orayts

Isang mabuting bagay ang nangyari sa akin noong nakaraang araw.

Balak ko sanang dumaan sa Diliman para makipagkita sa isang batchmate ko noon sa UP. Brod ko rin siya sa Frat kaya naging masaya ang kwentuhan namin habang kumakain ng pan de coco na binili namin mula sa isang naglalako sa loob ng campus. Naka-bike yung tindero. Nagkwentuhan kami tungkol sa mga panahong lumipas. Good times, good times. Tawanan lang at nag-usap na rin tungkol sa patutunguhan ng mga buhay namin. Uninspired at medyo bigo. Nasa slump kasi kami pareho. We need to get over that hill.

Hindi pa iyon ang mabuting nangyari sa nakaraang araw. May nag-tweet sa'kin na dating kaklase sa kolehiyo. Sabi niya, na-publish raw ako sa Young Blood. May mas bubuti pa pala sa buhay na walang sakit at simple ang problema. 

Bata pa lamang kasi ako ay gusto ko nang ma-publish sa Young Blood. Nakakatuwang isipin na nangyari na at sa panahon pang hirap akong maghanap ng magandang bagay na dapat ipagdiwang. 

Nanay ko rin kasi ang nagsabing magiging proud siya sakin pag na-publish ang gawa ko dun. Ayan, pinabasa ko sa kanya at tinanong kung na-gets nya ba. Sabi lang e "Okay naman. Hopeful. Ano ba ibig mo'ng sabihin dito?" Alangya, nanay ko nga talaga 'to. Kahit di na nya gets e "good job, anak!" pa rin ang sagot. Naglambing ako sa nanay ko noong inabot ko yung dyaryo, alam ko na maliit na bagay lang 'to pero it's the little victories in life that make us remember the grand narrative of a 'beautiful life.' Isang simpleng pangarap na hindi inakalang matutupad. Niyakap ko ang nanay ko mula sa likod habang nakaupo siya sa kama at sabay halik sa balikat, buti nalang hindi niya pinansin yung bilbil kong dumikit sa tagiliran niya.

Isang mabuting bagay ang nangyari.

Itinuloy na rin namin ang kasiyahan namin sa bahay. Inimbitahan ko ang dalawang Brods ko na parehong galing sa UP Baguio para makita naman nila ang little piece of heaven namin. Nagkatuwaan na ring magdagdag ng drinks at magkwentuhan nang mas mahaba. Ipinagdiwang din namin ang Mayo Uno sa pamamagitan ng pag-ubos sa tatlong litrong beer na nagpapawis sa lamig. Halos matuyuan na kasi kami ng katawan sa sobrang init ng panahon.

si batchmate at si bunso

Nag-enjoy daw sila sa bahay. Masasarap raw ang pagkain. Panalong panalo raw yung sopas na niluto ng tatay ko. Hangover cure. Crunchy din daw yung daing na dilis na niluto ko pang pulutan. Masarap talaga yun.

Buti nalang may mga mabuting bagay pang nangyayari.

Happy sunflowers!

The sunflowers along UP Diliman drive are now starting to wilt. Their once awaited bloom gave many graduates and parents the awe that comes with their sunset orange and golden pigments. They are but one of the many symbols of cliche closing of books and opening of new ones.

Graduation, the word feels like a voice of a stranger on the phone. Though only having graduated one year ago, I believe that I have outgrown the word or maybe I have never even got used to it. I didn't know how to graduate. Just last week I found myself rambling to a good friend that my degree was useless and that may have even found a job even if I hadn't graduated from UP. I wanted to slap myself across the face, in a third person perspective kind of way. A hard and unforgiving slap was in due.

My Facebook news feed has been riddled by graduation posts lately. While most are very inspiring and touching, others are just too much. I'm not trying to rain on their parades, they've earned it. Only, the volume of grad-related posts are just too much for me. I guess, it has to do with my earlier feelings. Again, I wanted to slap myself, also, I wanted to slap others, too.

This may have come from the fact that I think my college life was uneventful. I think, up to now, that I could have done more. 'No regrets' was just a thing I only got to tell myself in the recent past. But I have many things to tell the young graduates, some of my Fraternity Brothers also finished school last 26th of April. I'm not preaching, I really don't like that word.

