Today I took a train towards south,
but to nowhere in particular.
With each station I passed,
and the blur of people that went with each,
I got nowhere nearer where I was going
only farther from where I had been.
Some Long-due Imagery
From the west windows, it looked like the sky was in flames. The storm clouds that came with the rain hung ominously over the fiery sky, gigantic cotton candy mushroom clouds. Through the windows at the far end of the train, the orange sky turned softly purple, interspersed with wisps of smoke-gray. But turn your head just a little east-ward, and the whole view was of blue, a deluge worth oceans in volume.
May 23 '11, 6 pm
I Just Thought You'd Like to Know
i just thought you’d like to know
because i too, would like to know
if your thoughts are of me
as frequently as mine are of you
i would like to know,
when you are in the arms of sleep,
am i in yours?
i would like you to know
how i can’t wait until i am yours
(and yet i wait)
whoever you are
i just thought you’d like to know
Defending the Caveman: Lazy Review
(I just realized that I failed to write any kind of introduction, or synopsis to my previous Lazy Reviews, haha; I apologize)
Last Saturday, I watched Defending the Caveman with my classmates and my friend, Star, at the RCBC building in Makati. It's a one-hour comedy show, starring Joel Trinidad, and him alone, about the differences between the sexes. The main premise is that men are 'hunters,' and women, 'gatherers;' this is used throughout the performance to explain most every disparity between man and woman.
Acting - excellent. I wouldn't even call it acting.
Script - excellent. Funny, witty, with just the right amount of obscenity. Haha.
Production design - good. Every piece onstage served a purpose and fit the story (?) well.
Lights and sounds - good. Though most of the time it's really just Mr Trinidad onstage delivering his piece.
Director - excellent.
Rating: 10/10
This was pure win. I would even call it enlightening. Go and watch this!
You can still catch Defending the Caveman at RCBC Makati this week. Check out this LINK for details.
Last Saturday, I watched Defending the Caveman with my classmates and my friend, Star, at the RCBC building in Makati. It's a one-hour comedy show, starring Joel Trinidad, and him alone, about the differences between the sexes. The main premise is that men are 'hunters,' and women, 'gatherers;' this is used throughout the performance to explain most every disparity between man and woman.
Acting - excellent. I wouldn't even call it acting.
Script - excellent. Funny, witty, with just the right amount of obscenity. Haha.
Production design - good. Every piece onstage served a purpose and fit the story (?) well.
Lights and sounds - good. Though most of the time it's really just Mr Trinidad onstage delivering his piece.
Director - excellent.
Rating: 10/10
This was pure win. I would even call it enlightening. Go and watch this!
You can still catch Defending the Caveman at RCBC Makati this week. Check out this LINK for details.
My Heart is a Big Place
Deep, and cavernous.
Some light manages to enter through the doorway, but it can only do so much. The farther in you tread, the less and less you see. At around dusk, I leave the door open to watch the water turn pink and orange. By night-time, the whole place is pitch-black. I run my fingers on the cold stone walls to find my way in.
I live far away from the city, where the sound of the ocean muffles the noise of cars and worry. Take a boat in the morning, arrive mid-day, and leave before it gets dark. My heart is a big place. The ceilings are high, and they echo your voice, long after you have gone.
Windmills
I've never seen the sea in so pure a shade of blue. Beyond the shore, the horizon was simply a blurred line, where the sky seemed to melt into the ocean. The wind would make ripples on the water's surface, and with each ripple, tiny diamonds on the ocean floor would send out their lights, dancing around the sun's reflection on the sea. A narrow road coiled around the mountain, twisting, gently rising and falling until it crept nearer and nearer the water. From where I was seated, it felt like we were driving straight into the ocean.
I knew how you loved the sea, so I thought I'd take a picture to show you back home. (Heck, I even took a video.) But when I watched the playback, the blues were closer to slate, and the white sand shore looked like a dusty dirt road.
