bad loveletters: the love that didn’t give courage

I listen as you toss your dreams in the sky and the rainbows are burning and I felt jealous and I felt left alone. Though I haven’t stop wondering what it really to takes to love someone like you. That one numbs me.

But second chances are mere surprises. Don’t blame me after I’ve said all I want to say and all that I wanted to be. I am not overlooking the possibilities. Run, running away, or runaway is all the same to me. Open your eyes because I can tell you’re wanting better days—not just a patch of illustrated flattened halo running along the locked lips of the heaven and earth in the horizon.

Why do you still keep them inside? Reckoning when something sacred to shine over the eternal eclipse you made. How you watch them all go in the in the open hills and forest floors, and now you are crying?

I didn’t say you were trying to hard when I thought you haven’t tried enough. I don’t want to be the one standing in front of your dreams. You can’t always turn your back when everything stops.

I cannot catch your fall. I am just not there: you didn’t lose me.

You are stronger than I am. It is always yours, not mine. You rather leave me now.

I have no path to follow today; I don’t intend to drag you along. But somewhere in the future I’ll find my own. (Don’t you understand or you’re just too blind to see that I’m searching for myself out there.) You’ve seen all my problems and you know it’s chaotic. And the two of us just make it worst. How come and why this love didn’t give us courage?

If ever tomorrow will have something new for us…I mean if ever we’ll meet again; you can tell it to my face how bad I am in the art of letting go. But I will say how disgusted I am when you cry.

But then somehow I am sure of one thing though that this day will be called “once.” That once I hoped that time makes us wiser…that once I fall in love to the one of the most beautiful person I’ve ever known who is also a dreamer like me.

*bad love letters.. are collections of fictional missives about love. September is love letter month in argunn.i.ph

bumalik kung saan ako dati: wala

Anong idadahilan ko sa aking mga pangarap?
Kung nahuli nila akong tinuturuan ang anino sa pader..
Paano iuntog ang sariling ulo; basagin ang sariling mukha.

Anong bibigkasin ko sa mga alikabok sa aking paa?
…na malapit na silang maging putik,
At hindi na muling makakasabay sa paglipad
ng mga saranggola

Kung ipapanganak ko silang muli
Baka magtampo ang mga luha,
Baka hindi na dumaloy,
hindi na ako damayan sa aking pag-iisa.

make us home

The day star in the little fog left
Like me, he was late in the avenue
Choke and sleepy
We don’t like the coffee warm
We like it cold
One that remind of vengeance
We like it sweet
A second chance
After the bitter try

The day star in the stripped sky
I was watching him watching me
It was just a glance, a million dollar smile
Abrupt and innocent
Though we like our smile to remain
We keep it that way
Something called envy
Our lack of content
After the hard try

The day star finishing the half hemisphere
We are both tire as we find our way out
Come undone we struggled
Rhythms of the night and the lovely sight
It belongs to you, it belongs to the moon
What greediness has is enough
Even if we stay
There’s still tomorrow
Hopefully no more try.

Written August 22, 2007 in Makati. The poem is actually about a love gone haywire, but in the end it finds home.

that once I died in my arms..

There are times to recover
Some moments to blame
I caress the cut my wrist

To open it like eyes readying to sleep
It’s the only way, the perfect way

To be carried in your dreams
In full blown beauty
And unearthed youth
No witness could hail

That once I died in my arms..

i remember the boy but…

Something happened today. 

I was sitting quietly on the mountains, actually I was in slumber. For the longest time, I was nothing, darkness and cold, mud embrace with mothers love. I wasn’t complaining it kept me alive.

Outside the carpet of trees, in the forest I heard timbers falling. Tons of dirt overhauled, boulders that pressed my body for thousand of years lifted in few seconds. Life was changing.

At first I thought it was a dream. I thought I’ll never see the sun, I heard of her and her graciousness. I felt her rays and she cuddled me with warmth.

Water washed my body.

Savageness was lost.

My nakedness admired.

I was found. Finally I was found.

For years, the curious explored my body, the way they explored continents and ocean, the way they drilled holes on the earth.

The wind told me, finally metals could fly.

My heart grew fonder.

Maybe I could soar too, like a bird made of steel.

But between the flashes of light and silence of the night, the children of men, figured out my mystery.

It was a revelation to all children of men and most importantly for me.

With speed of light, coupling before my sight, destroying before the substance of my being, the children of men said, great power could be released.

Then I find my cousin being cast around me, a mighty armor, and a tough shell. I had a new name, well finally I had a name.

Then my brother lifted me up in the air, I was so happy, there were clouds and birds, they were flying with me and my brother.

I tried to talk to my brother, but he was not responding.

