Monday, October 19, 2009
I think I have ESP(N)
Haha, i'm not being funny or anything... I just wrote something about art being emotional and absolutely, globally, encompassingly beautiful. It was an entry here before about art not being esoteric. I was just so taken aback reading Kant's theory on aesthetics (which I read just last week). And it was everything I wrote about, only minus the technically. I guess some part of my brain foresaw what I was about to read... or my egotistic self just wants to claim that me and Mr. Kant do thing alike. Haha, whatever.
I Took a Date-Rape Drug for my Birthday
Seroquel.
Got me knocked out for more than half the day on my birthday. I almost missed it because i can't seem to bring myself to not miss it. It was the heaviest feeling in the world, although i'm not quite sure where to account it (the drug or it being my birthday, really).
Ever watched click? You can actually fastforward events in your life and skip to the good part. And it is by sleeping, self-induced or not. There would always be the regret of missing something once in a while... but you'd be too stoned to realize what you've missed anyway.
I suggest, unlike me, if ever you are to be a guinea pig to drug experiments, try to get something out of it. Try to get paid for it or something. Psychopharmacology being a recent discovery is a pitfall. Sure diagnosis of being crazy is to even try it.
Got me knocked out for more than half the day on my birthday. I almost missed it because i can't seem to bring myself to not miss it. It was the heaviest feeling in the world, although i'm not quite sure where to account it (the drug or it being my birthday, really).
Ever watched click? You can actually fastforward events in your life and skip to the good part. And it is by sleeping, self-induced or not. There would always be the regret of missing something once in a while... but you'd be too stoned to realize what you've missed anyway.
I suggest, unlike me, if ever you are to be a guinea pig to drug experiments, try to get something out of it. Try to get paid for it or something. Psychopharmacology being a recent discovery is a pitfall. Sure diagnosis of being crazy is to even try it.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
A Fine Day for Tragedy
I Know it's Over
The Smiths
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well
Enough said
I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Oh ...Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
(Though she needs you
More than she loves you)
And I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Over and over and over and over
Over and over
I know it's over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said :
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know ...
'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over
Love is natural and real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love
Love is natural and real
But not for such as you and I, my love
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
The Smiths
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well
Enough said
I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Oh ...Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
(Though she needs you
More than she loves you)
And I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Over and over and over and over
Over and over
I know it's over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said :
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know ...
'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over
Love is natural and real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love
Love is natural and real
But not for such as you and I, my love
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Monday, August 24, 2009
Avant Garde
How can music, universal as it is, (in the form aforemention) be so contradictingly esoteric?
*Sigh*
Truth be told, everything can be so misleading. The way I see it, even the essence of the truth can be so misleading. Truth is more of an emotion than it is a state of things. That's why it's so subjective. Because truth is an emotion the way sadness is. An individual has his own sense of truth. What is true is true as what is sad is sad. And nothing can be universally sad, in the same magnitude felt exactly the same way by two individuals. So nothing can be universally true.
If everything can be so misleading, what spares something like music? Apparently, nothing. Not even its truthfulness. Its being absolute is a lie. Everything can be absolute in itself. There is no such thing as music being so absolute it belittles all else. A color is a color. A word is a word. And in the hands of a poet, words can be absolute. It can evoke emotions that makes it mere amalgamations of visual representations of the basic units of sound. But the emotion is there. And a word to word it again does not even make sense.
Then where is this universality? It is in the art being absolute without isolating itself. It is in the art being art, being eternally true, eternally beautiful as an emotion. It is in the art accepted beyond understanding. And the acceptance of art is not in a sense of it being esoteric. There is no universality in that. Only a few can understand that emotion. There should be truthfulness in different magnitudes. How can there be truthfulness if there is not the slightest hint of understanding? If it is being absolute, then there should be no need for one to understand. It is mere beauty. It is mere truth. It is mere emotion. It is just that.
*Sigh*
Truth be told, everything can be so misleading. The way I see it, even the essence of the truth can be so misleading. Truth is more of an emotion than it is a state of things. That's why it's so subjective. Because truth is an emotion the way sadness is. An individual has his own sense of truth. What is true is true as what is sad is sad. And nothing can be universally sad, in the same magnitude felt exactly the same way by two individuals. So nothing can be universally true.
If everything can be so misleading, what spares something like music? Apparently, nothing. Not even its truthfulness. Its being absolute is a lie. Everything can be absolute in itself. There is no such thing as music being so absolute it belittles all else. A color is a color. A word is a word. And in the hands of a poet, words can be absolute. It can evoke emotions that makes it mere amalgamations of visual representations of the basic units of sound. But the emotion is there. And a word to word it again does not even make sense.
Then where is this universality? It is in the art being absolute without isolating itself. It is in the art being art, being eternally true, eternally beautiful as an emotion. It is in the art accepted beyond understanding. And the acceptance of art is not in a sense of it being esoteric. There is no universality in that. Only a few can understand that emotion. There should be truthfulness in different magnitudes. How can there be truthfulness if there is not the slightest hint of understanding? If it is being absolute, then there should be no need for one to understand. It is mere beauty. It is mere truth. It is mere emotion. It is just that.
The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator
by Anne Sexton
The end of the affair is always death.
She’s my workshop. Slippery eye,
out of the tribe of myself my breath
finds you gone. I horrify
those who stand by. I am fed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Finger to finger, now she’s mine.
She’s not too far. She’s my encounter.
I beat her like a bell. I recline
in the bower where you used to mount her.
You borrowed me on the flowered spread.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Take for instance this night, my love,
that every single couple puts together
with a joint overturning, beneath, above,
the abundant two on sponge and feather,
kneeling and pushing, head to head.
At night alone, I marry the bed.
I break out of my body this way,
an annoying miracle. Could I
put the dream market on display?
I am spread out. I crucify.
My little plum is what you said.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Then my black-eyed rival came.
The lady of water, rising on the beach,
a piano at her fingertips, shame
on her lips and a flute’s speech.
And I was the knock-kneed broom instead.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
She took you the way a woman takes
a bargain dress off the rack
and I broke the way a stone breaks.
I give back your books and fishing tack.
Today’s paper says that you are wed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Anne Sexton, “The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator” from The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1981). Copyright © 1981 by Linda Gray Sexton and Loring Conant, Jr. Reprinted with the permission of Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc.
Source: The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton (1981)
The end of the affair is always death.
She’s my workshop. Slippery eye,
out of the tribe of myself my breath
finds you gone. I horrify
those who stand by. I am fed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Finger to finger, now she’s mine.
She’s not too far. She’s my encounter.
I beat her like a bell. I recline
in the bower where you used to mount her.
You borrowed me on the flowered spread.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Take for instance this night, my love,
that every single couple puts together
with a joint overturning, beneath, above,
the abundant two on sponge and feather,
kneeling and pushing, head to head.
At night alone, I marry the bed.
I break out of my body this way,
an annoying miracle. Could I
put the dream market on display?
I am spread out. I crucify.
My little plum is what you said.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Then my black-eyed rival came.
The lady of water, rising on the beach,
a piano at her fingertips, shame
on her lips and a flute’s speech.
And I was the knock-kneed broom instead.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
She took you the way a woman takes
a bargain dress off the rack
and I broke the way a stone breaks.
I give back your books and fishing tack.
Today’s paper says that you are wed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Anne Sexton, “The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator” from The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1981). Copyright © 1981 by Linda Gray Sexton and Loring Conant, Jr. Reprinted with the permission of Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc.
Source: The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton (1981)
Jeff Buckley Interview Excerpts (or something like that)
Ninakaw ko lang to kasi interesting:
1.
JB:
G.I.T. was started by Howard Roberts, the guy who played the wah-wah guitar on the theme to Shaft. And this other guy named Pat Hayes. I don't know. It just seemed like a racket, really. John said a lot of things to me that stuck in my mind. He said that there was nobody who stopped you, sat you in a room and said, okay, we have all these artists that you're learning the licks from, you have your guitar heroes, your virtuoso lust objects. But there's nobody who can make the kind of music you can make now except for you. And you can make it now. You don't even have to know how to go fast. And that makes all the sense to me in the world. It's also kind of an unseen process, that concept, originality. It's like that in all the education systems; there's never any real...identity education, self-generative identity art sort of thing, to be yourself. If everybody in Melbourne had a Wurlitzer organ and had the passion to sing something or make something, you'd have hundreds of thousands of different styles, if they were coming exactly from only their DNA, only their makeup, and their emotional percepts, their idea about what art is. You could have way-removed genres from what is already accepted, avante garde country-rock-punk-folk-whatever. It's unlimited. But for some reason, the conventions always take over and there's a very ready and powerful formula to step into...
2.
JB:
That's what CDs are for, though. They're for you to get acquainted with a personality, or to scoff at it or spit on it. Sooner or later, a song will mean something to you. He's taking it as a package, as we all do as consumers. But music, songs find meaning elsewhere. They're sort of like picnic flies ; they buzz in and take your shit.
