You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.

The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...


-Walt Whitman


28.9.08

awake
















THIS IS THE PERFECT TIME

to end the haunting dream.

i had to wake up soon

or let death take me with eyes open,

gazing up the stars we used to catch.


i have to break my hands off

for my palms could still feel yours holding them.

i have to go
uge out my eyes from my head

for they can still see the fireflies,

for they can still see you.


i had to amputate my feet

or else i won’t stop walking.

alone, along this broken road of loving hearts.

let me leap as high as i could,

shaking away the thorns your tongue placed under my skin.


i need some noise
tonight

to drown away the songs that aren’t mine.

i need to stitch my lips close

using your rusted needle and my own heartrings.

no more love songs for you.

i’ll drown myself in the rain

as cold bullets of water numb my spirit

from your arms ‘round me that aren’t there,

let it freeze this heart that won’t stop beating

for a memory as vivid as a shadow in the dark.


i have dug the ground

i have carved
the tombstone

engraved names using the bones of my remaining limbs

what flowers do you like?

dead lilies for you, white roses for me.


i see myself sleeping

and slowly losing breath.

someone please wake me up

for tonight has become a nightmare

and reality a joke that don’t deserve my smile.


it’s the perfec
t time

to finally let go of the rope

of which one end you once held.

time to strip my body off this flesh

and decaying skin you made me wear.


i am naked for all eyes to see

and after tonight i’ll be free

tomorrow i
will wake up

and try to walk without feet,

see without eyes and live, free of shackles and chains.


any moment now till sunrise

the time has come to rest the soul that feeds on days past;

the emaciated soul, as feeble as your love.

an alarm went off breaking the silence as thick as glass

as sunlight danced in front of me

five, four, three, two, one,

and i am still standing but now awake.





26.9.08

loving lana lang


I WAS THINKING last night of what to write for my blog. unfortunately, nothing cheery came into mind. the bad weather seems to affect me in a very weird way. once again, i sat in front of my computer and started playing with the keyboard until 2 am. i had two drafts saved on my flash drive. (did i mention i have no internet connection at home? i usually write at home, save my drafts on my 256 MB kingston flash drive, and go to the nearby internet shop before i could post something here. poor me T_T) the first one is something about a pathetic guy who doesn’t learn from his mistakes or whatever, and the other is about a boulder on which bodies of seven murdered people where found, naked, disemboweled and had cult symbols written on their decomposing skin. who’s thinking of jack right now?

but thanks to smallville i have something cheery to write about! hahaha! i was so bored earlier this morning that i decided to do a dvd marathon of all the dvd’s i brought home from haley’s last sunday (going there again this week end). the set happened to include smallville, season 7. i finished it in just one sitting. hehe! enough of this! hehe!

ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce…

the girl of my dreams…

the girl i love...

you could break my heart anytime, lana...

isn’t she beautiful? hays… T_T her asian beauty never failed to leave me breathless. i only know one person who could cause me the same effect. hehe! i couldn’t imagine watching smallville without kristin kreuk. i mean look at those expressive beautiful eyes. they’re so ridiculous, i could look at them for all eternity. shakespeare once wrote, “if i could only measure the beauty of her eyes, then i was born to look at them and know myself.” well, i couldn’t agree more! haha! and her long black shiny hair… i would love to run my fingers in them. one more thing i love about kristin kreuk is how she laughs. when she laughs, her nose kind of wrinkles. it’s so cute.

i just love her character in smallville. innocent-looking and gives out that girl-next-door vibe. that’s when she’s not infected by the green radiocative meteor rocks, and of course, busy lip-locking with clark kent. i wish i was superman T_T).

unfortunately, the dvd is incomplete. it only had 6 episodes. i have to buy a complete one. i’m done with the 3rd season of grey’s anatomy. i had to exercise my medical brain cells, which is currently being rusted away, probably due to chronic boredom and too much caffeine. i am planning to start prison break soon… again. apparently sarah tancredi is not dead after all… so whose head was in that freaking box in season 2? one tree hill mania happens weekly at haley’s place. my brother downloads the fresh episodes for me. wee! see you soon, hales.

i wonder if kristin kreuk walks slow too…

hmmm…

. . .

JUST GOT IN: Kristin Kreuk will play Chun-Li in Hyde Park Entertainment's Street Fighter: Legend of Chun-Li! Directed by Andrzej Bartkowiak from a Justin Marks script, the action pic starts filming in Thailand in March, 2008. 20th Century Fox will distribute the live-action feature based on Capcom's video game. The movie is focused on female fighter Chun-Li and her journey for justice. Thanks, ice! :)

23.9.08

the dream


YOU ARE A DREAM. how did i know? i know because every time i touch you i couldn’t feel a thing. that white skin sure looks so soft. how unfortunate i couldn’t feel it. you are a dream because everytime my lips touch that curve on your neck, i couldn’t feel any sensation. everytime i lean on your breasts, i couldn’t hear a heartbeat. but you’re not dead because i could hear your slow breathing. because i hear your soft voice. because i feel your presence. but not you.

perhaps you’re a ghost? that’s not likely either. you’re not a ghost because you’re beautiful and ghosts are scary. i am afraid of ghosts but i am not afraid of you. i am drawn to you, actually. well, if you’re a beautiful ghost, could you haunt me forever? but you’re not a ghost. ghosts glide and you walk with your feet touching the ground. you just walk so slow. and that’s one thing i like about you. when i walk with you in such slow pace, the world seems to slow down too. i see everything. every blink, every step. i feel everything thing, your presence, but not you.