I found it queer, even I couldn’t hear myself; I realized I was becoming somebody else.

Frozen.

Forsaken.

Just like my brother. I begun to forgot who I am.

In the greatest confusion of my life, my brother suddenly let go of my hand.

I told him not to leave. Oh please don’t leave.

My cousins who were my armor, they were not speaking. I thought they were crying.

On the other side of the world, I listened as the hearts of the children of men stopped.

I look down where I was heading.

I listened to the hearts of children of men in this part of the world, terror flowed in their veins, and ghost flickered in their eyes.

The power…the speed of light…my being…

I kissed the ground, and annihilate the earth that used to nourish me.

“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the the universe.”

-Albert Einstein

*In August 06, 1945 the aircraft bomber Enola Gay detonated was called Little Boy in Hiroshima, Japan. It was the first atomic bomb used in civilian population.

In tradition:  2008-August-06, 2007-August-06 

the point vanishing

Again. Alone. Waiting, Knocking doors,
cold coffee, broken traffic lights, and airplanes.

I was reading your lyrics, watching your eyes closed while you sing somebody else’s song,
and the images you draw—you are affected.

Sunsets falling in the mountain, and the trains that cross makes you cry.
Even lone trees and a group of skyscrapers that reached out to heaven
but never kiss the sky compelled you to be sad.

Another sigh, wondering over a basket of apples, and rains rolling down on your window,
and the empty theater seats help you die.

Spilled ink in the paper, autumn leaves, old TV shows:
materials for hopeless knight like you

Can I ask you a question?

Would you tell me?

Why it has to be lonely and still, I mean for silly and hopeless romantic like you,
and still like it?

You see the beauty within but you never removed the painful shell.

Are all silly hopeless romantics sadist like you.

When will it be?

Instead of again, why not enough?

Instead of alone, together?

And instead of waiting, begin to live?

*The Point Vanishing was written September 20, 2006PM. It was a poem inspired by some of the songs and shows I love. Basically thigns that affects. It is also about love.

the last love poem of an insomniac

Look at this world it is changing,
Faster than the snowflakes that dries in your hands and
Kisses that lost warmth, skin that can no longer feel
Writers dying, saying goodbye to love.

Look at my eyes, they are falling asleep,
But cannot be tucked in this poem of somebody else’s dream.
Blossoming someday until the senses recover,
The resurrection and embrace of this silly line of the poet.

Promise me the fence will never grow tall.
Cast the spell that can erase the ocean of its cloud.
But don’t show me the road to be taken.
I have my own way. My love will seek you blind and hopeful.

So this last kiss will commence the change.
The end that truly ends and that means to end,
I wonder why we’re not crying though it is sadness that we exchange.

Ah yes I know now, the world is changing but love will remain the same.

I love you.

I love you so much that I need this sleep.

*written July 12 2006 2pm and I don’t where.

the longest love song

The few lines that stay
Between the heaves and breaks
The common thugs, the undecided pen
Succeeding every spaces and blank stare
Tonight, I’ll be writing the longest love song.

Deep thoughts that were sudden
Flashbacks of prayers granted
The tiny smiles and eyes not-flickered
The silence unbothered
As I collect
The sacredness–
Sacredness redeemed and given
This will be the longest love song of our time.

The breeze strolled two storeys below
My chimney whine, the night slept
Inspiration divine descending onto the paper
The sanctified no longer important
With this thugs, the pen decides
This is no immortal  love song to embody a heart
But the un-noticed hymn of a dying soul..

*Like most of my poems, I forgot to write down the place and date when I first scribbled this one. What transpired then, I was trying to write a lyrical poetry, but nothing came.

the instant pancit canton life

Sometimes I dream of living forever
and the universe is created for me..

Now I realized I might die young but
my body won’t vanished; too many preservatives.

Can I have one shot of the things that can make me real?
Something that will last forever, encapsulated in a moment.

Maybe once I feel the universe is mine.

Let me vanished.

Untraceable.

No more preservatives.

*I named my first blog “the instant pancit canton life”.

Lack of money to buy decent meals inspired the above poem and the defunct blog title. I was living for a day, almost for a week with instant pancit canton sustaining my diet a few years back. When I was mixing the ingredients, and saw the crystal granules I realized I was taking in too much preservative inside my body. Since then I barely eat that food stuff.

ardent passage: august is my poetry month

The author wishes to start a personal tradition, month long and occurring every August annually. It will be called Ardent Passage.

Ardent Passage celebrates the author’s competence to write poetry, whatever poetry and competence are. Lol. =)

For now he would collect his previous poems he published online and he would try to update his blog (Argunn) during the month of stuff he thought poetic.

So what is the purpose of this tradition? The most obvious is to force him to write more poems. Hehehe.

