to Ms. Erwina Jose (fourth from right) for making everything possible by footing the bill, ha-ha. And thanks also to my college friends for showing up despite extremely busy schedules. My god, you can never have dull moments with these guys. And I'm not exaggerating, not even a bit, no. They're all, to use John King's word, "mental." But in a good and funny way, mind you.

new books

2007-06-14T12:20:00.000+08:00

Got this from the fourth floor of National Bookstore in Cubao for only Php200. Go two floors down and the same book's around Php480 or something. Thank god for bargain bins.

Other latest additions to my library: Eleanor Rigby and Shampoo Planet by Douglas Coupland (from NB and Booksale, respectively), Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck (Booksale), Radical Chic & Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers by Tom Wolfe (Booksale), The Armies of the Night by Norman Mailer (Booksale), The Inner Circle by TC Boyle (Booksale), The Pilgrimage by Paulo Coelho (NB), Tishomingo Blues by Elmore Leonard (NB), and Twisted Travels by Jessica Zafra (NB).

new cd's

2007-06-01T16:35:00.000+08:00

Loots from the recent Universal Records CD sale:

*Mule Variations by Tom Waits. I'm a big fan of this dude. He sings about all things sad and beautiful. He's best listened to with a cold bottle of beer on one hand and a Kerouac book on the other. Bring on the rainy season, man.

*Devil in the Details by Saigon Kick. I remember cruising the dark Sumulong Highway one drizzly night a long time ago, listening to Spanish Rain on my Walkman, having a blast at the romantic Caribbean images the song evokes in my head. So when I chanced upon this CD on sale I grabbed it like I would grab tits, only to relive that long lost life.

*O2 by Firehouse. Some say they're has-beens and that their vocalist sings like he has balls the size of pimples, but so what? Admittedly, though, I prefer their earlier works. Yeah, circa Love of a Lifetime, baby. Sue me.

*Show Business by Kix. A treasure of an album for only Php20, with nine rawkin' tunes and a tearjerking break-up ballad to top it all off. One spin and I'm hooked.

*Wait by Steelheart. High-pitched vocals, anyone? Sometimes such shit gets me groovin'. And I like ballads.

in and out

2007-05-22T12:36:00.000+08:00

So I got the job. But on the fourth day while God was busy creating the sun and the moon and the stars, I resigned. On the fifth day I was a jobless shitfaced bastard again. Don't ask me why, what happened, that sort of thing. But feel free to call me a loser, man. Anytime. I'm guilty as fucking charged. Yes, indeed...

some shit

2007-05-09T08:33:00.000+08:00

So after too many idle months I finally snagged myself a job interview. It's gonna be tomorrow, May 10, at this PR firm in Makati. Today I'm a quaking bundle of nerves. I wish I could take it easy, chill out, concentrate. But I'm not that type of person. Truth is, job interviews freak me out. During which I would either blabber like an overexcited Miriam Defensor-Santiago or my tongue would cowardly roll inside my throat, effectively turning me into a half-catatonic moron. I also tend to have this strange, floaty, light-headed feeling as if I'm on drugs or something. My heartbeat would put Dave Grohl's drumming skills to serious doubt. Man, I've many horror stories to tell. Invite me for a beer.

damn

2007-05-05T07:25:00.000+08:00

So legendary Fil-Am Bay Area thrashers Death Angel played the recent Pulp Summer Slam gig over at the Amoranto Stadium -- and I wasn't able to catch them! No excuses; I deserve to be punished.

Seems like all my metalhead friends were there. All except me. Mr. SLH was there; so was Mad Tyrant. Plus others. All of them with fantastic tales to tell. (Some even got bruises to show.) They said they will never forget the experience. They are still recovering from damaged eardrums, though.

Drool. Drool. Drool.

