An impression: Mt Dangawan Hike

   

   The mountains asked me what was i made of. Eventually the mountains were starting to believe that i was capable of reaching the peak even with the weight i had to carry.  I could not stop at all, to think of the embarassment  that will come after I quit the challenge will never be a good experience. And anyway it was a symbolic birthday hike. The highkings sang me a birthday song and it all felt funny :) (hehe) A very first hike to Mt. Dangawan from Nov 2-3. I had some gruesome ideas how the trails will be. I decided to forego and forget pain as if it was never experienced  by my whole body. The endless greenery, the rough paths, the 89 degree grass roads, all leading to the majestic peak everybody longed for on that day. 

I must say i was a little emotionally ready but without proper body conditioning it was more painful than expected. It was surprising that some of my mates can go real fast on the trails. it was incomprehensible at that time to me.
I was probably one of the those who reached the peak last.

When everybody reached the peak, i saw my mates sitting quietly, all inclined to being silent. Some were looking, resting and inhaling what laid before all of us. The views were just too like, ours but never ours. I personally got the sense that all i could do was breathe it all in, never could have hugged all the mountains and the clouds to myself. The mountains were just too tremendously immaculate but all it gave me was some sort of a connection to something pure and a detachment from material things. i forgot what desire was. The dirt and the earth has just too many stories that make me feel small and humbled.  I felt immensely halved between awe and worry. Worry, I never got the chance to explore this feeling.

My tired body gave in to the cold wind passing its way through the peak.

We had some really awesome dishes for dinner like adobong puti and sisig pusu. Everybody ate like wildlife and everybody shared what was on them banana leaves. It was one of the tastiest dinners ever. But after dinner, I was anxious about the cold. Because I got a taste of the bitter cold in Sagada.  It was too cold that I got hypothermia. I was shaking like a naked cat after being submerged in an icy river. Thats how cold i felt. It felt like hours, but it only really lasted between 3-5 minutes till i got myself warmed enough to stop the shaking.

SOCIAL HIGH
We were drinking alcohol while having a small social gathering after dinner. The city lights  beneath us were too surreal. It was like a dream that I could not forget. The mountains were quiet but the birds were out. We heard birds that made scary calling sounds. It terrified me because it was unfamiliar.. But i loved the fear, the cold. All of it made me feel alive. I met friends, I laughed with them, shared some delicious elevations with them. It was a high, a social high that amplified the best feeling ever on that night. The trees turned into water colour clouds of blue. The tiny pecks of light became stars in my hazy vision. Everything was funnier and everything was slo-mo. I watched the moon transform a lonely sky to a one with a billion stars visible to the naked eye. It was 4am. The skies and the people were the highlights of that hike.

I knew the world stopped during those minutes, I was inches away from the stars but the mountains helped me become closer to something bigger than all of us. I felt I was one with the earth. It was a good kind of moment.

i wanna thank all the guys that hiked with us. you guys are just awesome. to the people who organized it. a tremendous thanks :) miyamit falls was too majestic for me to explain. i could not.... ;)

Scattered Sheets

Scattered Sheets

When we make sense of scattered sheets, we find ourselves staring into 

pillows and blankets with each others' tears. We may never comprehend

what was said, but our hearts caught the pain of unsaid words. 

It was cold.

But, that actually never mattered. 

I smelled your breath. It was always mint. And the smell of your body

and your clothes and your skin. All a concoction of a dream that ended

in an abrupt fashion.

You said all tears were salty, I tasted mine and they were very bitter and blue.

Yours were the same when I tasted the tears from your cheeks. 

They tasted like no one's. 

All your DNA into mine. 

Very bitter and very blue.  

 

You lifted the blankets and looked for my hands.

My hands warmed by your wonderful mouth.

 It was plenty of pain when you exhaled.

I wanted to take away your sadness by diving into 

what we both knew so well.

A practice no one ever dared enter.

We replayed it a thousand times 

and we looked up into a hundred ceilings.

We inhaled what was left of our bare little

hearts. 

Once, we looked up into the skies.

Catching our breaths.  

 

How we survived that night were tissues scattered

all over our scattered sheets. 

Our clothes.

Scattered thoughts 

and some scattered feelings.

The pain that lingered looked for their masters

as the clothes were being worn. 

Tears flowed like feet with thorns.

I could muster no more. 

I cried at that Japanese floor.

 

 

 

 

still, im happy to have met you. see you again somewhere :)

Love annihilates any form of logic

   They made it to the small city of Subic/Olongapo, carrying bags with a slight lining of sweat all over their bodies and walked and talked as if it never bothered them. The tall, disconcerted and often out of sync buildings were never a threat to their budding romance, if anything, this city has been a witness to the passion they were experiencing such like with the passion that was present in the strong grip of their hands. His laughter shows a lightness, his breath smells divine, mint and cigarettes with the essence of saliva, so familiar to her, imprinted subconsciously in her sunlit, unashamed sexual kingdom. She as the often submissive queen to her one and only king.

