Monthly Archives: September 2006

from anonymity to publicity

a friend of a friend of a friend has a blog now. remember our snatches of conversations and our single long talk ages ago? you are so *&%^)$#  consistent. hah! if you’re reading this, you’re indeed a silent animal smelling the air for prey. if you manage to find my blog, you’re definitely one hungry animal. and i’ll find out because i have eyes and ears all over the metro. tee-hee. and don’t you ever attempt to link your blog with mine.  i’m dead serious. 

welcome to the hungry world of voyeurs and closet actors and actresses. welcome to the jungle! and even if we don’t drink to this momentous event (is it because you’re afraid to get drunk and find yourself prancing and dancing some esoteric rain dance in front of me?), i will surely kid around once i get to see you (after several light years, that’s my gut feel).

should i promote you? nah, it’s useless. you should check my stats. it’s close to zilch. which is what i prefer. so if the stat gets several notches higher, i know you’re the culprit. and you will pay for it. 

man, go wow your readers. as for me,  i’ll be lurking and sniffing around.

short advert for God: God, thank you for keeping my family, my friends, my loved ones safe amidst the typhoon. i owe you a lot. you are an awesome God. please keep the grieving and the dead closer to your heart. thank you for catching all the falling things on earth, including us, your children.  angel with children 

just a little bit crazy…

the best anti-depressants for me! (or things to bribe me with, for that matter. Tee-hee 🙂 )

1) a good movie/art films – eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, amelie, great expectations, virgin suicides, monsters, inc., to name a few.

2) great tracks – songs by skunk anansie (sex-rock!), cranberries, korn, rage against the machine, garbage, marilyn manson….

3) You

4) ice cream – no marshmallows, please.

5) a book/piece of poem by a great writer – Edith Tiempo never fails. And Margaret Atwood. and my other secret favorite writer.

6) my lovely dogs – i love them fiercely. as in. i love them with a hint of hunger in pleasing them. i feel i love them more than i love some people.

7) kids and babies – aaw, baby… someday in the near future, there will be no unnecessary pain to wound you.

8) my stuffed toys – i have a grey bear, a black bear, eeyore without his tail, lots of baby piggies, a pink giraffe, a very very large turtle, a pink elephant, and more! i want a cheetah stuffed toy!

9) children’s books – calvin and hobbes, winnie the pooh

10) sunsets and rain

after all these years of angst-ridden and blessed writing, i am, after all, a beaming basket case; a dollop, a mess, but one that speaks in hush-hush, warm tones, like a Van Gogh painting, violently messed-up, but chanting sutras; a little girl wearing a torn dress, skipping rocks on a lake while singing her “I’m a little tea pot” song.

freak on a leash

ack, what’s wrong with me? i’m writing blog entries more than my dose of writing poetry these days. shame on you, eva. wait–as if a lot of people read my blog. what’s the use of having a blog, then? it’s simply because i like listening to my self talk in written words. and i like my hemmingway theme. tee-hee. i actually opted to have no links, with only a few people familiar with this site. and of the handful who knows this site, do they read my blog in the first place? it’s heaven for me, this obscurity. so if you’re reading this, you’re a freak like me! there, there. it’s not all that bad.

i am an obscure girl in a sea of animals hungry for attention (or profit, tee-hee). i know people who brag about their blogs having so many hits. there are days i like cocky guys, but some people’s fucking cockiness disappoints me. (where are you, adrien brody, when i need you during hysterical days?)

i’d like to pay homage to a long-lost friend whose blog i suddenly stumbled upon. a bit of this post’s history: i am currently editing articles for another mag, while my load for my own mag is suffering (choices, choices). everytime i finish an article, i surf the net. it’s like resting my mind. i stumbled upon this long-lost friend’s blog, and it’s a fucking sunshine for me in this bleak week.

oh, you whom i spent grade 7 days with, you amaze me. it’s light years ago, very much in the archives of our memories, but my grade 7 year is very solid in my mind. we were students of the most terror teacher, but we managed to smoke cigs beside her during Peace Camp while she was snoring her way to Dreamland (sorry, teacher, bad girls). we cut classes, we memorized TLC’s rap, we borrowed indie tapes from trina’s sister (who turned out to be Barbie Almalbis *gasp*). you had crushes on winona ryder (up until now!) and keanu reeves. i drooled over edward furlong and jonathan brandis. you wrote songs, i wrote poetry. you smoked cigs, well, i smoked, too. we were two girls out of five who were into rock music while others were singing pop-fuck songs, and we grooved over bone thugs n harmony. you had a crush on J.S. and i had a crush on a high school teacher (who by the way is still single, and i believe, in the deepest space of my heart, that he’s waiting for me. *insert snorting laughter here*) (god bless my lusting soul).

and so i’ve stumbled upon your blog, and you are little miss sunshine to me. i’m lazy to contact you and have chitchat over fruit shakes and coffee. you’ll be my jar of cookies high up on the shelf, you’ll be my dream when nightmares choke me, you’ll be my rock song to wound all pop songs, you’ll be my invisible billboard of fun hysterics everytime people wound me in mundane days, i’ll hear your small voice everytime i listen to urbandub’s songs.

for days gone by: TLC’s rap part in “Waterfalls”

“I seen a rainbow yesterday. But too many storms have come and gone, leavin’ a trace of not one God-given ray. Is it because my life is ten shades of gray. I pray all ten fade away. Seldom praise Him for the sunny days….”


today at the office, somebody is playing a Tori Amos song. beautiful.

i’d kill to experience this moment: out on the veranda or beach, just listening to her songs, and finally reading my “Gift from the Sea” book or just scribbling on my journal. you would be beside me, reading or scraping sauce from a saucer. you would probably ask a question or two about a painting you saw. your eyes would shine, and the light in them would be so mellow it’d make me crawl inside myself and indulge in a sea of sweetness. you would not know this. i would just nod at you, and give you allusions, or stories i keep in my mind. all the sad poetry i’ve read would just be ash in the wind, and i would tear a sheet from my journal and make a brown paper boat for you. you would tuck it somewhere. i knew you would keep it, this certainty matching the hidden songs in the summer wind.

