Concrete Stories and Repeated Beginnings.

Since my website's been down for a very very long time, I guess it's time for me to reuse this old blog.

Huzzah.

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Too many updates, but only a few are remembered.

I need soundproofing for my room for me to play loud music without disrupting my dad's sleep/watching TV habits. Aside from which, I need to go to a beach. Also, I need money to buy soundproofing materials and to go to the beach. Aside from which, I need new clothes. Aside from which, I need an air conditioning system, or at least 20 working electric fans in my room.

Aside from which, I need to soundproof some of my neighbors mouths so that they won't abuse the motherfucking karaoke machine every single day and every single motherfucking night.

Aside from which, thesis is already in its total 70% completion, with defense by Monday and shit.

Aside from which, I'd want an ice cold beer right now. I mean, can you imagine Nevada moves to Philippines, a desert in an already fucked up climate place, or whatever, I'm geographically challenged. So shut up.

Aside from which, I want to go to all exhibits this term, but thesis prevented me from doing so, sorry to the Oh Sh*rt exhibit, Avant|Rev exhibit and the other exhibits I didn't go to. But congrats to all, especially Blueprint and WeRepresentMNL, having successful exhibits, yeah?

Also aside from which, my eyes are burning from this heat. Heat. HEAT.

Here's a parting gift.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPCjIGyrtYc&feature=popt00us13

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Beauty is in the eye of the beerholder.
- a non-drinker

Blood and death smiling.

I can't sleep when there's no sun.

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I've been having nightmares of late. Weird ones.

And I'm not talking of your usual something creepy Scooby Doo kind.

Day 1: A juggernaut with steel impacted in its head was chasing me.
Day 2: Zombies and killings, with me strapped in a chair as if someone wanted me to witness it.
Day 3: Running through a building with the zombies and juggernaut. I ran into my room and when I woke up, I was at the corner of my bed.
Day 4: Looking through a peephole, a woman crying for help, as if someone was chasing her. It appears as if someone dragged her to the left and she screams. I jerked then looked back at the peephole. The dead woman standing in my door, just smiling.

No more. I want to sleep.

New Year.

Anong pait ang matamis?
Anong tamis ang mapait?

Up Dharma Down

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Now a new year is dawning.

A thanks to Gaea for this gift.

What else is it?

Please, Cassandra, spare me from insanity.

My future shall nay be told.

Gift of the world, Chronos hath passed.

Eros, have rest. Let your siblings play.

Father of Time, hand it to me.

I am ready.

Shameless plug.

I've been trying to do motion graphics and stuff the past few terms. Well, here are some of them. Enjoy.

Hope to do more in 2009.

Decanodois/Nuclearpeso Profile
Toilet Personality OBB
Toilet Personality Trailer

Any requests. I'll try. :P

The Kaiser.

An emperor.
A king.
Crowned.
They leer.

There was an old man who held a yarn. The yarn came out of his mouth as it creates a ball inside his house. The house was made of yarn, and so were the furniture which was already thick enough to build the world's birds' home.

He then chokes and starts to weep as he coughed up blood along the yarn he was pulling from his mouth. The blood kept on crawling around the house made of yarn. He became dizzy and lifeless as it continued to rush on.

The house made of yarn was no more of its original color, but of crimson and maroon.

The man inside was forever trapped in the house made of yarn. Dizzy and lifeless, he cannot move an inch. Until his last breath, he realized that he never spoke anything as to why the yarn was there.

The answer was simple, he did not want anyone to have the burden of despair.

As his thoughts were through with him, he coughed up the yarn's end. What do you know, a needle, shining and sharpened.

Rolling the dice.

No more apologies, for it was my fault.

I can't prioritize my relationship with the one I loved. I can't write anything to even clear out anything else. My mind is drowned with alcohol and sleepless nights. Top it off with dosages of paracetamol.

I can't say I want you back. Nor can I create any more words to sweeten up our days. I never did regret that you were one I loved, but I can't say that you are my all, for it only exists in song and a means of getting the girl closer.

