(Duskboy, Mr. Is-It-Safe, here's mine.)
1. What did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before?
Spend Christmas with W. Aww.
2. Did you keep your New Years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Yes, but I did some stuff that weren’t in my To-Don’t list anyway. So, no.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
A friend’s wife. That close enough?
4. Did anyone close to you die?
An aunt. :(
5. What countries did you visit?
No dinero.
6. What would you like to have in 2005 that you lacked in 2004?
Money. And the strength to spend less.
7. What dates from 2004 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
June 7, 3 men beat me up, took a bottle on the head, ran faster than I thought I could.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
To be crowned Admit One’s Prom King. *waves to the crowd*
9. What was your biggest failure?
Depleting my savings account.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Fuck it, yes!
11. What was the best thing you bought?
All my books, CDs and DVDs.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
My sweeties and loveys, heavy and light, crazy and sane, drunk and, err, drunker.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Office fools. More annoyed than depressed.
14. Where did most of your money go?
See #11.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Jason Mraz interview (thank you, KF) and concert.
16. What song will always remind you of 2004?
”District Sleeps Alone Tonight,” Postal Service.
17. Compared to this time last year, you are:
Heavier. More tired. But happier.
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Writing stories.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Worrying.
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
See #1.
22. Did you fall in love in 2004?
I remained in love. That’s quite a feat, after all the troubles.
23. How many one-night stands?
Who? Me?
24. What was your favorite TV program?
Buffy Season 7 on Studio 23. Bye, Buffy.
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Hating the same people.
26. What was the best book you read?
Wicked by Gregory Maguire. Not really the best, but the most memorable.
27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Sugar Free! Also, Postal Service.
28. What did you want and get?
I wanted out of the new position and I did get out. And an I-Pod mini. =)
29. What did you want and not get?
An electric guitar.
30. What was your favorite film of this year?
* all together now * Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
31. What did you do on your birthday. And how old were you?
Drank coffee. 30. Grunt. Go away.
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
A higher raise.
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?
Same old vintage shirts and corduroys. With a whole lot more jeuging.
34. What kept you sane?
Cable Car. Admit One gigs. Making fun of people with W.
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Just read my blog! But then again, I get a thrill out of spelling out his name … Erik Santos.
36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Just the presidential elections.
37. Who did you miss?
Right now, all my drinking buddies.
38. Who was the best new person you met?
Chu. He likes Postal Service.
39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2004
When you run, run fast.
40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
“This is fact not fiction for the first time in years.” – Lack of Color, Death Cab for Cutie
AND HERE'S TO A BETTER YEAR AHEAD OF US. GOD BLESS OUR LIVERS AND OUR HEARTS.
Friday, December 31
Saturday, December 18
...these are a few of my favorite things
2004 sucked. In my head, the year's already over. It has been a tough year, in all aspects. So, like Penny Lane, when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping for music (or burning). And sometimes, we could be lucky enough to stumble onto something life changing. And it has been a lucky year for music. Thank you, dear friends, for saving me.
Thor's Top 10 Albums of 200fucking4
10. Bjork, Medulla
Confusing and strange. It keeps me up at night. Like mermaid seduction, sinister yet captivating.
9. Courtney Love, America's Sweetheart
Fuel to my bitterness, when I want to be bitter and hysterically laugh.
8. Keane, Hopes and Fears
Never mind who they remind me of, Keane write choruses that soar until there's no more air, and my heart bursts.
7. PJ Harvey, Uh Huh Her
Fuck the studio polish. This is Polly Jean rocking without harness. Bruises can be beautiful.
6. Loretta Lynn, Van Lear Rose
Bless your rock n' roll soul, Jack White, for taking Ms. Lynn's honky tonk to gripping, guitar-slinging heights. Rough, and proudly red neck, she growls and slurs her way through stories of murder and women's prisons.
5. Cambio, Derby Light
Patlang. DV. Ledge Boy. Autopilot. Fucking genius. Fucking great.
4. Tanya Donelly, Whiskey Tango Ghosts
This is what waiting for the other shoe to fall sounds like. Hesitant and fragile. Watchful. Taking in every scent, every sound, every kiss.
