Playoffs, French Open, World Cup.

I guess this is one of the important seasons in sports, second to the ubiquitous Summer, Winter and other olympics. First, we are counting down the days till the World Cup in Germany. And as a sucker for underdogs, I am rooting for Iraq. Then, there's the NBA playoffs. So far Shaq and his gang are quite comfortable with a 3-1 lead over Pistons. In the field of tennis, it's French Open, with Nadal beating Federer as always in the clay court, and in one month's time, it's grasscourt at Wimbledon. Hoping that the blonde star Sharapova will restore the title out of the Williams.

I missed playing tennis. I hope I still know how.

Run, *bleeep*, Run

What happens if you watch too much movies? Your eyes drop and your migraine attacks.

I watched 7 movies in a row (almost). It started with Dot the I with Gael Garcia Bernal (Motorcycle Diaries, Y tu Mama Tambien), then by another movie I forgot the name because I thought it was good. I slept then continued the next day with Happy Endings, which clearly became one of my favorite movies of all time. It's a comedy (or that what movie tells it was), and it's crazy. It stars Maggie Gyllenhaal, Lisa Kudrow, Steve Coogan, Jason Ritter, Laura Dern, etc, etc, etc. This movie gets into your thinking. Then, Storytelling. It started with Fiction starring Selma Blair, and Nonfiction with Paul Giammati. Next is the flying daggers, crouching tiger, samurai-ninja-warrior The Promise. I can't just have a concrete description of this film but colorful. Still does not top the colors of Hero. The next day, it was wine time with Sideways. Followed lastly by skateboarding history, Lords of Dogtown. The names stilll reverberate: Jay Adams, Tony Alva, Stacy Peralta, the originals of skateboarding, with Tony Hawk on cameo as an astronaut who ironically stumbles as he tries on the skateboard.

What I got from all of these, an imagination that soon will make me one of those behind the camera, and of course, migraine headaches.

I will Please

Placebo in Latin, I will please. Thus, the effect, to please. An imaginary cure consoling the deepest aches. I need placebo. Not the direct cure, but just the cure: the water in my capsule, the sugar in my pill.

Ignorance is bliss.

Splitting Personality

When you go through the requirements of most of the jobs today, there is this one qualification that definitely gets me pissed: pleasing personality (read: beautiful or near-beautiful). I understand those kind of works that requires such, e.g. the stewardesses, the hotel receptionist, the leading ladies, etc. But for some reasons, why do research assistants need to be pleasing. Why, oh, why? If you'll be stuck for hours or even days inside the laboratory, why is it such a requirement to be beautiful? Damn.

Let's take a scenario. You are titrating (a.k.a. waiting for soooo long) some chemicals whatsoever inside the fully white-tiled laboratory room, alone. What will happen if your pleasing? a) the chemicals will squirt out of graduated cylinders and climb up your face like ants can't get enough of sweets. b) titration time will be lessened in seconds coz, well, look at that pretty face. c) your results will be as beautiful as you are. d) you will die beautiful of boredom.

I guess everyone wants to die beautiful (in ashes).

Colored

This poem has been circulating in text messages for quite a while. It is supposed to be written by an African kid and nominated for Best Poem of 2005 by supposedly a literary award-giving body. What fascinates me the most with this poem is its satiric take on racism, funny yet poignant. The use of words, the so called poetic justice, makes it innocently provocative, a little bit naive, and generally simple. No more underlying meanings or social innuendos, just a social commentary on the world at large. This is the kid writing, so definitely, he/she kicks ass.

When I born,
I black.
When I grow up,
I black.
When I go in the sun,
I black.
When I cold,
I black.
When I scared,
I black.
When I sick,
I black.
And when I die,
I still black.

And you white fella,
When you born,
You pink.
When you grow up,
You white.
When you go in the sun,
You red.
When you cold,
You blue.
When you scared,
You yellow.
When you die,
You grey.
And YOU calling me COLORED?!!!!

Huh. Take that.

Tingles

My right index finger hurts; it tingles. So is my left index finger. And my left thumb. Yeah, the right thumb also. Well, both my hands are hurting. Pass me the TENS unit.