I'm not a big fan of Pulp magazine, but I salute them dearly for having the cojones to bring a legit metal band in this country of Boom-tarat-tarat freaks. How about a festival next time, guys?

now playing

2007-05-02T17:49:00.000+08:00

Funny, but Custard's Super Trouper, a remake of an old Abba hit, is on heavy rotation these days -- on my player and most especially in my head. It's not even the best track on the A Metal Tribute to Abba CD -- that honor belongs to Therion's Summernight City -- but it has this nice, catchy, hummable melody that makes it Last Song Syndrome material. Me, I just feel light-hearted every time I listen to it. And these days, that's as close as I can get to being happy. How badly I miss my laughing days.

If you're curious about how classic Abba tunes sound like done heavy metal style, click here.

road blues

2007-04-28T15:26:00.000+08:00

I love long drives. Been that way long before I read Kerouac's On the Road.

I love watching hills and towns and faces zoom by. Sometimes I see a beautiful face belonging to a young barrio girl, and my heart aches at the thought that I'll never see her again.

Am I the only one who thinks that sometimes -- no, most of the times -- the destination is not half as fun as the trip?

Eating cold doughnuts on lonely gasoline stations. Drinking beer. Smoking.

I prefer it when the window's down. That way I feel like I'm part of the landscape, not someone just passing by. I like the wind to whip my hair. Unlike those handsome TV models in vanity adverts, I've no problem with messy hair.

Driving at 90: speeding cars on one side, sunset on the other. Pearl Jam's Nothingman on the radio. This is how I picture myself on MTV.

On the radio, it could also be Tom Waits' Ol' 55 or Savatage's Sleep, where the sad singer sings, "I pray that I don't care... I don't care..."

Leaving everything behind. My middle finger on the air, man.

back

2007-04-13T19:31:00.000+08:00

Long time no blog. No excuses. I just didn't feel like writing anything, here and on Multiply.

Well, not really. For one week the phone lines in our neighborhood were busted. Screw Manila Water, the culprit, for their endless diggings. Ruining our streets and causing traffic, driving us nuts with that godawful noise they're making - you'd think these bastards will at least be careful not to cause any more inconvenience. But hey, there's a whole world of creeps and cretins out there.

And then there was the Holy Week, which I spent with my wife in Zaragosa, Nueva Ecija. Away from the madding crowd, to quote that Hardy guy. No phone lines, no Internet, no 7-Eleven around the corner; just me and my wife and our books. Priceless moments.

And then of course there was my laziness.

Things aren't falling on the right places for me. Just yesterday I blew up another job opportunity. It was depressing. It drove me back to drinking. Now, more than 24 hours later, my stomach is still queasy. Sick and jobless, how fucking miserable.

More sad news: Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday. Sniff. Perfect time to check out Breakfast of Champions and Cat's Cradle, I guess.

On the bright side: I've a book coming out. Yey!

not easy

2007-02-23T09:33:00.000+08:00

Philsprint Publishing, publisher of my soon-to-be-out novella called L (the editors may give it a new title, but for me it's L), has expressed intention on commissioning me for another story. "How's that, dude?" the editor-in-chief said. "Easy money." "Why not?" I retorted. "Sounds cool." Indeed... except for that "easy money" crack. Since when writing has become easy? As journalist/biographer Gene Fowler said, "Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead." That speaks volumes, man. By the way, I got that from a Bob Ong book.

So next Friday I'll meet with this editor-in-chief in Market! Market! where he and his crew hold office. And then I'll see from there.

good news

2007-02-16T11:56:00.000+08:00

Now I really owe Jack Kerouac a bottle of wine, if only that gloomy bastard is still around...

My review on his book, Desolation Angels ("Solitude Becomes Beautiful in Kerouac's 'Desolation Angels'"), which became a weekly winner in Philippine Star-National Bookstore's "My Favorite Book" writing contest, has been picked as one of the five Honorable Mention awards for 2006. Which means GCs, man, among other prizes. Garland's The Beach, come to Butt-head, nya-ha! Also an Irvine Welsh, yes. Maybe a Pynchon or a Coupland or a Burke. Borges? Hmm... A Bret Easton Ellis, why not? Kinky Friedman! Kurt Vonnegut! More Carl Hiaasen! Stephen King's Cell, finally. And, of course, the soon-to-be-released Harry Potter book for my ever-supportive wife. (I'm still undecided on Kerouac's Beat Generation. I'm not really heavy into plays.)

