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Why does it have to be 80 pages!?

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Tarzan bubble gum.
I don't know why, but it just popped in my head.
It was almost too real — I can almost taste it.
I know it's weird...
It's hard to explain, why of all bubble gums
it had to be tarzan
it could have been Bazooka Joe or even Texas,
or those red bubble gumballs that stain your
mouth and hands...but why Tarzan?
I had an epiphany, I had something on my mind
then the sweet and gummy taste of my youth
crept in my mouth, I should have tasted coffee
the fact that I was drinking coffee a while ago, logic would dictate
that I should have coffee's aftertaste
but why Tarzan bubble gum?
why not Judge?

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I’ll get this out of the way this early in my supposedly substantial entry (I’m making up for lost time, and to appease the 2 persons that actually read this shit, hehe), okay, I am not against pets. I love dogs, and I am all for the humane and ethical treatment of animals…heck, point me to the nearest PETA office and I’d gladly sign up or volunteer to throw paint at some model or those designers at the next fashion show parading fur! But there has got to be a line somewhere. If people start making their pets call them Mommy and Daddy, and swear that his/her dog just said the word ‘Mommy’ and continues to do so when she wants some love and affection…I’m drawing the line. There’s a very fine distinction between being obsessive and just plain old mentally ill.

Okay, now that that’s out of my system…on to some serious blogging.

I still haven’t started painting the room.

For the past few days, every time I come home from work I am so tired if I can, I’d go to sleep without even getting out of my work clothes. I am so tired I have no energy left for a little conversation with my parents or my wife. I have been lethargic for the past days; I am not functioning at 100%. I think it’s from the adjustment and the past5 events that have really taken its toll on us mentally and physically.

The good thing about us coming home is that my parents seem to have come alive ever since. My father for one, I know I mentioned this in previous posts but the change is just remarkable, I can’t help but rave about it.

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Sunday was just spent on the couch, I think the whole day I was planted on that couch, in front of the TV, my palm bears the impression of the remote control, I can even read ‘SHARP’, and a very vague ‘Made in China’ and some serial numbers on it. It’s one of those Sundays that I missed, when all you do is nothing…absolutely nothing.

The couch still bears the imprint of my ass.


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Last Sunday Kim showed me her pregnancy chart which looks pretty much like an ordinary calendar, with dates and the corresponding drawing for what the baby might look like and what developments are already happening at that certain point in time. She’s close to three months now and she showed me the date for Sunday and a drawing of a small fetus, it says by this time the baby is approximately an inch and a half in length. As soon as I read that, I looked at my thumb, which was the nearest thing I could associate with something or in this case, someone who is an inch an a half in length. All I could say was ’Wow’.

She then added that at this point, the baby starts to move, and the heart is already beating. The fingers are already visible, so on and so forth.

I kept thinking about my thumb…that small — an inch and a half in just 3 months. Wow.

Then again as I look at my thumb, my mind starts to go on this weird montage, it loops and it’s out of control and it never stops. I’d think of fun things we’d do when he or she comes out. It’s hard to curb your enthusiasm at this point. It’s such a rush, and a trip just imagining what you would do when the time comes. It’s like Christmas time and you have all sorts of presents under the tree and you can’t wait to open all of them. You look at all the gift wrapping and the ribbons and you try to restrain yourself…it’s quite hard.

The size of a thumb, such a small thing and yet in such a diminutive state it has already changed some of my views in life…immensely.

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And now for some Engrish!
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So many titties, so little time


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New superhero?

> from engrish.com

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It rained a bit yesterday, which was a welcome change from the unbearable heat that has been around for the past month.

The rain seemed to have come at a very opportune time.

I, on the other hand at this point in my life have learned to love the rain. With the gloom, the dark clouds above, the cold touch of the air on my skin, it’s like a second womb, I used to hate the rain…mine was a hate-hate relationship with gray clouds, and I used to curse every single rain drop.

The rain understands me more, I guess?

It’s a silent companion, in my ‘gray days’ the clouds would be in unison with the pain boiling within, with the aches I can count on the chill of the wind to somehow soothe and comfort me, and with every down pouring, there is always a cleansing.


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I finally gave in and hired someone to paint the room. Call it laziness if you will, who cares…So we slept on the living room floor last night, the smell of paint was too much and it’s not good especially for Kim to be sleeping in a room filled with noxious fumes.

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Looking at the odd looking shape tumble as Kim laughed, I couldn't help but let out bursts of unfettered laughter, then a wave of numbness and awe just washed over me, it felt like I was learning to ride a bicycle all over again...it was surreal, looking at the tiny appendages wiggle in a background of blackened space, and the sound, the rhythmic thumping...I felt a lump in my throat, I stared — in silence and overwhelming joy.

