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Watch yourself peel
I can't seem to tell you enough, or maybe not enough words have been invented for everything. Am I probably getting a bit older, I feel that I should, maybe admitting so is enough reason that I am not. But one shouldn't keep things to oneself, as scared now as you were then. Wishing for proof so much. Still.
There is a saying, you step off the edge and build your wings on the way down. On the way down, you cross streets for the first time, you taste the world for the first time, you curl your tongue over new words, you build cities in your head. On the way down the world changes and still... it's still like crossing the street.
I don't have enough lessons and the last thing we all need is a list of testimonies. Try to peel. Watch yourself peel. Shed layers all around, shattered and delicate skin.
Sometimes, when people think, they say something else. That makes a person a voyeur to oneself. That way, you don't see what you have to say clearly, but you feel it.
And sometimes, that's the only way to say how you feel.
Yeah
I should write here more.
But I'm lazydays.
But I'll write during the Holy Week there is much to say!
I am tired
I am TIRED of being called 'bitch' and 'shitface' by people who are of no relation nor significance to me!!! I mean okay, I'm not deaf nor blind goddamn it, I got the message already, it's really unnecessary to remind me every five fucking minutes okay! At this point I am extremely tempted to change my name to Bitch Shitface Barba if it shall guarantee a stop to this madness. I know I used to complain people should call me more often but this is just quite wasn't what I had in mind. ARRRRRK!!!! Will this torture ever STOP?!
...
Why does my heart feel so bad?
I would give everything for someone to tell me who I am
Convenient aerial bombing KABOOM
I wasn't planning for all of this to get out of hand, or to put anything concerning the war here, but this is getting ridiculous, very annoying, and utterly impossible. Renaming french fries to freedom fries and french toast to freedom toast is the lowest of the low a country can ever get. I cannot help but LAUGH! Must you be so severe, dear friends over in America? I have nothing personal against you all, but you really are a funny folk, especially your President and hello, let's not forget Donald Rumsfeld, whom I detest the most these days.
Nothing can erase the facial expression Bush had on while delivering his 13-minute speech from my mind. If Fonzy were somber, that would be it. Similarly, the Philippine government seems to be making a big cahoot over our stance in this war, and maybe just maybe GMA would like to keep sentiments to herself, at least for awhile, lest she has forgotten the very huge and angry population in the South that are liable to retaliate with sympathy attacks. Manila on high alert? No surprise. If you've read the Economist article on the effects of war on our country, you'd have to agree that we will, undoubtedly, be the worst-hit nation in Southeast Asia. First, the OFWs who are helping the economy with remittances will be rerouted. The issue of Hong Kong's wage cut for domestic helpers (HK$400, or USD51, can you believe it) is still far from being settled, now this. You don't have to whip out a calculator to compute what the PHP55-USD1 is doing to our economy. Second is our dear Abu Sayaff who are reportedly "trained" by Al Qaeda, probably itching to get their claws on more innocent victims once the US strikes Iraq. The rest is up to your imagination.
When first world countries wage war, third world countries absorb the fall. Utter convenience. Even though GMA assures us that we have enough oil reserves for two months, enough food, enough rice, enough needs, she has failed to mention the long-term effects of all this.
I'm not totally one-sided; I can manage to see some arguable points, but this war is just too transparent. Just comeon and say what you want, instead of making a mountain out of a molehill, as the saying goes.
My point is this : convenience. People find comfort in convenience, something to blame, something to believe in, something to use as an excuse to strike. While watching Bush make his speech about liberating Iraq and promising the food and medicine and a "new Iraq" to the people of a country he is about to declare war on, I wondered: What kind of a leader, armed with a severe case of Messianic complex, could ever find convenience in going to war without UN support, without enough evidence, without exhausting all peace possibilities first?
Hey, you already know the answer. And everyone, whether we like it or not, will be affected. Except maybe for those people in Tibet, you know, who live in the mountains? I saw a feature on them the other night on National Geographic. That was coooool.
Sorry for the rant, I couldn't help myself. Since I update Globalnation, I think I am becoming a wee bit overly concerned about the Philippines, and that's not a bad thing to be feeling, no? As closing I would like to quote Forrest Gump: "...And that's the only thing I have to say about that."
Gawk
No, I am not happy. I work for www.inq7.net and I am surrounded by television sets, editorial staff, the latest newsbreaks, and severe paranoia. I hear about SARS, deadly pneumonia, and I immediately link it to the words "bioterrorism" and "airborne". Smoking breaks are not a relief, because all everyone talks about is war, news, war, news, war, viruses, news, news, terror alerts, news. The word "theory" is married to the word "conspiracy" in my vocabulary. My boyfriend is in Jordan, which is practically next to Iraq, which is run by Saddam, which is preparing for war with USA, which is run by Fonzy-lookalike-make-no-mistake guy. The rates are skyrocketing to 55.099 pesos to a dollar. The Philippine economy will and is dropping because OFWs will cease services overseas and the gas rates are rising as I type this and everything will rise and we are all going to be paranoid sooner or later.