Other reason is to enrich the universe and mankind with things that inspires him, to harness his aspirations, feelings, defeats, triumphs and thoughts. Parang sagot lang sa beauty contest no?

But any rate the author will still blog and keep it up to date with latest musings and weird stuff that comes his way.

Oh by the way, I’m also declaring September as Love Letter Month but I have no title for it yet. Maybe I’ll nick it Bad Loveletters Transit.

If you will notice, August is the month when man first struck himself with atom bomb. (I know there were a lot of important events that happened in the other eleven months, but I have affectations for war and conflicts. I always believe that the best poets and writers experience the toughest of times.) All emotions and virtues are engaged when men are at matters of life and death, and war being the ultimate of these matters: hope, courage, faith, and of course love are put to the test of distance, and time.

September had the day when two skyscrapers collapsed. Ala lang, emo kasi ako. I think a lot of love was poured in month of September, think of the songs Tonight by FM Static and September (Wake Me Up) by Green Day.

As my parting words, let me recall an old line I used in my defunt blog, the instant pancit canton life.

Sometimes I dream of living forever
And that the universe was for me.

..paradise calling

I woke up this morning and greeted a few friends via sms.

I’ve typed, magandang umaga <insert name here>, another week, another try in paradise. Hahaha ma-emo na lunes.

With that sent to a few people, I readied myself going to my work.

A fair day today huh, I told myself, the moment I stepped out of the building apartment.

That same time, I saw a gay man, prolly around 6 feet tall, quite an atlethic frame most masculine PLUs would love to have as their own body, with long blond hair which requires much attention. I should’ve known it requires attention; by popular demand or by popular expectations of the society for a gay guy like me. Hair of homosexual, especially with effeminate penchant should be kept gorgeous always.

He was dressed in fitting pants running down just below his knees and topped with a girly sando. I’m not really aware what the proper names of those pieces of clothing are, but they all look worn to me. He has legs which needed much shaving. I was literally searching for more improvement for him fashion wise.

Trailing behind him, I was not really in a hurry, and I’m not really interested with him but what caught my fascination were the remarks made by the four old women approaching opposite our direction.

“Hindi natural..” The old woman in black dress stated, the very second they were side by side with the gay man on the street.

“Iba na talaga ang mundo ngayon. Hindi naman ganyan nilikha ng…”

The tone of their voices, the glare of their eyes… argghh!!

I didn’t really try to listen to those women. It was such a sad circumstance for a Monday morning.

After passing several meters away, the gay man look back behind him, it was actually a quick glance after the women who have had just blatantly exposed their prejudices and literally harassed him-and in behalf of people with alternative lifestyle.

Flipping his hair, then he strutted forward; in a natural flair that usddenly erased everyhting I thought about the enhancement to be done base on my popular definition for beauty. The steps he made are like fine stroll in this place we falter to remember and call paradise.

The gay man stopped in front of a mini-restaurant and brought in the heavy plastic bag full of puto, he was carrying in his strong arms.

Mandaluyong City|27 July 2009

you become someone else

I saw coffee stains on my heart, and the soul that took the sip watched the afternoon vanished into a beautiful evening without you.

Earlier, just before the sun settled into the bosom of the bay, I accompanied the clouds, together we wasted time, sketched the memories in the sky. You see, I was wondering about you.

But then, who are you?

the world after shakespeare

It is a familiar adventure whose appeal I thought was lost a long time ago. Finding a new partner is another. Reminding me of my g4m and downelink heydays.

Saturday, three days after my account was created, I put up a face and responded positively to two guys who had places where we can fuck our heads out. I waited and it felt like I was under a Siberian blizzard, though I’ve never been under any Siberian storm.

Nothing came. No messages on my phone. So much for nothing. Ha ha ha.

And also if not for the rain and the different parties I attended last weekend, I might find myself laid. My hormones are quite high, raging in fact. ONS or SEB could easily calm it.

But good luck and my sanity too is keeping my sexual instinct at bay. Albeit I did able to send out my number to several people as if it was up for grabs.*

Sex is the key intention why I created the account. If you think it’s a bad idea, I dunno, I have no judgment when it comes to it, call me liberated or whatever but it is a biological reality that gives me pleasure. Please drop your romantic notion of sex.

What is apparent, it so easy to trade flesh and sexually transmitted diseases.

My other intention though it really sounds cheesy..eeeh, to find a boyfriend. Haha now that is really a baaad idea. Lol. =)

Being there writing profiles and showing skin is a breeze, everything could appeal to the senses, from groin to so called-head but nothing and nothing could really be known.

In sites like this, we all easily fade away, we are like fireworks in the sky, we spark—but with no practical purpose to one another except fornication and admiration.

