The Burden of Continuity

As children, we never did care about history. Yesterday was as far we could go or we could consider, and only because we wanted to have something better today. I already had this yesterday and now I want something better. But generally, we just didn't care. So it was no problem jumping right smack in the middle of Saturday Fun Machines, of chato or patintero, of comic books. Previously didn't matter. We were sure that it didn't matter.

Met up with Dodo last Friday night, and when he said he had a lot of back issues to unload, I didn't realize what a lot meant until they were in front of me. It was A LOT of comic books. Speed Force. The Spirit (with a Neil Gaiman story). Giffen's Legion of Super-Heroes. ACME Novelty Library. Waid's JLA. A James Robinson Bat-Man arc. A couple of SHOWCASES. And a whole lot more. He told me that these weren't complete arcs, that some pick-up 3 issues later or was issue 2 of a 12-issue mini-series. And I replied, giddily of course, "It doesn't matter."

I picked up my first comic book when I was around 3 years old, and it was X-Men #101. The team had just come back from space but their survival from a previous battle was eclipsed by Marvel Girl's death. Then all of a sudden, Marvel Girl surfaces from the ocean as Phoenix. "I am the Phoenix!" in bold, jagged letters, and she, in green and gold with wild red hair. It was the only comic book we had for a couple of months so my sister and I read it over and over. Again and again. And we never got tired of it. We didn't know anything about the X-Men, and only found out a couple of years later what happened after that issue. But it didn't matter.

Continuity is obssession for the passing of time, the progression of characters, the history of a universe. I am a continuity geek. I go out of my way, I hide from friends, I skip lunches just to search for that missing issue, always trying to understand things. I am cautious with people. I don't take great risks. And I stay awake at night worrying about what will happen next.

Sometimes I just want to be the 5-year old me who isn't burdened with motives, repercussions and probability.

Sometimes, whatever it is, it really doesn't matter. We'll write that panel when we get there.

Friday Night Light

...is a flickering TV screen. And a computer screen, without the flickering of course because that would mean spending. Spending is the enemy right now. So I could spend more in the very near future.

W's away on a trip so I teach myself how to add headers to my blog, I sing along to Tilly and the Wall's "Rainbows in the Dark," and catch up on the third season of Project Runaway. I'm really getting good, very good, at wasting time. I can practically teach it to a class, write a book about it---wait, there's a book out on that topic already and it's called The Seven People You Meet in Heaven. Or Want to Meet in Heaven. Why not The Gazillion People You Want to Meet in Heaven? One practically has his entire after life meeting up with dead people. Waste of time to read that book is what I'm trying to say.

Exceptionally temperamental today. It's the trying to cut down with the smokes. Bought nicotine chewing gum and I'm almost done with the first pack. Helps a lot with the craving. But not with the irritability, which is a scientifically acknowledged symptom of cutting down on cigarettes. Yay, me! License to bitch at this guy from another agency who wanted "edgy" on an SM ad. Shoe Mart, mga friendships. Kahit na hindi edgy ang copy ko, bungal ka pa rin.

Grr.

Great. Worked myself up to a hissy fit. Time for take-out food. You all have a great weekend.

Bohol! Bohol!

Quite literally. The nightly gin drinking has made those five days blurry, in a time-jump sense, only little is chronologically playing out in my head. There's the arrival, the solemn Friday, the search for pork, and the first of many guzzling down of gin shots, err, bottles.

First day high. And the search for inihaw na liempo. Kaya mga nakasimangot.

Flight was crazy early, 6:30 a.m. Dizzy for the most part, smokes and coffee not really helping. Sleep walking in a strangely quiet place. We've been forewarned that Boholanos are highly religious and touring the place on a Good Friday was close to sacrilege. So I mostly slept while the others started plotting the quickest route to the beach.

Bohol air, almost sweet. The closest to ecstasy in a biblical sense. Really. Breathe it in and you know there is a God. We would walk aimlessly under the heat of the sun (which wasn't painfully hot unlike Manila's evil sun) and there was no tightening of the chest, no catching of breath. The tour was just great fun and for the first time in years, I felt tireless.

The complete cast, from left to right: Word, Tristan, Mark, Sam, Me, and Arne

First time in 7 years that I joined a sorta company outing. Partly due to a few people that I cannot get along with, mostly because it's usually an overnight thing. Me, I'm the stay-up-late, wake-up-late guy. So five days was perfect. Relaxed. Loose. Hours to wile away.

And these guys are incredible company. Kwela pero masipag mamalengke at magluto. Mahilig din sa alkohol kaya panalo talaga. So yeah, we're planning to make this a yearly thing. Maybe Palau?