  It is as if by default, men must carry the weight of the world, or atleast women expect them to.

  But she never understood that because the panthers and the snakes in her life has taught her that there are men who faulter and never even try.

  However, this man with the carpals and the metacarpals with the skin and the muscles that grow around and with it, so intricately designed by a God who had her in His mind, made it custom to fit both their hands so perfectly.

  His eyes hidden with a pair of glasses as if he needs them to see life better, he is like a jackpot that's worth a fucking couple of bilion secret goldmines in Palawan and under the hidden plains of the Ecuadorian mountain ranges, and then a cup of hot, steamy sexual appeal on the side.

  Like she had to have those underrated scratch and win cards you purchase in a highly corrupted PCSO outlet, mushrooming on every corner of this God-forsaken-led-by-criminals of an archipelago, that reeks of the tension between the good and the bad. All of us bound to be enticed by a system thats designed to annihilate any form of logic, unless you are a crazed mathematician that stalks the workings of the lottery. But all the goodness amidst all that is bad about her country, about her life, about her damn filthy little mind, Mr. Blader embodies that sweet little creamy whip that sits quietly between all of it.

   And when she scratches these multiple cards, and with the memory of her often wounded vagina, there revealed the faces of the men she'd hurt, who'd hurt her. And gets the fucking winning combination that so resulted well, and turned Mr. Blader into that underrated jackpot prize in any Filipina girls' dream.

~ un fin.

thank you mickey

Death Tendencies

I was in the shower.
I found myself crying at the
Immense sadness my soul has
Been thriving in.
For a ridiculously long time.
I sat in the corner, on the floor,
With my clothes on. Tears
Came for no reason.

Im so tired of it all.

.

I so fucking love you/

Until our deathbeds

How do we make sense of our lives? Our emotions? How do we connect the pieces of our lives to make one sensible picture out of it? Even in abstract, we try to atleast crack the codes that seem to appear in our presence. What about desire? So what about it? If there is cessation of desire then suffering will also cease. But what about the drive? Drive and desire are cousins atleast having a mutual concept.

How about subjecting yourself to a totally different environment? Exposing yourself to the things you haven't known. To the people who most likely hate each other for no apparent reason.

How bout in the case of loneliness? Without the presence of your lover? How can you even live every night missing the best person you ever have fallen in love with?

Baby tell me about different men, whats life gonna be when all you had were broken relationships that fatigued you till your vulnerability turns into a machine that spit oil of nonchalance?

Please explain your health. Your health and your issues with yourself. Diagnosing yourself with some kind of made up of clinical depression?  How do we even think of a million things and forget to drink milk.

Baby i miss your milk.

Now honey, please open the subject of skills. Am i in the middle of rediscovery or anything at all? It feels like it. It feels like i have to trudge the dark path of uncertainty to go to the lighter side of the road

After all, dear reader, all the codes and hints and the clues, until our deathbeds,
to the grave until the end.

Poems for the Lonely Night

The inside of a beach smelling
tent is hot and humid.
We force ourselves to sleep
but couldn't.
The dark of the island engulfs the
the romance.
Instead, fear was present in mind
and in our hard bed.

I cant sleep i said. I touched his leg.
Yes me too. He kissed my forehead.
It was 2am and the waves are still loud
and unsettled.
I prayed for sunrise as I heard strange
noises.

Boats were passing with nonchalant
no nonsense.
We flicked our flashlight to say we're present.
We kissed and stared at the nonending darkness.
Crabs and strange monkey sounds can be heard from a distance.

That island asked me what was I made of?
I said Im made of feather and all things soft.
That island showed me who the hell was boss.
I shivered in fright as I could fight no more.

Now baby i said whens the boat gonna take us?
Theyll come in a while baby lets cuddle.
He hugged me tight and said its all settled.
We ate a banana till we heard the roar of struggling motor.

Superfuckedfright.

Death of a Studio

A sekyu asked me, "mam para san yang picture na yan?"
Ahh. Akutuban ku ne. Bawal pin itang gagawan ku.
"ah sir wala, mangwa kumung litratu bantang padala ku la kareng kamag anak states, amimiss dane kanu ing Angeles."

Uita, tiluy ku ne ing pamaglaram bantang enaku rugu panabi keng tutuki, nung midalan ku pa keta.

This pic is just meant to keep something symbolic that I would like to think I was truly a part of. Anyway, its a simple picture.

