beautiful hate

because your hate is so beautiful and i want to claim it as my own...so i can give it back to you.

it has always been a priority of mine to always try to maintain the basics of a relationship even after the fall. i have always believed that the things that begin, the moment they begin also signals the moment that it would one day end. just a matter of time.

of course, i also never know how long such beginnings would last...

i also know that the only people who could betray you are those whom you trust.

and now, i have decided to hate with hate.

i knows its a crazy thing to do, and perhaps one of these days i would realize what a fool i am for doing so.

but then, those who know me that i learned a lot from the japanese especially when it comes to vengance. and perhaps for the first time, i would have the chance to find out if i could pull it off as i believed i could...

she doesnt give a fuck about the friendship anyway, and for this time, i also wont give a fuck.

i haven't declared war on someone i love. but for now, i am.

in time, she will realize that its a big mistake to fuck with me.

of course, she fucked me because it was the best fuck she ever had, literally and figuratively.

Eleventh Hour...

well..its not really the elevent hour. not yet. but i am getting close to it. and i am still to find the solutions for my problems.

its not a big problem after all. its just about the quality, the intensity of the works that i am submitting for the workshops that is bothering me.

i feel that the works that i have in line are not grown enough, not mature enough to survive longer than i would.

of course, i know other people would say that it is good enough, whether it is in the name of honesty or perhaps a safe answer. i dont know. but i have always believed that though it is the world in general who decides on how good a work is, on how strong it is, i believe that in the very first case, it would be the writer himself who decided, for if he had not, then the work would not have seen the light of day.

yeah, i am being critical about my works this time. and i have been critical for the last 2 or 3 years. and yet i am more so concerned this year. last year was not a very good year for me in terms of output. i wrote less than 50, and somehow less than 10 survived the culling process.

maddening.

and it reminds me about something a good friend told me last year:

"we writers worship a savage god who makes us mad before destroying us"

in my case, it was and still is true.

and last year i failed to make it.

and yet here i am, workshop fellow or not, as long as i live, until i die, until i could write, plowing these barren fields i call my life for seeds to flourish, for ripe fruits to be plucked.

of course, i can always say that the dead masters, one of them my father, did not get to be in the workshop. perhaps there was no need for him. perhaps.

whatever happens..winter..spring, summer or...

...may we writers never let the pen fall.

Like Bubblegum in my head...

*(from the anime BECK...)

Moon on the Water


Lyrics: Hidaka Tooru
Music: Beat Crusaders
Vocal: Kazuya Hirabayashi


Full moon sways
Gently in the night of one fine day

On my way
Looking for a moment with my dear

Full moon waves
Slowly on the surface of the lake

You were there
Smiling in my arms for all those years

What a fool
I don't know 'bout tomorrow
What it's like to be
Ah...

I was fool
Couldn't let myself to go
Even though I feel
The end

Old love affair
Floating like a bird resting her wings

You were there
Smiling in my arms for all those years

because there are mean people in this world...

FUCK YOU!

it was great fucking you.
and it was great being fucked by you,

thank you.

Listening to the Talk of Vaginas

yup, you hear me right.

actually, our office finally got the chance to sponsor co-sponsor THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES by Eve Ensler. and since it was our office, not only did it entail hard work work work to do but also the chance to see the people behind the scenes.

rehearsals was the fun part. admittedly, a lot of women find it not that easy to say vagina, cunt, twat and all the other variations that comes with it. funny that many find such words bad or dirty (one of our banners had to be taken down early because a parent was concerned about her son and daughter who were grade school students..DUHHH!) and yet when you think of it, men covet it and women give it away. go figure that out.

even for the willing "Vagina Warriors", it took quite a while for them to finally come out of their shell and speak out. and when they did speak out?!?!

all i could say that it felt like what my father told me before, about the joys of being in the throng of strong and beautiful and empowered women. you should have seen my grin. =)


dont have to have an IQ of 120 to figure out that i love hearing the talk of vaginas...

of course, somehow, i cannot help but remember conversations with vaginas before...and how somehow, i have been shunned to being a mere listener while vaginas all around me talk about their woes and everything else shitty that they have endured. my conversation with vaginas before was so so so....i miss it a lot ok?

but back to the agenda. im glad i got to be part of this production. its gonna be tonight, and the next one, and im not gonna miss it...

when Vaginas talk, lowly men such like me should listen.