It felt like being born again.

...more on this when I have the time.

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the room smells of paint.
and the cold wind, lingers in the concrete walls,
which is perfectly fine,
as the white curtains dance in the soft breeze,
and the smell of fresh crisp laundry...permeates in the air,
as it wafts through the windows, in my sleep.
the sound of water, gushing and the voices familar and comforting,
like the sheets I lie in silence, swaddled in warmth.

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You move and you can’t quite understand why you’re still in the same place, even if you are transplanted for miles. You are still stuck, in your mind you are a peg in a hole on a wooden floor, a square peg in a hexagonal opening.

You can’t be somewhere. You need grit and drama; the pendulum swings and you are on borrowed time. You are scraping the bottom of the barrel and you say some are more fortunate than you are. You may be right, but in their rooms, they weep and they are alone…if you only knew, you will reconsider. You would think otherwise.

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I have been feeling weak lately.

That and coupled with a frantic paced weekend, I am now inches away from totally crashing. I may not look like it, but trust me…I am dying to have a long and much deserved break. Since that August incident, up until last weekend, it was a roller coaster ride form Hell. I know, there are some high points, like seeing the baby for the first time, even if it’s only through a computer monitor, seeing him bounce off the walls literally when Kim laughed was such a delight. Then there was the moving…which was a pain, but I know it’s nothing compared to the others…2 houses in a span of less than a month, it’s absurd.

Had a little get together for Kim’s birthday yesterday…it was a family affair, I think Kim got a kick out of seeing her brothers and sisters again. The food was great, I’m never drinking Johnnie Walker again…I’d better stick to Tanduay.

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Can someone be too old for angst?

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Sometimes you do the weirdest things out of utter boredom.

You bite your nails, whistle, sometimes people tap their feet, cluck their tongues or tap their feet…shift in their seats listless and frustrated. The hours pass and you just look at the clock, winding to infinity and your mind goes on a journey, you think of things, you think of anything just to quicken time’s sluggish pace.

I was bored last night, after dinner and doing the dishes there was nothing left to do. I found myself watching “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” with Kim…nothing wrong with that, except maybe for the fact that it’s been a Monday habit now, watching 5 gay men giving some straight guy a make-over is amusing, it just cements the notion that in some cases especially in the fashion and grooming department, we (men) are total slobs, which I think is typical male behavior. And it’s either that or I torture myself watching some cheesy soap opera.

I wanted to watch the new HBO mini-series ‘Carnivale’ last night but my eyelids wanted none of that…long story short, I gave in and hit the sack.

But before that, were milk and cookies.


This is scary.

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And now for some useless links to waste your time!

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rock-paper-scissors variation

1 to 15

illusions

spamtastic!


> from jjchandler.com

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Some of the works of Joel Peter Witkin.

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The jeepney ride sometimes becomes too crowded for my liking, and there are no more traffic jams where I can wander in space and time, where I can find myself, talking to myself and listening, with the entire world in the background in a dirge. The intervals are few and far between I can’t even think of a single thing to sustain the ride, the ride is short. It wasn’t always like this…I don’t know if I’m just too preoccupied or if I am too jaded and calloused to admit that I am detached and nowhere, somewhere I do not know…yet, somewhere I am too familiar.

The details get swept aside and the lines blurred. In confusion we amble through the motion. I put my headphones on in hopes that I drown the day and my ears ring at 6 pm…I’m thinking of peanuts, roasted peanuts. And I am in a constant quandary as to whether the elastic bands of my right sock is on the same level with the one on the left and vice versa. You know where this entry is going to…nowhere! Yet you’re still glued, riveted and you can’t resist. You have no choice but read on. And see where this takes you because I am god! (note that I didn’t capitalize the first letter, don’t want religious types screaming blasphemy), I’m just kidding.

I have a question though, what does a socialite do?

Socialize? How? What for? Do socialites go to some office and punch their cards in at say, 9 in the morning and ‘socialize’? I know this is a silly question, but I read newspapers and I see captions that go ‘Mr. So and so – Photographer, Ms Blah blah blah- Socialite’ is it an occupation?

The mid day sun peeks through Venetian blinds, I am praying for rain and I am yearning for the cold wind and the chill she brings to the spine as it tingles in the ungodly hours of late afternoons and lazy Sundays. Praying for rain and I can dance for the rain, sacrifice lunch and virgins.