3. Magnetic Fields, i
Stephin Meritt continues to cotton candy-spin stories of relationship fuck-ups, and with a string section to back him up, well, imagine the Beach Boys with violas singing about cheating boyfriends in a low, low voice. Strangely accessible.
2. Eraserheads, Anthology
Cheating, yes, but this only reminded us how great they were, and how much they are missed.
1. Sugar Free, Dramachine
M put it oh so correctly, I couldn't have said it better: Ebe ForEBEr! (see PULP review, September issue)
Thor's Top 10 Albums of 200fucking4
10. Bjork, Medulla
Confusing and strange. It keeps me up at night. Like mermaid seduction, sinister yet captivating.
9. Courtney Love, America's Sweetheart
Fuel to my bitterness, when I want to be bitter and hysterically laugh.
8. Keane, Hopes and Fears
Never mind who they remind me of, Keane write choruses that soar until there's no more air, and my heart bursts.
7. PJ Harvey, Uh Huh Her
Fuck the studio polish. This is Polly Jean rocking without harness. Bruises can be beautiful.
6. Loretta Lynn, Van Lear Rose
Bless your rock n' roll soul, Jack White, for taking Ms. Lynn's honky tonk to gripping, guitar-slinging heights. Rough, and proudly red neck, she growls and slurs her way through stories of murder and women's prisons.
5. Cambio, Derby Light
Patlang. DV. Ledge Boy. Autopilot. Fucking genius. Fucking great.
4. Tanya Donelly, Whiskey Tango Ghosts
This is what waiting for the other shoe to fall sounds like. Hesitant and fragile. Watchful. Taking in every scent, every sound, every kiss.
3. Magnetic Fields, i
Stephin Meritt continues to cotton candy-spin stories of relationship fuck-ups, and with a string section to back him up, well, imagine the Beach Boys with violas singing about cheating boyfriends in a low, low voice. Strangely accessible.
2. Eraserheads, Anthology
Cheating, yes, but this only reminded us how great they were, and how much they are missed.
1. Sugar Free, Dramachine
M put it oh so correctly, I couldn't have said it better: Ebe ForEBEr! (see PULP review, September issue)
Friday, December 17
The Bi-Polar Express
Not too long ago, this guy I was discussing poetry readings with asked, out of nowhere, if I were bi-polar.
And I thought, What the fuck?
Yes, Gelo Suarez has more of the hype going for him and are you bi-polar?
Is this some sort of mental flirting? Cos I can work on both your north and south poles.
But since he was a client, I just said that if he meant I have wild mood swings, then the answer is yes. He actually seemed happy to find out that I get easily depressed. Too happy. He hastily invited me to join this group of bi-polars who meet every Sunday to sit around, talk and be moody. Group sulking over tea. Perfect Sunday afternoon activity. Then we can all go steal horse tranquilizers, shoot up, and ride each other.
Not a bad idea.
Three Christmas parties in a week, and I am officialy a cloud heavy with complex carbohydrates. I drift and float aimlessly, barely functional at work. Dyspepsia sucks.
And I thought, What the fuck?
Yes, Gelo Suarez has more of the hype going for him and are you bi-polar?
Is this some sort of mental flirting? Cos I can work on both your north and south poles.
But since he was a client, I just said that if he meant I have wild mood swings, then the answer is yes. He actually seemed happy to find out that I get easily depressed. Too happy. He hastily invited me to join this group of bi-polars who meet every Sunday to sit around, talk and be moody. Group sulking over tea. Perfect Sunday afternoon activity. Then we can all go steal horse tranquilizers, shoot up, and ride each other.
Not a bad idea.
Three Christmas parties in a week, and I am officialy a cloud heavy with complex carbohydrates. I drift and float aimlessly, barely functional at work. Dyspepsia sucks.
Tuesday, December 7
Dream Boy
Monday dawn, Erik.