Anyway, the awarding ceremony will be on Feb. 27, 2pm, at the NB branch in Shangri-la Plaza Mall. See me wearing tux - Not!

erotica

2007-02-13T16:18:00.000+08:00

Just for the heck of it, and because somebody promised to pay me for an output, I'm trying my hand on some erotic writing - in tagalog! Where one writes "ari/titi/puke" instead of "genitalia/penis/pussy," and hopes his friends will not label him a pervert. If things pan out my first novelette, L na L, will hit selected stores this March. (The original title was L until the publisher - the power that be in the wonderful world of book publishing - insisted on L na L, presumably for marketing purposes.) It's a good story, if I am to beat my chest a little here. At least it's better than many tagalog novelettes currently out there, including those that do not fall under the erotica banner. I urge folks - especially the intellectuals, morallists and Bible-thumpers, as well as the snobs who consider literature written in the vernacular corny - to give my work a whirl before coming up with a comment. Otherwise, just shut up, man. Don't be like Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita, who huffed and puffed against The Da Vinci Code last year even though, by his own admission, he hasn't read a word from the book. Better horny than dumb, right?

glorified w

2007-01-22T09:20:00.000+08:00

Last Saturday night, my first toke in months, man. And how my head buzzed and danced and floated and swirled with the experience. Suddenly, Kerouac's Dr. Sax started to read like Hemingway. Maybe I should read Burroughs' Naked Lunch again.

I remember the darkness, the cottage, the mixed aroma of wet grass and animal dung, the invisible insects singing their glorious nocturnal hymn around me, the sound magnified a thousand fold. I remember Grace and her husband and some anonymous dude all talking at the same time - "What a great night this is, eh?", "Yes, indeed. Love and sex have no match . . . ", "Whattafuck! What is wrong with my face?", "Ey, dude, you're stepping on my toe!" - and the whole world collapsing before my eyes . . . or was it all in my head? All the sounds of the world invading my head . . .

Sorry, sorry, sorry . . . but then again, for what?

evidence

2007-01-16T11:34:00.000+08:00

Yup, I got married last December 16, 2006, the same day some nutball shot dead a congressman. Curiously, the incident happened in Mt. Carmel Shrine, our original church of choice before we learned that it was fully booked since April. (We ended up in Sacred Heart Parish in Kamuning, QC, a good enough alternative.) Anyway, for those with too much time on their hands, photos from the event (the wedding, not the assassination, you fool) can be seen here. Scan and see me in barong. Hey, if Jeffrey Dahmer could wear crisp suits . . .

so far, so good

2006-12-21T07:06:00.000+08:00

How's married life so far? Challenging. Adjustments are bummers. The fact that my lola died two days after the wedding didn't make things easier. People say she let my wedding pass first before dropping us with an emergency. It might be just coincidence -- December after all is when many old folks say, Fuck it, I'm outta here -- but I like to believe it's not. I owe mama one. We're not that hot about the Subic honeymoon anyway.

Anyway, I'm a married man now. I am looking at a thing so big, new and alien, and, understandably, the question "What have I gotten myself into?" is banging in my head more times than I want it to. (My wife, Charmaine, who had to give up a pampered airconditioned life complete with nightly Playstation marathons to be with me, is crying homesickness.) Birth pains, they say. Yeah. And we're coping. I guess we're just surprised marriage is not as easy as we first thought it is.

kaput

2006-12-09T19:43:00.000+08:00

She said her name's Assunta, and I believe her like I believe cows fly when nobody's looking. You know girls in this type of job, they pick "sexy" names to make themselves marketable. It's impossible to go to a tit bar without bumping into a Trixie or a Trisha, a Melody or a Bernadette.