And now I’ll end this seemingly pointless entry with an even more inane Haiku.

stomach is in knots
the day is opal and gray
my laces are brown

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I was a ghost, and you were there but no one noticed. The time was not right and we were not yet ripe. It usually felt awkward, you said you were dying to get out and I was just feeling my way through like a blind man. It was my own Hell on Earth; a knife on my side that keeps getting twisted and jammed, it was painful, everyday was a struggle.

I do not know of yours, but I heard the stories. From you and people I know. It was hard for you and at times it got ugly and became a burden.

Let us delight in the fact that we came out of the experience alive.
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Traffic going home last night was a killer!

I didn't have the slightest idea that there was a fiesta in one of the barangays on the way to our house. We were stalled for about an hour or so in a crowded jeepney. Kim and I managed to entertain ourselves by freshening up on her French and in the process, I learned a few words…she knows basic words and phrases back in her elementary years.

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The world's smallest website.

> from jjchandler.com

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Please, do try this at home...hehe.
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I am abusing my Alt+Tab keys.

I am constantly shifting from Photoshop and my blog, then to the internet explorer. My Alt+Tab keys, if they could only speak would cry foul and maybe sue me for harassment, unfair labor practices and perhaps physical abuse.

I am making no sense whatsoever.

I had a completely different blog entry a while ago, but I deleted it…it was garbage. I am sitting here and staring at the monitor, the cursor blinks and I am somewhat hypnotized as I am thinking of things…too many things. Such is my dilemma; I think too much, I may not look the part but yes, I do use one side of my brain, which side you ask? I don’t know…possibly the side that actually works.

I’m listening to Aubrey and it’s such a depressing song, a friend once said that you should never listen to Bread when you’re broken hearted or depressed, it may drive you to suicide, I think suicide might be too drastic a measure besides, it’s only a song, but speaking of songs in connection to suicide another friend told of a story wherein someone killed himself to the tune of ‘Brother Louie’ by Modern Talking, I’m not sure if I am right with the band’s name. Apparently that’s what the radio was playing when this guy tied a rope around his neck and hung himself…which proves the old adage that evil can come in the most beautiful or in this case, the cheesiest of disguises.

That song is pure evil!

And they said Black Sabbath was the Devil's music.

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It’s strange. The way the day starts in blue, slate-grays and orange. Reflections of the sun creeping through the windows like fresh tendrils from the evening’s mist, covered in dew. The room feels cold although the sun is in its apogee, the light screaming from the outside looking in…screaming in my ear, burning my skin and the throat is parched and the bladder about to burst. The nauseating sounds of nearby birds, the neighbor’s car choking on its last gallon…the television in time to the staccato beating of my heart. Trying to get up is only half the battle and I am cursing late night TV. Why did I stay up too late? No one forced me to, so why submit myself to that kind of punishment? Cursing everything, the bathroom seems occupied at the moment — times like these I wish I was a dog and just spray away; anywhere I fancy. I am unkempt, I smell of sheets and I couldn’t care less. The smell of gas intertwined with eggs and coffee, fresh bread and the noise from the TV just don’t mix. Everything seems to be in the wrong context. The slippers by the way are on the wrong foot; up side down days…sunny side up and my mind is going backwards.

The days start like this. I am not being pedantic in any way, this is just an observation…I am just not a morning person.

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I have not picked up a book in ages. If the Henry Miller book I bought last March could speak, or had feet it would have packed its bags and left…I sometimes let laziness get the best of me; the book has a sturdier spine than I do, hehe.

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Try this:

1) Go to www.google.com (it also works with google.de)
2) Type in: weapons of mass destruction
3) Hit the "I'm feeling lucky" button, NOT the "Google search"
4) Do NOT hit the return button!
5) Read the "error message" carefully. Someone at Google has a sense of humor. And will probably be fired soon...



> from Fight M.E.'s journal

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For the past few days my nose has held me hostage. I am under its mercy, a helpless heap of flesh submissive to its whims. It’s runny, a nuisance, I am tired of sneezing and blowing my nose, I am sick and tired, I am nauseous and my eyes are watery and everything just sucks.

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Have you ever been in a funk? What is a funk? You might ask. A funk is synonymous to a rut, and I am in it…knee deep in it. You heard of the expression ‘knee-deep in shit’ I am beyond that.

I’m not in trouble or anything like that…in fact, everything is going as planned; and that’s the weird part…all is going smoothly like clockwork, and I am feeling crappy. It’s a feeling I get every once in a while, at times I get depressed for no apparent reason, I regress from human contact and I don’t talk as much as I normally do. It freaks me out.