That's funny. God only knows what he thought of the packaging of Grace. "Hi, I'm Jeff Buckley, I'm a syncretic wanker."
3.
JB:
Exactly. I don't recognize that sensibility at all. I don't recognize anything that doesn't recognize a bloom. You were talking about Anne Sexton and her rhythm. The thing missing from your written poetry is [points to his chest] this, the body that gives it meaning and shoots it out into the air. Poetry comes from the people who make it; the books are just books, blueprints. Dylan and Leonard Cohen and Patti Smith, all dark, all romantic. When I say "romantic," I mean a sensibility that sees everything, and has to express everything, and still doesn't know what the fuck it is, it hurts that bad. It just madly tries to speak whatever it feels, and that can mean vast things. That sort of mentality can turn a sun-kissed orange into a flaming meteorite, and make it sound like that in a song.
And there's that pretentious label we were talking about before. People say, "Why dress it up? It needs to be a song. Why all this froo-froo stuff?" Well, why art? Why painting? Why sculpture? It seems as if the world has done away with art altogether, any concern or any relationship with it. So many easy things seem to be over the public's head. But really, if they just came at it a certain way, it would hit them right in the guts; it's so easy.
Smith's and Dylan's and Cohen's power lies in their ability to tell that story so well, and all the stuff on Blonde on Blonde and on [Smith's] Horses and Radio Ethiopia and [Cohen's] Songs From a Room, even Death of a Ladies' Man, which is a sleazy-ass album; it's a real jewel, for someone to be able to sing that, to say that. Dylan had no ornamentation whatsoever. He had pure feel and pure language coming out of him, and that did all the work. He had such affectation! [starts imitating Dylan singing "Visions of Johanna"]
4.
JB:
There's nothing wrong, in my mind, with criticism. But there's something sinister about critics who are outside the process ferociously trying to legitimatize an art form into their sensibility. Can you imagine living in that kind of world? You would listen to a shitload of Billie Holiday, Satchmo, Fats Waller. You'd concentrate on the 30's, 40's and 50's, and then you'd write about PJ Harvey because she's sexy and she reminds you of Howlin' Wolf. I like a lot of their tastes. It's just that the way they speak about music obviously illustrates some real sour soul.
1.
JB:
G.I.T. was started by Howard Roberts, the guy who played the wah-wah guitar on the theme to Shaft. And this other guy named Pat Hayes. I don't know. It just seemed like a racket, really. John said a lot of things to me that stuck in my mind. He said that there was nobody who stopped you, sat you in a room and said, okay, we have all these artists that you're learning the licks from, you have your guitar heroes, your virtuoso lust objects. But there's nobody who can make the kind of music you can make now except for you. And you can make it now. You don't even have to know how to go fast. And that makes all the sense to me in the world. It's also kind of an unseen process, that concept, originality. It's like that in all the education systems; there's never any real...identity education, self-generative identity art sort of thing, to be yourself. If everybody in Melbourne had a Wurlitzer organ and had the passion to sing something or make something, you'd have hundreds of thousands of different styles, if they were coming exactly from only their DNA, only their makeup, and their emotional percepts, their idea about what art is. You could have way-removed genres from what is already accepted, avante garde country-rock-punk-folk-whatever. It's unlimited. But for some reason, the conventions always take over and there's a very ready and powerful formula to step into...
2.
JB:
That's what CDs are for, though. They're for you to get acquainted with a personality, or to scoff at it or spit on it. Sooner or later, a song will mean something to you. He's taking it as a package, as we all do as consumers. But music, songs find meaning elsewhere. They're sort of like picnic flies ; they buzz in and take your shit.
That's funny. God only knows what he thought of the packaging of Grace. "Hi, I'm Jeff Buckley, I'm a syncretic wanker."
3.
JB:
Exactly. I don't recognize that sensibility at all. I don't recognize anything that doesn't recognize a bloom. You were talking about Anne Sexton and her rhythm. The thing missing from your written poetry is [points to his chest] this, the body that gives it meaning and shoots it out into the air. Poetry comes from the people who make it; the books are just books, blueprints. Dylan and Leonard Cohen and Patti Smith, all dark, all romantic. When I say "romantic," I mean a sensibility that sees everything, and has to express everything, and still doesn't know what the fuck it is, it hurts that bad. It just madly tries to speak whatever it feels, and that can mean vast things. That sort of mentality can turn a sun-kissed orange into a flaming meteorite, and make it sound like that in a song.
And there's that pretentious label we were talking about before. People say, "Why dress it up? It needs to be a song. Why all this froo-froo stuff?" Well, why art? Why painting? Why sculpture? It seems as if the world has done away with art altogether, any concern or any relationship with it. So many easy things seem to be over the public's head. But really, if they just came at it a certain way, it would hit them right in the guts; it's so easy.
Smith's and Dylan's and Cohen's power lies in their ability to tell that story so well, and all the stuff on Blonde on Blonde and on [Smith's] Horses and Radio Ethiopia and [Cohen's] Songs From a Room, even Death of a Ladies' Man, which is a sleazy-ass album; it's a real jewel, for someone to be able to sing that, to say that. Dylan had no ornamentation whatsoever. He had pure feel and pure language coming out of him, and that did all the work. He had such affectation! [starts imitating Dylan singing "Visions of Johanna"]
4.
JB:
There's nothing wrong, in my mind, with criticism. But there's something sinister about critics who are outside the process ferociously trying to legitimatize an art form into their sensibility. Can you imagine living in that kind of world? You would listen to a shitload of Billie Holiday, Satchmo, Fats Waller. You'd concentrate on the 30's, 40's and 50's, and then you'd write about PJ Harvey because she's sexy and she reminds you of Howlin' Wolf. I like a lot of their tastes. It's just that the way they speak about music obviously illustrates some real sour soul.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Therapy
Me:
There are only two things I should do for me to fit in to this world. Either I kill my being idealistic or I kill myself.
S:
And you chose the latter.
Oh wouldn't I rather.
There are only two things I should do for me to fit in to this world. Either I kill my being idealistic or I kill myself.
S:
And you chose the latter.
Oh wouldn't I rather.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Bangungot... Malala pa sa Swine Flu
Con-ass, lusot na sa kamara! (Ayon sa bandila na kasalukuyan kong pinapanood)
Naranasan mo na bang bangungutin? Yung tipong hindi ka makakilos tas gustung-gusto mo nang gumising hindi ka parin magising... Yung nagdadasal kang magalaw mo lang isang parte sa katawan mo, isa lang, susunod na lahat? At paggising mo... Basang-basa ka sa malamig na pawis mulo ulo hanggang paa... Hinahagbol mo pa yung hininga mong pilit kang tinakasan...
Nakapanood ka na ba ng horror? Yung tipong paggising mo sa bangungot after 10 seconds biglang mangyayari yung bangungot... Parang yung sa Tale of Two Sisters... Kaso nakakaantok yun e... Psych thriller lang pala kala ko horror talaga... Anyway, yun magaganap sakto kung pano mo napanaginipan? Horror noh?
Kasi hindi mo talaga mapapaliwanag kung bakit parang namamagnify ng panaginip lahat ng emotion na nararamdaman mo sakali mang maencounter mo yung ganong situation ng conscious ka... Kaya talagang magrereplay yung same magnitude of emotions pag conscious ka na... Kasi napangunahan ng bangungot... Panghorror talaga...
Eto na yung horror ko... Binangungot daw ako (kasi narinig ko mula sa isang source, napanaginipan ko tuloy) na natuloy ang con-ass tas tumakbong kongresista si Gloria sa Pampangga... tas nanalo.. tas may immunity tuloy sa mga kaso nya ng kurapsyon... tas naging minority floor leader... (kahit ano, panaginip lang naman yun) tas natapos iamend ang konstitusyon... tas chedeng! siya na prime minister! tas transition president lang yung nanalo ng 2010... tas ayun... nagising ako... panaginip lang pala Thanks Lord!...
Tas... after many seconds... and many days... nakapagrehistro na ko kasi humupa na yung damdamin kong di mapanatag sa mga agam-agam ng posibilidad na isabotahe lang naman din ang eleksyon... Aba! bigla akong nanuod ng Bandila... na lagi ko namang ginagawa.. minsan saksi... kahit alin... tas ayan.. nagbablog na ko ngayon kasi para talagang horror!...
E pinaguusapan pa naman namin yung mga trapo... At kung pano nila pakinabangan ang kaban ng bayan... at kung pano rin pakinabangan ng mga anak nilang tugsh tugsh lang ang inaatupag... Yan tuloy nakakabuntis... (O wala akong pinatatamaan... problema mo na yung kung bumukol... tinamaan ka kasi siguro) E pano nalang? Sabay-sabay ba tayong lulubog sa Pacific Ocean? Bangungot talaga, pare... Inuman nalang tayo para makalimot...