For now there are two things I want to remind everyone I might encounter: I am no good “bedwise,” so I asked them to drop the notion whether I fuck well or I am a good fuck.

Next is, clarifying to anyone who find me interesting that they never to think of me as a good boyfriend material yet. I got my advantages and disadvantages.

If I get to know someone new, or someone new get to know me, a little better beyond the borders of the said virtual place, I hope we could be good friends. No expectations. Just friends. Who knows what might come next di ba? No one.

(I am also telling these reminders to myself. Not to anticipate too much of anything. Just let things flow.) 

A man could kill
And steal
With the sweetest thing

So I walked under a bus
I got hit by a train
Keep falling in love
Which kinda the same

I’m so glad you see crushed
My car gone insane
And it felt so good
I wanna do it again

-Buses and Trains/Bachelor Girl

I maybe in a place of collection of all sorts, and yes it is very efficient in finding hook ups, or love for that matter…

…but real life places like malls & schools, and virtual areas like blogs & social networking sites, well, they are also efficient in finding hook ups and again, love for that matter. So what’s the difference?

*I had have accepted invites to get laid this coming weekends, I gave my numbers to guys I want to have fun with..but then something came up.

Last a night, a question I asked a friend that I should be asking myself: Are you taking anti-depressant?

My friend remarked NO, but also informed me, however, he was canvassing the other day.

Sober, that was my reaction. But I didn’t express my soberness, I told him, he is my friend and all I can do is listen.

He assured me he is manageable. I believed him.

The soberness I felt, led me to question my own intent too.. you see, when I was creating my planet romeo account, gusto kong magwala. I am not surprised by my own answer, sex might be a pill that I was canvassing for. In the end, the fun would turn to useless memories. That one I can’t allowed to happen.

Anyway I am perfectly fine and sane.

I wish my friend &I more luck and sanity.

living on your shoes

One Saturday morning, while Michael Jackson’s passing intoxicates the whole world still, I woke up to my housemates watching a movie titled, Soul Man.

At first I thought it was a documentary about the King of Pop, but it turned out it was a 1986 romantic comedy film about a well-pampered Caucasian young man, named Mark, who learned that his father won’t support him thru his Harvard schooling anymore. So he decided to usurp the last slot for a scholarship exclusive for black students. He gobbled up tanning pills, darkening his skin tone. And the plan was all set together with his half-idiot best friend.

It was a hilarious film, too indulgent with goodie conversation, the punch lines are not as witty and sarcastic that is common in today’s entertainment, but it delivers pure fun and smart.

The focus of this blog entry is about the chat Mark and his professor as the movie coming to a close.
 
Mark, apologetic for his fraud—by usurping the scholarship, he displaced Sarah, the original student recipient off the list, forcing her to support herself and her little son while schooling—sold everything he owns to pay for the semester he took away from Sarah, he compromised to devout a percentage of his annual income once he graduated to the scholarship foundation, and he promised to do charity work.

The professor noted that Mark, however learned something his professor couldn’t teach, what it likes to be black and how it feels to be an outcast in society where one skin tone is dominant over others.

The professor commended Mark for what he experienced or what he understood.

Mark paused, looked into his professor and remarked that he wasn’t really sure if he understood what it means to be black guy. Because unlike real black people, he had an option that any moment he could always go back where he came from—that is to be a white man again.

project envision

Ang Overhaul MegaProject, na nakadisenyo para i-reverse ang aking pagkabaon sa utang at para i-manage and aking finances ay masasabi ko na satisfactory ang naging result.

Tumakbo ang proyektong ito ng February 2009 hanggang katapusan ng May 2009. Isa sa naisakatuparan nito ay natigil na ako sa kakapeste sa aking dalawang kaibigan na babae na tuwing in between paydays, ay nangungutang ako sa kanila ng either five hundred or isang libo.

Kasali din sa aking na-achieve ay ang pagbabayad ng aking credit cards bills, BDO and HSBC, sa pamamagitan ng pagkuha ng salary loans sa HSBC.

Wala na akong utang sa credit cards as of now. At kahit binuhay ko muli ang HSBC ko (ang BDO tinuluyan ko ng tapusin), 0 balance pa din ako.

In summary, ang mga sumusunod ang aking official list ng kautangan, in amount paid monthly, name of institution at saka end of term ng payment respectively:

P3000 - Chinatrust – October 2011

P4000 – HSBC – September 2010

P600 – SSS – January 2011

Suma total, ang obligations ko monthly sa mga financial institutions ay nasa P7600.

Other Debts:

Utol - P4500
Girl friend A – P1200*
Girl friend A – P1200*
Lupa – P7000

*Sabi ko sa December ko na lang babayaran at magiisang taon na ito hahaha. Sarap ng may kaibigan na pwedeng abusuhin. Joke lang.