Just a simple picture.
Not really meant to make people remember friendships.
Or totally awesome conversations.
Even good music.
I mean totally awesome, most of the time underrated, "this-is-the-shit" kind of awesome music.
Where the bosses let me play fuckin Franz Ferdinand burstin out the speakers.
Where
Them people who let me into the studio and listen while I sat on them amps.
Or even theoretical know hows to live a life.
Not really a picture to let you rememer past lovers.
Or brawls.
Fucking brawls.
That thang we smoked.
Heaps of liquor over cigs.
Even tears that were meant to be cried at the dark corridors because this place was full of men, mostly men.
We dont really try to pull up drawers of memory that taught us a thing or two about life with this picture.


It is just something that was there when we didnt have any place to go.

aint no ground zero

At work, somebody carelessly let out a comment aimed at me, it sounded like this, "you're nothing but a pretty girl." After I had made a mistake, panic ensued, disorienting me.

My whole being, my whole intellect, my whole education was insulted by this personal attack. All my life I knew I was more than a pretty face, at times I don't even consider myself attractive, couple that up with depressing weight issues and lack of self esteem. For somebody like him, (to fully describe this man, for some reason is fatally and obviously gay to many, assumes that there is an indirect correlation between looks and intellect. For a man like him to assume so must have been a victim of such stereotyping to fully understand and manage to cripple me for a day with that honest, simple, uni-phrasal comment as if he has sized up my being and also relish in the idea that he has made somebody feel stupid infront of some people after. He might. Or he might have felt guilty.

It is not a direct reflection of me. That comment can say more of his life than of mine. With my anger, I have driven myself in the mode of  reflection, to attack myself in angles I have never known before. Questioned myself, if I am capable of the job given to me, do i really look stupid infront of people at work?

So, these might be some answers I have retrieved in the whole two days in anger, frustration and self doubt:

1. People will think in their most convenient way, that is to hate those who they dont know to feed themselves of illusory self esteem that can be damaging and fatally destroy their relationships with people. Because understanding each other's differences takes a lot of guts and emotional intellect. Not many people can do that.

2. Even though i had made legendary (discriminatory and entirely below the belt) responses to him in my head, I wouldnt dare to say that in the future because I dont wanna be a running bad version of myself. Remember DESIDERATA? "As far as possible without surrender, Be in good terms with all people."

3. But a bit of kick-assery wont hurt once in a while. To ward them off bullies. Anyway, ever since time immemorial, the strong win and the, well, the more stressed out goes to the grave earlier than its due date.

4. Its not cool to even think of a catfight "he's gay thats why" backlash. Singers and self proclaimed activists for the rights of the LGBT are sensitive enough to make a song about that bullied gay boy. While the rest of the victimized, bullied individuals wait for their heroes in tight suits and unbelievable make up wearing a song to represent their grief-stricken lives.

5. I wanna tell him once to just shut the fuck up.

As of the moment

I have been repeating myself for the last couple of days.
And it seems like i can't perfect those specific lines that Im supposed to
communicate.
Hell.

I would need another poem.
Same venue.

And I need control over some things.
I just wish that my mind can focus on the
things that needed to be done
instead of wishfully thinking, dreaming to be in another place.

We shant lose track of the things we would like to do.
So the strength remains for us to push forward and keep this
uniformity, this SSDD.

Tsk.

Dilaw na Daliri

                     normal habits.
                           Plastic minds.
                     Normal life.
                           Unexciting strife.

                     Usual benefits.
                          That family bit.
                     Stand and sit.
                           No damn labyrinths.

Meanwhile.

                                 Strange beauty.
                      Adventure handy.
                            Popular company.
                      Depressions nightly.

                             Smoking jobs.
                      A great view on top.
                         Alcoholic dawn.
                     Cancerous sermons.

Hell like.

Never Set Yourself for the Rut

       I think smart people are the people who find variety in their lives when they start to sense an incoming onset of non creative sameness. Like for example, having a job that doesnt inspire, or being in the same zone as you were in before. What i think is that also having the mindset of surviving some sort of sameness, can lead a person to be subjected to a purgation. But of course, these samenesses are subjective. A number of people are trying hard to fight stagnation by exhausting efforts to find wonders in other things. 

      I have felt this incoming stagnation thats why i push myself to avoid a foreseeable rut ready to devour us, even the strong minded ones are put to the test.

       This Friday, i had spent a time by myself not in search of a date on Valentines, but rather, some sort of a motivation that can hit me right on my face, telling me, "stop fucking abusing yourself!" and wonderfully, this came in the form of a free jazz concert in an intimate museum. I listened to the Angeles City Musicians Guild play 2 nights in a row, definitely got me into such an emotional state I even cried. I cried to a song that gave a mellow, sad drive. Like the ones you hear at bars with romantic people, not of lust, but of love. I couldnt stop crying. And it was easy to hide my tears in the dimmed lights...