if you’re not dead, and you’re not a ghost then what are you? perhaps you’re an angel. but i thought angels have wings and have that circular thing hovering on their heads. angel or not, but being here with you…i am definitely in heaven right now. i could kiss those lips a thousand times. i mean what kind of being own that kind of lips? they’re so perfect. if i could only kiss and actually feel them. but i can’t. i can’t do anything but just look, bite my own lips instead… and sigh.

so what are you? who are you? you are dream. that’s the only explanation. you’re here in the sense that i can feel you’re presence, but in reality you’re just so far from me. you’re a dream because i am unbelievably happy. crazy happy. like i-could-die-right-now happy. and in the real world no such thing exists. no such feeling could survive in a world full of misery, and of hopelessness, and hate. true love is a hoax, the same goes with true happiness. people only pretend to be in love. people pretend to be happy but in the back of their heads, the same question troubles their soul. they’re not happy. i feel happy and make you make me happy. but happiness doesn’t exist in my world that’s why you’re a dream. you are dream and this is your world. this place is much better than anywhere else. i don’t want to wake up anymore… don’t pinch me okay? i want to stay here.

i love your world. because here, i am able to love and be loved back in return. you love me, right? i want to live here with you. i don’t want to go back because here, i have someone to write me poems, love letters, and someone who sings me cheesy love songs. who watches me sleep and who hugs me from the back. someone who laughs at my corny jokes and cooks me my favorite spaghetti for dinner. who waits for me when i work late, and doesn’t sleep till i get home. who writes me books and give them as presents for my birthday. who whispers my name in the winds and prays that i would be always safe. no one in the real world does these things to me. i want to live in your world because you live in it. i want this world to be my world too.

you’re not a ghost. you’re not dead either. you’re just not real. and in spite of the i-could-die-right-now happiness, i feel terribly sad because any moment now i’ll wake up from all of this. i will wake up on my bed hugging my pillow pretending it’s you. i’ll wake up with a heavy heart and the sun will lick my face and my bug-infested bed will stop me from moving a muscle.

you’re a dream. that’s why i can’t be with you as much as i want to. as much as i wanted to be in wonderland, i couldn’t beat the fact that i have to live in this freaking reality. this is my world not yours. and as much as you want to live here, you just can’t. fantasies do not survive here. sad but soon i will wake up. and as i close my eyes from your dream, i’ll open my eyes to my nightmare. i’ll open my eyes as i lie in my bed, nothing to do but hug my pillow, close my eyes so hard, whisper your one-syllable name, in the hope that i’ll dream of you again…

...

"Have you ever had a dream that seemed so real, when you woke up you didn't know what to believe? What would you do if what you thought was true wasn't? And what you thought wasn't true was? Would you retreat into your dreams with the hope of finding a more perfect reality? Sometimes life is stranger than a dream. And the only way to wake up is to face what lies hidden in your soul. And you can only hope that in those moments of dark reflection, that you are not alone..."

--Lucas Scott, One Tree Hill

19.9.08

para kay len-len


WE ARE SO FAR APART but i am not at all surprised. a little sad but i know everything happened for a reason. actually i’m currently swimming in memories as i write this open letter. i couldn’t help it. tomorrow is a special day for you. you have really matured through the years and i unfortunately am wasting my time waiting for something i don’t know what. speaking of immaturity.

last night, i was planning to write something for this blog, but inspiration didn’t come as i had expected. i just stared blankly on my monitor with my fingers on the keyboard. but the words didn’t come as they usually do. i even took a shower, drank my favorite mocha coffee, and turned on some alternative music, but i only ended staring at my monitor… waiting for the words that didn’t come…

i couldn’t sleep last night. writing usually lulls me to sleep but last night, it failed me or rather i failed myself because i was not able to make my head turn its gears and do its job. i was not inspired to write, i guess. i remembered how excited i was to write whenever i get an inspiration. i used to lie prone on my bed, take a glance of your painting on my wall, and write using a pencil on my tattered notebook filled with your four-letter name i unconsciously wrote. i write whatever comes into my head. back then, words were overflowing. limitless. powerful surges of words like blood from an artery rooting from my heart to my hands. i could clearly remember how those words filled pages, and how those pages turned into books. it was js prom when i gave you the first one, on your 18th birthday, the second, and six months ago, you gave them back to me. again, i was not surprised. it’s just karma.

since i wasn’t inspired to write last night, i decided to read something instead. i first thought of angels and demons, but dan brown could wait till tomorrow. i browsed my bookshelf and found it—'i like you just because' by albert j. nimeth. it was a very remarkable book and i was able to spot it almost instantly because of its bright yellow cover. the yellow book i call it. i turned to the title page. there was a note from me. i know i’m a corny person but upon reading the note, i could bet my head, that i’m the corniest person on earth alive. i gave that book to you on your 17th birthday. i told you on the note that it cost 75 pesos. i lied. it was only 50---bought it from the catacombs of national bookstore in pavilion mall. it is a book about friendship. i gave it to you in an attempt to mask my true feelings. we should’ve taken that book seriously. now i’ve realized i became your lover first before i became your friend… and now, we’re nothing but strangers.