I can't become the man you want to be. Though many would pork with stuff that would tell me that I should be able to change and adapt to my girl, I'm sorry, I can't. Pessimistic? No, inevitable.

I hope you find a guy greater than me, smarter than me, sweeter than me, better than me, more handsome than me, loving than me, just plain opposite me.

I apologize for rushing things. I guess it's just not our time yet.

People made me smile, but you always did make me happy. See you around.

...

Talking in tongues.

"Demy, I do not understand! You are talking in tongues!"
"You talk in riddles."
"Dumideep ka nanaman. Di ko gets!"
"Uhhh..."
"Errr.."
"..."

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Now, in hell, I admit this is a mistake I can live by.

A book I've read states that the wise never talk in tongues, but creates a sense of mystery and self-persevering knowledge.

I'm not claiming to be wise, for if I were such, I'd be floating cross-legged and humming words of wisdom. I'm just talking in tongues, creating room for another to think, provoking thoughts, creating diversions, proving nothing in the world of imagination is yours to keep.

I'm just explaining myself.

I'll talk in tongues, and I know others will, too. Why say this? Because only a few can understand my language.

Dashing through the snow.

I wish I could dash in the snow, not in a one horse open sleigh, but on tennis rackets, scarves and boxers.

I just want to run away from everything this winter season. Besides the frequent sicknesses I get from everyday, which I try to ignore by taking vitamin C, mefenamic acid, paracetamol and antibiotics, I still get to enjoy my life a bit.

But I still want to run away from it all; life, death, emotion, insanity, midlight and yesterday. If I wasn't acrophobic, I wish I could fly and just see the bigger picture. Right now, I see small details that I make a big deal of. I'm getting confused between the adages, "Gold is in the details." and "The key is in the bigger picture."

No idea where to start.

Run, I say, run. You stop running, the wolves catch you. You don't stop, the winds will stop you.

Why this irony in life?

Take small steps, they say. Fuck it, I'm leaving.

Run, I say, run.

Ignorance and idiocy.

A kid knocks at my window begging for spare change.

His hands were muddy, his lips were chapped and bloody (probably from dehydration), his eyes were a bit yellow and his teeth were smaller than my nails. As he opened his mouth and about to beg, his ruffled hair caught my eye. This was what I highly noticed.

It was colored maroon.

How much did he pay for the dye? Was it enough for a meal or three? Wouldn't it be happier? Hadn't the song "Ako ay may lobo", which was a song about opportunity cost and trade off, teach them anything? I know that parents or grandparents often sing them to newborns at least once in their so-called damned lives.

There was also this one time a female mute was "singing" (I called it screaming) while bashing her tambourine. I was holding two bucks when a man was given the cardboard that read, "Palimos lang po... blah". He shouted, "She has a skull tattoo on her back, why should I give her anything?"

True enough, the skull tattoo was pretty big. That would cost around, I dunno, eight hundred to a thousand bucks or more? Heck, that's enough to last me for a week, (not counting transportation expenses for she hitched a free ride).

Anyway, what's the deal? I'd choose a meal over a game of pride most of the time. I must admit, I am an idiot most of the time when I get lured into games. But hell, these are nomads and homeless people for crying out loud. Why would they choose bodily vanity in a time of need?

Well, what now, kids? Hair dye or a meal?

8 months.

From the beach to the brink.

I'll really miss you.

See ya 'round.

If I Apologized

If I apologized
it wouldn't make it all unhappen
wouldn't make the darkness go away
If I apologized
it wouldn't mean I was forgiven
wouldn't mean you wanted me to stay

But
it's a dream
when you seem
to be walking into the sun
we're on first
unrehearsed
and we still don't know what we've done
so we don't say anything.

If I apologized
I don't suppose you'd even notice
even though I'd whisper it inside
If I apologized
we could be the perfect couple
Well we could, but only in my mind

but
if you ask
for the mask
then we're stumbling on through the dark
But we wait
it's too late
And we only had to be asked
so we don't say anything.

