Mi querido,

Como estas? Iniisip ko palang ang iyong tugon ay napapangiti na ako sa pag-iisip sa iyo. Ikaw na nagbibigay sigla sa bawat sandali sa pamamagitan ng pagpapatamis sa aking mapapaklang pang-araw-araw na gawain. Hindi nawa magmaliw ang siglang bumubuhay sa ating dalawa na nanunukal sa bawat nating puso.

Como estas mi amor? Inaalagaan mo ba ang iyong sarili? Pinalalawak mo pa ba ang iyong karunungan? Ang dunong, mi querido, ang nagpapalaya sa kaluluwa, ang nagpapalalim sa isip, at ang nagpapatatag ng damdamin-- huwag mo itong pabayaan. At sa inaraw-araw na nilikha ng Panginoon, pinagdarasal kong huwag kang maging bilanggo ng kapayakan ng makamundong pamumuhay. Wala ng nadudulot na makabuluhan ang pagsabay sa agos ng panahon nang di ginagawaran ng lantarang pag-iisip. Huwag mong hayaang lamunin ng mundo ang iyong pagkatao, at iluwa ito sa anyong wala ng makakaaninag. Huwag mong pabayaan, alang-alang sa iyo at sa akin, ang iyong pananampalataya at ang iyong mga adhikain.

Mi corazón es cautivado por la idea de que. Hindi ko ito maipagkakaila, mi amor. Kaya't hinihiling ko lang sa bawat sandali na lagi kang manatiling masaya. Ligaya ko ang makita kang maligaya kahit hindi man ako ang sanhi. Ligaya ko ang makita kang nagmamahal kahit hindi man ako ang pinatutungkulan. Ligaya kita, ligayang siya ring nagdudulot ng lumbay, mi amor. At lumbay na siyang nagtatanikala sa pusong nagpupumiglas man ay di makawala. At tanikalang hindi man mapugot ay magninisnis din naman sa paglaon ng panahon, lalo na sa panahong hindi na madidiligan ng pagsilay ang ating pagkabuklod.

At ang tanikalang ito ang nais ko nang malagot. Sa mga pagkakataong nais ko nang batakin ang lubid na siya ko ring tinawid, hindi magawang kalasin ng nangunguyam kong mga daliri ang napakaraming buhol na dinulot ng aking pagiging suwail. Te amo. Amo la idea de que. Gawa rito ang tanikalang nagbubuklod hindi sa atin, kundi sayo sa akin. Soy tu prisionero a pesar de no eres mios.

Te amo, el veneno de mi espiritu, la bala en mi corazon.

Amor

Sarsuwela Strikes Back!

I broke a leg for this one.

Early Valentine's

the mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. - oscar wilde

love vs lust:

love is when you admire an object w/o wanting to possess it, lust is when you want to possess an object w/o actually admiring it.

do listen to 'Harana ng Puso' dwbr 104.3 tomorrow night (Sunday) 8pm and hear me sing.

Happy Valentine's!

the possibility of disinterest

really, it is impossible (at least for me). this business with the possibility of being disinterested. well dickie had an issue with it. i, myself, cannot fathom the probability of being disinterested. i have tried several times for mere aesthetic purposes but to no avail.

to be enganged in a subject aesthetically (especially that which requires disinterest) is frustrating. maybe it is a fault in personality on my part. but still if you are to engage in pure aesthetic experience, if that is even possible, then it means that you have to have a distant attachment to the subject. and i have a theory that a certain human faculty will not allow disinterest. and maybe it is the human affectivity.

for instance, if i were to engage in a purely aesthetic relationship with a person, it will never be possible for an aesthetic relationship, or any form of relationship in that matter, to occur if i were disinterested. relationships are offsprings of attachement and attachment always requires emotional investment. with disinterest, there will never be attachment.

so it is really more of an ideal to be disinterest. maybe it has something to do with one's personality. or maybe the only effect of the personality is to delay the occurance of attachment.

pucha talo nanaman ata ako sa laro. BS.

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.

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