We were in Club Idol in Cubao, where my friends had organized a "stag" party for me. "Where is the fucking lap dance you promised I'm gonna have tonight?" I yelled when I noticed nothing's happening. "Forget it," barked Aldwin, who was the Big Boss and Treasurer for the night. "Not enough budget. I think we may have overspent on something." Then he plunged into this litany about how the mama-san was allegedly ripping us off. "It's as if her girls shit bricks of gold in the morning!" (At that point the bill was at Php4500 and still climbing. Assunta said for an additional Php3200 every hour we can go to a "dark room" where she can give me a private show and a head-spinning blowjob. Add Php500 and she'll go "all the way." No, she doesn't give discounts. Her pussy isn't Divisoria, she said.)

The mama-san stood in one corner, smiling like a Guy Fawkes mask, pretending she's not hearing any of this.

When it became obvious to her that no "dark room" action was imminent, Assunta asked if we could just give her Php300 "for my make-up." I looked at the bouncer and instantly threw the idea of pushing her off the chair out the window. Who wants to go home with an aching schlong and a bruised face?

Onstage, a girl with a tattoo on her left shoulderblade was playing with her clit while Jon Bon Jovi wailed from the speakers about being shot in a blaze of glory. My drunken friends could only gawk and drool.

"Php100 na lang. Pang-taxi ko," Assunta said. She should've called herself Gretchen. Or Ruffa. I had to rub my face to ensure I was awake and hearing this. We had to give in just to get rid of her.

And that's how my "stag" party went.

We should've stayed in Tiendesitas. At least the singer there was a real hot number. Those long legs, man . . .

bummer

2006-12-08T08:55:00.000+08:00

Because Albay is still in the dumps courtesy of Typhoon Reming, plans for our honeymoon do not look good. I could rant and bitch about like a minority congressman, but when I see the devastation on TV, see all those families who'll not be celebrating the holidays with joy, I keep my mouth shut. I've no right to complain.

Yes, Albay, my mother's hometown, is where we plan to spend the days between wedding and Christmas. One of our principal sponsors, Aunt Nena, herself a Bicolana, promised to foot the bill. An uncle pledged his brand new van, and some cousins agreed to tag along for the predictably beer-y 10-hour roadtrip. Such excitement: my fiancee and I were looking forward for some fun away from the maddening Christmas rush and crowded malls and were thinking beaches! trees! fresh air! animalistic outdoor sex! when Reming came and ruined everything.

Tough luck, I guess.

stag party?

2006-12-03T15:18:00.000+08:00

Now that I'm in the last chapter of my being single, everybody is expecting me to have a bachelor/stag party. When I tell them I don't have one in the offing, even my girl friends are disappointed. They say it'd be lonely for me to go to the wedding without experiencing first a lap dance from some charming thing who does it for a living. Some even went as far as giving me numbers of pimps and people who they said can help me. One girl offered to do it herself, in private, but said she's only kidding, ha-ha, and left me with an aching boner.

"You can at least indulge in some torrid touching and groping, if you don't want it all the way," a former classmate said. How he figured I don't want it all the way is something that mystifies me. For her part, Mikay from Multiply said, "Just make it happen, dude." Make what happen, Miks? The uncouth ones yell, "Just go grab some pussy, you pansy!" and make me feel like the stereotypical highschool virgin in the process.

So will I have a bachelor/stag party or not? For one, I hate parties. All those drunk and boisterous people around you, telling you things you don't want to hear even in sobriety; inconsiderate assholes who'd treat you like shit if they go home unsatisfied; the possibility of violence breaking out; hysterical girls storming the nearest station afterward screaming gang-rape. Imagine the pressure on the host's shoulders. I need that like I need ants in my pants, man.