what struck me upon reading the note was the date. 18 sept. 2004. “it’s today!” i silently screamed to myself. you’ll be celebrating your birthday soon. and i got excited—that, i am not surprised. that familiar excitement never left me. the excitement i feel on the eve of your birthday. the same excitement i still feel whenever i see you. i never told that you’re very intimidating, but in a good way. intimidating in the sense that i have to be at my best whenever you’re around. in the sense that you never fail to make my heart skip a beat or make me jump off my skin. i am not good in remembering dates, or numbers. you might find this weird, but i never forget to remember your birthday.

i wish you all the happiness, because you deserve it. this day would be really hard to celebrate without her around but i know--she’s with you. you are one of the strongest persons i know. i have always envied and admired the strength that emanates from you. life has been difficult, and i had made it much worse for you, i know i did, and i did so sorry.

logic tells me you’ll not be able to read this, and i know you’re busy taking care of glyneth and preparing for the upcoming boards. but my heart hopes, in some way that you would. i am drowning in memories right now. happy memories. i am not asking nor hoping for anything. i had learned to accept that. i just can’t let go of the memories. let me keep them just for awhile. i want to keep them for they remind me of who i was. i am so far from the person i have always wanted to be and in some way the memory of you makes me a step closer. let me keep them till i find my solid ground.

happy birthday. stay safe.

always,

-- Basta

16.9.08

alcoholic thoughts


THERE WERE THREE THINGS i promised myself i will never ever do: one, i will not smoke. two, i will not be an adulterer. and three, i will not drink alcohol (i mean at all). my dad was the main reason i made this pact with myself many moons ago, when he was still a jack-ass of a father. there came a point in my life that i despised him so much that i became so determined not to become like him, especially his not so good attributes back then -- the three i just mentioned. but i’m not going to talk about my relationship with my father because i also promised myself to make this post a little happier this time due to insistent public demand. hehehe! let’s stir things a bit, shall we?

well, things are easier said than done. i broke one of the three. i became an adulterer! hahaha! did i mention i’m single? hehe! i was not able to fulfill the third one, actually. if you were able to read ‘tag number two’ you may already know that i was a late bloomer in terms of romantic relationships and same goes with my social drinking. believe it or not, my first taste of alcohol was when i was in 2nd year… college! hehe! crazy, right? well, call me naïve but my principle about drinking back then was so rock-solid as my heart for my father, not to mention that i have lived my young years with my conservative grand parents.

as much as i valued my promise, it was rather very hard to keep. whenever there were birthday parties or special occasions with friends, and i refuse to have a drink, i couldn’t help but feel a little like an out-cast. the phrase ‘kill joy’ rang in my ears many times, and i couldn’t help but ask myself if i was still being reasonable. however, i was able to talk myself out of the personal conflict by saying ‘peer pressure’ over and over in my head.

i remembered the first time i got drunk and how amused i was for being able to finally feel how it’s like to be possessed by the spirit of alcohol. it seemed like a right of passage and i did it, finally. being an alcohol celibate, i became more curious about being drunk especially because of the myths and legends that had been formed about it. drunk people deny that they’re drunk. drunkenness becomes an excuse to socially unacceptable acts. (girl: something happened to us last night! boy: really? i really can’t remember. i was drunk!). and some says, you are the real you when you’re drunk. i think i need a couple more drinks to master alcohol’s effects… :)

i have learned to drink, but only the hard ones. i couldn’t enumerate them all but most of them were amber-colored, and the clear vodka, of course. my stomach couldn’t tolerate beer or let’s just say the soft ones. i hate the taste and they make me want to vomit out of nausea. i just don’t know why.

since i started to drink i have been to a lot of ‘drinking sessions.’ but more importantly i have learned something really vital: terrible things happen when you lose control. it is very important to know your limits and be a responsible drinker. learned it the hard way though. haha! i got drunk one time and i flirted with someone, with of my ex right infron of me. hehe! there was one time when i lost control. i can’t give you the exact picture of the craziness that had transpired that night. besides, they are too ghastly to tell! hehe! but to those who had the same experience, there’s a chance it had also happened to you :)

but the point is, since then, i became more apprehensive of how much i drink. that night will never happen again, i told myself. the lesson i’ve learned was tested, again, one night when we were invited to a fiesta. booze and fatty foods were everywhere. there was a videoke machine (my eyes literally sparkle in the sight of these ingenious inventions). everything was so festive and there’s no point of holding back. hahaha!

i got drunk as usual, but this time, due to a desperate attempt to hang on my sanity, and determination to be hailed as the only one who did not ‘met the goal’ (vomited), i did some things (i have no idea why i’m telling you this) and they actually worked for me. you could follow them, if you’re totally mental like me! haha!:

  1. do push ups. (i can’t remember how many)
  2. do jumping jacks. (just imagine the scene. people drinking while a groggy idiot jumps up and down)
  3. punch a wall. (i still can’t help but laugh when i remember marky saying: ron, ‘wag ganyan. ilabas mo yan. alam mo ang selfish mo! i-share mo yang nararamdaman mo!) hahaha!
  4. sing your lungs out. (i ruined my reputation. i can’t remember destroying a song completely. haley was my witness! haha! my favorite song to sing in the videoke lately is ‘bitiw’ by sponge cola)
  5. isolate yourself. (i sat on an empty pedicab, but, being stationary made the ‘spinning’ worse so i decided to stand up against a lamppost. i think i was praying and singing a gospel song to drive out alcoholic spirits).
  6. water and coffee therapy. (i asked the host for two large mugs of strong black coffee and plenty of drinking water. i killed a lot of potted plants that night).
  7. take a shower. (i nearly got sick of seeing the toilet bowl already filled with semi-digested food my friends ate that night. happy fiesta! people lose manners when they’re drunk)
  8. massage someone. (as i wait for the alcohol lose control of my central nervous system, i busied myself by massaging haley’s back. she told me i was good. i am good in a lot of things, i told her. hahaha!)
  9. eat a lot. (food slows down the effect of alcohol. ate a plateful of chicken macaroni that night)
  10. don’t sleep immediately. (alcohol is a depressant so it’s natural to feel drowsy. however, in my experience, risk of vomiting increases when you sleep immediately).

i hate the feeling of having a hang-over. hays… but somehow i miss the feeling of being ‘possessed.’ perhaps because of how it helps me get rid of my inhibitions, eradicate all pretensions, break my walls, and build bridges…

long post again… hehe! sorry, guys! at least it’s a little cheery, right? hehe!


13.9.08

on the 9th floor


YOU SCREWED UP. and now all these will soon end. i have found you at

last but this time you wouldn’t expect kisses or hugs from me. i have nothing for you but pure hatred and anger that could make your long straight hair curl. but seeing you this close, hate is really fatal, and you have no idea because you have let your defenses down. you became so comfortable i could tell. and now… my wait is over.

what were you thinking, walking in the middle of the night like this? it’s 2:03 am, you fool. it’s raining hard. so heavy like my breathing right now. i am so fortunate to have spotted you in this weather. the rain makes me invisible in your eyes and there’s no way you could recognize me. you can’t even hear my footsteps and the sound they make against this inch deep flood water. every sound i will make will be muffled by the angry sounds of raindrops against tin roofs. i can kill you right now, you know? it will be a perfect murder. the streets are empty. everyone is inside, sleeping. no one will be watching the streets in this storm especially this late. it’s just you and me outside. no light from lamp posts to expose us… no light to expose the gun i am holding in my right hand. it will be a perfect murder.

what are you doing here outside walking barefoot? i’m surprised you still thought of using an umbrella, but i can see you’re soaking wet already. as usual, you walk on that very slow gait. i have always hated the way you walk. it was so contagious i had no choice but to slow down as well. i noticed you’re wearing the black dress i gave you on your 24th birthday.. how could i forget? it took me a thousand years before finding that perfect dress for you. water is dripping from it just like the water dripping from your long hair how fitting if you will die on that dress. i couldn’t wait to see it stained with your blood. i couldn’t wait to see your face behind a glass. i couldn’t wait to stand on your body, buried underneath soil and stone. i will send you flowers, don’t you worry. lilies. violet-colored lilies. those were your favorite, i know. change was inevitable but there were still things that stayed the same.

i am right behind you, just a couple of paces, wearing a black raincoat. at this distance you would have felt my presence, but still you walk like you’re all alone in this world. indifferent. the rain doesn’t seem to bother you or the flood where your feet are submerged. you’re walking as if you’re praying. then moments later you stopped. i stopped too. i am curious of what’s happening. then, you threw the umbrella that protects you from the rain. and now you’re really wet. you looked up to the heavens. there was a part of me that wanted you to look at me instead. a part of me wanted to tell you that i am here… behind you. but no. i will shoot you in the back, like when you stabbed a knife in mine two years ago.

then you started to walk again. and i started to walk to, as i hold that cold gun tightly. i feel the impulse of pointing it directly in your head right now. it would be a painless death. but now my curiosity overcomes my instinct to kill. for the moment, i will follow you to where you are going… the night is still long. there would be still plenty of time and it looks like the storm is getting angrier and angrier by the minute. fate is at my side.

you walked on until we found ourselves in front of a building. it seemed unfinished and abandoned. no lights were on. i couldn’t feel any presence of people living in it. it looks ghostly against the pitch-black darkness. it was just a hollow piece of infrastructure. but why go in such place?

you stared at it. you looked hesitant whether to enter it or not. you looked around as if you’re looking for someone. are you looking for me? i doubt. if you are, you should have done that many moons ago. it’s too late. you stepped on the threshold and i saw a determined look on your face. looks like you have made up your mind. then you entered the building…

the ground floor as i expected was empty. no furnishings, no nothing. just walls that seemed to talk as we entered. you went for the stairs. on the first plight was a bicycle. i remembered the first time when you taught me how to ride a bike. i was so embarrassed that i didn’t know how. i was glad that it was you who taught me. i was comfortable with you. it was like home with you. you were my home.

second floor. there’s nothing here. i followed you to the staircase again. i saw a book lying on the floor. a yellow one. do you remember the book i gave you? i gave you that book because you hate reading. but after you read it, you became a bookworm. i was so proud of myself. we were taking the stairs when i heard retching noises. i knew it was you.

third floor. you walked like you’re not paying attention to anything. i wonder what floor you’re heading to. as we took the stairs, i saw a ball on a corner. i remembered when we used to play basket ball as the sun sets, head towards the river near our house, and catch fireflies. i didn’t know such happy memories could be this bitter.

