Monday, July 30, 2012

This is getting old

"I'd like to have a drink, please. To go with this thing I'm writing."

"Thanks, miss."

But when I drink, I'd like to just continue drinking.

But as I drink, the urge to write gets stronger with every shot.

My problem is, that when I start to write, I'm already too drunk.

When I wake up the next morning, the thoughts are already washed down the sink.

Along with spit, vomit and disappointments.

Good and bad times alike.

"Dude, yo. Let's write. Collab shit."

"Dude, yo. Let's drink. Hammer shit."

Let the paradox resume.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

The Few

I am yet to write a book but something tells me that the characters that I'd give life to will be snips of real people that I have met or will meet in the near future. So here are few ideas of shadows that may get their flesh handed out to them, in paper or 0's and 1's.

The Richard Katz before there was a Richard Katz

He has something you can and can't explain at the same time. A friend in need is a friend in deed but the lead will play into his tricks more than once. He is an artist of impeccable nature but damaged in a way that is yet to be explained by the lead and understood by the character himself. Aloof and sincere at the same time. I don't know, he seems too fickle for his own canvass to explain. Read Franzen to understand.

The shadow of a man.

This character is another "He." Though shadows are rarely given sexual traits or qualities so this character can be considered an "it." It will be a character of class but eccentric ways of keeping to it's self. Worthy of admiration for the support that sticks, like a shadow, I guess but still dark enough that you can't see through it. It may be loving and grudging at the same time. Ambiguous. Yet, something is still appealing in the shadow. It is physically evident but not tangible in the same way. Also a great maker of art, though its pen is inked by self decay and brooding self keeping. You'd want to understand the shadow, only if you can get it close enough for so long.

The Woman.

I would like to believe that not every character should be dark. This character sticks like a chewed out gum, only, she is as fresh as can be. The outlook in life, the little oddities and the disposition clean and composed. Confidence is a main thing with this character. She is one of few characters that may inspire and may have amazed some. You'll know her if and when you borrow a book, you'll find a photo of her as a bookmark. Infectious.

The drifter.

This character has no definite identity. As the name says, it drifts. It hovers, it lingers but is never gone. The pages will be many so will its appearance but not fully noticeable. You'll wonder why it is a character. I do. I'll have to work on this one.

I'm out of things to put here. It was harder than I thought. Will post more on this later. Please suggest character ideas, too. I wrote this as the air con unit is blasting little flecks of ice. You can actually hear it like a revving engine.

script scene idea #0003

This will be more of a context post. And I am sorry if there are readers who cannot understand Tagalog. And for those who do and do not get my humor, there there. Be boring somewhere else.

This goes here, too. For you, too.

I can't speak for all people but when I say that there's a lot more things that simpler and smaller things do every minute of every day, I think I've hit the target with a buck shot. It's just that I look at this wrapper of crackers that I just ate and look at my screen, I haven't started a thing while that thing has expired in the 2 minutes it took to nobly sacrifice itself to cure me of my hunger pangs. 

Weirdly enough, I tweet that. It's like an epiphany but not one about the divine realization of the existence of one true god. It is those simple kicks in the gonads that make you think "Yea, what have I done lately?" Am I being paid to look at my screen, trying to look busy? Am I paying my school just to say to people "I'm studying at---" or am I just endlessly waiting for that shove that will give me a near death experience?

Whatever, it's just simple. I haven't been keeping my end of the bargain. Sure, people fancy themselves as big shots, them with big words with big hair and big outfits and big shoes to fill in. But the smaller dudes take the brunt of the hit, they get the weight pressed on their shoulders. That jeepney driver you scowled at for not stopping at the exact spot you intended to may have been at it even before your body clock got warmed up by the alarm. 

Or that wrapper of crackers, making art as it, too, expired. It left crumbs at my desk, it laid open, with strips of it out flung in more ways than one. It was a sudden reminder. And yes, I am writing about it now. I will get a kick of it and I will destroy my deadlines today. Stop reading and you should, too. Everyone one has got to start with something, big or small.

Let's make good ____. Or just do our jobs here, okay?

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Chain links for friends

Let's steer this boat back to familiar waters. Take a break from the lifeless salty seas of self expression, everything floats there. I'll try to throw this anchor where it matters.

In the vast space of every person's life, people are surrounded by more people. Some are more artistic, some are more violent, some are more egoistic, some are more biased and some are sadder than others and etcetera. In that vast space, people choose people to occupy the circles of their lives. 

Sleep for work. script scene idea #0002

3: 07 am.

A faint dark bore holes to the streaks of light. Or it may be the other way around.

I woke up from a half drunk sleep. Throat's dry. Did I sleep with my mouth wide open? Felt like it. A chafing feeling rustles my inner throat. Urhrrm ~ yep. Dry as sand. 

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

script scene idea #0001

After a long, tiresome confrontation thru sms, I let off steam. I had to.

Your reply made my meth head of rainbow-sloshing unicorn jump with joyful rage.

"Okay, later."

I put the glass of milk down and stay still, brushing off crumbs from a cupcake (like those introduced by cinema-inspired depression.)

"Yep, that's good stuff."