I board the bus, and there he is, Erik Santos, sitting at the second to the last row on the right, staring out the window. Pouting. And mad at me. I silently made my way down the aisle, down the rows of empty, shiny red seats. He looks at me. There's this pleading look in his eyes, like he did something wrong and wants me to forgive him. And I feel this overwhelming feeling of ... guilt. I sit beside him. We don't talk for a few minutes. His father then boards the bus. I turn to him to say, "Upo na lang ako sa kabila. So you can talk with your dad." He nods.
I sit at the other end, looking out the window, but really watching their reflection. Someone nudges me, it's Gary Valenciano. He leans over and asks, "Away ba kayo?" I whisper back, "No. Moody lang siya uli." Gary V. nods, understanding the situation. Then he says, "Patingin nga ng mini I-pod mo?"
Then I wake up.
First time I dream of Erik and we're fighting pa. Just my luck.
I board the bus, and there he is, Erik Santos, sitting at the second to the last row on the right, staring out the window. Pouting. And mad at me. I silently made my way down the aisle, down the rows of empty, shiny red seats. He looks at me. There's this pleading look in his eyes, like he did something wrong and wants me to forgive him. And I feel this overwhelming feeling of ... guilt. I sit beside him. We don't talk for a few minutes. His father then boards the bus. I turn to him to say, "Upo na lang ako sa kabila. So you can talk with your dad." He nods.
I sit at the other end, looking out the window, but really watching their reflection. Someone nudges me, it's Gary Valenciano. He leans over and asks, "Away ba kayo?" I whisper back, "No. Moody lang siya uli." Gary V. nods, understanding the situation. Then he says, "Patingin nga ng mini I-pod mo?"
Then I wake up.
First time I dream of Erik and we're fighting pa. Just my luck.
At last
Sunshine.
The past two weeks have been stormy. Dreary. I'm a big fan of rain and sleepy dampness, but I need my sunshine. I should have chlorophylls, need to digest this gnawing feeling of uncertainty.
My mind's all over the place. Splattered on walls, bubblegum sticky on things I shouldn't bother with, like avenging grandmothers from the grave and Christmas messages.
Got my first, gift-wrapped, Christmas present. From Central Escolar University.
If Deanna Troi ever visited the library.
Troi: Captain. I sense. So much anger.
Picard: Yes, yes. I get that from the books. Flying. Warp 2. For a pre-warp civilization, that's quite a feat.
Troi: So much hatred.
Picard: Is that a 20th century butter knife sticking out of that faggy man's back?
Troi: Discontent! Pain! Betrayal!
Picard: Recommendation Number One.
Riker: Can I borrow that butter knife?
Troi: Oh. Will.
The past two weeks have been stormy. Dreary. I'm a big fan of rain and sleepy dampness, but I need my sunshine. I should have chlorophylls, need to digest this gnawing feeling of uncertainty.
My mind's all over the place. Splattered on walls, bubblegum sticky on things I shouldn't bother with, like avenging grandmothers from the grave and Christmas messages.
Got my first, gift-wrapped, Christmas present. From Central Escolar University.
If Deanna Troi ever visited the library.
Troi: Captain. I sense. So much anger.
Picard: Yes, yes. I get that from the books. Flying. Warp 2. For a pre-warp civilization, that's quite a feat.
Troi: So much hatred.
Picard: Is that a 20th century butter knife sticking out of that faggy man's back?
Troi: Discontent! Pain! Betrayal!
Picard: Recommendation Number One.
Riker: Can I borrow that butter knife?
Troi: Oh. Will.
Friday, December 3
Swept Away
Wind swept, Manila was a ghost town last night. Verse-chorus-verse, howling-silence-howling. Spent the entire night in prayer: Please don't let the windows break.
This morning, sunshine. My sister, the prophet, announced over last night's dinner that everything would blow over by tomorrow. It's like the weather always has the last laugh. Everytime the government cancels classes and work in advance, the storm decides to gather her dark billowing skirt and hops over to the next country. Laughing.
Howling.
Rock Awards
It was almost a sweep for Bamboo last night. This morning, Luis posted the winners in his blog, and, disappointed, really. Bamboo bagged Best Band, Vocals, Song and Drummer. Orange and Lemons, Best New Artist. Fuck that.