fourth floor. it was exactly the same as the rooms below. i noticed that the place was really old. unfinished but old. there were cobwebs everywhere. what’s with this building? memories are coming back to me like ghosts. we both hated spiders. that was the similarity we first learned about each other. but as we grew older, spiders became reminders of you… no matter how scary they are.

fifth floor. you kept walking determined to reach the top floor. i can’t remember how tall this building was from the outside because it was so dark. i noticed you started to tire. your walk became slower this time. and i can definitely hear that you’re heaving breaths. the same breaths i heard when we made love first time on our honeymoon, whispering my name in between breaths.

sixth… i felt a gust of cold wind. it was coming from outside through a broken window. there were broken glasses. it reminded me of our first love quarrel when you threw a glass of wine into my face, that shattered on the floor. it was the first time you broke my heart. the second was when you left me…

we are now on the seventh floor. i could feel you’re so tired now. but still, you carried on. perhaps it was your unbelievably big abdomen. i watched as it grew larger and larger as we go up. do you still remember the names? it would’ve been reese, ruther, and ronald. it’s not going to happen now is it? the souls in your womb are not mine. i know they’re my bestfriend’s. but he’ll not able to see them too…

eighth floor. you could barely take a step and i could see the grimace on your face. i enjoy the sight of it. that was exactly the same grimace i wore when you left, when you told me you needed to clear your head and had to leave the country, when you never came back nor wrote me letters, and when i finally learned that you didn’t leave after all. now you’re all alone to go all through this. you’re hopeless. you’ll thank me for killing you right now.

we took the last plight of stairs. at the end of it was a door. you opened it as wind and water hit us cold in the face. you were limping as you walk across the roof top, wearing the same face against the strong wind and the down pour of water hitting us like bullets. i could now see blood trickling down your legs onto the floor diluted by puddles of water. the pain is unbearable i can see… this was where you’re heading.

a gush of blood and water… a cry from a baby’s mouth reached my ears… it was a boy. i would have loved my firstborn to be a boy. you knew that. but that’s all gone now. all things will soon end here… it has to end because this is just too much for me to bear. i shouldn’t have followed you here and killed you when i still had the guts…. the end is near…. any minute now.

and i watch you now. you are crying, heaving breaths, in pain. you are losing a lot of blood. i may not have to use this gun on you. too bad. and i stood there before you, when you moved your lips…

“look into my eyes…”

and then you’re gone. you died and my face was the last thing you saw… what the use of this gun is now. i think i’ll just have to use it one more time. besides, everything is bound to end here. fate is at my side…

no gunshot was heard except thunder and rain against tin roofs. it’s now 3:05 am. no one will bother to look outside. the streets were empty. no light to expose us. and you wearing that black dress…

our deaths were perfect… here on the ninth floor... here at the end of all things…


10.9.08

all the world's a stage

"to all the lost souls who perished that day..."

. . .


SEVEN YEARS HAD PASSED but i will not be surprised if anyone who lost a father, a mother, a sister, a brother, a son, a daughter, a relative, or a friend on that day, still feels the pain and the grief. the grief of losing someone from such reckless hate, or should i say from a twisted manipulative agenda.

i still could remember that day because it was both my brother’s and my mother’s birthday celebration (it was my nanay’s birthday when she gave birth to my younger brother, philip). i went home from school, greeted nanay and john john, and immediately went to the kitchen to binge on my plate, overflowing with my favorite home-made spaghetti. loud music was playing; people were laughing, eating, and having good talks with each other, while others sang their lungs out before a booming videoke machine. but no one seemed to pay attention on what was going on the television… two buildings that seemed on fire… the iconic buildings i didn’t fail to recognize, because they had made the new york skyline a breath-taking view… well, not anymore.

it was no big deal for me back then. i was on a birthday celebration so why bother myself with such news. bad news has always been on television… and they will always be on television. it didn’t make that much difference, i thought.

however, the next day was different. after all the jeering and cheering and when the excitement of the occasion seemed at bay, i became more apprehensive on what had truly transpired. it was everywhere. the united states was attacked. two hijacked commercial jets bombarded the world trade center towers. another jet hit the pentagon and another fell short of its target and crashed in shanksville, pennsylvania. the media reported that it was a deliberate terrorist attack against the united states as orchestrated by bin laden… and he conducted it really well. it would be really easy to get rid him if death notes really do exist (l just died. i’m about to start episode 28 so no spoilers please! did i just become one?).

five years had passed since the 911, when the national geographic premiered the series inside 911. it was when i finally understood everything about it or so i thought. who could forget such tragedy that rivaled the first and second world war. i could still remember people jumping off from the towers and seeing their broken bodies on hard concrete. these feats are just natural for those who feel hopeless, of course. who wouldn’t feel hopeless if there are only three choices in front of you: death by fire, death by suffocation, or death by severe trauma. either way you’ll lose your life, so no wonder they preferred the one that includes a free fall. perhaps, they wanted to feel how it’s like to fly before they die. fire fighters were desperately trying to save those still trapped within the towers even if it costs they own lives. media were everywhere like lions feeding on their prey…

and then, the great towers finally gave way, carrying two thousand souls with them… underneath the rubble of pulverized concrete and molten steel. it was an amazing sight. for a moment, i forgot that there were still people trying to escape their inevitable deaths. as each building falls, they reminded me of buildings brought down on purpose. people were running for their lives, uncertain if they could survive the falling debris, the smoke, and the dust chasing them like monsters ready to slit their throats. there was blood everywhere and the air was stained with that familiar smell of death. it was hours before the dust had settled… and then… there was silence. a dead one. the kind you hear after a raging storm. eerie. deafening. the kind that amplified the cries, the whimpers, and the pain, a hundredfold.