Naranasan mo na bang bangungutin? Yung tipong hindi ka makakilos tas gustung-gusto mo nang gumising hindi ka parin magising... Yung nagdadasal kang magalaw mo lang isang parte sa katawan mo, isa lang, susunod na lahat? At paggising mo... Basang-basa ka sa malamig na pawis mulo ulo hanggang paa... Hinahagbol mo pa yung hininga mong pilit kang tinakasan...
Nakapanood ka na ba ng horror? Yung tipong paggising mo sa bangungot after 10 seconds biglang mangyayari yung bangungot... Parang yung sa Tale of Two Sisters... Kaso nakakaantok yun e... Psych thriller lang pala kala ko horror talaga... Anyway, yun magaganap sakto kung pano mo napanaginipan? Horror noh?
Kasi hindi mo talaga mapapaliwanag kung bakit parang namamagnify ng panaginip lahat ng emotion na nararamdaman mo sakali mang maencounter mo yung ganong situation ng conscious ka... Kaya talagang magrereplay yung same magnitude of emotions pag conscious ka na... Kasi napangunahan ng bangungot... Panghorror talaga...
Eto na yung horror ko... Binangungot daw ako (kasi narinig ko mula sa isang source, napanaginipan ko tuloy) na natuloy ang con-ass tas tumakbong kongresista si Gloria sa Pampangga... tas nanalo.. tas may immunity tuloy sa mga kaso nya ng kurapsyon... tas naging minority floor leader... (kahit ano, panaginip lang naman yun) tas natapos iamend ang konstitusyon... tas chedeng! siya na prime minister! tas transition president lang yung nanalo ng 2010... tas ayun... nagising ako... panaginip lang pala Thanks Lord!...
Tas... after many seconds... and many days... nakapagrehistro na ko kasi humupa na yung damdamin kong di mapanatag sa mga agam-agam ng posibilidad na isabotahe lang naman din ang eleksyon... Aba! bigla akong nanuod ng Bandila... na lagi ko namang ginagawa.. minsan saksi... kahit alin... tas ayan.. nagbablog na ko ngayon kasi para talagang horror!...
E pinaguusapan pa naman namin yung mga trapo... At kung pano nila pakinabangan ang kaban ng bayan... at kung pano rin pakinabangan ng mga anak nilang tugsh tugsh lang ang inaatupag... Yan tuloy nakakabuntis... (O wala akong pinatatamaan... problema mo na yung kung bumukol... tinamaan ka kasi siguro) E pano nalang? Sabay-sabay ba tayong lulubog sa Pacific Ocean? Bangungot talaga, pare... Inuman nalang tayo para makalimot...
Monday, May 18, 2009
Malaking Dreamcatcher (at kung bakit ito hugis bilog)
Ui, nakabalik na ko!
Binisita ako sa isang panaginip (ng isang prominenteng alagad ng sining. oo ang weird na ganyan ang mga panaginip ko) at ngayon biglaan na kong nagiging prolific na pintor. Nakakaubos ng oras pero masarap namang palipasin ang oras sa mga bagay na makabuluhan tulad ng pagkakaroon ng pribilehiyo ng maraming biswal na produktong hindi naman ako sanay matamasa miski noon pa.
Marami na talagang pagbabago at ang pagbabago ay hindi maiiwasan dahil ang tao ay tao at ang tao ay mananatiling tao kahit hindi nananatili ang pagkatao. Ang tao ay isang existence na hindi ganoon ka-existential(?) Parang prutas, walang katulad ang nilalaman at patuloy paring nagbabago sa panahon ang kabuuan ngunit habangbuhay iisa ang bansag, iisa ang uri kahit gaano man kapakla kumpara sa ibang kawangis din naman ngunit di lubusan. Dahil ang natural na takbo ng panahon ay laging natural, natural na ang kahulugan ay ang siyang di nakaranas ng kahit anong uri ng manipulasyon. At dahil ang tao ay taong natural at ang natural ay ang siyang perpekto. At sa pagiging natural ng tao ay hindi ito nakakahanap ng kaligayahan, (dahil hindi na napapanahon ang pagiging natural) kaya't walang nakukuntento sa pagiging natural ng tao at walang nakakahanap ng tunay na perpeksyon na ang tanging paraan ng pagkamit ay ang pagtanaw sa nakagawian ng buong puso, dahil doon din naman nagmula ang lahat ng bagay, ang mga bagay na hindi nakaranas ng manipulasyon. Ang manipulasyon ay ang siyang prosesong walang katapusan. Ang manipulasyon ay bunga ng kawalan ng kontentment. At ang manipulasyon ay prosesong patuloy na hahanap-hanapin ng taong hindi natututo, na patuloy na naghahangad ng perpeksyon, na sa premises ng ating pinaguusapan ay obvious din namang hindi makakamtan ng siyang humahangad kung tanging sa manipulasyong lang din ito umaasa.
Kaya ang kailangan ay pagbabago. (Uso to ngayon) Patuloy na pagbabago hanggang sa isang araw, malalaman mong ang pagbabago ay patutungo din sa basic, sa pinanggalingan ng lahat. Hanggang sa ang lahat ng pagbabago ay patutungo din sa natural dahil lahat ng proseso ay cycle. Ang wakas ay laging simula. Diyan hindi ako nagkakamali. Lahat ng proseso ay cycle. Isipin mo nalang kung gaano ka-abundant ang hugis na bilog sa buhay at sa mundo. Lahat ng bagay ay bilog. Dahil ang Diyos mismo ay bilog. At ang wakas ng bilog ay ang simula ng bilog. At ang natural na simula ang babalikan ng pagmamanipula sa isang cycle (na bilog). At kung magkagayon, ang bilog ay perpekto. At mananatiling perpekto ang lahat ng bagay na bilog.
At posibleng magbago ang pananaw ng lahat ng tao. At ang adhikain ng lahat ng tao. At ang ipinaglalaban ng lahat ng tao. At ang pangarap ng lahat ng tao. Dahil lumalaki ang bilog, lumiliit ang bilog. Ang maliit na bilog ay makitid at maliit lamang ang nasasaklaw. Pero ang lahat ng bagay ay bumabalik sa pinagmulan. Isipin mo nalang, sa dulo ay perpekto ang lahat ng bagay.
Binisita ako sa isang panaginip (ng isang prominenteng alagad ng sining. oo ang weird na ganyan ang mga panaginip ko) at ngayon biglaan na kong nagiging prolific na pintor. Nakakaubos ng oras pero masarap namang palipasin ang oras sa mga bagay na makabuluhan tulad ng pagkakaroon ng pribilehiyo ng maraming biswal na produktong hindi naman ako sanay matamasa miski noon pa.
Marami na talagang pagbabago at ang pagbabago ay hindi maiiwasan dahil ang tao ay tao at ang tao ay mananatiling tao kahit hindi nananatili ang pagkatao. Ang tao ay isang existence na hindi ganoon ka-existential(?) Parang prutas, walang katulad ang nilalaman at patuloy paring nagbabago sa panahon ang kabuuan ngunit habangbuhay iisa ang bansag, iisa ang uri kahit gaano man kapakla kumpara sa ibang kawangis din naman ngunit di lubusan. Dahil ang natural na takbo ng panahon ay laging natural, natural na ang kahulugan ay ang siyang di nakaranas ng kahit anong uri ng manipulasyon. At dahil ang tao ay taong natural at ang natural ay ang siyang perpekto. At sa pagiging natural ng tao ay hindi ito nakakahanap ng kaligayahan, (dahil hindi na napapanahon ang pagiging natural) kaya't walang nakukuntento sa pagiging natural ng tao at walang nakakahanap ng tunay na perpeksyon na ang tanging paraan ng pagkamit ay ang pagtanaw sa nakagawian ng buong puso, dahil doon din naman nagmula ang lahat ng bagay, ang mga bagay na hindi nakaranas ng manipulasyon. Ang manipulasyon ay ang siyang prosesong walang katapusan. Ang manipulasyon ay bunga ng kawalan ng kontentment. At ang manipulasyon ay prosesong patuloy na hahanap-hanapin ng taong hindi natututo, na patuloy na naghahangad ng perpeksyon, na sa premises ng ating pinaguusapan ay obvious din namang hindi makakamtan ng siyang humahangad kung tanging sa manipulasyong lang din ito umaasa.
