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 part 2

Meme from dodobird and starshuffler. Seven songs on heavy rotation that I just can't get outta. In no particular order of appearance.

1. The Worst Part by Motion City Soundtrack. From "Sound of Superman." It's dancing with tears in my eyes. Heartachy chorus soars up, up, and away: You used to call my name / Every hour of every day / How I live to hear that sound / But everytime it washes away / We wash away.

2. Wires and Waves by Rilo Kiley. From "Take Offs and Landings." And sometimes lonely hearts they just get lonelier. I think you're getting the drift.

3. Life Effect by Stars. From "Heart." Easy pitter-patting. The one-twos of moving on.

4. When You Were Young by The Killers. From "Sam's Town." Bruce Springsteen meets The Who meets dusty synthesizers. Anthemic under heavy clouds.

5. Up to My Head by Mark Kozelek. From the "White Christmas" live album. Back to my ol' worrisome self but successfully passing the sluggishness of acting, working, and writing appropriately.

6. Miss Kita Pag Tuesday by R-Jay (something). From the "Pinoy Dream Academy vol. 1" soundtrack. Heh. Saya pakinggan. Sarap maging bagets.

7. Teen Titans by Puffy Ayumi. When there's trouble you know who to call: Teen Titans! But man, who we gonna call now that the show's gone?

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

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