Stuff it with meaning

Two weeks.
Maybe that's all we get, two weeks.
Two weeks of sun, sand, sea and sky.
A mojito here, a puka beach sunset there, and it is over.
But who am I to complain, two weeks is more than what some people ever get.
In as much as I'd like to go into the literal sense of it all, I'm thinking boring you with the specifics at this ungodly hour would do neither of us any good.
So I'm going back to bed now.
I'll get back to you when I've figured out all the characters in my head.
Chances are I won't.
Two weeks isn't much time to get to know why people do what they do. Then again, two weeks should be more than enough.

Oh Jaeger...

Never have Jaegermeister shots the evening before an early skimboarding class.
'Nuff said.

A death in the family

My dog HiGuy died today. And guess what, I cried more for him than I did for my Aunt Mary. Have I just reached a new low? Or am I just emotionally constipated???

the merry month of May...

The merry month of May indeed.
My thoughts have been dark and nihilistic lately. Which is ironic, since I really don't have that much to complain about. I could complain about not having a steady gig or a decent paycheck, but that's really a bit of my fault.
I blamed the dark thoughts on PMS - but then that should've been over a week ago.

It seems like everybody around me is a disappointment lately. Maybe I'm the disappointment.
I'm a little confused right now. Must be the darkness again.

Goodbye February

I think I've found the upside to my current gig.
more on this later.

February is over...that was fast.

when a rat denies it is back in the race...

Riding the MRT depresses me. Walking through Cubao is close to my definition of hell.

I get on the MRT and I try not to look at the women around me. They all look sad. Like if I asked them, they might tell me about how there was only one thing in their life that made them happy. Okay, I know what you're thinking - that one thing is better than nothing. Still, all those sad looking people...it is disconcerting. Maybe because I'm in the carriage with them.
They also look tired. I don't blame them. I look tired. Commuting in Manila has that effect on you.
I'm hungry. My last meal was something depressing from 7-11. Yes, I know, that's more that what other people have. Just let me get this distaste for commuting again out of my system.
I'm tired, hungry, and thinking about depressed looking women on the MRT. And am staying home on a Friday night, dammit.
I need to find an up-side to this filmmaking gig.

I miss my car.

Back at Guijo...

There are moments of musical magic I often get lost in, the latest of which was experienced at Saguijo.
Although I used to live right next door to the place, I was never really able to take advantage of the geographical proximity. Back then, I was on the late shift and by the time I got home from work, the place was usually closed.
Last week, a good friend visited Manila and after a movie and dinner, we found our way to the house turned indie bar on Guijo street. As always, the place was packed - the usual mix of musician, artist and yuppie.
Our other friend had picked this place tonight as he told us the bands playing would be amazing. We weren't disappointed. We took our place by the bar and before we knew it we had lost ourselves to the music of Waya, the Techy Romantics and a really talented beat box intermission guy called Bitoy.
The good crowd, great bands and my cold beer reminded me of when everyone used to have time to go out, chill, and just listen to some music.
Nobody really does that anymore.
Now it is mostly worries over jobs, finances, weddings, kids, etc.
Things change.

My friend has flown back to Boracay and I find myself wondering who to drag back to Saguijo.

Volunteers? Anyone?