Kaya ang kailangan ay pagbabago. (Uso to ngayon) Patuloy na pagbabago hanggang sa isang araw, malalaman mong ang pagbabago ay patutungo din sa basic, sa pinanggalingan ng lahat. Hanggang sa ang lahat ng pagbabago ay patutungo din sa natural dahil lahat ng proseso ay cycle. Ang wakas ay laging simula. Diyan hindi ako nagkakamali. Lahat ng proseso ay cycle. Isipin mo nalang kung gaano ka-abundant ang hugis na bilog sa buhay at sa mundo. Lahat ng bagay ay bilog. Dahil ang Diyos mismo ay bilog. At ang wakas ng bilog ay ang simula ng bilog. At ang natural na simula ang babalikan ng pagmamanipula sa isang cycle (na bilog). At kung magkagayon, ang bilog ay perpekto. At mananatiling perpekto ang lahat ng bagay na bilog.
At posibleng magbago ang pananaw ng lahat ng tao. At ang adhikain ng lahat ng tao. At ang ipinaglalaban ng lahat ng tao. At ang pangarap ng lahat ng tao. Dahil lumalaki ang bilog, lumiliit ang bilog. Ang maliit na bilog ay makitid at maliit lamang ang nasasaklaw. Pero ang lahat ng bagay ay bumabalik sa pinagmulan. Isipin mo nalang, sa dulo ay perpekto ang lahat ng bagay.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
After Reading Siddhartha
This is me wanting to keep sane.
Me and my (prose-like) writing, which is always always unconsciously done. Sometimes it gets the worse of me and my objectivity which almost undeniably deconstructs itself into something abstract, like alloy convoluted to artistic nonesense, art being dismissed as nonsensical to one who does not understand or is unwilling to.
Yes, like me and my quest for knowledge--driving me to the cul de sac or some self-depricating proclamation of mine (going lalala in my cuckoo head), which by all means I shall label 'quarter-life crisis' (assuming I die at 80). And my brain soaking wet, aching from all saturation (which is all too masochistic anyway). Over used. Full to the brim and yet pitterpatter it goes, screaming 'what say uncle'?
Like this very moment. Though I do believe that sanity has something to do with a person's anatomical limitation. Maybe, insanity is an uncommon spiritual experience. The way ideas are one-sidedly expressed by words. Because words are amalgamations of letters and letters are nothing sort of literary, or sensual, or anything in that sense. (or something similar to what Hermann Hesse said) It is the idea that is the literary. And still it is a one-sided type thing.
Ooh!
Ha? So shall we say that music is less limiting? Than words... I think so... I shall research on that. (This is maybe why I got so interested in learning all too well something I can thoroughly manipulate, something that can be disciples to my ideas) (which are all too sordid and villanous, and parenthetical, and doesn't really amount to much)
So, to do something metaphysical... That is using more than 10% of your brain... If it be permitted to 18 year olds in the 21st century of consumer capitalism.
No this is something really... A sober effect of cleaning my room and wanting to do Zen Buddhism to fill up some adolescent emptiness (if that still applies). To regain what was lost, like how i seemed to sound wiser when I was in highschool still (with these highschool essays as evidence), much to my chagrin (including this) or something like it. Huhuhuh.
Wisdom sounds stupid in words really... now I get that Mr. Hesse...
Me and my (prose-like) writing, which is always always unconsciously done. Sometimes it gets the worse of me and my objectivity which almost undeniably deconstructs itself into something abstract, like alloy convoluted to artistic nonesense, art being dismissed as nonsensical to one who does not understand or is unwilling to.
Yes, like me and my quest for knowledge--driving me to the cul de sac or some self-depricating proclamation of mine (going lalala in my cuckoo head), which by all means I shall label 'quarter-life crisis' (assuming I die at 80). And my brain soaking wet, aching from all saturation (which is all too masochistic anyway). Over used. Full to the brim and yet pitterpatter it goes, screaming 'what say uncle'?
Like this very moment. Though I do believe that sanity has something to do with a person's anatomical limitation. Maybe, insanity is an uncommon spiritual experience. The way ideas are one-sidedly expressed by words. Because words are amalgamations of letters and letters are nothing sort of literary, or sensual, or anything in that sense. (or something similar to what Hermann Hesse said) It is the idea that is the literary. And still it is a one-sided type thing.
Ooh!
Ha? So shall we say that music is less limiting? Than words... I think so... I shall research on that. (This is maybe why I got so interested in learning all too well something I can thoroughly manipulate, something that can be disciples to my ideas) (which are all too sordid and villanous, and parenthetical, and doesn't really amount to much)
So, to do something metaphysical... That is using more than 10% of your brain... If it be permitted to 18 year olds in the 21st century of consumer capitalism.
No this is something really... A sober effect of cleaning my room and wanting to do Zen Buddhism to fill up some adolescent emptiness (if that still applies). To regain what was lost, like how i seemed to sound wiser when I was in highschool still (with these highschool essays as evidence), much to my chagrin (including this) or something like it. Huhuhuh.
Wisdom sounds stupid in words really... now I get that Mr. Hesse...
Monday, April 6, 2009
The Raon Experience
It is non-sequitur that acquisition of profit is acquisition of capital and that profit as capital is solely for further exploitation of a working class (which in turn transforms the subject into bourgeois/ petty bourgeois). Because there exists a sector of 'working class capitalists' whose profits serve as their minimum wage. And this does not amount to much. And this does not amount to capital because it is not part of their objective, which is to simply find sustenance in order to exist for as long as there is minimal profit to abuse.
Sauntering along the majestic overpass of Quiapo, these things I have deduced while passing by proletarian capitalists (if the term suffices even paradoxically) who, sans rich, are simply filthy. Despite my notoriously virginal way of thinking, I still happen to find these street vendors rather filthy for their immoral display of supposedly censored products as if they were, alongside binoculars and children's toys and other commodities, are totally non-offensive. See what capitalism can do! If it weren't so necessary, I wouldn't even uphold Marxist ideologies, so as to say that I am quite content with my peaceful existence and I have petty ideologies of my own... which are guilty of being conservative.
But aside from the dildos greeting me left and right, I equally find, as I purchased a new instrument to preoccupy myself with, commerce in this side of the earth as disorienting. How, in the name of profit (or money simply put), can one easily persuade the seller to lower the price of his product without him effectively realizing that he is being dissuaded from acknowledging the true value of his work. Yes, degredation of price is degredation of worth(?) But the presence of price automatically makes a product worthless nonetheless. This has been to a point, my support for Marx's theory of alienation (which strongly accounts for my great aversion for art commodification). But some of these capitalists (only some, I pray, and their names shall not be mentioned) recognize these degredation, these alienation, and the purpose of their product being a product with nothing but monetary value; and to their advantage, create without the essence of quality for the benefit of the buyer, especially the buyers who are non-veteran in purchasing certain products that cater to certain interests. This is human sin in my opinion, as morality being subjective; still, this pragmatic way of businessing a non-pragmatic interest is insulting. Insulting in a sense that art can never be an insensitive business as art is overtly truthfull-- truthfullness being an antithetic, and also destructive, force to business.
Still it is rather insulting, really, to subject art to neo-liberal globalization. Art must never be subject to capitalism. Or lest art will never be art, or what is to replace art will always be ugly. And artists, therefore, should not be subject to wage labor(?) Or rather consider wage, no longer wage, as incentive(?) It is the fullness of art when "labor has become not only a means of life but of life's prime want", as Marx simply puts it.
*Yeeeessss, I am starting to become quite Marxist. And it's a pity I am still a fledgling to this school of thought, and thus have no ability to write this more objectively.
Sauntering along the majestic overpass of Quiapo, these things I have deduced while passing by proletarian capitalists (if the term suffices even paradoxically) who, sans rich, are simply filthy. Despite my notoriously virginal way of thinking, I still happen to find these street vendors rather filthy for their immoral display of supposedly censored products as if they were, alongside binoculars and children's toys and other commodities, are totally non-offensive. See what capitalism can do! If it weren't so necessary, I wouldn't even uphold Marxist ideologies, so as to say that I am quite content with my peaceful existence and I have petty ideologies of my own... which are guilty of being conservative.
But aside from the dildos greeting me left and right, I equally find, as I purchased a new instrument to preoccupy myself with, commerce in this side of the earth as disorienting. How, in the name of profit (or money simply put), can one easily persuade the seller to lower the price of his product without him effectively realizing that he is being dissuaded from acknowledging the true value of his work. Yes, degredation of price is degredation of worth(?) But the presence of price automatically makes a product worthless nonetheless. This has been to a point, my support for Marx's theory of alienation (which strongly accounts for my great aversion for art commodification). But some of these capitalists (only some, I pray, and their names shall not be mentioned) recognize these degredation, these alienation, and the purpose of their product being a product with nothing but monetary value; and to their advantage, create without the essence of quality for the benefit of the buyer, especially the buyers who are non-veteran in purchasing certain products that cater to certain interests. This is human sin in my opinion, as morality being subjective; still, this pragmatic way of businessing a non-pragmatic interest is insulting. Insulting in a sense that art can never be an insensitive business as art is overtly truthfull-- truthfullness being an antithetic, and also destructive, force to business.