Sa pag-iimplement ko ng Overhaul MegaProject, nakapag-open din ako ng savings account sa GE Money Bank.

Status Report:

Ngayong tapos na ang MegaOverhaul Project, ilalabas ko na din ang failures nito.

Dapat ay mag-oopen ako ng dalawang savings account at magseset-up ako ng vanity fund, pero due to circumstances at lack ng self-discipline ay hindi ko ito nagawa.

Ang savings na nabanggit ko ay balak ko sana na mag-ipon para makapag-aral o ma-aacumulate ng enough money para mag-invest or major travel. The other savings is reserved naman as emergency funding, lalo na para sa magulang ko.

Ang vanity fund naman is a kind of reserved fund na kahit papaano, hindi ko mararamdaman na tinitipid ko ang sarili ko. Ito ang  gagamitin ko sa mga simpleng leisure and shopping na naka-budget lang.

Nais ko din sana kumuha ng life insurance pero hindi rin ito nag-materialize.

Medyo magastos pa din ako at ang detailed planning ko na nakasulat sa diary ko ay hindi natupad.

May isa pa akong di kagandahang balita. Ang initial funds sa GE Money Bank ay medyo nag-dwindle na.

Tapos ang pera ko sa kooperatiba dito sa opisina ay nagalaw ko na. Kasi kailangan ko magrenew ng memebership sa gym. Naniniwala ako na health is wealth at lagi akong kandiddato sa mga lung ailments e.g. bronchitis at asthma.

Analysis:

Kung ano ang naging success ng Project MegaOverhaul ay sya naman pagbagsak din ng mga na-achieve ng matapos ito dahil sa aking kapabayaan.

Solution: Project Envision

I’ll be implementing another financial overhaul project at tatawagin ito na Project Envision.

It will starts September 2009 and it will ends December 2010.

Ang goals ng Project Envision is:

- Mamaintain lang ang progress sa pagbabayad ko ng loans. To keep them on track and on schedule.

- Mabayaran ko na ang 2400 na utang ko sa dalawa ko na barkada hehehe at 4500 sa aking kapatid. Pati na rin ang kulang ko na 7000 na pambayad sa lupa.

- Maipatuloy ang paghuhulog ko sa GE Money Bank for emergency.

- Makapagset-up ng ikalawang savings account para panahon na dapat ako mag-aral.

- Ituloy ang vanity fund.

- Kumuha ng life insurance.

- Makabili ng laptop ng di ginagamit ang credit card.

Hindi ko na i-boblog ang detailed plan.. Ii-streamline ko pa ang mga ito para maging maayos at hindi mag-cause ng pressure sa akin, lalo na sa social at love life ko, na pareho yata akong wala hahaha.

Anyway, ang Project Envision ay para talaga makabili ako ng laptop. Nye he he

Bakit? Mahalaga kasing mailipat ko na ang pinagsusulat ko na nobela mula long hand (gamit ang lapis at papel) papunta sa computer. Sa tingin ko naman it will be a good investment in my pursuit of creativity.

Having a neat, flexible and practical financial battle plan that could almost work on its own, will free me of psychological burden that cause by lack of control when it comes to money.

I always believe in abundance still and not just money. I aim to focus more on enjoying the small and big things that matters to me to the fullest with the limited resources I have for now, that I may live every second as if my last one. 

inalienable responsibility

The summit of world richest nations to fix the global economy in the United Kingdom last April 2009, brought multitude of activists to the streets of London. The number of people rallying against the excesses of capitalism organized themselves neatly, making sure their voices heard.

One of the placards I’ve seen on the cable news said, Democracy Ends after You Cast Your Ballot.

There is an appealing candour in this line, especially now our country has less than of a year to change leadership.

In the Presidential election of 2004, I choose for Gloria Macapagal Arroyo. So I voted for her.

It might be unfair to Fernando Poe Jr. but politics was a dog-eats-dog game, personally I don’t want a movie actor running a country. I do like his movies kasi.

Voting for and experiencing the management skills Mrs. Arroyo demonstrated, I am not really satisfied, nothing has changed.

Overwhelming it may seem but Democracy is really at the moment you cast your ballot and choose a leader. We choose leader out of the emotional appeal, about the perceived benefits, not out of his or her human features as a leader, soon logic will catch upon us and realize that the perceived benefits is not the way it was advertised or sales talked before. It was a sad situation if you ask me. Is this something to do also with my pursuit of happiness?

Please go on reading.

For most of us, Democracy means freedom, but however most modern ideologies promote freedom and the innate, unalienable rights of men to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.