What will happen if I started to lose these precious hands (not really in the form of amputation or something, don't be so morbid)? What will I use when I eat? What? What? That's hard to contemplate. Enough with this finger.

This was somewhat an important week in reality TV: finales of both Amazing Race and Survivor, and we get to see who will bang heads in American Idol finale minus Chris Daughtry of course. He deserve to win but he is better off eliminated early than become commercialized or something. He has to rock, and winning the competition is not the proper ticket. So, who am I rooting for? I'd like a man to win, so Taylor Hicks and his spastic antics may well become the next American Idol. But Katherine McPhee is beautiful... let's end it there. Back to TAR, the hippies won in one exciting final showdown in the Roadblock (in a flag searching-total recalling challenge) against the toughest contender ever, the Frat Boys, who clarified they are college drop outs so naming them the Frat Boys does not make sense. I say at least you have a name, you're pooooopular. Onto Survivor, Aras (tongue-twister surname) won the whole exile brouhaha and may have become the youngest winner next to Amber. Or not. I am not really sure. Other than that, this week has been very painful for my hands.

And this is the lamest blog I have ever done. Others are just lamer.

How 'Bout Now? Or Now.

Patience. It's hard to keep, hard to have. Wish we could have it now, as in right now. They say it's within you already, you just have to develop it or show it or buy it if you have money. Well, we would like to settle for the latter but we don't have money, and sometimes it's patience that gives us the solution on this money problem, then we can buy it again. Thus, the cycle of patience. But.

But. But what if you have been patient to the paint of martyrdom, what will you do? Be patient and wait until the medals of glory will fall down from heaven much like toads falling from the skies in Magnolia? or leave for you have enough and start being patient again on other people. If this continues, thus, again, the cycle of patience in a different light, a light of condescension.

Now, where to? Patience is not a virtue after all, but a means to live. Be patient until the surgeon is in. Be patient for your death will soon come. Be patient cause not all things have solutions. Be patient, you are in the hospital.

Thumbsucker. Another, well, haiku(s). And the Humanity, oh the Humanity.

I watched Thumbsucker last night (starring Lou Pucci, Keannu Reeves (in his befitting role with no facial expressions, very Keannu Reeves: Neo, you are the One!), Vince Vaughn, Tilda Swinton a.k.a. the Narnia white witch), and we'll it has been a long time since I have watched a "slow" movie if not indie. It's refresing; I have been looking forward to watch these kinds of movies. For the synopsis, refer to Yahoo! Movies or rottentomatoes.com. Looking forward to watch another Lou Pucci film with the same darkness, with Billy Elliot's Jamie Bell, The Chumscrubbers. And by the way, both Pucci and Bell starred in music videos of Green Day: Jesus of Suburbia and Wake Me Up When September Ends, respectively.

----------------------------------------------------------

I love Japanese, (5)

so I'd like to have sakè, (7)

Origami-style. (5)

----------------------------------------------------------

It's nice to listen to the 90's alternative rock, minus the boybands. The rise and death of Nirvana. Smashing Pumpkins on Tonight, Tonight. Green Day in its Grammy moment. R.E.M. making requiems. U2, Bono, U2, Edge. Radiohead screaming in your head. Collective Soul. Gin Blossoms. Red Hot Chili Peppers. The 12 M's and Crash Test Dummies. 10,000 Maniacs and more. Eddie Vedder "pointing gun" in Pearl Jam. Dave Matthews Band not drinking water and the sax sonata. Sarah Machlachlan's soulful voice. Fiona Apple and her lengthy album name per Guinness Book of World Records. Bjork, shhh.., Bjork. Skunk Anansie and the scream. The nudist's point of view of Alanis Morissette. Fat Boy Slim. The Offsprings and its spawns. The Prodigy's Firestarter and creepy hairstyle. Our Lady Peace's Superman is Dead. Oasis climaxing into the mirage of Champagne Supernova. The three young kids making big as Silverchair. Eraserheads, now erased, but still lingers. And the ones that skipped out of my memory, may not be easily remembered in my cortex, but will stay forever in my amygdala (the emotion center). You make me cry (not really literally, ok, sometimes... they're heartbreaking y'know), even if you're screaming. The sounds never fade if they're already kept (in the iPod).