Still it is rather insulting, really, to subject art to neo-liberal globalization. Art must never be subject to capitalism. Or lest art will never be art, or what is to replace art will always be ugly. And artists, therefore, should not be subject to wage labor(?) Or rather consider wage, no longer wage, as incentive(?) It is the fullness of art when "labor has become not only a means of life but of life's prime want", as Marx simply puts it.
*Yeeeessss, I am starting to become quite Marxist. And it's a pity I am still a fledgling to this school of thought, and thus have no ability to write this more objectively.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Dekano
Isang labletter
Naalala mo pa ba nung nagkape tayo?
Kundi mo lang ako pinapaaral hindi na ko magtatiyaga
Sinabi mong maglaylo ako dahil hindi mo kakayanin
Dahil hindi mo kayang mag-handle ng eskandalo
Lalung-lalo na sa asawa mo
Hindi ka ba nagtataka ang sipag kong humingi ng advice
Para sa thesis kong hindi naman mahusay
Walang madudulot na katinuan sa lipunan
Pero dahil natutuwa ka nakiki-ride nalang ako
Kahit nagtatalo na ang aking mga prinsipyo
At ang idealistic kong pagkataong matagal nang
Nilamon ng sistema kung saan ka napapabilang
Ngunit alam kong hindi kita maiiwasan
Dahil may sarili kang mga prinsipyong
Nakakaadik pakinggan
Kahit minsan hindi mo maiwasang matuwa sa asawa mo
Sabi mo matatanda na kayo
Pero ayos lang dahil mahalaga ang relasyon sa buhay
Mas mahalaga kaysa kaalaman, kaysa sining
But I beg to differ
Dahil hindi ka aahasin ng sining mo kaya mas secure
Pahalagahan ang mga bagay na ikaw mismo ang nagluwal
Entitled silang tumanaw ng utang na loob
At ang mga ideyolohiya mo ang kanilang pinaglilingkuran
Kaysa sa mga taong nasa tugatog ng kanilang buhay
Na hinding hindi mo mahatak para makibagay
Na kayang kaya kang paikutin
Ipahimod ang kanilang mga paa
Sa asong tulad ko at tulad mong di nag-aatubili
Dahil sa libog? Sa pag-ibig?
O dahil sa paniniwalang kaya ka nilang isalba
Mula sa lipunang lumalamon sa iyong pagkatao
Bilang pastor sayong naliligaw na tupa
Parang 21st century messiah
O dahil gusto mong napapailalim
Dahil masyado kang progresibo at bored sa mga tao
Nahihypnotize ka ng iilang nangmamaliit sayo
Pag-ibig bunga ng sobrang respeto
Napapasamba ang mga taong tulad mong hipokrita
Dahil jaded na ang mga prinsipyo mo
Nagdadahilan ka nalang
Tulad ng ganto
At sa inaraw-araw na kailangan mong pumasok at mabuhay
Umaasa sa taong hindi ka naman inaasahan
O maaaring inaasahan ka sa mga bagay na
Isang asong tulad mo lang ang may guts gumawa
Nang hindi nakukunsesya o nahihiya man lang
Wasak na wasak
San na ang dominatrix mong personality?
Na nakaintimidate ng napakaraming manliligaw
Na umakalang hindi ka magpapauto
Na umakalang hindi ka masisira ng romantikong pag-ibig
Na maraming nag-aakalang mas mahalaga kaysa
Pagiging philantrophic
Kawawa naman ang mundo kung gayon
Dahil miski ikaw, miski ako
Napapailalim sa manipulasyong dulot ng pag-ibig
Na parang lasong unti-unting pumapatay
Nang hindi mo namamalayan
Hanggang sa iregurgitate nalang ng katawan
Hanggang sa hindi mo na kayanin
At tutungo ka na sa inidoro
Ang pinatutunguhan ng lahat ng baho
At magdedecide na it's time to move on baby
Dahil masyado ka nang nasaktan
Nang hindi niya nalalaman
Dahil mahal daw niya ang asawa niya
At pantrip-trip ka lang pag trip niya
Dahil bata ka pa
At naniniwala siyang balang araw
Pasasayahin mo rin ang magiging asawa mo
Dahil isa kang babaeng sasambahin ng lahat ng tao
At maswerte nga naman ang magiging asawa mo sayo
Dahil ikaw ang tipong hindi pipiliing mag-asawa
Ano nga bang malay niya
Dahil habang sinasabi niya yan,
Tumatakbo sa isip mong siya ang gusto mong pakasalanan
At hindi kayo magkakaanak
Dahil nagpapalitan kayo ng kuro-kuro habang nagtatalik
At iyon naman ang gusto mo sa isang tao
Ang makapagtuturo sayo dahil hindi ka na natututo
Dahil tingin mo masyado ka nang maalam
Hanggang sa isang araw nagpaalipin ka na lang
At biglang nabobo o nadrug ang utak
Ng nakakaadik na pagpapaalipin din naman
At hindi na ikaw ang iyong sarili
At hindi na ang ama mo ang ama mong
Sigurado kang ikahihiya ang pagkatao mo
Ng walang pakundangan
(sic) ka-OC-hang ikaw rin ang may kasalanan
Redundant to exaggerate
Palusot-lusot ka nalang
Pero hindi mo na naisip
Hindi ka na nag-iisip
Hanggang sa mamulat ka't magsimulang pagnilayan
Kung pano mong kinakain ang sarili mong suka
Nakakadiri diba?
Pagbalik ko sa kapihan
Sisiguraduhin kong hindi mo na ko tuta
Hindi mo na ko chuchung pinapaaral
Hindi na kita didilaan sa tenga
Hindi na ko sunud-sunuran
Hindi mo na ko alipin
Dahil labis mo na kong sinaktan
Dahil hindi na kita mahal
Note: Para kay X. Binasa mo to kasi alam mo namang para sayo to e. Napapa-emo ako sayo. Luma-labletter. Makunsensiya ka naman ang kapal mo. Haha.
Naalala mo pa ba nung nagkape tayo?
Kundi mo lang ako pinapaaral hindi na ko magtatiyaga
Sinabi mong maglaylo ako dahil hindi mo kakayanin
Dahil hindi mo kayang mag-handle ng eskandalo
Lalung-lalo na sa asawa mo
Hindi ka ba nagtataka ang sipag kong humingi ng advice
Para sa thesis kong hindi naman mahusay
Walang madudulot na katinuan sa lipunan
Pero dahil natutuwa ka nakiki-ride nalang ako
Kahit nagtatalo na ang aking mga prinsipyo
At ang idealistic kong pagkataong matagal nang
Nilamon ng sistema kung saan ka napapabilang
Ngunit alam kong hindi kita maiiwasan
Dahil may sarili kang mga prinsipyong
Nakakaadik pakinggan
Kahit minsan hindi mo maiwasang matuwa sa asawa mo
Sabi mo matatanda na kayo
Pero ayos lang dahil mahalaga ang relasyon sa buhay
Mas mahalaga kaysa kaalaman, kaysa sining
But I beg to differ
Dahil hindi ka aahasin ng sining mo kaya mas secure
Pahalagahan ang mga bagay na ikaw mismo ang nagluwal
Entitled silang tumanaw ng utang na loob
At ang mga ideyolohiya mo ang kanilang pinaglilingkuran
Kaysa sa mga taong nasa tugatog ng kanilang buhay
Na hinding hindi mo mahatak para makibagay
Na kayang kaya kang paikutin
Ipahimod ang kanilang mga paa
Sa asong tulad ko at tulad mong di nag-aatubili
Dahil sa libog? Sa pag-ibig?
O dahil sa paniniwalang kaya ka nilang isalba
Mula sa lipunang lumalamon sa iyong pagkatao
Bilang pastor sayong naliligaw na tupa
Parang 21st century messiah
O dahil gusto mong napapailalim
Dahil masyado kang progresibo at bored sa mga tao
Nahihypnotize ka ng iilang nangmamaliit sayo
Pag-ibig bunga ng sobrang respeto
Napapasamba ang mga taong tulad mong hipokrita
Dahil jaded na ang mga prinsipyo mo
Nagdadahilan ka nalang
Tulad ng ganto
At sa inaraw-araw na kailangan mong pumasok at mabuhay
Umaasa sa taong hindi ka naman inaasahan
O maaaring inaasahan ka sa mga bagay na
Isang asong tulad mo lang ang may guts gumawa
Nang hindi nakukunsesya o nahihiya man lang
Wasak na wasak
San na ang dominatrix mong personality?
