Friday, 6 August 2010


May 30.. Two Emails...

Saturday, May 30 An oh-so-gloomy-rain-drenched Saturday evening. Headlights reflecting in the puddle as cars moved snails pace. Yet it was dark as in a sense, noisy, barely audible, unnamed band (electronic music) playing in the car stereo. Punctuated by Brockas dark and dreary Maynila sa kuko Come to think of it, it wasnt really that bad 20 years ago. This deserves a remake, using todays characters. Well there isnt really any changes except everyones carrying cell phones or wearing designer brands. Well, scrap the idea of a remake! Well, your news of leaving the flat caught me flatfooted. I felt that everythings going well for you. You know, flat mates, work, people, work, the angst of living (youre really not that angry). Then a burst of women are fickle minded on my phone screen. Well, thats what caught my attention even though I dont pay too much attention to text messages (a weird habit, perhaps?). Well, where does this go then? New roomies? Back to thy humble abode? By the time you read this youve probably moved out, but if you havent, need help with the furniture? As if. Well, It gets darker and darker that night and drowning in alcohol wasnt my idea of fun. Though, I got my fix of Cerveza Negra, that black beer that has an aftertaste of coffee and something burnt. Then I excused myself, a bus ride is much more appropriate than a carload of blokes. Pretty strange, everybody dispersed quietly on Saturday night. Must be the rain, or the gig after the film wasnt much of interest. Everyone just fell quiet. The vibe was just dark, like walking through the corridors of your oh-so-cool-ex apartment. I wonder what is it like in a room without windows. Just a light bulb and a door.

2nd email

Saturday, May 30 An oh-so-gloomy-rain-drenched Saturday evening. Headlights reflecting on the puddle as cars moved like maggots. Yet it was dark. As in noisy but barely audible, unnamed and undanceable electronic music playing in the background. Sorry, I havent been returning text messages. Never was a fan of the cell phone to start with. My nights are spent tweaking knobs, blending noises, ear splitting feedbacks only I could hear.(headphones) Music is now nameless, faceless, only the sound of obscurity. (filenames like: loop130 chorus) Its like the bitter taste of dark beer (Cerveza Negra). Dont take this seriously Im just gathering enough negative energy for my audio projects. I actually have a lot of garbage lying around and finally that I have the drive to gather them. Theres just too many. A 30 minute song perhaps? Fookin hell, Why the fook not? Maybe longer? Should be. Im on my surrealist mode right now. I guess that would define all the shit thats going on. Maybe Ill talk to the ghost of Warhol. Or do an audio version of sleep. I dunno, Its probably just me. I just had enough of the name dropping (bands, record labels, genres, all of it). I just name dropped Warhol. Then, fuck Warhol. Just hated the idea when people ask me what do I sound like. Should I answer, It sounds like (Insert band name/Insert genre)? Dont you just hate it when they say, katunog ng (insert band name). Man, its the show band mentality at work! (Cruise ship band according to a Jap-Am guy). Even the so-called indie people are into it. What is indie? Well, thats a 10,000 word essay waiting to happen. Cant do it now because Im editing my 35 minute track. Who gives a fuck what it sounds like.


emailed stuff...

Che's Kids

Dear fellow revolutionary:

What's your number these days? Just askin', have you developed any telekinetic powers. Like, objects move because you look at them. Sudden gusts of wind when you're around. And my personal favorite. Mind control. Well, just writing nonesense again because I think I've probably found my mutant powers. I'm an Ice-cold person! Iceman name has been taken but I think that would describe my powers. I'm a person devoid of emotions. I realized I have never cried gosh, when i was 9 years old? I think I cried at that time because my dad won't buy me a bike. Are we supposed to cry at funerals? I had a feeling that we should. Judging by the eyes that look in my direction during the funeral. I'm the only guy in the immediate family that hasn't had tears. Maybe I need that emotion back. Sadness. Maybe it would come back with a loss of someone dear but right now, I don't see anything sad. Pity? Lots. Melancholy? Check. Forlorn? Yes, of course. I do feel emotions tugging inside but the physical manifestation is nada. Where had my tears gone? Had drugs destroyed my tear ducts? How do you automatically turn on the hydrant. Others had it so easy. I know the feeling of loss because I tend to dwell on it longer. I have this thing with crematoriums. Cemeteries tend to have hints of a festive atmosphere. Crematoriums are pure sadness and gloom. Anyway, I feel so much better now.

The dark clouds are back.

Note: I dont do drugs. Really.




In the mind of Jean Grey - X

Ah, yes. The gig (a premonition).

It was 12-ish midnight the place

is still teeming with people. We

were in the audience, beer in hand

as the band took the stage. As I

stood there with a friend, who was

a staunch, hard-to-please music

critic, I wasn't expecting much.

And there he was.... looking good

onstage with an instrument in hand.

There was a hint of stage fright

which made him adorable as his band

staggered through the first song.

The musicianship wasn't as par as

what you listen to on the radio but

I don't think that matters right

now. My friend was mumbling

something to my ear, he is probably

unleashing one of his fiery

criticism or maybe one of his dull

compliments. but it won't matter.

The first song was over. Was it 4

minutes already? Time slowed for a

moment there or was it too fast? It

was quite windy that night as the

band moved from song to song. I

was able to chat with my friend but

I wasn't able to really comprehend

as his words became incoherent as

the band played my favorite song.

I saw his eyes gazed at my

direction for a split second as he

played on. Or did he? I was

chatting with my friend who I can't

believe was actually giving

compliments. He did. He actually

did. I caught him breaking into a

smile as our eyes accidentally meet

for the third time. Third time.

I was actually keeping track. This

is so not me. The band set ended

and my feelings were incoherent.

Were those eyes meant to cross or

does it mean anything. On a windy

January midnight the months have

changed already. As the days would

keep passing and the winds keep

blowing. I'll just keep stuff

hanging. Why?!? This is just me.


QUOTES on emails sent..

Doors aren't meant to be closed forever. It just there to serve it's
purpose. If it's meant to be closed it shouldn't have been a door.
It should have been a wall. And we are not in a position to decide
whether the door should be closed or open. It's better off not

*stolen quotes*

mailed to Leanne (Jean Grey)