I knew how you loved the sea, so I thought I'd take a picture to show you back home. (Heck, I even took a video.) But when I watched the playback, the blues were closer to slate, and the white sand shore looked like a dusty dirt road.
Me and the Rising Sun
when it's just me
and the rising sun
I know no heat
no deathly chill
only the warmth on my fingers
a gentle breeze on my face
when it's just me
and the rising sun
I know no bitterness
from yesterday's dusk
only the hopeful restlessness
of waiting for the sun
when it's just me
and the rising sun
I know not your name
you must be miles away asleep
dreaming up sunsets and starlight
it's just me and the rising sun.
and the rising sun
I know no heat
no deathly chill
only the warmth on my fingers
a gentle breeze on my face
when it's just me
and the rising sun
I know no bitterness
from yesterday's dusk
only the hopeful restlessness
of waiting for the sun
when it's just me
and the rising sun
I know not your name
you must be miles away asleep
dreaming up sunsets and starlight
it's just me and the rising sun.
Feel v.2
It's not that you make me feel
confused
angry
hollow
wanting..
But that you make me feel
like not feeling
would be better
?
confused
angry
hollow
wanting..
But that you make me feel
like not feeling
would be better
?
I Would Write You a Song
If only I could
I would write you a song
but all these words
in my head have no rhythm
they slip out of my mouth
or manage to make it
just to the tip of my tongue
If only I could
I would write you a song
but all these words
in my head have no rhythm
they slip out of my mouth
or manage to make it
just to the tip of my tongue
If only I could
I would write you a song
but all these colors I feel
have no names for them
when I looked in my box of crayons
the blues and reds
were just called Blue and Red
If only I could
I would write you a song
but I couldn't
so I just wrote you
a blog post.
A Few Scattered Thoughts
1. Maybe the reason why I don't run into you in real life, is because I run into you enough in my mind. (credits to my friend, Star)
2. Opportunity cost really sucks. It's the pain of losing something you never had in the first place.
3. I was having a really crap day, when I ran into a man in a sweatshirt that read, "The proof of gold is fire" in Jimi Hendrix colors. The Universe has a strange way of making me smile. Thank you, Universe!
Nowhere Boy: Lazy Review
Lazy Review on Nowhere Boy (2009)
Acting - excellent Aaron Johnson's a pretty convincing John Lennon; I think I'll settle.
Production design - very good They nailed the set and costume design. And I repeat, Aaron Johnson's a pretty convincing John Lennon.
Editing - meh Nothing special. Drags at some points.
Cinematography - meh The flashback scenes are particularly typical. Meh.
Screenplay - meh/good At times, insightful. But sometimes sentimentality slobbers everywhere.
Director - good
Rating: 7/10
I sat through it because I'm a John Lennon fan.
Acting - excellent Aaron Johnson's a pretty convincing John Lennon; I think I'll settle.
Production design - very good They nailed the set and costume design. And I repeat, Aaron Johnson's a pretty convincing John Lennon.
Editing - meh Nothing special. Drags at some points.
Cinematography - meh The flashback scenes are particularly typical. Meh.
Screenplay - meh/good At times, insightful. But sometimes sentimentality slobbers everywhere.
Director - good
Rating: 7/10
I sat through it because I'm a John Lennon fan.
P.S. Apart from the song reference, I don't understand why the movie's called Nowhere Boy. Enlighten me?
Daydream
Every night
before I go to sleep
I write down the events of my day
in a small black notebook
on my bedside table.
Every morning
when I wake up
I write down the events of my dream
in a small black notebook
on my bedside table.
before I go to sleep
I write down the events of my day
in a small black notebook
on my bedside table.
Every morning
when I wake up
I write down the events of my dream
in a small black notebook
on my bedside table.
In My Mind I Keep Running into You
Everywhere I go.
I'm buying groceries and you
just pop out of nowhere!
we have coffee after the checkout
(but really it's just me buying the groceries)
I'm buying groceries and you
just pop out of nowhere!
we have coffee after the checkout
(but really it's just me buying the groceries)
Source Code: Lazy Review
Lazy Review on Source Code (2011)
Acting - good Though generally good, sometimes I still see actors, not people.
