simmer and boil over

there are certain things coffee does to you. true, the caffeine doesn't truly work on me anymore. but everytime i sit down in a coffee shop with a friend, after an hour or so, you can expect strange topics to come up. stranger even are the amount of things you realize and the things you're keeping at the back of your mind that you're trying hard not to notice. like coffee, it brews on the surface until it bubbles over. then you'll have no other choice but to take it off the fire and examine.

i do believe that i no longer have to grieve. i have been there. it has been years since. we now walk different paths. our roads no longer cross. but nothing's ever truly over. as luis bayani said, life isn't linear. it does't just consist of beginning, middle, and end. it continously evolves. so much so as that you're never truly starting anything. you just belong in this great big vicious cycle called the circle of life. and this damning circle of life will always bring you back to places where you thought you'll never go again. back to the wharf of pain and endless anxiety. i know that i belong again to my medea when i start with these verses. it's so much better when my prose consists of endless rantings. it somehow symbolizes that i am okay. i'm i control. but when i start spouting poetic prose, then there's something wrong.

it all began with an innocent comment on the six-degrees of separation. and then a single surname. then the world comes tumbling over. a common surname that belongs to our past. a name that continous to haunt us both. and much as we hate to admit it, has as much control over us than we'd care to notice. then suddenly you realize things like, you loved him. for at least one fleeting moment then, you did. you truly did. you just never said it. then the moment passed you and you're not even willing to go back to try. and what's even more bothering is that even though you made yourself build this facade of strength. this face that says i have moved on, when people ask you questions, you just start thinking and realize you're still puny for him. a slave wrapped around his little finger.

the more depressing realization is that you've left with no choice but to move on. for he must have certainly moved on. after all, it has been years. and you have showed him, haven't you? you chose this place. and the bitter part is that you no longer want to prove you can. for this time, you no longer care whether your pride goes into pieces. you just want to let it all go. let them simmer and boil over. never mind that you'll risk losing face. at least you've unburdened this load. but you're wiser too late. and it doesn't matter much to him anymore. not as much as it does to you.

music and madness

i went to big sky last night with some friends to watch a gig after what seems like ten thousand years. i haven't been to a gig since i went to city jam that one time with lala. and though it was entertaining, it wasn't as enjoyable as the ones like last saturday. maybe because narda was there. and i'm a slave for narda. i get totally enraptured whenever i watch them perform. maybe because their vocalist is so entertaining to watch. she pulls out all the stops in performing live. doesn't hold herself off from the audience. is very receptive as performer, and she truly puts herself into the song. it might take me a hundred words to explain all these, but you'll never get as much explanation as you can as watching them yourself. if you do, then you'll know what i'm talking about.

there were days before when a week won't pass without me seeing someone peform live. be it some known band or just some run of the mill banda-bandahan. those days are, of course, long gone. most nights i used to spend circulating the live music scene is now spent talking to all sorts of strangers. it's odd really. i know i'm happier when i'm out on gigs or coffee shops discussing philosophy, religion, life, love, art, tragedy, and everything else with friends. but no one gets paid doing that, right? so instead, i work. to sustain a healthy, well-provided life. but what's a healthy life without the happiness? what would all the health do to an unhappy spirit? it keeps it living. but it doesn't keep it alive.

doesn't quite make sense now, does it?

between willy and mickey

watched charlie and the chocolate factory last saturday. and i still marvel at the way johnny depp mesmerizes me. he was brilliant as willy wonka. sure, i have my biases but then i'm not the only one singing his praises this time. it's such a joy movie that i'm still giddying up to it whenever i recall it.

my first week in pulubi mode for the sight of mickey mouse in chinese regalia. the only gratifying thing i did with my money for the last week is watch johnny depp parade on a big screen in red merlot coat and cha-cha heels. for the next three months, i'll be forgoing every folly i've been known to indulge just so i could find myself in boker mode with the mascots in hong kong and my by then newborn inaanak in macau.

so help me God.