Na nakaintimidate ng napakaraming manliligaw
Na umakalang hindi ka magpapauto
Na umakalang hindi ka masisira ng romantikong pag-ibig
Na maraming nag-aakalang mas mahalaga kaysa
Pagiging philantrophic
Kawawa naman ang mundo kung gayon
Dahil miski ikaw, miski ako
Napapailalim sa manipulasyong dulot ng pag-ibig
Na parang lasong unti-unting pumapatay
Nang hindi mo namamalayan
Hanggang sa iregurgitate nalang ng katawan
Hanggang sa hindi mo na kayanin
At tutungo ka na sa inidoro
Ang pinatutunguhan ng lahat ng baho
At magdedecide na it's time to move on baby
Dahil masyado ka nang nasaktan
Nang hindi niya nalalaman
Dahil mahal daw niya ang asawa niya
At pantrip-trip ka lang pag trip niya
Dahil bata ka pa
At naniniwala siyang balang araw
Pasasayahin mo rin ang magiging asawa mo
Dahil isa kang babaeng sasambahin ng lahat ng tao
At maswerte nga naman ang magiging asawa mo sayo
Dahil ikaw ang tipong hindi pipiliing mag-asawa
Ano nga bang malay niya
Dahil habang sinasabi niya yan,
Tumatakbo sa isip mong siya ang gusto mong pakasalanan
At hindi kayo magkakaanak
Dahil nagpapalitan kayo ng kuro-kuro habang nagtatalik
At iyon naman ang gusto mo sa isang tao
Ang makapagtuturo sayo dahil hindi ka na natututo
Dahil tingin mo masyado ka nang maalam
Hanggang sa isang araw nagpaalipin ka na lang
At biglang nabobo o nadrug ang utak
Ng nakakaadik na pagpapaalipin din naman
At hindi na ikaw ang iyong sarili
At hindi na ang ama mo ang ama mong
Sigurado kang ikahihiya ang pagkatao mo
Ng walang pakundangan
(sic) ka-OC-hang ikaw rin ang may kasalanan
Redundant to exaggerate
Palusot-lusot ka nalang
Pero hindi mo na naisip
Hindi ka na nag-iisip
Hanggang sa mamulat ka't magsimulang pagnilayan
Kung pano mong kinakain ang sarili mong suka
Nakakadiri diba?
Pagbalik ko sa kapihan
Sisiguraduhin kong hindi mo na ko tuta
Hindi mo na ko chuchung pinapaaral
Hindi na kita didilaan sa tenga
Hindi na ko sunud-sunuran
Hindi mo na ko alipin
Dahil labis mo na kong sinaktan
Dahil hindi na kita mahal
Note: Para kay X. Binasa mo to kasi alam mo namang para sayo to e. Napapa-emo ako sayo. Luma-labletter. Makunsensiya ka naman ang kapal mo. Haha.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Break-up Period
Lahat ng tao ngayon nagbe-break.
Kasi minsan, hindi mo sinasadya nasasaktan mo na ang taong mahal mo. (shit ang senti) Pero applicable din naman to hindi lang sa context ng eros romantic love. Tulad nalang sa major ko, mahal ako ng major teacher ko. Hahahahaha. Problema mahal ko din naman siya. Pero, tulad ng lahat ng sawing pag-ibig, may outside factor, third party, third wheel-- na pwedeng nagtutunggaliang pwersa lang sa paligid, o kaya demonyong umaaligid, o kaya... basta sa kaso ko, eto yung pag-ibig vs pangarap scenario.
Sabi ko kay Lord, pag na-uno ko yung diagnostics ko, di na ko magshishift... Kasi milagrong mangyari yun... galing pa kong ICU... whadahell... nangyari nga ang mangyayari... uno.. flat... pero bat hindi ako masaya? Kasi masakit sa loob. Isang malaking opportunity cost. Kung mangyari man. At mahirap pa kong pakawalan. Hindi naman ata ako ile-let go ni teacher dahil parati niya kong pinepep talk. Pine-pep talk na hindi pa ba sapat na sign yun na huwag akong lumipat? Hindi ko alam to the point na nagdodoubt na ko sa kakayahan ko. Na baka manipulated sign yun and i don't deserve it.
Or maybe i do. And it's a huge trade-off.(?) ewan ko, nakakaiyak. hindi ko na alam kung anong gagawin ko sa buhay. Sana may magsabi sakin. Milagro.
Pero ang sabi nga nila... aanhin mo ang uno kung hindi ka naman masaya? E duh, masaya ako noh uno yun e! haha. Sa katunayan, kaya mo bang iquantify ang individuality ng isang tao? Hindi naman ganon ka-stable ang development para maging ganon ka-quantifiable. Ano ang uno? sa larangang ito, ano ang nais ipahiwatig ng uno? Isa ba itong subjective incentive base sa opinyon ng random combination ng panel mo at sa timpla ng panahon? pano kung icompute mo ang probable combination ng panel at base sa kanilang mga personality, ano ang chances na makakakuha ka ng uno? Gaano nga ba kapayak ang numerong uno para sabihing ito ang magdidikta ng desisyon mo sa buhay?
Minsan talaga, may mga taong sadya mong nasasaktan at masasaktan nang hindi sinasadya. At minsan sa proseso nasasaktan mo ang sarili mo. Lalo na kung madali kang makunsensya. Minsan kailangan mo lang ire-evaluate ang mga prinsipyo mo sa buhay. Minsan kailangan mo lang ng kausap. Minsan nga nangungulit ka pa e. Minsan lang talaga nasasaktan ka. Minsan lang talaga wala ka nang masabi. Hahaha. Mejo irrelevant na to kasi bigla lang pumasok sa stream of consciousness ko. Hahaha. Hindi na coherent ang utak ko kasi matagal na kong bipolar at ang aking nagtatalong pagkatao ay gusto ng ganto at gusto ng ganyan. Hindi naman issue sakin yung mismong to shift or not to shift. Ang issue sakin ay hindi ko alam kung saan ako magiging successful at magiging masaya. Dahil yun at yun ang pangarap ko sa buhay.
Minsan kailangan mo lang mag-summer. Minsan kailangan mo lang aminin sa taong mahal mo na mahal mo sila at nasasaktan ka na nila nang hindi nila namamalayan. (ok out of context)
Minsan isang araw... nagkaron ng period for break-ups.
Kasi minsan, hindi mo sinasadya nasasaktan mo na ang taong mahal mo. (shit ang senti) Pero applicable din naman to hindi lang sa context ng eros romantic love. Tulad nalang sa major ko, mahal ako ng major teacher ko. Hahahahaha. Problema mahal ko din naman siya. Pero, tulad ng lahat ng sawing pag-ibig, may outside factor, third party, third wheel-- na pwedeng nagtutunggaliang pwersa lang sa paligid, o kaya demonyong umaaligid, o kaya... basta sa kaso ko, eto yung pag-ibig vs pangarap scenario.
Sabi ko kay Lord, pag na-uno ko yung diagnostics ko, di na ko magshishift... Kasi milagrong mangyari yun... galing pa kong ICU... whadahell... nangyari nga ang mangyayari... uno.. flat... pero bat hindi ako masaya? Kasi masakit sa loob. Isang malaking opportunity cost. Kung mangyari man. At mahirap pa kong pakawalan. Hindi naman ata ako ile-let go ni teacher dahil parati niya kong pinepep talk. Pine-pep talk na hindi pa ba sapat na sign yun na huwag akong lumipat? Hindi ko alam to the point na nagdodoubt na ko sa kakayahan ko. Na baka manipulated sign yun and i don't deserve it.
Or maybe i do. And it's a huge trade-off.(?) ewan ko, nakakaiyak. hindi ko na alam kung anong gagawin ko sa buhay. Sana may magsabi sakin. Milagro.
Pero ang sabi nga nila... aanhin mo ang uno kung hindi ka naman masaya? E duh, masaya ako noh uno yun e! haha. Sa katunayan, kaya mo bang iquantify ang individuality ng isang tao? Hindi naman ganon ka-stable ang development para maging ganon ka-quantifiable. Ano ang uno? sa larangang ito, ano ang nais ipahiwatig ng uno? Isa ba itong subjective incentive base sa opinyon ng random combination ng panel mo at sa timpla ng panahon? pano kung icompute mo ang probable combination ng panel at base sa kanilang mga personality, ano ang chances na makakakuha ka ng uno? Gaano nga ba kapayak ang numerong uno para sabihing ito ang magdidikta ng desisyon mo sa buhay?
Minsan talaga, may mga taong sadya mong nasasaktan at masasaktan nang hindi sinasadya. At minsan sa proseso nasasaktan mo ang sarili mo. Lalo na kung madali kang makunsensya. Minsan kailangan mo lang ire-evaluate ang mga prinsipyo mo sa buhay. Minsan kailangan mo lang ng kausap. Minsan nga nangungulit ka pa e. Minsan lang talaga nasasaktan ka. Minsan lang talaga wala ka nang masabi. Hahaha. Mejo irrelevant na to kasi bigla lang pumasok sa stream of consciousness ko. Hahaha. Hindi na coherent ang utak ko kasi matagal na kong bipolar at ang aking nagtatalong pagkatao ay gusto ng ganto at gusto ng ganyan. Hindi naman issue sakin yung mismong to shift or not to shift. Ang issue sakin ay hindi ko alam kung saan ako magiging successful at magiging masaya. Dahil yun at yun ang pangarap ko sa buhay.