Production design - meh/good But not really important in this film.
Editing - good In films with this type of story, the repetition usually gets tiring after a while, but that's not the case here.
Cinematography - meh Nothing special.
Screenplay - very good! The engaging kind of mindgame. Goood.
Director - very good!
Rating: 9/10
Money well-spent. Not really, coz the tickets were free. Haha. Now go and WATCH THIS MOVIE.
God and His Strange Sense of Humor
One day things are so and so. Life is comfortable, and I like the familiarity. Then suddenly I just wake up, and things have changed, apparently. I don't like change. Change is bad.
Especially this change.
I pore over everything and analyze and read into and feel all there is to pore over and analyze and read into and feel but in the end I just feel tired.
So I resign myself to the idea that this is just God working, through His strange sense of humor.
But what if He's serious?
Especially this change.
I pore over everything and analyze and read into and feel all there is to pore over and analyze and read into and feel but in the end I just feel tired.
So I resign myself to the idea that this is just God working, through His strange sense of humor.
But what if He's serious?
Writing You a Poem
is like looking at my blue book
trying to solve a stupid math problem
when I've forgotten how to use
this function on my sci cal
writing you a poem
is like reading pages and pages of Wittgenstein
but remembering nothing of value later
it's like staring at my blog's post editor
and wanting to type something
not out of need or inspiration
but just because
I want to
writing you a poem
really is, making something
out of nothing, nothing
trying to solve a stupid math problem
when I've forgotten how to use
this function on my sci cal
writing you a poem
is like reading pages and pages of Wittgenstein
but remembering nothing of value later
it's like staring at my blog's post editor
and wanting to type something
not out of need or inspiration
but just because
I want to
writing you a poem
really is, making something
out of nothing, nothing
Blank Page
Or rather, a blank
post editor.
I stare at the white spaces,
because that moment of
inspiration
will never come unless
you force it out.
So I type away,
letters that make words,
words that make sentences,
and sentences that make
no sense.
But it doesn't matter.
In the end, I just wonder
what's so wrong
with a blank page
anyway?
post editor.
I stare at the white spaces,
because that moment of
inspiration
will never come unless
you force it out.
So I type away,
letters that make words,
words that make sentences,
and sentences that make
no sense.
But it doesn't matter.
In the end, I just wonder
what's so wrong
with a blank page
anyway?
April Fools' Day
Today was an eventful one, the first official day of my two-week summer break. I painted, went to the mall, had a donut, and drowned in all my thoughts of you.
Congratulations.
You must be really good at practical jokes, huh?
A Bit Self-Indulgent
I've been waiting for Thursday to come since Monday. I can almost taste it, but first! a physics exam. In a desperate attempt to avoid studying physics I found myself something to do, inspired by one of my friends I follow here on blogspot. Behold, 100 Random Facts about Alyssa!
My Heart is a Small Place
I have yet to replace the old, creaky floorboards, the leaking sink, and the windows that won't shut, but I am doing my best to keep the place tidy.
I take out the trash, sweep the cobwebs, water the plants. I'm fastiduous when it comes to arranging my shoes, books, files.
But it's tricky when you come over. I try to hide the little cardboard boxes labeled, 'Secrets,' the folders upon folders of Memories, a logbook of 'Feelings' in the cupboard.
But what use is it, really?
I take out the trash, sweep the cobwebs, water the plants. I'm fastiduous when it comes to arranging my shoes, books, files.
But it's tricky when you come over. I try to hide the little cardboard boxes labeled, 'Secrets,' the folders upon folders of Memories, a logbook of 'Feelings' in the cupboard.
But what use is it, really?
