Balay ni Mayang Guitar Cover

On thinking too much and Silent Sanctuary songs

"Ang problema man gud nimo, Den, you think too much."

I am sober now. Well, I was, until Silent Sanctuary's Sa'yo played background on a Koreanovela show late this night. I was already geared up towards not loving her anymore. Funny, since all my previous posts sounded like I was hit by Cupid a thousand times over and over again and here I am saying I'm all over it, I'm all over her. I think I'm not.

You see, I decided to kill this feel. Why? It kills me. All the crap I said about loving someone without expecting something in return did me a lot of pain. Curse you all poets I've known. It wasn't easy. (And I'm looping Silent Sanctuary's Sa'yo while typing this, letting the feels suck me in and transform myself into a cat).

Well, my friend was right. I really think too much. Too much of all things. Too much that I always end up regretting why I always think too much. I end up not doing anything, just sitting there thinking why I think too much. I feel you, Carljoe Javier. This post is a product of thinking too much.

I know that she knows already. Well, that's cool. But that's it. She's too beautiful, too real for my fantasy. Unfair, I know. I'm ending a fight I haven't started yet. Not to confuse but she is worth fighting for. The problem is me. A geek madly in love. A geek too naive about love. A geek staring at a beautiful woman but stays there, steady, silent, wanting to talk but can't.

Curse this song.

How I Met the Mist (and other tales from a nirvana two rungs down from heaven)

She’s a fog, actually. But let me romanticize that speck of spectacle and call her “the mist”. Technically she is the mist. And I prefer her for a woman. Whatever.

I was hitting the road with a friend, and her father, when that moment flashed and I wished I could’ve frozen it. She was like a lady up in the mountains embracing, or protecting, that allure that is nature. Her transcendent aura brought me to a trance like a child about to receive his first Voltes V limited collection set for free. It was a moment meant for absorption, and absorption alone.

In that exact moment I craved to be near. You know, do all ignorant stuff an ignorant urban boy does when he suddenly decides to spend two days in the province while it storms like hell. And by ignorant stuff I mean put the fog in a plastic can and bring it home, put it in an explosion-proof glass and stare at it like it’s Emma Watson—clothes off. Nature orgasm, yes.

I got close to her after battling with mountains standing so proud and cocky and too overwhelmed of themselves that they can’t be conquered. Screw you, mountains. I just stepped on you. Let’s go back to that getting close stuff. But, really, this holocaust-like body right here just conquered the highest peak in Cebu.

So I was embracing her like a prisoner who just broke out of his cage. I let her invade me—and I loved that invasion. She touched my very existence and I was overwhelmed. You see, when you’re in that moment of witnessing the majesty of the mist, you just want to disappear and be part of her beauty.

But, really, this holocaust-like body right here just conquered the highest peak in Cebu.

Heaven, you’re only two rungs up there

Here is a nirvana standing supremely high southeast of Cebu. It’s a painting made of mountain strokes, misty palettes, and canton colors of its people who greet you “Good morning” despite you being a stranger. It really felt nice doing that part, greeting random people. Everybody really needs to inflict happiness.

Dalaguete is the closest utopia. Scrap your A/C units for it’s freaking cold up there everyday, especially mornings. Though it demands you climbing mountains, trekking long roads, riding a motorcycle they fondly call as “habal-habal”, the place was worth all physical injuries.

It was more like of an alternate universe. Up there, you just have to look up and you will realize you could knock on heaven’s door. But the best thing is that it is already a paradise itself. The grounded humility of its people will really make you feel guilty about your material whines. School kids crusading for hours, kilometers far from education will shut the hell out of you. Your rants about traffic while inside an air-conditioned van are too shy for comparison.

And vegetables are everywhere. Nutrition isn’t in the form of tablets and syrups. They don’t have nasty black water we normally see in our street sides. It’s a reflection of LotR’s The Shire. Nevermind the not-so-tall hobbits, though.

Yes, mom, I’m up here flirting with nature

It is in these kinds of escapes that I feel rebellious, free, and transformed. My pale, uneventful life in the city was creatively being painted with superb strokes as I was flirting with nature. I didn’t want to go home and be slapped by complexities. These convolutions suck me up everyday. I had enough of these slaps. I want to be caressed like a child tired of running for the whole day—lying down in her arms in a dreamy fascination that life is all better when I wake up. But it was a temporary ticket. Nevertheless, it was a ticket I’ll definitely buy again.