          And Of course and why did i go to this venue at all even though i havent got sleep yet from a very exhausting job, because i need to push myself to keep me from insanity.

somebody called me baby at work

warrior

An urgent need of delight for
A thousand reasons we can't
Fathom, but go thru the door
For a life led away from the bents.

We go struggle to reach a height
Of a lasting mount but we meet
Some folks they try as they might
To pull us down stuck to seat.

Mount mount we go up
Theres no rest for the us.

CODENAME: EMMA

I have tried running, not because I wanted to lose weight primarily. But to satisfy this nagging desire to run. I have noticed that during running, I never wanted to run again and again in the same circles or in the same places. I prefer long distance running, this is what I want to achieve.

There are goals that I want to reach this first half of the year. First, I need to work my ass off to achieve a financial goal I have been wanting. To do that, I must maintain a healthy body, I must sleep well, I must eat well. 

So far, I have been doing these things. I am also trying to fight depression and fatigue through exercise. I eat a lot of vegetables and try to keep a healthy appetite. I haven't smoked in months. I don't even have the desire to touch it. Smoke now disgusts me, I wear a face mask all the time. 

Every other day, I run almost 3 miles. The farthest I have run is so short still, it takes me one hour to finish the track. I wear a watch to track time and some music. I don't bring any money at all. For this tempts me to take the jeep and ride the rest of the way home. So, I leave myself with no choice but to run. Run and Run. 

I have been jogging for two weeks now. Surpassing the other time and track each day I try to run again. For example, I ran 30 minutes today non stop, so tomorrow I will try 40. This is a mind set Ive been keeping, not to lose weight, but to keep a healthy mind and disposition. 

I notice that, my form is also changing. My breathing is becoming rhythmic while running, instead of the short breaths I have usually. It is also easy for me to sleep and wake up while at work and while at home. I can manage my appetite well, I tend to grab water instead of sugary stuff. 

I told myself, If I continually subject my body to consistent hard work, it will eventually get used to it, and receive the pounding it gets from the mind, thus, following. I also tried that at work, work is hard, its mentally hard. But while running, I realized that if I want to learn more and more about work, I need to subject it to an environment which welcomes challenge and pressure, and hard work. And the mind will follow.

I am having a good week. I have done all I could to keep things in check. I tried my best to surpass my weaker self. 

But the best weeks are yet to come. 

cyberpunk love

You will never ever understand my feelings and my heartaches.
You won't. Ever.

So, maybe i should wait for somebody who can heal my broken spirit. My broken self. You will never again reach the deepest part of my being, like a well filled with tears only from what was lost between us.

I would like to turn into a machine.

alien eyes.

When i think_i think too much_ then_ it will hurt my head_ so_ i might have migraine_my eyes are starting to be painful_work_work_work_we should have no excuse_._._

work is fun fun fun

#getchafreakon

Forgetting romance you trusted and took care of is not easy to forget.

But definitely doable.

im quitting coffee

miss this place because of you.

Mr. Blackstar

We used to be good friends.. Didn't we?
Our connection is still strong, even if we don't think about it.

But, where the hell are you now?

It got harder to breathe

                     Hills and stuff

                     Fog excess

                     Child's Mind
     

                              Kinda cool

Surreal Escapism

Funk It Up

I had a medical examination yesterday in preparation for my new job.

It was all mechanical, the whole process. It was stiff yet everything was taken seriously. The way the nurses and the medtechs spoke to us were detailed, straight to the point. The chitty chats were kept to a minimum.

The woman in a blue scrubsuit with a severe look on her face, like, "i-aint-here-to-talk-bull-with-you" kinda atmosphere, swiftly took a new syringe from the syringe stack. Immediately tying my arm with some rubber to let my veins show up or something, and sticking the syringe into my unknowing skin. Fuck that hurt a little bit, but i didnt show my pain or fear. She took blood. She did.

I was asked to have my fingerprints taken using some kind of fingerprint recording device, it took me a while to understand the man's instructions, i felt challenged because its as if my listening skills were not good enough because i have forgotten how it is to communicate with filipinos, since i have worked for a japanese company for a year and a half.

I promised myself to train my ears to Filipino and English instructions.

So, i got home. Took a crap and submitted a small amount of it in a plastic covered cup. In all a swift manner.

I decided to quit smoking, and lessen the booze, ive got bigger dreams than get wasted and look old. Hahaha!

What a challenge!

Still reading murakami. I love him so much.