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We saw “Shark Tale” last night…Jack Black rocks.

That’s all I can say about the movie…I do love the 2 Rastafarian Jellyfish, Ernie and Bernie…hehe, Respect!


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I'll be dreaming of books tonight...I just know it.

They may be friendly, but some will be sure to devour me, I hope tonight will be like the last time I dreamt of books, they were in pastel; they were fluffy and harmless little things, they smelled of marshmallows and powdered sugar...looking at them you get that warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

I hope they won't be killer books with razor sharp spines and poisoned pages, with evil incantations as text...deformed and malevolent covers, with dismembered author's pictures and a sordid writer's biography...I hope it won't be that bad.

I am going insane...hehe.


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TODAY'S JOKE: Senator Lito Lapid: Ano ba ang ibig sabihin ng "fiscal crisis"?

Senator Bong Revilla: Ah, ang ibig sabihin n'yan may shortage ng mga fiscal.

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Hehe.


> from inq7.net

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I am not running..and that's that.
There's no need fussing over it.

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It's a well known fact that as a person gets drunk, the greener his jokes become...the uneasy part is when the ones telling these jokes are your uncles. But it's all good; we are all adults here right? Coming from a very close-knit family, having a drink with my uncles is one of the best times I have when visiting the family. Okay, so drinking is one thing my family sees as common ground, but hey — what Filipino family doesn't? Drinking has got to be a close second to food.

It’s my Lola’s death anniversary today, but we had the usual family get-together yesterday, in a day when we commemorate Lola’s death we seem to have been blessed two-fold. I have mentioned here in my previous posts that we are expecting a child; well, it seems that a younger cousin of mine is having a baby too. You can sense the excitement within the family. It’s has been years since we had a toddler in the family…having not one, but two in the next few months is just insanely wonderful. Lola would have been one happy great grandmother if she were still here with us; but I know Lola, together with Lolo are having a blast.

I know I haven’t had time to visit her in the cemetery for the past few months, but she knows that I have not forgotten her…she, together with my grandfathers will always have a special place in my heart.

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I am stuffing tissue paper in my pockets, because I am too lazy to get up and throw them in the trash can; too lazy and just too fucked up to even move a finger. My nose has launched a coup, and I am in the verge of giving in. I am so sick and tired of this cold, if I can find a vacuum cleaner, I swear to God I'll shove it so far up my nose...and never look back.

I hate this feeling...so many wonderful advances in technology and we can't find a cure for the common cold. I know it's such a cliché, but it's true.

I am in my 2nd roll of tissue paper...maybe I'll just save myself the trouble and slap a baby diaper in my face and just let the snot drip and be absorbed by those super absorbent things.

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'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.'
- Jack Nicholson's manuscript (The Shining)

I'm taking a break...

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Here's Johnny! (Jack Nicholson from 'The Shining')


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Bad ass! (Jason Vorhees - Friday the 13th)

It's almost Halloween, I know this country couldn't give 2 shits about this day. When it comes to holidays with most of us, it's Christmas or nothing...I won't include Lent because it's not that festive...okay, there's Easter but you get my drift.

I love Halloween, all the cable channels jump in the bandwagon and dust off their horror movie collections and inject some spice into a rather boring night of TV viewing. Just this morning, as I turned on the TV for some news, I happened to pass HBO and "The Howling' was on, one of the movies that I happened to watch back when I was growing up, my cousins and I used to view this movie hiding under the sheets!

I've been waiting for a channel to show 'The Shining' or 'Friday the 13th', it's been ages since I last saw these movies...The Exorcist is a personal favorite too. I guess if I am to watch these movies I'll have to run to the nearest video store and apply for membership.

I wanted to post a picture of Linda Blair from The Exorcist together with this post, but Kim is terrified of her face and she visits this blog occassionally...damn! Hehe

And while were on the subject of Christmas, hehe...besides it's a few months away...it would be nice to find this stuffed in my stocking.

I hope Santa blog hops.



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Cold.

Headaches.

Nausea.

Watery eyes.

A great way to start your day. Just fucking great! Can you sense the sarcasm? I want to crawl back in bed, and just wrap myself in sheets so plush and smells of Downey. I want to be holed up in my room, turn of all the lights and dream this seemingly insipid day away. I stare at the monitor and I can see it flicker, dancing like a snake, undulating and it heightens the paranoia, and my head feels like it's in a vise. This has been going on for almost a week now.

Maybe I'll just have some coffee.

