Monthly Archives: October 2006

would the world go sad if you forget it?

chasing cars

we’ll do it all everything on our own

we don’t need anything or anyone

if i lay here if i just lay here

would you lie with me and just forget the world?

i don’t quite know how to say how I feel

those three words are said too much they’re not enough

if i lay here if i just lay here

would you lie with me and just forget the world?

forget what we’re told before we get too old

show me a garden that’s bursting into life

let’s waste time chasing cars around our heads

i need your grace to remind me to find my own

if i lay here if i just lay here

would you lie with me and just forget the world?

forget what we’re told before we get too old

show me a garden that’s bursting into life

all that i am all that i ever was

is here in your perfect eyes, they’re all i can see

i don’t know where confused about how as well

just know that these things will never change for us at all

if i lay here if i just lay here

would you lie with me and just forget the world?













(for my stepmom, who deserves all the love i can muster)


 ”fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. you change direction but the sandstorm chases you. you turn again, but the storm adjusts. over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. why? because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. this storm is you. something inside of you. so all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step.”

– haruki murakami

murakami is my latest love affair with books. he’s the late-bloomer who discovered his passion for writing while watching a baseball game. i read another book of his, and  i wonder where he gets his metaphors.

i always fall in love with books when i get overwhelmed. this is the process: eva reads, eva gets overwhelmed, eva puts the book down. eva utters her favorite curse words, shaking her head and becoming breathless in the process. it’s almost the same as drowning in an actual person’s energy or passion. you know it’s a dangerous zone, your emotions being wiped out, replaced by pure anticipation; you watch your hands, spread out, ready for the nameless rush.

so to murakami: you are the black hole of metaphors, the singing well in my dreams. if i were to sleep for ten years, i’d opt for dreams containing all your silent, unrelenting characters. I’ve actually found a character from a book of yours that mirrors my tendencies. i’d love to meet you and share slices of fruit with you. we could walk in abandoned streets, and you could tell me your fears, and i could tell you about the wishes swimming in my heart. the tide would rush in, our voices would be muffled, but we would talk and walk, and not feel the tide bruising our calves.

internal weather

 Save Me
Aimee Mann

You look like a perfect fit
For a girl in need of a tourniquet

But can you – save me
Come on and – save me
If you could – save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

‘Cause I can tell
You know what it’s like
The long farewell
Of the hunger strike

But can you save me
Come on and save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

a voyeur speaking


 i’ve stumbled upon another blog. and this is from another amazing person who does designs so craftily. i met him eons ago, and he’s gone off enjoying some crazy work. i don’t miss him. i just miss the idea of him and myself talking again, just walking, criticizing posters and talking about art films. he has a girlfriend now, and he’s so happy about it. as in giddily happy. i’m amazed at the sight of people being so in love in an uncontrollable psychic way. these are not the type who’d kiss and mangle each other in public, but those who have that air. you just feel it in their gait, you hear it in their hands. and when you see them, you can’t help but smile.

that’s pure sweetness, a sincere one.

but then the rawness of humanity is also tempting. you know that feeling of letting go of all rules and just plain living? as in really having fun and succumbing to a world of bacchanal instincts. going to that circle of delights. like hansel and gretel also having that minute desire of approaching the forbidden forest. it’s all in us, it’s in you, just that strong desire. that very strong desire. oh daughters and sons of eve, what madness to live in this crazy world.


nostalgia hates me. when it treads away, it doesn’t leave traces. when it returns, it explodes. it leaves debris. i try to find myself. i hold myself, scattered in the wind. i speak, water does not collect on my palm.


playing with words is similar to playing with fire. you choose words that can scald you in a minor way, and then you avoid the heavy fireballs, the dragging consonants. you look for the heaving vowels, the silent ‘e’ in love, the dangerous curves of ‘o.’ at the end, the tips of ‘v’ sting you, little fangs of fire that burn deep.

The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, one of my favorite paintings. i am so enamored with this painting.  i can’t explain it, i just got attracted to the serenity in the picture. look at how the woman’s toes curl. how truthful…



Der Kuss

Tagged , , , ,

music head

i love music.

in high school, exams were particularly damn hard since i was part of the homogeneous class (sounds like a busted science project), and we had harder questions apart from the set given to everyone in our year. our noses would still be buried in pages of our blue books while others would be taking a nap or contemplating on the prom. after periodicals, i would put into full blast songs from cranberries, prodigy, garbage at home. pure bliss.

noise was what made me still within.

i’m recording strings of phrases from songs playing in the background right now. it’s my way of bookmarking songs, being overwhelmed by the rawness, the sincerity of the words.

give me a book and an mp3 player, and i’ll be quiet as a baby for a day.

weight of words in songs:

“bare-boned and crazy for you”

“cos you wear nothing, but you wear it so well”

“come crash into me”

“swim in a deep sea of blankets”

“all your life, you are only waiting for this moment to arrive”

“i wanna wake up where you are. i won’t say anything at all”

“just slide into my room, and i will run away”

“for you i’ll bleed myself dry”

“angels fall like rain” – can you imagine this? beautiful.