I met the mist, and I met myself. She is the mist. I am the mist. In that nirvana that showed me life with beautiful complications, I cleared the mist within me. What I see now is a peculiar boy with glasses hungry for more adventure, habal-habal rides, mountain slips and slides, and all nature romances. 

Skirmish

A palette of candid beauty,
strokes of imperfection
yet dashing, rages
from inside you,
yes, you.

Comfort from this distance
I watch your rage,
your monstrous
palimpsests
of surprise.

Now this is love, yet different-
for in your rage
and beauty
I seek no
more.

With heart's content, graces!
I seek no more.
This is love,
yet aloof,
unsaid.

Comfort from this distance,
I seek no more.
This is love,
yet painful,
menacing.

Happenstance

For a second Cupid fell asleep
and fate unfolded me unto you.
For a second Time refused to move on
and in a trance we both fell in love.
For a second the world seemed perfect
and the music of love went floating.
For a second the hidden heartstrings
burst and scatter, we're inches apart.

In a swift happenstance, I found love;
Love in the midst of Cupid's slumber;
Slumber in the midst of Time's haulting;
Haulting in the midst of red heartstrings.

For a second then, Cupid woke up
and fate selfishly hid me from you.
For a second then, Time swiftly ticked
and the trance was hopelessly broken.
For a second then, the world seemed foul
and music was beaten by the noise.
For a second then, the heartstrings kept
and we moved on by chance and by choice.

Iskribol (Mga Suka ng Isang Bored na Otistik)

Kasalukuyang nasa constant gravitational free-fall ang buwan patungo sa mundo ngunit ang gravitational pull mismo ang pumipigil na mahulog ang buwan sa mundo. Parang ako sa'yo. Patuloy na nahuhulog ngunit hindi makalapit. Ang tadhana na mismo ang pumipigil. Pukang ama nga naman talaga.

Dalawang tao ang namamatay kada segundo sa buong mundo ngunit bakit hindi nagkasabay na patay ako sa'yo at patay ka rin sa'kin? Pukang ama talaga. Nung nagwisik ng swerte ang panginoon eh hindi man lang ako nadapuan ng isang milimetrong patak nito. O di kaya'y nung umihi ang panginoon ng mga second chance ng second chance, nasa kabilang inidoro ako nakanganga.

Putanginang pagmamahal. Nagagawa ka nitong hari ng mga tanga na handang lunukin ang ebs sa lababo de negro at iluwa at lunukin ulit para maipakita lang sa taong mahal mo na sinasamba mo siya. Nagagawa nitong pasulatin ka ng mga putanginang napakakorning love letters na amoy kendi at kulay fuchsia. Kung sobrang tama mo na talaga, nagiging ITALIC pa ang sulat-kamay mo. Tangina? Nababakla pati na ang mga pinakamachong basagulerong araw-araw nagji-gym. Nagagawa nitong paiyakin ka sa selos dahil nakita mong may kasama ang taong mahal mo na tanginang kapatid lang pala niya. Nagagawa nitong patarantahin ka maramdaman lang ang yapak ng taong mahal mo isang kilometro mula sa'yo. Nakikinig ka na rin sa mga love songs na ang kokorni ng mga lyrics dahil feel mo nakaka-relate ka talaga sa pagmamahal na ipinangangalandakan ng kumakanta nito. Nakikinig ka na rin sa mga laslas pulso na mga kanta dahil feel mo na rin ang ka-OA-han ng kumakanta na kaya lang naman naisulat ang kantang 'yun ay dahil nilatikan ng bestfriend niya ang boyfriend niyang swag. That guy is a bitch so that song should not be how he hurt her. It should be all about that guy being a fucking retard and the lyrics should be full of shit, literally, because that reflects the guy himself.

Minsan ng iniluwa ni Christian ng Moulin Rouge ang linyang "The greatest thing that you'll ever learn is to love, and be loved in return." Tangina? I'm goddamn loving everyday then why the fuck am I not loved in return? Pessimistic, alam ko. At wala rin pala akong pakialam. Kaya ko namang maghintay. Ngunit hindi ko kaya ang bigat ng oras at pagdurusa sa kakahintay sa taong walang ni isang kuting na ideya na mahal ko siya. At alam ko rin pala kung ano ang gagawin ko: Wag nang maghintay. Sunggaban na. Kung hindi man magpapasunggab, sumunggab nalang sa iba. Pero hindi ganyan 'yan eh. Kahit na anong pambobola at pang-uuto ang gawin mo sa'kin na marami pang isda sa dagat ngunit siya pa rin ang kaisa-isang napakaalat na hipon na gusto ko, none of it fucking makes sense.