But - shit! - my friends are right: I need something to honor the dying days of my single life with. Maybe not as wild as a stag party, or as demented as an orgy, sorry folks, but something more intimate. A private lap dance sounds good -- with some torrid touching and a bit of tonsil-hockey on the side, if the performer is up to it, why not? Ditto a Kerouacian roadtrip with a real hot number who has ears for my crazy wanked-out ramblings. (Of course I've to beg for a friend's car for this. He says "no!" then this idea goes out the window. Bummer.) Unique stuff like that.

Then I will be ready to plunge into that world where they write "M" on the blank after Civil Status.

where's the rub?

2006-11-24T10:02:00.000+08:00

I want a massage. No, I don't want it, I need it. A good whole body rub to put the blues away. And I want it in a reputable parlor, mind you, not in some sinkhole where the service is a front for something else. (Now that I'm in the, uhurm, twilight of my bacherlor-hood, I'm encouraged left and right by well-meaning guy friends - big mischievous grins on their faces and all - to go wild and crazy, wink wink. I tell them, I'll think about it, man. Thanks. Then I go home and think about something else.)

A massage even for an hour will do my body and soul many good, I reckon. I want to try them massage services with aromatherapy and oils and earth music and all that jazz. (I am a virgin when it comes to those things.) I don't care if it's Swedish, Shiatsu, or God knows what else. Just fix my aches and make me feel brand new, for crying out loud.

Maybe after one, I'll not be as cranky as people say I am these days.

emo

2006-10-23T17:39:00.000+08:00

My father will be coming here for a vacation next month. He'll be here for a week, and then he'll fly back to the States in time for Thanksgiving. He said he's sorry he can't stay for my wedding. He has his reasons, and I believe him. No big deal. At 27, I'm too old and tired for this Cats-in-the-Cradle shit.

But I'd be a hypocrite on the level of politicians if I say I'm taking all this with a Sam Milby smile. There are moments - usually Rhum-Coke moments late at night - when I fancy how it'd be like to have my father on my wedding. To see him march hand-in-hand with my mother. To feel the firmness of his hand as he congratulates me and my bride. Sipping my drink, feeling the familiar buzz in my head, I'd tell myself, I'd give anything for that. Unfortunately, fate has pushed me in a situation wherein I've nothing to give. Heck! There's not even much to say. And I'm too drunk to do something about it.

I'm not depressed, though. Far from it, in fact. I've attended weddings that could've been more memorable if only one or both parents from either side acted like decent human beings. I know of a guy whose wedding was boycotted by his parents because they didn't like the bride. What I have is small change compared to them. For that I can't be thankful enough.

still alive

2006-10-17T09:59:00.000+08:00

I just realized that it's already way past the middle of October and I still haven't written anything here. People are probably guessing I'm passed out somewhere because of Oktoberfest. How I wish, for that would at least mean I'm having a merry month.

Truth is, I've little time to get weird and crazy these days. There's too much stuff to do, and making Danding Cojuangco richer isn't one of them. Yes, I'm effing busy. Busy to the point that separating night from day has become an exercise in futility. Busy to the point of trembling muscles, worn-out bones, troubled sleep. Busy to the point of . . . you get the drift.

Or, as my favorite simile goes, busy as the star of a Ron Jeremy gang bang video.

So there . . .

hassle

2006-09-27T09:12:00.000+08:00

Somebody from a forgotten era had warned me on the hassle of planning a wedding, but I didn't pay attention. Bad move. Now my fiancee and I have only about 12 weeks in our hands, and I don't think we're accomplishing much in terms of preparation, and I'm getting edgy as hell. I desperately need some advice.

Planning a wedding: All those people to talk to and places to go to. The paperworks, church requirements and all that. Taste tests, souvenirs, gowns. Invitations. Seminars and interviews (as if we're applying for a DH job abroad). Photo and video coverage. Enlisting people for the entourage. Shit. And don't get me started on the expenses. I might weep.