We are all black when the lights turn out. (Twisted Transistor, guest line, Korn)

-------------------------------------------------------

My ikebana. (5)

Fastened to your kimono. (7)

Burnt with parasol. (5)

-------------------------------------------------------

I'm currently reading this book about a girl who was raped and killed and still looking out to the loved ones she left behind, from heaven's perspective, The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. This the first "dramatic" (sniff, sniff) novel I have ever read, since Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom, and Paulo Coelho is inspirational not "dramatic". You can see how families are bound and/or shattered by someone's unexpected and early departure. You can see the heaven in different lights, with swings and gazebos, with playgrounds and duplexes, with visiting grandpas dancing. Oh the humanity. We only live once, but are we living still somewhere if we die? It's for us to find out while we are building our mysteries.

------------------------------------------------------

Sushi, sashimi. (5)

Raw meat for the Japanese. (7)

Like Japayukis. (5)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, the humaniy. The humanity. *sniff sniff*

Everyboday Hurts (Hope some higher authority will get that)

When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on

'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone

If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on

Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts. You are not alone.

~~Everyboday Hurts/R.E.M.

The World's a Subway

Soiled, abused by world.

I learned patience, wisdom, grace.

Revenge will f'llow its tail.


Do you worry that you're not liked/How long till you break/You're happy cause you smile/But how much can you fake/An ordinary boy an ordinary name/But ordinary's just not good enough today/Alone I'm thinking/Why is superman dead?

Well/I know what I've been told,/You got to work to feed the soul/But I can't do this all on my own/No, I know, I'm no Superman.

Life is unfair, so I just stare at the stain on the wall where/The TV'd been, but ever since we've moved in it's been empty/Why I, why I'm in this room/There is no point explaining/You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big/Life is a test, and I confess/I like this mess I've made so far.

It's the terror of knowing/What this world is about/Watching some good friends/Screaming get me out!/Tomorrow takes me higher/Pressure on people/Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking/Can't we give ourselves one more chance?/Why can't we give love that one more chance?/Why can't we give love give love give love?/Cause love's such an old fashioned word/And love dares you to care/For the people on the edge of the night/And love dares you to change our way/Of caring about ourselves/This is our last dance/This is ourselves/Under Pressure.

I've been biding my time/Been so subtly kind/I got to think so selfishly/You're bored and bemused/You wanna do someone else/So you should be by yourself/Trying hard to think pure/Bloody hard when I'm raw/You talking out so sexually/'bout boys 'n girls and your friggin' dreams/So now you feel lusty/You're hot and confused/So now you've been busted/You're caught feeling used.

Today is the greatest/Day I ’ve ever kown/Can’t live for tomorrow/Tomorrow’s much too long/I burn my eyes out/Before I get out/I wanted more/Than life could ever grant/Bored by the chore/Of saving face/Pink ribbon scars/That never forget/I’ve tried so hard/To cleanse these regrets/My angel wings/Were bruised and restrained/My belly stings.

Two jumps in a week/I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy?/Flying on your motorcycle,/ Watching all the ground beneath you drop/You'd kill yourself for recognition,/Kill yourself to never ever stopYou broke another mirror,/You're turning into something you are not/Don't leave me high, don't leave me dryDon't leave me high, don't leave me dry/Drying up in conversation,/You will be the one who cannot talkAll your insides fall to pieces,/You just sit there wishing you could still make love/They're the ones who'll hate you./When you think you've got the world all sussed out/They're the ones who'll spit at you,/You will be the one screaming out/It's the best thing that you ever had,/The best thing that you ever, ever hadIt's the best thing that you ever had,/The best thing you ever had has gone away.