Meron pa pala akong tesis proposal na dapat tapusin at ito pa ang inuna ko. Tangina. Wala talaga akong time management, o wala akong oras, o wala lang talaga akong management sa lahat ng mga bagay. Teka, bakit napaka-weird ng lingwaheng Filipino? Thesis = Tesis, Autistic = Otistik, Scribble = Iskribol? At tsaka pala. Bakit panay ang gamit ng letrang "q" ng mga kabataan sa halip na "g" sa text?:

"Waq mo na aqu qaqaquhin." Kung babasahin mo, "Wak mo na aku kakakuhin." Yung iba irarason ay style. Yung iba para raw mabilis ang pag-text. Okay lang sana kung 3310 pa ang phone mo. Eh kung may QWERTY keyboard na 'yan at unli ang load mo, tangina okay lang mag-text ka ng buong paragraph na walang nakakaltas na letra dahil nga ginawang QWERTY ang keypad mo para BUO ang text mo. Nakakaumay din tingnan ang "q" kumpara sa "g" na may artistic curve talaga ang dating.

Osya. I'm tired as a dog but I'll be sleeping like a god now.

A Letter To Whoever Cares (And, Oh, It's Valentine's, Too)

February 14, 2014
Valentine’s Day

Love isn’t for me—that was what I realized today. And I guess I’m self-pitying, crushing my self-esteem, and self-inflicting pain. I know it sounds ridiculous and selfish but that is what I’m feeling right now. I’m too stupid to believe that someone out there would love me. I have my family, I know. I love them grand. But let’s try to focus on this side of love, the romantic side.

So I was standing in front of the guy who was proposing to a girl earlier inside the campus. I’m in the audience, but too near. I could see the guy’s shaking hands and the girl’s reddened face. I could hear shouts and jitters and endless “Awwww” everywhere. It was sweet a scene, rare and romantic. But it was too sweet for me—because it brought back memories I am not supposed to remember... yet. The next thing I knew, I was running out of school. I decided to go home and sleep it all down. But I failed to do so. So I’m writing this.

No one loves a guy who wears glasses—unless you’re good-looking. In my case, I zeroed in chances. I heard that same words from my Religion class seatmate. No one loves a guy who wears glasses, unless you’re good-looking. And before she knew that she was sitting right next to the person who could take that hit, I’m already devastated. I know for myself that fact. But it still tinges.

Now, I’m giving up. Yes, I’m now waving the white flag of utter surrender to the majestic truth of me zeroing on the chance of being in a romantic relationship. I’m done. I’m not going to be a hopeless romantic; I’m just done with it. Romantic love isn’t for dorks, I guess. Though I dreamt of exchanging pick-up lines about quarks and subatomic particles and nuclear energy to someone in a romantic way, I’m now discarding all that stupid ideas.

It is not jealousy, to disclaim. It is what I call as self-enlightenment—embracing the painful truth like its spikes aren’t that sharp enough to shatter me into pieces. I’m happy for them, lovebirds and all. They should relish and celebrate the love they’d shared for like every second. Almost everything is fleeting, even memories. But these memories last longer, if they are good ones. So they should make good memories out of their times together. And I guess I’m talking to myself, too.

So let’s go back to me ranting about why I’m disqualified from romantic relationships. Though there is a part of me that is desperate enough to do everything just to win a girl’s heart, there is also this part that controls it. And this part says, “You don’t go winning any girl’s heart, you little Shakespeare. You’re protecting them.” That’s what is keeping me to move forward. This part also tells me to shut up and don’t be involved.

I’m in the full course of doing that now, shutting up and locking myself from everyone. Surviving a year of solitude, this is a piece of cake. It almost feels like I don’t need anyone anymore. And I’m afraid of it. I need to need anyone. But every day of being alone pulls me away from that.

This day inside the school, I felt like I don’t belong. They’re all in an upbeat for flowers and chocolates and surprises. Maybe I should go home now, I thought. But I failed to do it, too. So I managed to read a book and warm my ass inside the library for hours. No one loves anyone who reads books. But I’m wiling to disqualify myself for that. Books aren’t just stacks of papers put together with ink on it. Books are my escape. Books let me borrow a bit of life in fantasy where the world has no limits. Books are my friends, and they do love me though I wear glasses. They don’t see the worst in me and not all the best, too. They embrace both. They see my imperfections fit enough for them to let me wander off in worlds with no boundaries.