Nothing for Sugarfree and Cambio.
Urbandub, Album of the Year. And Buddy, finally, Bassist of the Year.
Just when good, indie bands are finally surfacing, the most commercial of them all gets the most recognition. It's just like Phil Collins winning over Aimee Mann. Well, not really. But almost.
This morning, sunshine. My sister, the prophet, announced over last night's dinner that everything would blow over by tomorrow. It's like the weather always has the last laugh. Everytime the government cancels classes and work in advance, the storm decides to gather her dark billowing skirt and hops over to the next country. Laughing.
Howling.
Rock Awards
It was almost a sweep for Bamboo last night. This morning, Luis posted the winners in his blog, and, disappointed, really. Bamboo bagged Best Band, Vocals, Song and Drummer. Orange and Lemons, Best New Artist. Fuck that.
Nothing for Sugarfree and Cambio.
Urbandub, Album of the Year. And Buddy, finally, Bassist of the Year.
Just when good, indie bands are finally surfacing, the most commercial of them all gets the most recognition. It's just like Phil Collins winning over Aimee Mann. Well, not really. But almost.
Scream
Just realized today that I've never screamed --- in anger, pleasure or fear --- in my entire life. Even in nightmares, I would try to scream but nothing would come out. Not even a whimper. So I'm thinking, maybe this rock band would help. Have rehearsals tomorrow.
Yeay.
Yeay.
Thursday, December 2
Stormy Weather
I think it was Ricky Lee who said, "Mas masakit ang ala-ala kapag umuulan."
So here I am feeling the heaviness of rain, the heavy, unconsoled breathing of a storm. There really is no sadness, not even a sense of emptiness.
Just graceless madness.
This year has been difficult. (Mabi, here I go.) Dis facultas rings true; I haven't been able to function appropriately, if at all I performed in any of the multiple roles I auditioned for, some, I was destined to play. I have been a distant son, a snappish brother, a lackluster lover, a lethargic employee and a withdrawn friend. And to add to the pungent stew, the lingering trauma of getting beaten up by strangers, and the recurring heaviness of heart.
The heaviness of rain.
---------------------------------
On the other hand, sleep has been kind to me. Sweet, even. Drifted off last night to Angie Hart's Untitled EP. Her high, angelic voice is calming like a cigarette, a slow crawling rush to the head. Slow motion heady, the techno floursihes and the reluctant piano are fluid sonicscapes that drown out the world in their thoughful pauses.
Sweet dreams are made of these.
So here I am feeling the heaviness of rain, the heavy, unconsoled breathing of a storm. There really is no sadness, not even a sense of emptiness.
Just graceless madness.
This year has been difficult. (Mabi, here I go.) Dis facultas rings true; I haven't been able to function appropriately, if at all I performed in any of the multiple roles I auditioned for, some, I was destined to play. I have been a distant son, a snappish brother, a lackluster lover, a lethargic employee and a withdrawn friend. And to add to the pungent stew, the lingering trauma of getting beaten up by strangers, and the recurring heaviness of heart.
The heaviness of rain.
---------------------------------
On the other hand, sleep has been kind to me. Sweet, even. Drifted off last night to Angie Hart's Untitled EP. Her high, angelic voice is calming like a cigarette, a slow crawling rush to the head. Slow motion heady, the techno floursihes and the reluctant piano are fluid sonicscapes that drown out the world in their thoughful pauses.
Sweet dreams are made of these.
Wednesday, December 1
Making a Band
Mighty Band is starting to play good, to sound good. So far, it's Grace on vocals, Margie on bass, Allan on drums, and me on guitars (on lots of Alaxan FR). But of course, we can only play Sugarfree's "Burnout" and a lopsided, kinda silly version of "Cum on Feel the Noize." And, uh, Joey Albert's "Tell Me."
At the end of the day, playing is just so much FUN. The most fun I've had in weeks.
So maybe I should start going out more.
Thanks, Chockwit, for this test.
At the end of the day, playing is just so much FUN. The most fun I've had in weeks.
So maybe I should start going out more.
Thanks, Chockwit, for this test.
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