Minsan kailangan mo lang mag-summer. Minsan kailangan mo lang aminin sa taong mahal mo na mahal mo sila at nasasaktan ka na nila nang hindi nila namamalayan. (ok out of context)
Minsan isang araw... nagkaron ng period for break-ups.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
No Pressure Over Cappuccino
Sinulat daw ni Alanis yung kantang No Pressure Over Cappuccino para sa kapatid nyang guru (o someone na may mataas na spiritual state). Nung una kong narinig yun nagfeeling ako na baka ako yung kinakantahan niya. Hahaha. Highschool ako nung naging paborito kong kanta yun tas lagi naming kinakanta ni Patti... Kasi feeling namin bagay samin... Hahaha. Anyhow... Hindi ko naman ididissect yung kanta. My gally ano ko gagawa ng paper? Hahaha. Wala nabanggit ko lang kasi parang akma sa panahon nung narinig ko ulit.
Lumabas na ko sa ospital. Mahirap pala yun akala ko kasi mamamatay na ko. Sabi nga nung doktor magpakatino na ko kasi second life ko na to. Naramdaman ko naman yun e. Shit talaga yung takot nang akala mo mamamatay ka na. Pati nanay mo natatakot. Sabi nga ng nanay ko hindi daw niya alam kung pano sasabihin sa tatay ko kung sakaling mamatay ako nun. Pero sa awa ng Panginoon at sa dasal ng maraming tao, buhay ako at nag-aaral parin. O baka masamang damo lang talaga ako. Hahaha. Pero kung sa ano pa mang kadahilanan, nandito ako at may pagkakataon pang mabuhay, at matuto. Hangga't buhay, maraming matututunan. Yun naman ang puno't dulo ng buhay at pagkakataon, ng occurence ng mga bagay, ng aktwalisasyon ng mga bagay, ng kadahilanan ng mga nagaganap--ang pagexpand ng kaaalaman ng tao. Pero syempre kung highly intellectual ka, sabi nga ni alanis, di naman naeequate yun sa wisdom ng isang tao. Yung kadahilanan ng mga nagaganap, yun ang humahasa sa pagiging wais ng isang tao. Ang intellect naman parang may pagkainnate din yan e kahit sabihin mong bunga ng impluwensya (at walang natural sa mundo at walang innate sa mundo). Nonetheless, it's quite useless unless gagamitin mo para ma-impress ang potential mate mo (na ginagawa din ng mga hayop). Ang sinasabi ko lang, importanteng matuto. At habang buhay ka pa, sikapin mong matutunan ang mga bagay at ichannel (o ma-put into actualization) lahat ng natutunan mo para sa sarili at pansambayanang kapakanan.
Kaya ayan, to shift or not to shift? Dahil sa mga pinagsasasabi ko, mga binitiwang salita na may kalakip na mga responsibilidad (dahil ganon ka-powerful ang salita at ito'y nakamamatay kaya piliing mabuti ang sasabihin), may karapatan (more on responsibilidad kung gusto kong linawin ang mga responsibilidad na iyon) akong lumipat at matutunan ang mga bagay na kailangan kong matutunan. Maiksi ang buhay at na-blab ko na lahat ng tungkol sa kalinangan ng isang tao at sa kadahilanan ng pagkabuhay (na personal ko lang naman pong opinyon). Kung lilipat ako, iyan ang dahilan. Hindi dahil tumatakas ako. O bored na ko sa ginagawa ko. O nahihibang na ko at masyado nang nalason ng gamot ang utak ko. (tingin ko mas nakakalason ang lipunan kaysa kahit anong droga kaya kung kahibangan ito, sisihin ang republika) Pero hindi ba nakakatakot rin na hindi ko alam kung anong pinapasok ko. At hindi ko rin alam kung pano ako napasok dito. Kung tutulungan ako ng Poong Maykapal at ng mahuhusay kong kaibigan, well and good. Pero paano ko malalaman kung saang panig nakahilig ang Diyos?
Bagong yugto ng buhay. At least buhay pa ko. At nakakasama ko pa kayo. Kailangan mo lang talaga ng near-death experience para maumpog sa pader. Para pag sinabi sayong namiss ka talaga nila... Maniniwala ka... at di ka sasagot ng "ows." Kasi alam mong namiss mo rin sila. At matututo kang magpasalamat sa Panginoon para sa lahat ng taong nagmamahal sayo. At natakot mo sakaling mawala ka. Sana lang noh mas naging importante ako sa kanila. Kasi mas naging importante sila sakin. Naks naman.
Ayun. Salamat sa mga dasal. Salamat lang.
And you're like a 90's Jesus
And you revel in your psychosis
How dare you?
And you sample concepts like hors d'euvres
And you eat their questions for dessert
Is it just me or is it hot in here?
And you're like a 90's Kennedy
And you're really a million years old
You cant fool me
They'll throw opinions like rocks in riots
And they'll stumble around like hypocrites
Is it just me or is it dark in here?
Well, you may never be or have a husband
You may never have or hold a child
You will learn to lose everything
We are temporary arrangements
And you're like a 90's Noah
And they laughed at you as you packed all of your things
And they wonder why you're frustrated
And they wonder why you're so angry
And is it just me or are you fed up?
And may God bless you in your travels, in your conquests and queries
Lumabas na ko sa ospital. Mahirap pala yun akala ko kasi mamamatay na ko. Sabi nga nung doktor magpakatino na ko kasi second life ko na to. Naramdaman ko naman yun e. Shit talaga yung takot nang akala mo mamamatay ka na. Pati nanay mo natatakot. Sabi nga ng nanay ko hindi daw niya alam kung pano sasabihin sa tatay ko kung sakaling mamatay ako nun. Pero sa awa ng Panginoon at sa dasal ng maraming tao, buhay ako at nag-aaral parin. O baka masamang damo lang talaga ako. Hahaha. Pero kung sa ano pa mang kadahilanan, nandito ako at may pagkakataon pang mabuhay, at matuto. Hangga't buhay, maraming matututunan. Yun naman ang puno't dulo ng buhay at pagkakataon, ng occurence ng mga bagay, ng aktwalisasyon ng mga bagay, ng kadahilanan ng mga nagaganap--ang pagexpand ng kaaalaman ng tao. Pero syempre kung highly intellectual ka, sabi nga ni alanis, di naman naeequate yun sa wisdom ng isang tao. Yung kadahilanan ng mga nagaganap, yun ang humahasa sa pagiging wais ng isang tao. Ang intellect naman parang may pagkainnate din yan e kahit sabihin mong bunga ng impluwensya (at walang natural sa mundo at walang innate sa mundo). Nonetheless, it's quite useless unless gagamitin mo para ma-impress ang potential mate mo (na ginagawa din ng mga hayop). Ang sinasabi ko lang, importanteng matuto. At habang buhay ka pa, sikapin mong matutunan ang mga bagay at ichannel (o ma-put into actualization) lahat ng natutunan mo para sa sarili at pansambayanang kapakanan.
Kaya ayan, to shift or not to shift? Dahil sa mga pinagsasasabi ko, mga binitiwang salita na may kalakip na mga responsibilidad (dahil ganon ka-powerful ang salita at ito'y nakamamatay kaya piliing mabuti ang sasabihin), may karapatan (more on responsibilidad kung gusto kong linawin ang mga responsibilidad na iyon) akong lumipat at matutunan ang mga bagay na kailangan kong matutunan. Maiksi ang buhay at na-blab ko na lahat ng tungkol sa kalinangan ng isang tao at sa kadahilanan ng pagkabuhay (na personal ko lang naman pong opinyon). Kung lilipat ako, iyan ang dahilan. Hindi dahil tumatakas ako. O bored na ko sa ginagawa ko. O nahihibang na ko at masyado nang nalason ng gamot ang utak ko. (tingin ko mas nakakalason ang lipunan kaysa kahit anong droga kaya kung kahibangan ito, sisihin ang republika) Pero hindi ba nakakatakot rin na hindi ko alam kung anong pinapasok ko. At hindi ko rin alam kung pano ako napasok dito. Kung tutulungan ako ng Poong Maykapal at ng mahuhusay kong kaibigan, well and good. Pero paano ko malalaman kung saang panig nakahilig ang Diyos?
Bagong yugto ng buhay. At least buhay pa ko. At nakakasama ko pa kayo. Kailangan mo lang talaga ng near-death experience para maumpog sa pader. Para pag sinabi sayong namiss ka talaga nila... Maniniwala ka... at di ka sasagot ng "ows." Kasi alam mong namiss mo rin sila. At matututo kang magpasalamat sa Panginoon para sa lahat ng taong nagmamahal sayo. At natakot mo sakaling mawala ka. Sana lang noh mas naging importante ako sa kanila. Kasi mas naging importante sila sakin. Naks naman.