Star-Crossed Lovers

Literally. Crossing universes and lifetimes. Hawkman is from JUSTICE series 3 and Hawkgirl, JSA series 1.

Posing care of me. Purty, huh?

My Space

There it is. My own private. Mornings are the best. Most of the people come in late so that means music, coffee and cigs at my desk, my thoughts to myself. Not full-blown thought balloons of to-do's but shuffled ideas.


Tail-ends or very much middle of the road ideas as I go through the day's job orders. Two today. And highlighted at the bottom: Must not be copy heavy.

It's going to be a good day.

Speaking of dickheads

It's a breath of fresh air. A walk in the park. I'm just waiting for all the little birdies to sing outside the window. And what a fucking relief.

No dickheads in this office.

Or maybe I'm the only one. Heh.

A far cry from the daily tug-of-war at my previous workplace where an actual Dwight exists. I didn't mind much the watchful eyes. They can watch me all they want. But when Dwight-ess started picking on my people, pressuring them, well, bullying them behind my back, well that's a different story. I didn't even know there was a problem until someone came out in the open and showed me the emails. Then the claims of lazyness, lying, and non-performance. And all this went directly to the boss. I could've handled it. If I knew about it.

So it was like that. Every fucking day. As much as I love most of the people I worked with, it wasn't enough to keep me on board. I hate fighting silent wars. It's just too time consuming. I catch only a couple of hours sleep and still I'm way behind on my TV shows and comic books.

Now back in advertising. At ThreeSixty Design, Inc. Late nights, sure. But also rubbershoes, shirts, shitloads of cash (I'm exaggerating) and people who work hard but also don't give a fuck with whatever you do with your time as long as you deliver. And it feels fucking great.

(Metal Men cover from Superdickery.com)

HK: Ngong Ping Express

January 2, the let's-do-touristy-things day. Still have to download from various cams the New Year's eve countdown at the Star Ferry pier and dinner with the Azadas on the 1st. So on to cable cars and Buddha.

Around 10 degrees kaya keri ang winter collection.

Buddha...(ako yung may scarf, heh)

...and his air-benders.

Masyadong fresh ang air.

(Below) This was taken on the same day in Soho where we had dinner.
Ang walang kamatayang Wong Kar-Wai shot.

Pictures muna. Abangan ang Meme 2007 at isang ma-emote na look-back sa 2006. Wait. Review na lang kaya ng Kasal, Kasali, Kasalo, the most panalo film of the MMFF? Or isang deconstruction ng Nicholas Tse movies? Syempre inuna kong pinanood ang Dragon Tiger Gate bago Invisible Waves.

Just deliriously happy is all. This is my first new new year in a long time. Have my cape on , Dodobird.

Hope we all have an interesting 2007.

Cheers Darling

One of the rare Christmases that was all about me. What I wanted to eat (arroz caldo), what I wanted to watch (Avatar: The Last Air-Bender Book 2), what I wanted to do (read Ed Brubaker's Captain America: Winter Soldier Vol. 1). And it felt fucking great. Heh.

Faye was down with something flu-like so we both spent Christmas in Manila. Cooked for her. A lot. Compulsive cooking; I was planning dinner while making lunch. And on Christmas Eve, we downloaded lyrics and sang songs by Rilo Kiley, Gwen Stefani, Carrie Underwood, etc. until two in the morning.

Hope you all had fun Christmases. It's all about the cheer.

Quitter

The first time I quit a job it was because I didn’t like the job. PR. Nothing really detestable. It was just. Boring. Writing was limited to a sheet or two, quite automatic. I lasted two months.

The second time was for a better offer. Two years in advertising and I already had an offer. Whoa! Or so I thought. I ended up writing coupon text. 50% discount on selected items. Limited offer only. Very limiting.

So I went back to my ex, mostly for sentimental reasons. The organization was opening a new department and the boss was someone I had always wanted to work with. Fucking brilliant. And a sad drunk. It was almost love. But then, he quit. And so.

Looking back now, job #5 was a highlight. Top of the pops because I was high most of the time. And drunk. And dancing to Incognito and M People in Venetia. Cocktails over ice over lunch. Dated compulsively. I started listening to hip-hop and house music and acid jazz. I was twenty-five and foolish but was making really good friends. We signed on each other’s vodka bottle; absolut scribbling of well wishes and confessions.

No wonder I burned out. But I had fun along the way.

Didn’t work for a year. Never really had a break. I was on my second job when I officially graduated. Marched. Took summer classes and was done with college on the first semester of my senior year. And not more than a two-week break since then.

So the millennium came and I was jobless. But I was in love. The freelance thing didn’t really work out for me. I spun records for my boyfriend’s café so I could earn enough to buy CDs. Just waiting for the right job to come along.