Speaking of coffee, a huge mosquito almost took a plunge into the mug. I crushed it against the monitor, poor bastard. That'll teach you not to mess with someone's coffee when he has the cold and is inches away from going berserk...a step away from going mad from the incessant sneezing. At least my mother said I still have my sense of humor...and that's what's important right? WRONG!

What's important is that this cold goes away!

Let me see you keep your sense of humor when your day is turned upside-down, and your whole world is a mess, as you go through the day a quivering mass of flesh and beads of sweat form on your forehead, large beads that you can pray the rosary with, and you're going to need a lot of praying for the sneezing to stop because there's no one there to help you, and all the medicine in the world can not ease your pain...you are in Hell! You might as well be, the day is a blur, a haze and the room is spinning and you want to vomit...you want to scream and all you can do is crawl and go into a fetal position; because that's what you will become, helpless as a baby. The world will keep on turning but yours won't, it's in a stand still and you count cracks in the wall, and you keep watch of the clock, the seconds pass — dripping like a broken faucet, leaking into the sewers of your now invalid mind as the day turns to night and you are there, alone and coiled like a worm, a worm...that's what you have become — an insignificant speck in the vast ocean of man's apathy and filth, and when you wake up the room is still spinning and you lose track of time, is it Monday or Wednesday? You feel like you're burning, the unbearable heat rouses you from your sleep, that's if you have slept at all...the heat is torturing you, and you hear an ominous laugh and a menacing shadow...dark and foreboding is on the horizon.

As the smoke clears you see Satan laughing, holding 2 tablets of Sinutab or Sudafed or Decolgen whatever your poison is!

I have to stop, this is getting out of hand...back to work you filthy maggots!

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Sorry about that.

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Rocket Launch anyone?

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The girl wanted to sit and just stare at the sky, but the tears won’t let her. She’s holding an apple and a plastic spoon. Her jet black hair sways West to East as the sun licks her skin in orange and purple. The strands of light all fall deaf.

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Iron Maiden - Wasted Years

From the coast of gold, across the seven seas,
I'm travelling on, far and wide,
But now it seems, I'm just a stranger to myself,
And all the things I sometimes do, it isn't me but someone else.

I close my eyes, and think of home,
Another city goes by, in the night,
Ain't it funny how it is, you never miss it til it's gone away,
And my heart is lying there and will be til my dying day.

So understand
Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years,
Face up...make your stand,
And realise you're living in the golden years.

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind,
Can't ease this pain, so easily,
When you can't find the words to say, it's hard to make it through another day,
And it makes me wanna cry, and throw my hands up to the sky.

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For now...this will be it, for now.

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Hey lady, lay off the booze! Hehe, drinking and flying don't mix.

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This is Spinal Tap.

- - -

Christmas With The Devil
Spinal Tap

The elves are dressed in leather
And the angels are in chains
(Christmas with the Devil)
The sugar plums are rancid
And the stockings are in flames
(Christmas with the Devil)

There's a demon in my belly
And a gremlin in my brain
There's someone up the chimney hole
And Satan is his name
The rats ate all the presents

And the reindeer ran away
(Christmas with the Devil)
There'll be no Father Christmas
'Cause it's Evils holiday
(Christmas with the Devil)

No bells in Hell
No snow below-
Silent Night, Violent Night
So come all ye unfaithful
Don't be left out in the cold
You don't need no invitation, no...
Your ticket is your soul

Spinal Tap rocks!

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I read one message from an old blog friend from way back...it seems that an old acquaintance has returned, in a new format no less. I am having second thoughts though...if you want to take a look, go here.

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Chino - Deftones

"I don't care where just far!...away"
(Be Quiet And Drive - Deftones)

Don't you just wish you can go, at the drop of a hat...anywhere...it doesn't matter where...just go far — away.

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It's the little things.

It's the little things, that can sometimes drive people crazy.

If some people were polite enough and just listened to Charles Manson's songs, then Sharon Tate would still be alive today — maybe, Charles Manson would be the lamest singer ever but people wouldn't have died a senseless death and in a few years good old Chuck Manson would be in the 'Where are they now?' list...everyone's happy.

If someone just bought one of Adolf Hitler's paintings...well, you get the picture.

It's the little things...

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Voltes V


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Mazinger Z


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Grendizer


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Daimos

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Looking at these pictures make me feel wistful...oh my childhood years, you went by so fast — where have you gone?

Hehe.

There are still 2 cartoons missing, I forgot their names.

These were the only things that made me drink milk back in the day...I was constantly held under threats that if I don't finish my glass of milk, I can't watch these...the things I did for cartoons back then.


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