“i’ll stop the world and melt with you”

“like any uncharted territory, i must seem greatly intriguing”

“i can love the whole of you. the poetry i stole from you. and hide inside my stomach”

“i wanna hold the hand inside you…fade into you”

warning: don’t read this if you’re allergic to rantings (and this is not about lo0o0ve)

friday, october 6

here i am at the office, at 1:09am to be exact, still wide-eyed, trying to beat the deadline for our sampler.

i notice i am always on the run. chasing something, escaping from emotions, skirting away from other people. and oh, chasing deadlines. everyone’s on a rush…

there’s music playing in the background: “i’ll stop the world and melt with you.” the movie, fifty first dates, got me melting in my seat. i was so touched by the movie, so overwhelmed by the sincerity of the story. and i love the baby penguin.

it’s 4am. i’m so alive during night time. i stretch my limbs, and i feel taut. i feel like a runner about to sprint from the side walk to the moon.

song currently being played: “If I don’t make it known that I’ve loved you all along just like sunny days that we ignore because we’re all dumb & jaded and I hope to God I figure out what’s wrong..”

monday, october 9, 11: 37pm

emotion: ranting inside

need: to watch art films NOW

barricade: event

result: basket case

appearance: a ghoul

comfort: not much (i miss my dogs)

thankful for: friends who are helping

not thankful for: pressure

buzzing in my mind: possibility of _______

buzzing in my soul: “i hope to find my place in the greater scheme of things…”

God is saying: be still (this was the first thought that came to me after coming up with this category)

what keeps me going: drive and energy

first hollywood actor that comes to mind: adrien brody

second hollywood actor that comes to mind: keanu reeves

i therefore conclude: life is awesome. pass me a bottle.

song buzzing in my head: sheryl crow’s “all i wanna do.”

“all i wanna do is have some fun, i have the feeling i’m not the only one… all i wanna do is have some fun, until the sun comes down on the santa monica boulevard.”

Notice the photo. Stare at it. That is me. If you can’t figure it out, you don’t know me.Want me to hold a contest? Hehehe. Watch closely. Read me. Read my poems. Ahh. Got it? Bingo.


thank you to apologies for the brashness.

koi knows the color of the sky

baguio has everything that i want except for one thing: the cold. i’m not a skinny girl, but the whole time i was in baguio for a planning workshop for the company i work for, my hands and the tip of my nose were cold. very cold.

we stayed at camp john, and had our brains turned to mush with all segmenting, positioning, and a lot more stuff we had to do for our mags.

baguio has something that made me really, really happy: the village of tam-awan. it’s a cordillera village restored by this person who loved art. i wasn’t listening to the tourist guide, thus, i can’t tell you the history of the place. it’s a village where you can rent out huts. there’s even a hut for fertility. my curiosity got the better of me, along with a colleague, and so we sought what was inside that fertility hut. i was expecting to find a god erected in stone or wood, or a shrine. what met us was a row of matresses on the hut floor. it was literally a fertility hut, for doing that thing you love to do.

my colleague was so happy (since she’s been clamoring to have a baby) to stumble upon that place. thing is, her hubby was in manila. and so we were joking that she ought to have his lifeline stream LBC-ed or FedEx-ed to her, ora mismo!

we crossed a hanging bridge (i was tempted to dive into the lake, but i had my period), and so i was contented to spy on the koi lazing in the lake. there’s a hut for infertility, another hut with a knocker that’s phallic-shaped (god, it’s hard to censor myself), there’s a hut built way back in 1885.

it’s a beautiful place. i want to retire there, commune with the artist-residents. there’s a painting session where three artists sketch drawings of faces of visitors, all within 15 minutes. no fixed rate, only donation is requested from visitors.

earlier, i was able to buy a necklace with a lizard pendant. when i got to the village, i saw a table with almost the same lizard painted on the table’s surface. i saw this as a sign. i’m a sucker for signs, i actually have the knack for overreading.

there’s a deck with the view of the south china sea. there are huts with paintings for sale. lovely paintings. i’d kill to have my teeth sinking into those paintings.

i told some people i’d be migrating to that place after five years, that they should just visit me there. i’d be with the artists and teach them how to curse like a pro. they’d probably teach me to drink more and hold the paint brush like a prim apprentice. we went there in the afternoon; can you imagine the immense number of stars exploding by night time, just almost within your reach? God, bring me to that place again. i want to see the artist again who sketched a drawing of my face. he got the hints of sadness in my eyes, the stubbornness etched on my jaw.

i imagine myself dying in that village, with my arms crossed over my chest and hints of a playful smile crossing my face. by that time, i would have learned to love the cold as much as i love the moon.

there will always be koi swimming in the tam-awan lake, wherever i may be. it swims around, seeming to wait for the time when i’ll finally be able to jump from the bridge. i would jump with my back facing the lake. it’s defying what lies underneath, it’s seeing the real color of the sky.