But I need to have a tight grip on reality, too. Even if it’s too painful, I need to grip it tight enough. And in this reality, my world is a small box—small enough for anyone to notice it. In this world, I am no one. I’m a strand of hair useless enough that if someone cuts me, nothing will change. But this is where I belong, and I don’t belong. See? It isn’t that easy.

Girls love good-looking guys. They love the rebellious, good-looking guys. They love the phony, rebellious, good-looking guys. And I’m literally behind that phony, rebellious, good-looking guy one time a week before today. We walked the same path. And every time he passed through girls, they went wild crazy. And I’m just a shadow of that good-looking guy for them. Shadow, is an understatement if they do noticed me. So, basically, no one loves the guy who is literally behind a good-looking other guy. I should avoid walking behind them from now on, just to avoid any further damage to my fragile self-esteem.

But I’m greeting anyone who’s reading this a sweet Valentine’s Day. I’m thinking of screwing that first line of this entry. But I’m too hungry for it, so, yeah, whatever.

—Dennis.

Online Pinoy Kabobohan

Andrea Gibson - How It Ends

It has been 3 years
10 months
And 27 days
Since the first time I saw you naked
Since the night you ripped off your shirt
Stuck your boobs in my face and said
Touch them
I touched them like a diabetic third grader opening a Snickers bar
You said
Hard
I thought, yes I am
But you are so soft, I said,
Your lips, they’re like whale blubber
That wasn’t my best line
But it worked

Tonight in the grocery store, I found one of your hairs in my underwear
I pulled it out in the frozen food section and screamed
THAT is so gorgeous, it could kill a man
Good thing I’m a leprechaun
Lucky
Lucky

Baby, I have no idea how this will end
Maybe the equator will fall like a hula hoop from the earth’s hips
And our mouths will freeze mid-kiss on our 80th anniversary
Or maybe tomorrow, my absolute insanity
Combined with the absolute obstacle course of your communication skills
Will leave us
Like a love letter
In a landfill
But whatever
Whenever
However this ends,
I want you to know, that right now,
I love you forever
I love you for the hardest mile we walked together

For the night I collected every sharp knife in the house
And threw them one by one on the roof
Then told the sun,
Listen show off,
From now on, you are only to give me blades of grass;
Things that are growing and soft
‘Cause there’s this girl who says she wants to float on her back
Through my bloodstream
And when she does,
I want my rivers to reach the sea
D’you hear me, lover?

Do you know, the night you told me you had a crush on my ears,
I swore to never to become Van Gogh
And look, baby,
They are both still there
Just like my firefly heart is still right there in your glass jar
I never trusted anybody more to poke enough holes in the lid

So on the nights you sleep like a ballerina,
I try to snore like a piccolo
And I press my lips to your holy temples
And I say,
I crash in to things in the dark
Even when the lights are on
And I am wrong more often than I am writing
And even then, I am often wrong
But when my friends are in the bathroom at the bar
Rolling dollar bills in to telescopes,
Claiming they can see God,
I will come to you
Holding my grandmother’s Bible,
I will press it to your chest
And I will bless it with your breath
And when you ask if I wanna roleplay Altar boys fucking in the kitchen during Sunday Mass
I will say,
Hell yes
But only if you leave a hickey on my ass
In the shape of Jesus’ palm
So I can be sure I got nailed
Down

Lover,
You will never lose me to the wind
You are the lightning that made me fill my chest with candles
You are the thunder clapping for the poem that nobody else wants to hear
You are an icicle’s tear watering a tulip on the first day of spring
You melt me alive
You kiss me as deep as my roots will reach
And I want nothing more than to be an eyelash fallen on your cheek
Then being collected by your fingers
And held like a wish
I promise
That whatever I do
I will always try my best
To come true

Entry #6

Mga posts niya sauna:

I miss my boyfie.
Pakyu mga haters.
Boringas life uie.

Pag-add sa iyang mama:

Dugayas klase uie. Huhuhu.
Limpyo2 din pag may time.
Powerful jud kaayo si God.

Entry #5

Imagine Korea admiring Pinoy boy bands and airing Pinoy teleseryes. Imagine Japan airing Pinoy-made animations. Too bad we only have Chicser. We only have mistresses slapping over a man on television. And a few saw Kaleh and Mbaki. You don't know that? Kaleh and Mbaki just won on MMFF as the Best Short-Film Animation.