The guy who warned me about this, I think he said something like, the celebration isn't the wedding day, it's the days after. He wasn't talking about the honeymoon.

plugging

2006-09-11T09:17:00.000+08:00

The September issue of Maxim Philippines is already out in the market. Kaye Abad, looking good thanks to Photoshop technology, is on the cover. She's wearing a red two-piece bikini, the words "fantasize this" written all over her.

My article on Muslim discrimination is on page 80. It's six pages long, with cool color photos courtesy of Nonie Reyes, and a kick-ass layout.

agony

2006-09-04T14:06:00.000+08:00

My neck hurts.

This is what I get for headbanging my brain out last Saturday night. The agony of victory, indeed.

I blame Sea of Rains. Those motherfuckers really ripped that night. (Didn't get the chance to see seven bands, including Sanctus and Corvus Crowley. At 3am, the gig's just warming up. But we're more than glad for Sea of fucking Rains, man. Devil's Horn to Ramon and his crew.)

At least, no hangover, despite the fact that I consumed more alcohol than I originally intended to. The weather's awful these days, with temperature soaring to 33 degrees, as if summer's back avenging something. This is not the weather for hangovers.

Interesting incident: waiting for a cab, we overheard two coño guys talking from an adjacent bar. His eyes on the black-clad ladies smoking outside Center for Arts, one guy said, "What's wrong with them?" The other replied, "Cult members, pare, ha-ha."

Idiots.

dark, evil, cool

2006-09-02T08:48:00.000+08:00

In about 10 hours from now my fiancee and I will be at the Center for Arts in Quezon City, checking out Willowdrive Production's Undying Symphonies*. I'm excited, and I can hardly contain it - the excitement's coming off me like sparks from a welding rod. It'll be fun to see Sea of Rains again, after more than a year. And Names Are For Tombstones and his comic take on The Clash's Should I Stay Or Should I Go? And Anhura. And Sanctus. And lots of other bands we will be seeing for the first time.

I expect to get drunk and wasted tonight, my head to be swarmed with vivid images of hell, moonlight, graveyards, castles, forests, blood, death, erotica, the likes. Well, why not? I've been on a lot of stress lately, to the point of sleepless nights, and I need something to fuck my brain real good.

*A musical event catering to the genres of Gothic Rock, Gothic Metal, Doom Metal, Industrial, Darkwave, Dark Electronica, Dark Ambient, and Symphonic Metal.

"t'was an act of god"

2006-08-29T09:17:00.000+08:00

This is how Norberto Aguro, the captain of the tanker responsible for the oil spill in Guimaras (the worst in Philippine history), explains the incident. What he's saying is, "Don't blame me, blame the Almighty." So he wants God to face investigation?

Somebody coined a word for this dude, and that word is "doofus."

On the issue of his expired license, he says, "So what? I've been captain for 25 years. I've sailed around the world." The logic! John Wayne Gacy had more class.

If I were God, I'd come down my throne, give this moron a good conk on the head, tell him, "You shithead! You fuck up and it's my fault?"

Guy probably had a brain once, but it ran away. The same goes with his employers.

cubao antisocial

2006-08-22T08:49:00.000+08:00

Cubao, 11:15am, Saturday.

Why I'm here is a personal mission to score all Elmore Leonard titles I can find in Booksale. There are four Booksale branches in Cubao, so this will not be a problem.

It's easy to be an antisocial in Cubao - all you have to do is look at the people. Here and there are well-perfumed freaks drinking designer coffee, smiling the smile of people who know they are drinking at the right place. Old ladies laugh like it's all they ever do in the world. Guys read foreign magazines to appear brainy. Fashionistas with shopping bags idle around enjoying the feeling of being looked at.

Behind me is a guy my age talking about his favorite brand of moisturizer. I think it's weird, but I remember seeing a poster of Sam Milby the other day endorsing a derma soap. Maybe it's me who's being weird.

Maybe.