So no, I am not happy. If you'll excuse me, there are more news to upload.
I just wait for tides to turn till I learn
From the window this morning a slow Beck song flew into my chest as I breathed in deeply, and it stayed there; this song with butterfly wings that refused to budge. From the jeepney to the train to the bus to each step from the bus stop to my building, where I watched shadows dutifully follow the well-dressed people hurrying along Ayala Avenue, that song stayed put. I predict it will give me bronchitis, tuberculosis, asthma, all kinds of breathing disorders, this song in my chest, because it's a beautiful slow song that seems to have carved a niche in my lungs. It won't leave.
I tried to shrug the song off; you see this is quite different from a last-song syndrome, because as I said I awoke with the song already in my chest. Drinking coffee might perhaps remove the song, but halfway thru my second glass I realised it would not work. I'm tired of fighting for this lost cause.
I have unfinished thoughts, interrupted musings. I fail to write half of them down. I don't mix perfectly the colours I see in my head. My dreams are cut in the middle; lying still in bed for ten minutes, I can easily retrace the first half of my dream and consciously construct the second half, but I'm never satisfied, never never ... one is never satisfied when the flow stops.
Everything lacks grace, like the grace of pink satin floating slowly to the floor, like feathers gently landing on a rock, like the swelling of an orchestra, like a smile slowly cracking, or moons rising. Does one enjoy so much to skim a hand along the smooth water to create disturbances? There is excitement is misbehaviour, I know. I am aware. I wouldn't want things to go smoothly... that would be boring and unnatural, but yes, I guess I long to see something gracefully falling, an action so smooth it almost looks the way wind would, a follow-through.
I like watching tennis. From the bleachers I still remember the follow-through of the whole action of swinging rackets, that beautiful motion - one long move that captures a giraffe's neck, a peacock's crown of feathers, a flamingo's stance, a figure of 8 - it's still etched somewhere in me, just like a song taking over your chest. Maybe you don't realise it, but you all know exactly how it feels.
Sea of Malls
If you are working around the Makati area, there's been a rumour that bombs are going to go off in certain buildings, either today or tomorrow. I've been getting various sms with the list of suspected buildings targetted. I've received ten so far (so you see, there's no need to send me one again), two from my pacicky mum, and funny ... my building is one of them! Hahaha. Actually, my building is quite famous for bomb threats, the classic story being an evacuation because of a "suspicious package" found in an advertising agency in the building. As it turns out, this was an attention-grabbing CV left by an applicant. He/she wanted his CV to "stand out", which explains his brilliant idea of fashioning his CV to a bomb package. Brilliance has its downside - I don't think the applicant was ever contacted again. That was a tad bit too much advertising, don't you all agree.
If this is a false alarm like that Australian embassy stunt a few months back, it's not funny. But ok, thanks for the tip. Just to be sure, maybe lay low on the partying around Makati, to everyone I know, yes? I'm usually unfazed by a lot of things, but you know the saying, it's better to be safe than sorry. The Davao airport blast wasn't funny either--- I saw the pictures, Mad Bomber, and there were children burned and killed in your little delivery. Fuck you. I'll admit that Manila isn't the safest of places nowadays, you know. Shit.
And of course, who hasn't received that email being circulated about racism at Cafe Havana at Greenbelt? The guard at the door refused to let a Filipino enter because "Priority namin ang foreigner." ("Foreigners are our prority.")
Indio ka rin, gago!
I don't know where the sun beams end and the star light begins, it's all a mystery
If you haven't listened to the Flaming Lips' newest album, you are missing a very vital part of your life.
Life is and always will be unsure, I suppose it's a universal rule, but to be sure of some things is an extra packet of sugar to add to your coffee when it's very, very bitter.
I don't know where the sun beams end and the star light begins, it's all a mystery. I don't know how a man decides what's right for his own life, it's all a mystery.
But it's a good one!
Good nite, sleep tight.
February is Ending
I'm embracing March because... well, because
March is summer, and in March are four weeks, in March are two paydays, in March is the promise of one more month then
comes April, April is still summer, in April are four weeks, in April there is a trip to the Arrival Area at NAIA, a trip to Boracay, a trip everywhere you wish, every trip imaginable, lazydays and busydays, in April new feelings will replace old feelings, in April the sun will shine and in April, things will make sense, paths navigated, smiles will be real, and I suppose, as always, life will go on, only now when we dance it won't be with ourselves, and if we ever get lost we'll be lost together.