The one I’m quitting right now.

Five and a half years. A feat, really. It felt right most of the time. Never really thought of myself as a sales type of worker, but the job turned me into one. I had to meet quotas, had to wear barong, had compute annual budgets. But I was working in a library so it didn’t really matter. Until things changed.

So I’m starting the year with a trip to Hong Kong and Civil War #6. The rest I’ll figure out along the way.

Waiting to exhale

There. I've said it.

32

Quiet Saturday at work. Carpet cleaning's the only thing happening. And the waiting for the carpet to dry so I can eat properly in the pantry. The staff set up a make-shift dining table at the reception area right across the bookshop. So it's "Hello books! Hello hungry people!" as soon as you enter. The place is so quiet you can actually hear the chewing. I'm kidding. A little bit. If you really try hard to listen...

Brought my comics with me. Catching up on the All-New Atom and the Irredeemable Ant-Man. Come to think of it, I do have a thing for shrinking men...

The rest of the afternoon is purposely drawn blank. Looking forward to going to Rockwell. The boyfriend will be shopping for an outfit for his exhibit opening (Ayala Museum, have ta look extra spiffy) while I will be wandering the aisles of Fully Booked. I do wander. It's my thing. I walk around aimlessly first, grabbing titles along the way. Surveying, so to speak. Then, the hunt with a mission begins. Followed by the checking of the wallet, and the weeding of titles. My very own Glorious Mystery. This has been my ritual since I was in school, but mostly in discount book shops. The beloved Booksale, from where I have completed my Stephen King and Clive Barker titles...

So.

32 years old.

It's all happening man. It's all happening.

The Buzz

Still buzzed from last night's drink out with Dodo, Faye and Raymond. Laughed hard. Downed around six bottles. Only. Yet the lightheaded morning after is somewhat bluesy. Like that Blake Babies song: Nothing's good and nothing's bad. That tentative heavyness of feet. That under the sheets disposition.


The term hangover was originally a 19th century expression describing unfinished business – something left over from a meeting – or ‘survival.’ (Wikipedia)


There's always unfinished business. Loose ends. Work in progress. Missing pages. Open endings. Hangovers.

About time I get used to it.

Fight or Flight

IT'S A BIRD...Written by Steven T. Seagle; Art and Cover by Teddy Kristiansen

It has been a week for advanced birthday presents. Early bird was the Hawkman-JUSTICE action figure from Faye, and just last Saturday, two trades from W---Busiek's Astrocity: Family Album, and Seagle's It's a Bird...---which I'm writing about now because I can't sleep.

Because the language was elegant, the lessons delicate. Because I prefer reading comic books over drinking beer nowadays. Because I have been angry for the past two months. Because I am leaving my job. Because I don't mind losing. Because there's always something next. Just like a Superman comic book, Seagle says.

I have accepted who I am and who I'm never becoming. And what I want.

I will always have fun with words. I prefer geeking out at home over the company of people, corduroys over slacks, gray over black, gameboy over a cellphone, love over lust, comics over poetry, watching TV in a hotel room over sunbathing, Hong Kong over Singapore, god over religion.

I will never prescribe hows or whys or whats. Some people see it as too kind. Or lackadaisical. I call it realization. Making decisions. Growing up.

Of course, there are doubts, practically nations of them, but Faye made it really simple for me: whatever makes you happy, wherever you are happy is what makes work work.

So I'm getting myself a ticket to somewhere sunnier.

Look up in the sky.

Seven

And this is how we celebrated it: with a long weekend almost lazy but not quite as careless
as the sheets. There was a Sharon Cuneta movie, and lots of TV. Comicbooks and expensive dinners. Nothing special but it was. Nothing planned but it felt like everything is as it should be. Contrived even.

Even how we're beginning to look alike.

Soul Coughing

I'm not good at being sick. Can't stay in bed. Can't listen to music too long. Can't watch any serious stuff and anything random like HBO programming feels like a waste of time. I miss my smokes.

Villains United is hurting my head and not because it's badly-written, no, if anything it's turning out to be my favorite of the Countdown to Infinite Crisis titles, but it is a lot of work. Making connections in my head, the OYL and 52 storylines tangled like wires. Any wires. They all get tangled up in small, impossibly tight knots sooner or later.

*cough*

How will I keep my insides in?

Later.

Editors - Munich - Acoustic

...

Editors - Someone Says - Live Acoustic

Malapit na ako mahimatay.

More More More

Editors live in Japan. After the concert montage is an acoustic session. Have I said that I really, really like the band?

Editors

You burn like a bouncing cigarette on the road.

Editors Munich Live 3_30_06

Obssessed. Collecting singles again. I'm so glad I found this.