then, it was time to recover the dead and save the almost dead. bodies were uncovered one by one. blood and sweat were needed to recover the bodies from tons of stone and steel. only a few out of two thousand souls had a chance to live a new life. but for the rest, it was nothing but misfortune. some were missing limbs. some torn in half. some were unrecognizable. but for some, their bodies could not even be found. missing. the recovery and rescue operations couldn’t go any further. it was not long before the streets of new york were filled with pictures. posters. contact numbers. and for all the lost souls… flowers they wouldn’t be able to smell. the walls of the city were covered with faces. unblinking. a lot people were combing the city, thrusting pictures to anyone who had eyes to see. people with trembling hands and lips and faces corroded with tears, holding onto their last hope of seeing their loved ones, and taking that leap of faith. but for some who lost someone that day, they had nothing to do but eat on the first seeds of their grief--denial. denial and faith was one that day.

the 911 commission was formed and the united states waged war against iraq. since 911, 100 billion dollars were used annually for military purposes. a lot of money to forge weapons of mass destruction, seeing that this was the one last hope for justice. for peace. for freedom in the land of the free. the place where the towers once stood, ground zero, became a memorial for those whose lives perished on that tragic day.

seven years post-911, haley, told me about a documentary entitled, zeitgeist. it was divided into three parts. the second part, all the whole world’s a stage, basically says that the us government staged everything. it was the reason why i made the poll on my sidebar. as of now, most people voted that they don’t believe that bin laden was responsible for the attacks. i don’t know if they’ve already watched the documentary, or they learned the ‘facts’ from another source, or they just wanted to choose an option far from the obvious and happened to love conspiracy theories. but it was really surprising to know that many believed the one that makes everything much more complicated.



i was planning to write about it in detail, but i just can’t, and considering how many bloggers get bored with long posts like this. (i wonder who among the readers of this post have made it this far. hmm. give me a smiley at the end of your comment if you happen to reach this part :)). as a writer, i am very particular with details. if i can’t tell a story with much detail as i wanted to, then i won’t write it. lame am i? and with that documentary, every detail is important to get the entire picture. it was really an interesting watch. but really disturbing… especially because every argument was very well backed up. it’s easier to accept that bin laden was responsible. that iraq attacked us, that's why us waged war against iraq, hoping iraq and bin laden will surrender in the end. period. but having the people to believe that the us intended to kill its own citizens is just… unacceptable… and if it happens to be true… then, it’s a different story for the entire world to hear.

. . .

the 911 myth


19 high jackers, directed by osama b. laden, took over 4 commercial jets with box cutters and, while evading the air defense system (norad), hit 75% of their targets. in turn, w. trade towers 1, 2, and 7 collapsed due to structural failure through fire in a “pancake” fashion, while the plane that hit the pentagon vaporized upon impact, as did the plane that crashed in shanksville. the 911 commission found that there were no warnings for this act of terrorism, while multiple government failures prevented adequate defense.

the 911 truth:

criminal elements within the us government staged a “false flag” terror attack on its own citizens, in order to manipulate public perception into supporting its agenda.

they have been doing this for years.

911 was an inside job… and it was just the beginning…

-- Zeitgeist, the movie

. . .

Happy Birthday, Nay and John John! Sana may spaghetti ulit! wee!

6.9.08

hit and run


I SAT THERE. waiting. i didn’t know what to feel. excited perhaps. but i think i was more
nervous than excited, because for the first time i would be alone with you at last. i was perspiring. the heat there in the city was different from where i came from. i was in your world. i was excited to be in your world because you live in it. i think it would be really nice if we could both live in your world together. but your world makes me perspire. it was so hot. even the air-conditioning unit of the place where i stayed, while waiting for you couldn’t penetrate the heat. sweat was cascading from my pores, like miniature rivers…

thirty minutes had passed and the sun was steadily setting, coloring the skies in red and casting long shadows on the streets full of people. people who seemed miserable. people on fast-forward. people running against time. why were they in such a haste? the sight made me uncomfortable. felt like i need to move too, not just to sit on that already moist round, white-painted chair. it was growing steadily dark outside, intensifying the colors of lights from shops, speeding vehicles, the red, orange, and green color of the stoplights. what took you so long? where are you now?

i was staring at the busy street when i saw you. i couldn’t forget the pink top you wore. it looked good against your skin. and of course the smile. your shy smile that made me smile, revealing my not so white set of teeth. you sat opposite me and gave me that shy smile again. i hated you for it. you made me so happy.

we decided to feed our hungry stomachs and you lead the way. because it was your world. i am new to this place. i was glad you were there so you could tell me where to go. so i won’t get lost. but you didn’t know where to go and the thought that we’re lost made me strangely at bliss. i could face the fact of being lost, as long as i was with you. it was a sweet thought. being lost in your world. something new at last. enough of my monotonous life. but i know in the end we would find our way back. our way home.