This is a public service announcement, this is only a test/Emergency evacuation protest/May Impair your ability to operate machinery/Can't quite tell just what it means to me/Keep out of reach of children, don't you talk to strangers/Get your philosophy from a bumper sticker/ I want to be the minority/I don't need your authority/Down with the moral majority/'Cause I want to be the minority/I pledge allegiance to the underworld/One nation under dog/There of which I stand alone/A face in the crowd/Unsung, against the mold/Without a doubt/Singled out.

The only way I know I don’t mind stealing bread/From the mouths of decadence/But I can’t feed on the powerless/When my cup’s already overfilled/But it’s on the table/The fire is cooking/And they’re farming babies/While the slaves are working/The blood is on the table/And their mouths are choking/But I’m growing hungry.

Nobody said it was easy / It’s such a shame for us to part /Nobody said it was easy/No one ever said it would be so hard /I’m goin’ back to the start.

But I can't help the feeling /I could blow through the ceiling/If I just turn and run/And it wears me out, it wears me out/ And if I could be who you wanted/If I could be who you wanted /All the time, all the time.

The world is a subway!

It's hard to argue how unfair things are, you have no related literature to back this up. When the higher people from you office, from your homes, from society puts you down, the only course of action to take is not bow down, but stand up. And sing... in glory, the power of humanity... your dignity is your only ammunition, your identity. Sing it until your throat breaks in half.

(Song excerpts from Our Lady Peace/Superman is Dead, Lazlo Bane/I'm no Superman, They Might Be Giants/Boss of Me, Queen & David Bowie/Under Pressure, Skunk Anansie/Secretly, Smashing Pumpkins/Today, Radiohead/High and Dry/Fake Plastic Trees, Green Day/Warning/Minority, Temple of the Dog/Hunger Strike, Coldplay/The Scientist, the haiku is original.)

Major Headache

After hitting my head pretty hard on the rim of a double-deck bed, I experienced extreme, excruciating pain which made me think that I may have created a hematoma, or blood clot in my brain, if not fracture of my skull. This morbidity seemed to blow a little out of proportion when I experienced slight rise in temperature a.k.a. fever, my first in quite a long time (years even), afterwards. What's worse than that is that I have been experiencing a series of not-really debilitating cephalgia, yeah headache, for four consecutive days now. As of writing, I am still feeling the beeping (tiktak tiktak migraine talking) in my head. This is one major crap. So, I thought why not wrote a poem, just like what my friend always posts on her blog. I am quite inspired by her new fantaserye-esque photos that she newly posted (this has nothing to do with the poems). I think I can only do elementary haiku. It's hard to think and put meanings to poems at this time, which for some may have an underlying meaning, a force hiding, a dwelling metaphor about to break from the oppression of social world, whatsoever... but really that just it, nothing great, nothing serious, nothing grave... just a flag of Japan (a red circle in a rectangular white piece) or a flag of Libya (greeeeen in its most green, grinning bobcat). This is my attempt. I great leap for mankind. A plagiarized literary piece from, um, myself while trying to be pretentious as to think I can be a poet, who can easily make poems without being drunk, i.e. Edgar Allan Poe, who can strike my pen or keyboard without having the right surrounding, environment, mood, etc. It is just that I remembered this very clearly, I wrote this 3 years ago, and it is still etched in my cortex, I hope amygdala (the emotion center, but really there's nothing emotional with this). Read on, folks. You'll never know it might inspire you. To write. To read. To dance. To sing. To kill the author of this as soon as you meet him somewhere in the middle of the earth. To laugh for no apparent reasons.


Headache.

Hy'nas laughing hard

On vultures squandering and

Eating their own kin.



To paraphrase, just like my headache, this is how morbid life is. And... I don't know, I can never really explain this one. We are not in a Humanities class. It's self-explanatory. Or not. Vultures, hyenas, they play a role in the food chain, in the environment. Just like my headache, nobody gives a damn about it. Until somebody died of a tumor out of a supposed "headache" and eventually fullfilling its role in the food chain as food for the bacteria. Mmmmm. This never really made sense. Metered poem. 17 lines. Fatal headache. And we all fall to pieces. The third law of Thermodynamics. Entropy. This is a different subject. And it is not me writing. It is the inner genius. Shut up. Shut up.