A Letter for Da5id

A Letter for Da5id


I am writing to you
Now
Because I know
My hunger would end
Once I have you
In my hands.

May you find my fingers,
Callused too from anticipation,
Half of the wing
That kept you afloat
In comfort in the wet darkness
While you were sleeping.

The sun is out Da5id,
Marching against the darkness
Who is stealing the light from my eyes.
Outside, the birds are proclaiming
In a language I could
Not decipher now.

They are waiting for you
To understand them
As I once did.

I would tell you
Of what cats dream when they sleep,
The truth about starlight, or
Of the Moon
Who is a woman
Who waits,
And why she strips naked.

I would tell you
Of what I heard and what I saw
Of desires I wanted out in the light
And of their shadows I try to avoid
Every night after I close my eyes.

I am writing to you
Because you breathe the blossoms
I must never forget.

Shells would break
And petals would fall
While I wait for you to arrive

After your mother has returned.

Something about Houses

the only other person who shared this house with me could testify that its no castle, even if you were blind. trust me. i could tell you about the banging of roofsheets when gust of winds howl, o my neighbor "Ratty" (the rat) who would do the housekeeping for me, only worse. of the certain kind of termites of whatever insect thats chewing the board and letting it snow with dustwood. but those things arent that interesting anyway, i guess. but the only other person who could testify to these things has been absent from this house for quite sometime, and there is no next time to be back here.

i guess it was only fitting that i myself am leaving this house.

and yet before that happens, i cant help but ponder on what this house have been privy to. it may not be a castle, but it was my kingdom for these past few months that have seen its shares of seasons living and dying and living into something else.

i must admit, i cannot stop memories from flooding my head with a certain theme in recollection.

love was once born here. it was made here, born, reared, fed, nursed, cuddled, slept with...and the list goes on...there was life here...there was...

lately, i was able to read "dream country", and it reminded me of a lesson i thought i have forgotten...

"...the price for the things you want is the thing you once wanted..."

anyway, there was, there was something here. and now its gone.

i guess you could say whatever it was that was once here, it is a child that has grown up. and though parents are at times hesitatnt to let go, the road has already been paved, and must be walked. and i guess that is what happened in this house...

i really dont know if i will be back here again, if this house would still be here, if what traces would remain...if ghost of what was once here would linger...i dont know...

all i know is that i am leaving.

but then, like children who become adults do at times, perhaps in another place and time, what was once here in this house would come back...

and if it does, it would not be bad to be there.

"Lessons from Soledad"

"...that one never ever really leaves it, but it has always been there, in the shadows, between eyeblinks, between each parting of the lips. that one will in time come to meet it again, and listen, and remember, and learn. and in the end, which is actually the beginning (it's just a matter of perspectives anyway!) one would come to wake up from the dream of safety and security, of warmth and solace and into the bleak reality of people coming and going. and through it all, like fear that has already passed, i remain. only i remain. and because it is so, i can go again."

- d. steine
from "Memoirs of Soledad"

2pid

when i get to think about it, it should not be a big issue anymore.

i have been on the downward spiral before, and though the guilty party has always been different, the anatomy of abandonement has never changed a bit...

...its still the same, the same coldness, the same silence, the same musings.

and yet, i drown it it. well, have been.

i guess this only means that i am still what my sister's and brothers wish i would never be.

though i have to admit i am curious as to how winter would rage inside me and how it would affect the outside world...

...ok ok, that is a stupid idea.

it has not been easy sisters and brothers, and i am grateful for the concern for the past weeks...i am still dying a little bit every day, and that is because i am still alive.

and soon, i am gonna be with you...love you all.