we were able to eat at last. i have learned that you prefer sprite to quench your thirst. what have you learned about me? do you still remember my favorite color? my middle name? my favorite food? do you still remember how i smile? or how i walk? how i hold and play with your hands? how i look into your eyes? your eyes bothered me a lot because i could not get a firm hold onto them. they were constantly moving in their sockets as if looking for something. i was there in front of you. and i asked you to fix your gaze into mine because i was telling you things. beautiful things that came from my heart. i asked you to look into my eyes so you could see my heart. did you see it?

then we decided to go. it was really late that night. i had a long way home. this was not my world. i was about to cross the street when you held my hand. god they were so soft. i was glad you pulled me back and asked me to stay. i wanted you to stop me. i considered it as a good sign… it was a good sign…

then we walked along the city sidewalks. i have never seen the city this beautiful. the orange glow of lampposts against the darkness and how they make the leaves of city trees glow like gold, and the building shine like ancient palaces in fairy tales. perhaps i was in a fairy tale. perhaps that was a dream because i was so happy. i couldn’t remember the last time i felt happiness like that. happiness that brings about hope and salvation from an eternally melancholic life.

we sat on the side of an empty road, looking over the beautiful sight, pretending to breathe smoke-free air. i was looking to the heavens and beholding the beauty of the stars, and the moon. i was in a romantic movie, i thought, for being in a moment like that. it was so surreal. i was so happy that i was there with you. i felt everything. i felt so alive, especially, when we held hands, as we walk, dancing through alternating shadows and light…

we crossed the seemingly empty street, and everything seemed to be in slow motion, even the car that hit us that threw us both up in the air and down the warm concrete. most people believed that before you die, you will see your entire life flash back before your very eyes. in my case it was different… it was my life… with you…

i had glimpse of a giant ferris wheel…

you and me on the seaside, overlooking the sea we couldn’t see…

us, standing next to each other, shooting balls… (you won, of course)

my body, intertwined with yours…

you and me devouring each other’s lips, under the stars, overlooking a river, watched by fireflies…

we were already dead before we hit the ground. no tears were shed. no heaving breaths were heard. just silence. at least at that moment your eyes were fixed onto mine. blank. if only you could only see me too, you would be able to see my eyes sparkling with stars they couldn’t see anymore…

we died.

then there was silence… eerie… unbreakable…

then they were heartbeats. and breathing. and blinking of eyes against the blinding glow of a rising sun. we lived again. we stood up a little confused. a little dazed. we didn’t felt pain. just confusion and the mounting urge to go home. we didn’t notice that we’re bloody. in fact we didn’t notice each other. we walked on different directions without a word. with nothing but emptiness… and ran… ran as fast as we could.

and now i write as if nothing happened…i write as if that night didn’t happen at all… i have realized that it was very easy to write about fantasies than reality based on facts…it was a dream. i knew it. that’s why i was able to write this one so well because there were no facts to follow. just pure make believe. i write as if i have forgotten. i write as if i didn’t learn to love you. as if my heart didn’t break…as if i didn’t gave you a piece of my heart… my heart on your soft hands i will always miss to hold.


4.9.08

tag number two


YOU MAY BE WONDERING why i haven’t posted another entry yet and this is because i am currently running out of ideas. the right side of my brain is, as of now, on strike, perhaps due to excess caffeine it suffers at times when it needs to rest. i have a couple of drafts saved on my flash drive but i am not sure if it’s the right time to post them. so for the meantime, let me bore you with this love tag. yeah. very appropriate in my current situation eh? single, self supporting, a little bitter. but as lance said let’s spread the love. let it spread like cancer and eat those healthy cardiac muscles…


1. when was your first kiss and where?
first kiss? hmm… when i was in second year high school, i guess. i tried to forget the experience though. like all hopeless romantic people in the world, i wanted it to be freaking special (with fireworks if destiny permits), but in my case i was forced to do it. there came a time in my high school life when the guys and the girls in my circle of close friends became so close that it’s just normal for them to make out. no, i was exaggerating. hehe! i mean it’s ok for the girls to kiss the guys… on the lips. there came a time, when miss mary, close friend, asked me to give her a kiss. i refused, since my naïve principle back then says that the first kiss should be done with your first love. lame am i? she was hurt, of course. but just to keep the friendship, and stay in the inner circle, i kissed her, before she rode a jeepney home. speaking of peer pressure. how i wished i was brave enough to kiss glad, before i kissed ms. mary. thinking about it now, it was so…uhmm…high school!

2. when was your first real relationship and how long did it last? i’m really happy there’s the word ‘real’ before the ‘relationship’, because if that’s not there, i’ll just be thinking, mouth open, which of all the complicated relationships i’ll be writing about. i had my first real relationship when i was in 4th year college. go on people! boo me! hehe! i will not deny that i’m a late bloomer. hehe! the real one’s just recent. i spent three months of it lying on a bed of roses and the last 4 months eating the roses’ thorns. you do the math.

3. what age were you allowed to date?
oh my… i never expected that this is a tag exclusively for gals. hehe! i’m a guy and i can’t imagine myself asking my father’s or my mother’s permission to date someone i like. the thought of it makes me want to laugh. hahaha! let me just answer this with the question: what age did you start dating? (am i allowed for make my own question?) i guess when i was sixteen? crap. boo me again.