(Untitled)
I'm looking for someone
whose name I do not know
whose face I have not seen
whose voice I have not heard
When it starts to rain on the long walk home
I feel your arm on my shoulder
and I can hear you fumbling
for an umbrella in your backpack
I know that you are looking for me, too
on your long walks home
when the streets are cold and the stars are asleep
you wonder how warm it must be in my embrace
You could be anyone
then again, you could be no one
I can't wait to meet you
but maybe I already have
(written for a good friend)
whose name I do not know
whose face I have not seen
whose voice I have not heard
When it starts to rain on the long walk home
I feel your arm on my shoulder
and I can hear you fumbling
for an umbrella in your backpack
I know that you are looking for me, too
on your long walks home
when the streets are cold and the stars are asleep
you wonder how warm it must be in my embrace
You could be anyone
then again, you could be no one
I can't wait to meet you
but maybe I already have
(written for a good friend)
Parachutes
Have you heard the song "Parachutes" by Coldplay?
The song clocks in at just a quarter of a minute. Stylistically, it's quite simple: clean guitar, and a few parallel lines for lyrics. While a part of me wishes that it were (waay) longer, another part thinks it's perfect the way it is. Have a listen:
The song clocks in at just a quarter of a minute. Stylistically, it's quite simple: clean guitar, and a few parallel lines for lyrics. While a part of me wishes that it were (waay) longer, another part thinks it's perfect the way it is. Have a listen:
It's dangerous business
taking long walks alone
to nowhere in particular
this morning I left my headphones at home
there was no music to screen my thoughts of you
just the lonely sound of silence
and the last words you spoke to me
on loop inside my head
for some reason I was fine with that :)
to nowhere in particular
this morning I left my headphones at home
there was no music to screen my thoughts of you
just the lonely sound of silence
and the last words you spoke to me
on loop inside my head
for some reason I was fine with that :)
An Analogy
listening to the guitar parts in Pink Floyd songs
I speak neither guitar nor Japanese and
is just like listening to the three CDs worth of music
I downloaded in a language I can't understand.
I speak neither guitar nor Japanese and
the words make no sense but
the riffs and cadences more than make up for it,
much like how your eyes
are the words to my favorite songs
unwritten
maybe I do understand.
much like how your eyes
are the words to my favorite songs
unwritten
maybe I do understand.
Being Inarticulate
it's really hard to be articulate, you see
when I'm with you
my words make no real sense
my mouth
is spewing them out
like a cassette tape would
spew out sappy old songs
that we only hear on easy listening radio stations
when I'm with you
my words make no real sense
my mouth
is spewing them out
like a cassette tape would
spew out sappy old songs
that we only hear on easy listening radio stations
Number Three
(The story of the Third.)
It began with a stirring in my heart.
I was thirsty for rebellion.
I was holding on to the last few delicate threads of my youth.
I asked Mother for permission:
"No," she said.
And "No," I heard.
And so I resigned to my Mother's wishes, and life went on.
And life was peaceful.
Until I stirred again.
My heart would not be still.
The moment was ripe.
I had to.
And I did.
Without much thought,
save for one deep breath,
I took the plunge.
It was painful, but thrillingly so.
It was a pain the moment it started.
It was a pain the moment it had to be taken away.
It was a pain trying to put it back on.
And it was a pain knowing I had to give it up.
But I did.
I gave up on it, and walked away as a different person.
Not quite who I was before the whole affair.
Someone else.
Thus ends the story of what would have been my third piercing.
It began with a stirring in my heart.
I was thirsty for rebellion.
I was holding on to the last few delicate threads of my youth.
I asked Mother for permission:
"No," she said.
And "No," I heard.
And so I resigned to my Mother's wishes, and life went on.
And life was peaceful.
Until I stirred again.
My heart would not be still.
The moment was ripe.
I had to.
And I did.
Without much thought,
save for one deep breath,
I took the plunge.
It was painful, but thrillingly so.
It was a pain the moment it started.
It was a pain the moment it had to be taken away.
It was a pain trying to put it back on.
And it was a pain knowing I had to give it up.
But I did.
I gave up on it, and walked away as a different person.
Not quite who I was before the whole affair.
Someone else.
Thus ends the story of what would have been my third piercing.
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