Maybe, just maybe, I have a wrong definition of pursuit of happiness. Next time I vote, I must think of my right to pursuit of happiness.

But I feel sad, because, our leaders are human beings too, hybrid of irrationality and wickedness, offspring of desires and limitations. Their decisions, their accords are theirs alone. I wonder if they also think of “pursuit of happiness.”

Maybe.

But there is such a line like for the common good.

Well for one, we see and hear on the news, presidents going abroad, and luring foreign investors to set up their businesses here. It is a simple medicine that works. Give Filipinos jobs, they will earn money and soon they will be happy. They can go places and buy stuff, send their sons and daughters to schools, etc.

We also pray tributes to our Filipino expats, I think recognizing them as engine of growth of our economy is as just and as fair. We even encourage our fellows to go abroad, it is the same medicine that works, if Filipinos earn money abroad, and soon they will be happy. They can go places and buy stuff, send their sons and daughters to schools, etc.

Our pursuit of happiness, as a right, is not a license for any politician or capitalist to make us feel stupid.

Thriving in corruption, we contracts debts to our children. But is it corruption that is really the culprit? Or is it really our leaders the problem?

Or is it really democracy that fails us? And the excesses of capitalism, are they real abuser of our nation?

I guess none of the above.

Becasue it is my and your lack of love for this country that always brought us to our knees.

And we cannot blame history, what is bygone is bygone; all we can do is identify the dynamics that contribute to our current self-image, and make intelligent use of the things we’ve learned…that our pursuit for happiness is also our pursuit for patriotic identity.

breaking the argunn code

I forgot to place the tag fiction to my previous entry. My bad. =)

It looks like I am confused too with my own tags, kaya heto, I took time to lecture myself on how to catalogue my entries.

Tags are the little words we used so it would be easy to find similar topics or entries inside our blogs. In my case, I got two considerations: first, to classify it according to literature and second, to sort my blogs based on initial impression it has on me.

Argunn’s Library of Congress

This is my own enumeration of resources for my blog, since I am writer in his own right. Lol.^_^

The following indicates my contribution to men’s pursuit of creativeness.

quote
essay
one-liner
novel treatment
poem
short story
photo
missive

Most of these are very self-explanatory, but I’ll explain the reverence of quote and liner tags.

Quote tag will be placed on an entry if I’m feeling very sage like, or if I feel very proverbial and start dreaming of a monument made of steel be cast after my image. Think Statue of Liberty.

Quote could come from old entries where I find a portion of my work quotable, or it could be words I heard from friends or people, that is funny, witty or shocking.

Liners are anything (except those define by quote) that could be fit in inside a single sentence to a whole paragraph.

Breaking the Argunn Code

When I say emotional attachment, I don’t mean ka-emohan, but rather the impression I left after I scribbled my own words. The following are the tags, that will help to deconstruct that impression.

fiction
dailies
first imagination then

line grab
lyric grab
photo grab

Dailies are simply journal entries, personal rants and raves, that don’t have to be explained in a grand manner as in essay. It could run from anything that is awe inspiring to the absolutely boring. What is important, it just narrates life in simplest term.

Fiction is a tag, a very important tag particularly if I’m writing a short story, missive (letters) in a first person point of view.

First imagination then thoughts.. that plays on my mind and somehow I’m aware could be acted upon. It includes but not limited to dreams, desires and aspiration put into words.

Fraction-illustrated is how I romanticize life’s aspects, every so often surreal or poetic, sometimes hunting. The tone it suggests could be very blatant to totally obscure.

Greeting-cards-for-no-one well uhmm solely about the L word. Eeeeh.

Life grab, are like dailies but in grand manner, minsan surreal.

Life unfolds are like life grab but more often than not it tags about the experiences, the urgency and changes life presented before my very eyes.

Nuts and bolts lingers on the crazy stuff I think amusing to share on my blog.

Unlike liner or quote, talk on corners is like a complete transcript of a conversation I had or heard.

The last three are about grabs: line, photo, and lyric. Line grabs are quotes, phrases and proverbs from other people e.g. authors, philosophers, celebrities, etc. Photo grabs are pictures taken from public domain. Lyric grabs are lyrics I took from the public domain.

I think that would be all. But these are the major tags, maybe as I move beyond, who knows I might add more. Cheers!

the life that is for rent

It is a compelling thought but the moment it enters my psyche it convinces me it can be done. The possibility of acquiring HIV increases every moment I press the texts on the keyboard. But a need is a need.

After three days since my account was created and a banner shout out declaring I am very open to sex, messages came pouring in.

This is what cynicism gave me after short years of trying. Short years but looks like I had my share already in the cat and mouse game of intimacy. The reason is lack of self image and personal stability during rough times, and not lack of perfect partners.