In Araneta Coliseum is a poster announcing Westlife is coming to town. Teenage girls look at it and swoon. Some teenage boys look at it and swoon too. Cueshe will perform in Padi's Point, Cindy Kurleto in Klownz. Tonight in Farmers Foodcourt, a no-name made-for-Japan band will take the stage and regale the drunken "jologs" audience with cheesy renditions of Hey Mickey and When the Smoke Is Going Down.

Suicidal Tendencies on my MP3 player: How can I laugh tomorrow when I can't even smile today?

I imagine Gateway Mall in flames.

I imagine National Bookstore crumbling to the ground.

There's a girl infront me of me, saying, You know what your problem is? You're antisocial. I tell her, No I'm not, society's anti-me. Ok, I ripped that off from Grant Morrison. Sue me.

The girl disappears. Of course, she's only in my head.

Terrorist bombings in Araneta Coliseum, Farmers Plaza, Ali Mall. All those beautiful people running around shrieking like wounded faggots.

Cindy Kurleto will have to cancel her show.

I pick my Elmore Leonard books, drink the rest of the beer I bought from 7-Eleven, walk away. In my head, a question: "Why am I such a wanker?"

no smoking

2006-08-16T16:39:00.000+08:00

It's as if I'm breathing flames.

Miss your vitamins for two days and your lungs start acting up. So those things actually work, huh?

Lots of people with downed engines these days. I was in Mercury Drug the other day and I thought a revolution was going on. My fiancee's complaining they're missing deadlines because somebody's always absent for work. People appear in the morning looking like botched autopsies. Pediatricians are making a killing (please don't take that literally).

It's the weather, man. Cold mornings giving way to cold nights. What the hell.

bad news

2006-08-14T08:01:00.000+08:00

I was in this strange netherworld between sleep and wakefulness when I half-heard Cheryl Cosim on TV talking about three dead mediamen. "What?" my subconscious yelped, making me jump out of bed, thinking, Whoever is going around killing all these mediamen must've done some overtime work during the weekend. But it wasn't what I thought it was.

ABC-5 reporter Hazel Rencheta-Caliwag, together with her cameramen, Ismael Cabugayan and Arnel Guiao, died Sunday afternoon in a road accident. They were on their way to Manila from Albay when their service vehicle collided with a Raymond bus somewhere in Camarines Sur. They'd just finished covering the activities of Mayon Volcano and the mass evacuation in the area and were probably looking forward for some quality time with their families when it happened. It was sad.

I'm not really close with the victims, but I don't need to to feel the loss. After all, I was once in the media where everybody knows everybody. I faced the same damn risks with the rest of them, from dangerous assignments to dangerous persons, to boring presscons and equally boring Congressional hearings, which are life-threatening in their own way. Some mediamen make it, some don't. And for those who don't we are deeply affected, and can only offer sincere condolences. In a way, we are like soldiers. So long, fella. 'Til we meet again. And oh, please don't get yourself killed, so we can have a cool drink or two when the day's over . . .

entrails

2006-08-11T18:24:00.000+08:00

I'm reading Chuck Palahniuk's Guts. Good thing this slimy short story is available online, because now I know what the hosannas are all about. (People are shoving Palahniuk in my face, saying I'm the type of guy who would enjoy his sick brand of humor. Whether that's a compliment or not is something I'm still figuring out.)

And so I intend to go deeper into the madness. National Bookstore has given me Php5000 worth of GCs and one of the titles I plan to score from it is Haunted, Palahniuk's latest book and incidentally the one containing Guts. I saw a hardcover copy yesterday at NB-Cubao, but since I hate lugging those hefty motherfuckers around, I asked for the paperback version. The saleslady, who looked like she didn't know Palahniuk from Gary Lising, said they don't have it. I went home with an Umberto Eco instead.

Maybe I'll just settle for Survivor, Palahniuk's 1999 novel. It has better reviews, and it's available in NB-Farmers. Also, suicide cults interest me more than bizarre forms of masturbation. So why not?