Like I heard someone say: "I've had enough of this punk-rock shit."
And those are my sentiments exactly.
Hi Jul... see you soon.
Lost cause
I confess that I don't need much any more to be happy... just a few cigarettes, a nice coffee in the morning... even though work is still work, there is painting and art to look forward to in the evenings, books to read and authors to discover, conversations with people who have something worthwhile to say, Beck's new cd to listen to when you feel like making Lost Causes look like Winning Battles. I suppose expectations are a trap. They complicate things. If you keep solutions simple, then - like confetti - everything else falls into place. And the littlest things come as the biggest surprises in the world.
I suppose it sounds very naive and childish, the above paragraph. But I am starting to feel monuments being built in me and of me, as if I am bigger than who I originally thought I could be. There is space expanding suddenly, space which I want to cram with things that matter, with things that make sense, with things that myself and others can benefit from. There is a feeling of wanting to fill. Or an urgency of ridding the mess I've collected over the years.
Maybe we are all grander than we think we are. Maybe we're all in a hurry to make a mark in the world that we fail to realise that this is our mark, this is our cue, this is the right time to sing and dance, to paint and write, to grow... to get on the bus... and to get off at the correct stop.
This evening reminded me of pinatas, rockets, confetti, fireworks, and balloons falling from skies, hearts being blown out of bodies... Like I said, the monuments are being built, and I do exist, and I thought, yeah... hey, yeah... it doesn't take much any more to make me happy. It shouldn't take a lot, for us all.
Paper Sky
Petite, little, petite, quite contrary, contradicting, convenient. "I like your house because it's full of light". House-hunting, plans aborted, dreams aborted, house plans aborted, "You could say I am a photographical danger". Soul searchers, soul snatchers, a box of old pictures, dead babies in bridal gowns, "Hey it feels just like walking on stars".
Remember massive structures, certain shade of green, red tomatoes, watermelons, fruit stands, "Don't play hide-and-seek because I'm afraid I'll never find you". Bus stop conversations, bus stop arguments, augmentations, the sound of coming, fast breath, breath shortness, quickness of breath, breathing, "Not only my picture but also my soul".
Capturing the look of surprise, chiaroscuro. Blending in midtones, highlights, the darkest tones of all, "Looks so gray it's almost red". Add red to black to get the blackest black of all.
"Won't you share that last cigarette with me?"
Stretching the canvases, little boy blue, blowing horns, counting sheep, mobile phones off, emergency landing, airbag, charging, discharge, "It was only a few miles, why did you stretch it into forever". I guess the university will have a course on the universe. A global nation, a peace talk, a plan, a non-plan, an escape, a fallback, a choice, "Expel the other choices but you, then there are no choices, only answers", I know, I don't know, I've decided, I can't decide, I'll do the cha-cha, I'll dance the tango, I'll dance like a drunk, I'll drink like a drunk, "My god, I didn't know your eyes were half-open!"
Shiny expensive acrylic. Squeezing hands to release turpentine, drying canvases out in the sun, cats upon my belly, the change of wind and motion, the motion I make with my hands, how kisses taste, how bombs explode, "I've balanced all my life and now I fall". Don't hide, don't go too far because I'm afraid we'll never find us.
I wrote a story.
My Story:
There was a little child who thought too hard about the sky, why no spaceship ever seemed to puncture it, and drafted a resolution that the sky was made of paper, and that it was very far indeed. He sent it to the U.N. and got a Nobel prize for his discovery. We avoid the sun as much as we can in order to not burn the sky.
The End.
- Kala
Smart guard or taxi driver?
This morning there was a sulking security guard sitting on the steps of my office building. She was very sad indeed, which kind of ruined my day, because security guards are supposed to be tough and very irritating, always asking you to step out of the sidewalk or rudely telling you directions when you ask for it. It just bothered me, that's all.
A friend of mine at work asked me which I would prefer being : a smart security guard or a taxi driver? This question has put me in a bit of a nervous dilemma. What, indeed, would I rather be? My answer has changed around fifty times this whole day. You see, I was all set for being the smart guard, but then there is a guard at our building floor who does nothing but SIT there all day. With the radio going on, but comeon, I would die sitting all day, and radio stations aren't entertaining 24 hours a day, right? And anyway, if you were smart, would you settle for being a security guard? So I thought, hey, I'll be taxi driver. But this is Manila, and the traffic!
Now that I've sufficiently bored each and every one of you, I have to go.
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