“Sometimes I think you want me to touch you. How can I when you build the great wall around you. In your eyes I saw the future. Together, you just look away in the distance….” – China, Tori Amos


is what we need to keep us from tearing each other apart.

but what if the animal in you is so fierce that the scent of the kill is oxygen to your lungs?

welcome to the orgy of an ethics-less world.

thanks to ateneo, i’m a sucker for fairness.

in this world, absence of ethics abounds.

i hate people who are insensitive androids. don’t freak out if i spit at you.


today, somebody gave me a banana cake. i love banana cakes. i love the texture and color, how the black filaments from the banana litter the batter. the cake almost resembled the taste of the german cookies we always had in an annual feast during my grade school days. but the difference is, i get to eat my cake at my own pace, and not before the bell rings for first period.

here’s having my cake and eating it, too.    want some of my cake?


i watched lie with me.

i spent two beautiful hours with a beautiful movie.

do i also feel lost like leila? she runs from people, and the fabric of her clothes are sails hoarding the wind. she runs into a man, and he has arms as large as the sky. she falls towards him, headfirst. her mouth is full of him, his wishes, his words, his deaths, his lives, his own truths.

i imagine leila writing in her journal: “there’s a man haunting my dreams, he doesn’t speak, but carries a lantern. are you charon? i ask him. do you have a boat that can carry me over miles of water? he smiles and carries me. but you left the lantern, i say. no matter, his eyes say. and then we slip into the water, boat and all. and underneath was all light, all arms, all limbs.”


back in college, i was part of a short play for an English class. our teacher was cyan abad, and we had to perform samuel beckett’s play, waiting for godot. i forget which character i portrayed, whether i was vladimir or estragon. what i remember are our countless rehearsals and improvisations, and our director being slowly harassed by our rowdiness. we performed in front of our english class, and i absolutely love the hilarity and the absurdity of it all. waiting for godot is, after all, part of the theater of the absurd (“This implies that it is meant to be irrational. Absurd theater does away with the concepts of drama, chronological plot, logical language, themes, and recognizable settings.”).

we were such a funny bunch, i had to wear basketball shorts, and my co-actor had to disrobe me. we also wore newspaper cutouts, part of our minimalist approach to the play. and of course, the lines were crudely followed. in the end, we got an A. must be the newspaper, or the carrot and banana that we used as props. tee-hee.

fast forward to this writing moment: i realize that i enjoy portraying guy roles in plays. credit that to the fact that my grade school and high school days were spent in an exclusive girls’ school. imagine the horror of my girly classmates whenever we had plays to accomplish. they didn’t want to audition for the guy roles. so us girls who wanted to get things done right away took the guy roles. thus, i was ebenezer scrooge in Grade 4 for A Christmas Carol. I was a guy in a Lapu-Lapu tableaux. (tableaux, ahh, you will be entertained by tableaux when you’re a viewer, but when you’re part of it, you will fall in love with immobility, with fooling the people. you will find the deception from both sides hilarious.). i was Peter Quince in Grade 6 for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. in high school, i had beard penciled on my face for another project. we even had a picture taken, with us in guy roles brandishing swords and looking stupid.

but in Grade 7, for our Ora Et Labora (that’s Prayer and Work, St. Scho’s ultra-core values) play, a play about the lives of St. Scholastica and St. Benedict, guys from our brother school were required to play the guy roles. Freedom! i auditioned for the part of a Flame Dancer. i knew i could dance, but it’s one of my secrets. i passed the tough auditions, thank god. i wanted to get the part out of pride. only a few girl roles were available, and i wanted to either be a Temptress or a Flame Dancer. temptress was crossed out because my frame didn’t fit the role (read: i wasn’t voluptuous). our costume was a sexy dress in reds and oranges. when we whirled, we were like a circle of fire in a frenzy. we had very sensual steps with lots of floor movements and jazz-ballet moves. we were supposed to signify Benedict’s passion for God. but we moved as if in a sensual dream. no guy roles this time for me, only a vortex of fire in this play.

what now, then? i realized i’ve come to love my waiting for godot role; vladimir and estragon have finally recruited me. i am waiting, for what, i don’t know. all the same, i will continue being a spinning pillar of fire.     careful, i might singe you.

moto ming, anyone?

the motorola ming (or the A1200) is one handsome smartphone. it’s system is Linux-based, and data entry is via its stylus. it’s like the PEBL but with the ming having a flip-phone orientation. what ups its pogi points is its transparent flip that actually hides its thin antenna.

its 2MP camera takes great pictures in available light, so expect bits of noise, but over-all, its macro mode can make any camphone buff salivate. oh, and once you touch its matte-finish body, you’d be itching to add this to your (perpetually) growing gadget must-have-whatever-it-takes list.

check out its bod here and salivate with me.