Ayun. Salamat sa mga dasal. Salamat lang.
And you're like a 90's Jesus
And you revel in your psychosis
How dare you?
And you sample concepts like hors d'euvres
And you eat their questions for dessert
Is it just me or is it hot in here?
And you're like a 90's Kennedy
And you're really a million years old
You cant fool me
They'll throw opinions like rocks in riots
And they'll stumble around like hypocrites
Is it just me or is it dark in here?
Well, you may never be or have a husband
You may never have or hold a child
You will learn to lose everything
We are temporary arrangements
And you're like a 90's Noah
And they laughed at you as you packed all of your things
And they wonder why you're frustrated
And they wonder why you're so angry
And is it just me or are you fed up?
And may God bless you in your travels, in your conquests and queries
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Unsterbliche Geliebte
guten Morgen am 7ten Juli -
schon im Bette drängen sich die Ideen zu dir meine Unsterbliche Geliebte, hier und da freudig, dann wieder traurig. Vom Schicksaale abwartend, ob es unß erhört - leben kann ich entweder nur gantz mit dir oder gar nicht, ja ich habe beschlossen in der Ferne so lange herum zu irren, bis ich in deine Arme fliegen kann, und mich ganz heimathlich bei dir nennen kann, meine Seele von dir umgeben ins Reich der Geister schicken kann - ja leider muß es sejn - du wirst dich fassen um so mehr, da du meine Treue gegen dich kennst, nie eine andre kann mein Herz besizen, nie - nie -
O GOTT warum sich entfernen müßen, was man so liebt und doch ist mein Leben in V. so wie jezt ein kümerliches Leben -Deine Liebe macht mich zum glücklichsten und zum unglücklichsten zugleich in meinen Jahren jezt bedürfte ich einiger Einförmigkeit Gleichheit des Lebens - kann diese bej unserm Verhältniße bestehen? -Engel, eben erfahre ich, daß die Post alle Tage abgeht - und ich muß daher schließen, damit du den B. gleich erhälst - sej ruhig, nur durch Ruhiges beschauen unsres Dasejns können wir unsern Zweck zusamen zu leben erreichen -sej ruhig - liebe mich - heute - gestern - Welche Sehnsucht mit Thränen nach dir - dir - dir - mein Leben mein alles - leb wohl - o liebe mich fort - verken nie das treuste Herz
deines
Geliebten
L.
ewig dein
ewig mein
ewig unß
(Ludwig van Beethoven)
schon im Bette drängen sich die Ideen zu dir meine Unsterbliche Geliebte, hier und da freudig, dann wieder traurig. Vom Schicksaale abwartend, ob es unß erhört - leben kann ich entweder nur gantz mit dir oder gar nicht, ja ich habe beschlossen in der Ferne so lange herum zu irren, bis ich in deine Arme fliegen kann, und mich ganz heimathlich bei dir nennen kann, meine Seele von dir umgeben ins Reich der Geister schicken kann - ja leider muß es sejn - du wirst dich fassen um so mehr, da du meine Treue gegen dich kennst, nie eine andre kann mein Herz besizen, nie - nie -
O GOTT warum sich entfernen müßen, was man so liebt und doch ist mein Leben in V. so wie jezt ein kümerliches Leben -Deine Liebe macht mich zum glücklichsten und zum unglücklichsten zugleich in meinen Jahren jezt bedürfte ich einiger Einförmigkeit Gleichheit des Lebens - kann diese bej unserm Verhältniße bestehen? -Engel, eben erfahre ich, daß die Post alle Tage abgeht - und ich muß daher schließen, damit du den B. gleich erhälst - sej ruhig, nur durch Ruhiges beschauen unsres Dasejns können wir unsern Zweck zusamen zu leben erreichen -sej ruhig - liebe mich - heute - gestern - Welche Sehnsucht mit Thränen nach dir - dir - dir - mein Leben mein alles - leb wohl - o liebe mich fort - verken nie das treuste Herz
deines
Geliebten
L.
ewig dein
ewig mein
ewig unß
(Ludwig van Beethoven)
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Demerits
Eh nagpapakaradikal nga ako kaya ako nagpahighlights ng pink. Sabi ko nga dun sa bakla blue e. Kaso mo nagpakulay ako ng red dati. Tas humalo na parang naging violet. Tas kumupas na naging pink. Kaya pink ang highlights ko ngayon. Dahil nagpapakaradikal ako.
Nagpapakaradikal ako parang nung every year nalang kumakanta ako sa opera pero nakapanlalaki. Kelangan nila ng soprano choir pero gusto ko lalaking soprano para heavy. Para parang may political statement. Dahil sa pink kong buhok naiintriga na ang mga tao. Parang gusto na rin nilang magpakulay ng pink. Sumisigabo na ang social life ko at nagiging instrumento ko ang pink kong buhok para makipagdaldalan sa mga tao. Tumaas nga confidence level ko e. Kasi maganda daw tingnan. O diba kung at least 5 times a day papansinin buhok mo, 35 times a week, feeling mo superstar ka na. Instant attitude kumbaga kahit nakapambahay ka lang. Kung dalang-dala mo pa kasi feeling mo nga may gusto kang ipahiwatig, grabeng level na ng confidence yun. Pero hindi yung tipong magkakatwister na sa sobrang hangin. Pansinin kumbaga kesa nung dating wala ka man lang makausap. Eh kung mangangampanya ka pa. Maaalala ka ng mga tao dahil sa pink mong buhok.
Tapos ngayon papakulayan niyo ng itim? Aba, pati ba buhok ko minimilitarize niyo? Kunsabagay choice ko naman tong pinasok ko. Pero kung demerits lang at demerits ang itatapat nyo, bring it on baby! Kahit gabihin pa tayo sa kaka-squat thrust ko. Tingnan mo naman ang buhok ko. May statement talaga. Lalabanan ang militarization, nagpapakatibak. No sir, I won't dye my hair, sir. Ife-fake ko nalang. Sespray-an ko nalang ng itim. Pero sa loob, pink parin lalo na pag di kayo nakatingin. Gusto ko parin naman pumasa noh. Mapapagod din ako kaka-squat thrust. Pero di ko pakukulayan ng itim ang pink kong buhok hanggang sa mapagod din kayo sakin.
Nagpapakaradikal ako parang nung every year nalang kumakanta ako sa opera pero nakapanlalaki. Kelangan nila ng soprano choir pero gusto ko lalaking soprano para heavy. Para parang may political statement. Dahil sa pink kong buhok naiintriga na ang mga tao. Parang gusto na rin nilang magpakulay ng pink. Sumisigabo na ang social life ko at nagiging instrumento ko ang pink kong buhok para makipagdaldalan sa mga tao. Tumaas nga confidence level ko e. Kasi maganda daw tingnan. O diba kung at least 5 times a day papansinin buhok mo, 35 times a week, feeling mo superstar ka na. Instant attitude kumbaga kahit nakapambahay ka lang. Kung dalang-dala mo pa kasi feeling mo nga may gusto kang ipahiwatig, grabeng level na ng confidence yun. Pero hindi yung tipong magkakatwister na sa sobrang hangin. Pansinin kumbaga kesa nung dating wala ka man lang makausap. Eh kung mangangampanya ka pa. Maaalala ka ng mga tao dahil sa pink mong buhok.
Tapos ngayon papakulayan niyo ng itim? Aba, pati ba buhok ko minimilitarize niyo? Kunsabagay choice ko naman tong pinasok ko. Pero kung demerits lang at demerits ang itatapat nyo, bring it on baby! Kahit gabihin pa tayo sa kaka-squat thrust ko. Tingnan mo naman ang buhok ko. May statement talaga. Lalabanan ang militarization, nagpapakatibak. No sir, I won't dye my hair, sir. Ife-fake ko nalang. Sespray-an ko nalang ng itim. Pero sa loob, pink parin lalo na pag di kayo nakatingin. Gusto ko parin naman pumasa noh. Mapapagod din ako kaka-squat thrust. Pero di ko pakukulayan ng itim ang pink kong buhok hanggang sa mapagod din kayo sakin.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
New Year's Resolution
Kailangan hindi ako magshift sa kahit anong BS para naman ako ang maging cause the Stendhal Syndrome mo. Alam mo yun, kahit nga bakla si Mozart nung sumisikat siya eh sobrang elibs na elibs yung mga tao. Eh ngayon kung pakikinggan mo, parang ang baduy nya. Tingin ko darating din ang panahon ko. Yung tipong sa kaa-artsy-fartsy ko eh darating ang panahon na mahihimatay ka sa art ko. O sino ba namang hindi vain. Basta yun na yun. Makikita mo.
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