a call to my muse

i was going through my boxed stuff earlier today when i found my collection of wallet-sized photos.  there was a load of them.  there was a variety of faces involved.  some i still see, some i don't anymore, and some i now dislike.  a lot of them made me smile.  like the 4th year prom photos.  or the studio-taken ones that has a lot of story going on in them.  there were some faces i really miss.  like drew's.  photograph's really carry stories in them.  and ever since, i have liked holding the camera more than being the one seeing the flash.  i even have memories of having two rolls of film during my high school retreat and having about only two shots of me in it.  it was only at the advent of camera phones that i started taking pictures of myself more often.  what we fondly call "boker."  but lately, i haven't been toying with the lenses.  like with my writings and my music, i felt like i have deteriorated in my passion for artistic expression.  i'm trying to rectify this.  and i'm trying to figure out why it's harder for me to create something this time around.  when i'm older and have gained a better perspective.  when i've made mistakes and learned some lessons.  the only conclusion i could come up with is that the difference between me then and me now is that i'm happier now.  i wrote a lot when i was depressed.   that's easy to understand.  since we express ourselves better when we're dealing with pain.  it's a lot harder to describe a good feeling than a bad one.  but it frustrates me to feel that i have to be sad to produce something good with my works.  that is the seed of doubt in my so-called artistic abilities.  that i can only write or take good photos or play music when i'm not happy. 

so, this is a call to my muse.  i'm not sad right now.  but i need you.  please come up and identify yourself.

i seriously don't want to get pissed.

for the love of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, just return the damned thing.

 

red letter day

there's more than one reason why i don't like valentine's.  and it's not because of the lack of a significant someone.  that may amount to something, but not exactly in my existence.  i always seem to find my schedule on a valentine's with an appointment to visit a bank.  and visits to the money house isn't exactly my favorite chore.  add to that pissing reality, is this unbelievable traffic that can only occur on valetine's day.  i always, and i say that this never fails in the last four valetine's of my life, somehow get late to an appointment.  this year it was my meeting with aj.  we we're supposed to have lunch.  and i was able to meet her at roughly 1700.  the trip from ayala to megamall took so long i found myself sleeping then waking up and not being there yet.  and when i did get there, this mass of the population decided to grace megamall with their prescence.  along with the banners and balloons and bears and flowers to fully commercialize the season.   given all of these facts, could you possibly blame me for not being a patriot of this day? 

but then, as i was about to pass this day as another valentine that failed me, something happened.  after my very delayed lunch with aj, i went to powerbooks to buy a book.  i've been eyeing this steve berry novel i've seen last week.  so i went back for it.  after i payed for it, the lady who took my purchase gave me a single long-stemmed rose.  i'm not a fan of roses.  i'm more of the lilies type.  but it amused me that my entertaining affection with books could actually be a very galant date on a day so commercialized.  sweet?  could be.  i'll be giving the rose to my mother. 

welcome to the backroom

this is the place

where i will almost leave you behind 

where i will start carving your name

on the pillows

and pray that it stays there 

next to where my head lies

when it's dreaming

where you will remain,

as i while the day away eating

bananas dipped in melted chocolate

while i walk dreaming,

you will stay awake through the nocturne 

and i will keep you there

sleeping

wishing you'll never wake in me

what i always hoped you would

that your existence will be forgotten

as you hold yourself close

beneath the walls

and you'll never run out

of where i kept you  

welcome

make yourself comfortable

you'll never leave this place

again