It couldn't hurt to try it
It couldn't hurt too much to try
It's there beyond the quiet
it couldn't hurt too much to fly...

Performed by Josephine Cronholm
Written by Neil Gaiman
Composed by Iain Ballamy

A few more.

Let me live, just a few more days and the joy of pain will become the pain of joy.

Make it happen!

I frickin' need a real doctor.

My body's been acting up for 3 years now.

It still won't stop.

Ever since Grade 4, I've been barfing a lot.

Ever since then, I've been having headaches.

Ever since then, I've hidden it to many.

Now, I don't know. I'm on the verge of sleeping temporarily or permanently. Emo mode. But seriously, my body's getting weak.

Exercise? Time please.

I need a doctor.

Just tired.

Stay alive.

A few more days.

Wo0t.

What I am now is what I'll try not to be later.

Fuckin' lazy.

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Today, I woke up with my sister asking me if we were going to go to school together. I said, "Go ahead."

The next minute, my dad kicked my bed and started shouting at me, asking what time I was going to school, asking for my sched. When I told him I'm not going to my first class, though he forgot that I had a second class, he just said "Don't have any class? Don't get out of this house!"

Now, after this, two teardrops swam downwards the atmosphere of anger and frustration.

What now? I'd kill a thousand sheep for my father if it'd make him proud. Or whatever. I'm no good of a son, nor am I any good of a friend.

Fuck this.

Dirty shoes and disgraceful minds

Your shoes are dirty. Please go home and change it.

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My dad always told me that people with dirty shoes are hard to trust and are people who are stupid and ignorant. It reflects a person's personality and ethics. After that, I got really worried with getting my shoes dirty.

That was 8 years ago.

Everyday, I try to figure out why my shoes always get dirty when I just walk. Today, getting down from the cab, my shoes were in tip top black color. After walking 3 minutes to my school, my shoes were dripped with mud and the front curve of my shoe is as dark as brown choco.

This made me think, that whatever I do to make my walk just plain subtle makes it even more dirtier. This makes reality seem so sad for me. So, I guess I'm a person who is hard to trust, stupid and ignorant.

To my father, sorry if I have failed you everyday. Every fucking day. Sorry if I can't live up to the standards of knotting my tie, creating a formal sense in my wear, knowing what the differences are of the different spoons and forks on a dining table, having super cleaning habits as good as yours, creating connections like you could, taking care of my things. It's just this, I just can't. I observe my every move and I see that the more I take care of every thing makes it even more shabby and crooked.

I apologize.

I'll try doing it again and again until I make you proud.

The difference.

Is that I am a no one in this insane world of reality.

This is why I keep going back to my fantasy. My dreams. My own reality. I can become a superhero, a rock star, and be someone who is understood by a lot. To them I am just another extra in the background with nothing special. Been that way since Grade 1, so it's no big deal. You can't please everyone, and I'm not the charismatic type, so why bother.

I'll just stay in my own reality. Everyone'd be grateful. Here I am again with the drama that will launch a thousand back stabs.

Well, I try to make myself feel confident. I guess it's just the way I was labeled.

So much for labels and so much for my personality development. Whatever.

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Then I realized that there will come a time wherein even your closest brothers will never talk to you in the future.

Guess I was worthless all along, no matter what they tell me.

Back to square one. New year's coming. Will there be a change? Guess I'll create a year that will make this feeling disappear. And fucking change my attitude and stuff. If ever that will happen.

I'll just stop pretending that everything is happy. That is if I can do that, too.

What the fuck did I just say.

Moving towards an end.

I don't know why or what's happening, but I'm seeing signs that talks of "The End".

Let's just see the rolling credits then. I'll see you soon.

Dr. Mario.

I feel much better now.

Thanks.

Hungry for mercy.

Somebody please, get me out of this insanity. Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I crave for mercy.

My mind is still being tenderized by hammers, chainsaws, needles and sickos.

I crave for mercy.