This hunt I’m in is not an ego thing for me or to test my social proof in a carnivore infested world. Though this lifestyle I choose and learned to love so well is nothing but an ego and power play but not to some people, especially me. But no matter how I deny it, the ego thing is a factor. But let me say, probably, I am romancing my carnal desire, it’s more practical than forevers and I love yous.

I open the first letter on my inbox; he was the first among the 13 guys who like to be my fuck buddy. Wow!

Yes I am looking for a fuck buddy. It is something I never tried before, and maybe will never try if I let this moment pass. Testosterone could be so demanding sometimes.

The world is rule by sperm cells.

My experience told me, and the skills I acquired from other PLUs, all you need is a little art of seduction. Kunyari a visual taste of my confidence and worth, when in fact, release is all I want. To hell with confidence.

“Hey I got a place. 091761***** —”

It was everything the message contains. It was from coolesthotguy86. (The guy is fucking handsome, and the poses in his photo? oohh, damn heavenly even with shirt on!)

It took me quite a time before I replied to coolesthotguy86, I shake myself off and proceed to the next message but I can’t get my eyes off coolesthotguy86.

I click on reply, gave my number, and waited.

I also sent out my reply to five more people who welcomed the idea of fuck buddies. I also crawled the “who’s online” section and contacted at least 5 more people. Then I wait.

As I sit here in front of the monitor, my face that is young, a few lines that merges when I laugh or frown, wait or waiting is the operative word for my life that is now, for rent. 

But for how long?

Biodegradable but Default

Cotton USA had this tv commercial wherein it narrates the following lines:

No one knows the real me.
Or touches me…the way you do

With the exemption of the last four words, the commercial seems to fit me.

Seems no one knows the real me too. Sometimes even I find it strange if I cannot recognize who am I.

I know it kinda sounds crazy, and noooo, this is ain’t the part I’ll sing Reflections by Christina Aguilera or Girl in the Mirror by Britney Spears.

-

Not so long ago, I broke up with Paulo, my boyfriend of two weeks. There were no actual words of breaking up, but phrases and actions, especially on my side, indicate I wanted one—and I wanted one real fast.

When my ex, Paulo, confronted me about the situation, I bet he was really confused. He was crying, angry about me and I could see he was also angry with himself.

I felt sorry for the way I acted and the way I fell out of love. There was no any other way to put it, but I abandoned him, just like that.

Looking back, all the words I said to him during the shaky moments of our relationship were indeed confusing and done in a hurry.

I am reckless, it is a fact. SA, Will, JT and some names I can no longer recall were victim of my impulsiveness.

I have no intention of hurting them.

Paulo said, “alam ko ang mga sinasabi ko sa iyo ngayon ay wala lang sa iyo, dahil hindi ka nga pala nakakaramdam ng guilt? anong klase ka?”

“Pinagsisihan ko ang araw na tinext kita at niyaya kita?”

The rest of his words I cannot remember.

 
-

It’s July 4 now, and I was looking back at the things that happened last June.

Before my short relationship with Paulo, my friend Kiwi, was trying to profile me, wondering why I behave the way I do.

He feared the words I used to explain myself specifically the line hindi ako marunong magsisi.

He worry that I could be a juggernaut once I ran out of control.

Correcting me, Kiwi remarked, maybe that I am a person who takes risks and not necessarily someone who is not acquainted with regret.

Then I told Paulo I didn’t’t feel a sense of guilt over what I was doing, I tried to say I am saving him from myself and saving myself against myself too.

Some people may not agree with me, but I have to be cruel to be kind. Because Paulo is the younger one and the abandoned one. On the other hand I, being 28 now and claiming to be mature, should have known better.

When I shared Paulo my ultimate sentiments: Hindi ikaw ang kailangan ko.

Then he clamored, pinaasa mo lang ako. Ang sama mo.

That one left me speechless.

When he said, naiinggit ako kay DC.

I felt I made him so insecure.

When he said, masahol pa ako kina P etc.. (dahil nga hindi ako marunong daw makaramdam ng guilt)

I caused him a very sad experience, for anyone to bear.

He delivered the lines that should have been told me by all the people I deliberately inflicted pain with.

I know am not the one he needs. Paulo is kind, a loving son; he is sweet, and handsome.

Siguro sa dami ng sinabi ko wala syang naintindihan. It’s my mistake, ang daldal ko kasi.

But I don’t feel guilty because I deliberately tried to make them or him fall for me.

People may see I am playing games with hearts, crashing and burning souls, but I am not.

I hope people understand (but it is their option not to understand me because I lack one too) that I don’t feel regret for what I’ve done—I mean the good things I did, because I really felt true doing that—to make efforts for them because I never believe in permanency of things. I am not having great expectations but just being a good boyfriend.