But in my head, thought clouds have come up. I've just cut the last remaining patch of green earth in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. It was the last parcel of livable life. I cut it and set it on fire. Meh, it was still a better thing to do, well, the only better thing to do. I'd rather do that in mind than think of hurting you.

I'd just let the violence be muffled even in my thoughts. In my mind, the police nor my moral compass are the deterrents. Rather, it is the mere idea of faintly, suggestively losing you.

Oh, a brownie and a half glass of calcium-y goodness. I better finish this while I retort to nicer thoughts in my head.

Thought cloud resurfaces.

"This would make a good scene in a script. Only, more violence and coordinated chaos are needed to give things a kick." I brush off the cupcake crumbs again.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Where do I even put this post?

A random thing to give my day a kick in the gonads. Btw, I am stumped with a speech I'm supposed to write. You have to swallow the fact that things don't always go straight as you'd want them to. Hehe, swallow, funny. Anyhow..

Thursday, July 12, 2012

see how it Lands

I'm downhill. And rolling never felt so good. Currently playing: Johnny Cash's "At Folsom Prison" album, and he's in there, serenading the inmates and laughing with his fellow jailbirds. It's the start of a long session of missed chances to write more pages and do so effectively. Though, this start has an abrupt end, premature and sudden.

So, here it goes. This is not a class in philosophy nor a therapy session transcript. This is just an attempt to speak (or write for y'all nitpicking bastards out there) what is currently in the buzz. Somehow, I see things as rolling in their own courses, being pushed by ripples or repercussions of their own making. That what we do create disturbances in an otherwise stagnant and still world. We are rabble rousers, earth shakers. Some are greater than others, some are louder than the jeepney you rode to work that Monday morning while some enjoy the thump they create only for their own.


To start off, I think this is a sad post. Sad, in terms that I could not fully comprehend and grasp. Sad that I should be working with something right now but I am not, but not entirely that I would have a breakdown and curl up in a fetal position on our office's waxed faux wood floor.

So, here it goes. I've been reading Cormac McCarthy lately, watched his works on screen too, and I can't help but admire his level of thinking and writing voice in his books. Yeah, them books again creeping up my consciousness like a damn cold gust creating tremors of giggles or just plain short creepiness. Anyhow, his words and politics are one and the same. You could clearly see what his writing about, whether the fall of man and the salvation he seeks in futility or the hard realities that shape life itself, or rather let itself be withered by life on the reflection.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

A Letter to the Things I Like

Dear Books,

Please let yourselves be known to me. For I am currently looking for good reads that can staple my brains to the roof of my skull like a bad hangover and make me want to drink more for another binge session. Please be affordable and make yourselves known to other people I know, too. Make them (us) your disciples so we could carry the good news and eradicate the zombie plague of smart phones, twitter and possibly (genius but definitely soul-eating) 9gag.

Dear Alcohol,
Keep it coming. Thanks.
Don't mind my tolerance, he is a flirt drunk.

Dear Smokes,

You are a deathbringer. But I loved you, still.

Dear Motorcycles,
Please become more affordable so I could buy another one and change the parts to begin my career in fabrications, customization and overall bike-building. I promise you, it won't hurt to put out just a wee bit. You selfish beauty, you.

Dear Life,
Please continue on doing your thing you do so well: teach mofos, like me, stuff that mofos would need to get on and actually be out there in the world. Regardless of dusty roads, splintered hands and trench foot, you have been the greatest teacher in anything that is contained in this universe. Having an alternate reality would be fun, until nuclear rain wipes out the entire population and replaces it with gummy candy creatures. They'd be fun to eat but no one will be left to do that.

Dear Boots,
Why are you just so handsome?
Dear Motivation to Write,
Why are you so elusive? Have I done you wrong? We were good friends. It was fun while it lasted.

Dear Paper,
Don't worry what the Internet says or does. It cannot replace you. I'd still choose you over PDF or ePub books. Plus, people can't roll joints with internet pages. Bobby Sands have had good use of you as cigs back in his day.

Dear Reader,
Thank you. I like you even if we'll never meet. Or we already have and you wouldn't be caught dead in reading this post it note.

Dear Son,
You are not a thing but I'll put you in this list. Using Cormac McCarthy's words, "you are my god" and everything I do right now is rooted in hopes of giving you exactly what a deity deems fitting for his existence. I hope to be religious enough to do things I have to on your stake. And please, try not to be your old man.

Ang Kwento ng Anito Apple

I asked my father why he got a tattoo of a tiger on his left thigh. He said it was for me, to remember me every time he'd have a look at it. It is a face of a tiger, full colored, rather roughly drawn and inked on his skin. Above the face is something that read "HONG" punctured in green ink skittering on the sides.

Then I asked my uncle about the history of his tatts. I asked him what was the apple on his left chest meant, he said "Anito, yan." Not knowing what he meant, I shrugged my shoulders and with a smirk, continued the inquiry. Pointing to his green skull face on his right forearm, I asked him and he said "Wala, nakuha ko sa magazine. Buong piece sana yan pero yan lang pinagawa ko." Knowing my uncle would not give me a serious enough answer to my questions, I let it pass by. I ended my inquiry with "Masakit ba yan?" He answered no, adding that the pain is tolerable if you really wanted to.