4. what's the craziest thing you did (for love) when you were a teenager?
by craziest you mean the biggest gesture of love i have done so far for loving someone? hehe! glad was our class’ muse when we were in third year high school and she was our representative for the filipiniana fashion show, in line with the buwan ng wika. on the eve of the fashion show, our escort conveniently backed out. (are you still alive jm?) but gladlyn who couldn’t let our classmates down decided to continue with the show even there’ll be no one to escort her. i couldn’t see her walk on the stage alone. she needed someone whom she would share the pressure with. and it was me. i volunteered, with my classmates jeering, knowing i had feelings for her. i looked ridiculous with an extra large barong. i looked like a hanger. felt like i was about to be buried. did i mention i was skeleton-thin back in high school? i’ll show you my hideous pics sometime. hehe! but then again, the efforts were all worth it. i could still remember how we practiced, how i looked into her eyes as we walked and met at the center of the stage, with head held high revealing my enlarged thyroid and bulging windpipe, held her hand and walked in front savoring the moment with thunderous applause from our supporters. i have learned from the experience that it’s hard to fake a smile. imagine smiling for long five hours, pretending you’re the hottest guy on stage, with all the sweat wearing away your make-up (i hate make-ups!!! especially the lipstick. the taste is nauseating.) but then again i was able to stand all that for glad. i was on a fashion show. that’s crazy right?

5. how long is your longest relationship and what's the secret?
i thought you did the math already. seven months! now you can boo me again, people of the blogosphere! hehe! am i required to answer the latter part? what’s the secret? i have come to realize that this tag was made for girls who were successful with their relationships. well, if you consider seven months of relationship, with more than half of it based on lies, deceit, and betrayal, then i’ll tell you the secret --- pure foolishness.

6. how long did you date before you decided to settle down?
hmm… settle down? when i bump into a word 'settle down', marrying someone comes in mind. but if settle down meant to enter into a formal relationship then my answer is a month. huhuhu. is it really true? the faster you go into a relationship, the faster it crumbles down? crap.

7. how long did you know s/he was the one?
gosh. if i am in a relationship right now, perhaps i could answer this one and since i am not, then it’s pointless to answer this question. unless i could play desperate and pretend to have a girlfriend right now. hahaha!

8. now, at what age will you allow your kid(s) to date? (if and only if you end up having kids)
parenthood. i don’t usually ponder this far. the rules for my sons will be different from that of my daughters’. for my son’s, i’d say, they could date anytime they want. i just wish they tell me about it. as for my daughters, at least when they turn sixteen. communication is vital especially when it comes to my future sons and daughters finding their respective mates.

9. when it comes to your kids dating, will you be a cool parent or a strict parent?
i’d want to think that i will be a cool dad someday. i’d want my sons and daughters to be transparent with me and for us to have an open communication with each other. i wouldn’t want them to feel shackled or held by the necks. i remembered lindsay lohan’s line in freaky friday: “you’re ruining my life!” i would want them to feel comfortable with me so they could freely share with me every aspects of their lives. in that way, i could guide and reach them more easily. besides, it’s easy to maintain relationships with the people you are comfortable with.

10. what piece of advice can you give to your child when they start dating?
i’d tell them to be just themselves. no pretensions. let them express themselves freely. be cautious but not to the point that they’re making walls around them but build bridges instead, which is the heart and soul of dating, right? human connections and knowing yourself through other people.

. . .


there you go and hope that made the endorphins, serotonins, oxytonins, and dopamines, and other neurotransmitters overflow and made you feel in love.

i would like to tag my most recent blogger friends:

fjordz. i like the way he writes. very emo. hehe, and
redlan. i think he's really cool.


till then…


one love :)

1.9.08

the greatest story never told


I WAS LAZILY BROWSING on the contents of my pc last night until i stumbled upon this jpeg image. nostalgia hit me again like a big yellow school bus. memories could sometimes bite.


this was a remake of a painting i made when i was still attending junior high. the original was made using acrylic paint on canvas. it was entitled, to our secret place, after a book a i wrote. it took me less than a week to make it. this one, however, was made using MS Paint on my computer. only took me five hours to make this one, binging on burgers and ice cold cola whenever my eyes got tired or my wrist screamed of agony from acute carpal tunnel syndrome. i am quite comfortable using paint than adobe when making paintings like these. the texture was quite similar from that of oil pastels, which was my medium of choice when i was still in touch with my artistic side.

i gave the original painting to glad, the girl who gave me this painting. the painting she gave me was made using water color on canvas, and it still hangs on a wall in my room. as for the painting i gave her, i am really not sure. i could imagine it in a trash can right now or in a stinking dumpsite. perhaps it's all ashes now. broken. like the feelings she used to have for me. or maybe it's still with her. in her drawer. in a box under her bed. under her pillow? no. that would be impossible, because she had moved on already and i am glad she had.

of all the things i gave her including the books i wrote, the letters and the mixtape, the painting was the only one she decided to keep. she returned everything else when our relationship ended and i am glad she decided to keep it. at least there is something she still possess that could remind her of our story. of the dreams we had made using colors dancing on canvases. of the love i had tried to say using my bare hands. i hope the painting's still intact, unlike the love i used to forge such immortal art. her's still whole though. silent behind a glass, hanging on my wall. covered in dust...

---

"A writer is a keeper of memories..."
-- Mugen