I tried to show affection to Paulo as if it was my last days on Earth.

But I won’t say sorry if I am not able to completely move on with the past I am trying to figure out and resentment I am trying to pacify.

It is also come as a surprise even to me.
 

-

This stuff I have written is not because I am explaining my shit. I have admitted what Paulo claimed are all true. Lahat ng sinabi niya ay tama. Writing this is a reminded for me and to be able contest in the future everything I am standing for presently.

I have broken myself before and I don’t really want to break hearts too. But I always did. Sigh. I know how it feels being left behind and clueless.

But I won’t say sorry if I am not able to completely move on with the past I am trying to figure out again and resentment I am trying to pacify, and now the reality of my impulsiveness added to my complications.

The consequences of being reckless are clear to me: I might find myself alone and lonely.

It’s for me alone to deal with.

But then the fact remains, maybe I am sincere and all, but I haven’t given my ex the respect and attention due to him.

The story is not always about me, but my ex- has to realize too it is not always about him too.

Sorry if I can’t show remorse, and guilt feelings. I maybe reckless but I never pretend of who I am.

-

Paulo and I had a good start, but the tremor was first felt after he told me to join him and eat around 9:00 Monday evening, almost two weeks ago.

When I felt differently, annoyance to be exact, sa kanyang pagyayang lumabas. Hindi ko inaasahan na maalala ko si DC, minsan isang gabi, nagtext din siya sa akin, hindi na kami, pero nagpapasundo sya sa akin dahil di niya alam paano pumunta sa kanyang Mom na nakatira malapit sa amin. Si Paulo, he was being nice and just expressing how he was missing me much, pero mas concern ako sa nararamdaman ko that night.

I hastily considered having a cool off with him the next morning. The feeling of annoyance came as a suprise. I remember clearly DC’s face when we arrived at his mothers house. He just said his thanks to me. The rest of the days that follow was history. Pinangako ko kasi na hindi ko na ito i-didiscuss. (Including this shit.)

Maybe this was the part Paulo didn’t get, how come I didn’t give him second chance or all the time he needs to understand things. I remember telling him, that we will try to make things work. And there I was suddenly, having a stand-off. I don’t know.

But I have to do what I think I have to do; I did it the only way possible—even if may sound unreasonable and senseless. But it is true. If I am going to hurt him, I had to do it quickly.

diary jam

continued from diary seed 

I missed it. Sigan’s turn was already done the last time. I learned the group castigate him for excessive sentiments.

Before the class was about to end, and with last two sessions to go before summer vacation Dalisay, casually told the people around that writers are made and are not born.

One can find a five year-old musician, painter or a mathematician, but one cannot find a five year old writer. More or less that what was he shared.

To me, what he said was a congregation of how proud yet humble he is about his profession. He indeed is precise with his observation. Most in the room seemed to consent to what he said. I remember reading somewhere that only aged 50 years old and above should write a novel. I think it was a conversation in a story and sorry, I forgot the title.

Because the character remarked, how would young people write about the truth in life if they were young? They have to experience the world first.

I am about to read The Diary of a Young Girl and somehow it contradicts what Sir Dalisay told us.

The Diary of A Young Girl is Frank diary; the teenage Jewish girl who scribbled her tribulation, desires, passion, and angst on paper with no intention of sharing her mind to the world.

You see, a number of people claimed it is impossible for a teenager to write with style and quality of an adult. However evidences time and again proved her ingenuity even in courtrooms.

While writing this, I recall Sigan shared an incident when he was a kid, he wrote a poem, passed it to his teacher. But his teacher didn’t believe he crafted the words and sentiment his poem instilled.

Maybe we are all born writers.

Maybe we don’t have to reach 50 in order to write the Next Great Novel, we could always wonder and wander about the future and similarly about the past.

But if a young writer fears wondering about something that he is not, cannot and couldn’t is similar to dishonesty, he has no choice no but to live a life full of extraordinary experience and then tell it to the world.

Yet again, what does it takes to have an extraordinary experience?

Watch a toddler play the spaceman he always wanted to be, riding on milk boxes, and his mother’s comb as his ray gun to protect him when the reach the hostile planet called dining area. But observed deeper, one could see the boy perspiring and his skin cold to the delight and uncertainty his adventures brings.

Knowledge is always inside the box, everything outside is imagination.

Truthfulness to emotion, honesty to the state of the feeling and disregard of time, what makes writing unbelievable. 

It is our attachment to the circumstances that made a story a good story and unique,

 or a poem made of rain and mud reaching for the stars that no wisdom could ever explain.

I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support.  – June 12, 1942 by Anne Frank