1. One of the first things that I've learned since I graduated from college is that you don't get things handed to you, not even your jeepney fare. I must admit, I thought college was difficult. Now, that remains to be just a thought I had years ago. You have to work for everything.

2. You can't cram your way into making a good future. I thought back then that I could do the petty procrastination shit that I was so used to. I have never been wrong. Even if I wanted to hustle so much to make get things to self-actualize for me, there was no way it could be done. Hard work pays, big time.

3. Save money. Be a miser. Seriously, sticks and stones may break my bones but having zero pesos in your bank account is not a good thing. Especially if you've just started getting a grip on things. I bet you couldn't even live on the contents of your pocket if you lost your newly earned job right now.

4. In connection to number three, we take the 'live now' thing too seriously. I do, but don't take my word for it. 'Live now' too much and you'll wake up one day with nothing to eat tomorrow. All you've got are the bottles of booze and the nagging feeling of being uninspired and being burnt out. Don't spend everything you have on one go and money is not everything that is spent.

5. Wear your clothes to the ground. I've heard someone talk about dressing up to match your qualifications, it is true for some time but not in the everyday way of things. Nice clothes are a reward and if you already have a working wardrobe, be contented with it. You can have the nicest things in the world and still have an zero in your credentials. Remember to 'self-actualize' as vicioustwist called it. Wear your socks until they have no garters, wear your jeans until they fray at the seams and the rivets pop, these are just material things.

I've so much to add to this but I don't want to sound preachy, I'm already narcissistic, why add another folly?

just polish the blood and the bruise

"She misses the lips that were the warm reminder of home. She cannot forget, she could only try to. It was just a near distant memory that is a clutch in the heart and a knot in her throat. He could not do anything about it now, she thought. They both thought wrong."

...

There are lots of things that I am itching to write about but can't get enough push to actually scratch for it. Again. It is a recurring thing with me. I'm looking for getting much of my Reality Bites series since people I know are a'buzzing. They make such great character references.

Breathe in the music, it's all you got for now. Jake Smith, Matt Lynott and Tommy Andrews are the men behind the name. They make such great music that I feel is unappreciated and don't get much attention that they should have. They have that integrity that make the songs so personal for each listener. Even the faintest melody of their songs pluck at the emotions and stir them up for ya good, like old mountain liquor.

Go for a listen.

i never really read newspapers until now

Bureau Chief's office, c2010

Philippine Daily Inquirer Northern Luzon Bureau

This photo was taken about 3 years ago. I was doing my journalism internship at that time. I barely scraped by if not for the help and guidance of the magely editors at PDI Northern Luzon Bureau. This was the look of our Bureau Chief's (BC) office. I bet it still look like this and I really hope that it still does. His book collection, to say the least solicits awe along with the martial law memorabilia, including a newspaper snippet of his picture being the alleged assassin of Ninoy Aquino (still hadn't asked him about the authenticity of that snip of paper, I dare not ask the wizard.)

I specifically remember reaching out for a copy of Chernobyl Diaries out of the crammed shelves. It was like picking off at a wall of great pieces, it felt transient and lasting at the same time. I also remember a story from the book, the wife was telling the story about his husband who worked at the Chernobyl nuclear plant, he was greatly exposed to radiation. She carefully narrated the way she cut her fingernails down to the nub, slowly hiding the edges of her nails. The beauty was in the details, the housewife turned full time nurse for her husband told the story on how her fingertips bled. It was an effort to keep herself from hurting her husband. She told of how she once flayed the soft skin on her husband's arm. Her nails were too long and sharp.

It was a chilling reminder on the effects of that blow up. And how it still affects the citizens of ghost town Chernobyl. It also was a good example of how good writing can take people to places they can only imagine and are too afraid to even plan a visit. Reading some of the stories in that book added to my own wall of simple dreams and aspirations, I wanted to be a writer. But I easily acknowledged that I couldn't keep up with the dailies, I will never be a print journalist. It was true.

Our BC was also a professor at the University. He gave me a fitting grade for my performance: 2.75. I barely scraped by but I loved being in his class. It was a glimpse at the old school experience of working on a press room. The experience felt like it was a photo with  coffee colored sepia effects.

That is all.

midnight drive

I think I'm going to rewatch the full two seasons of How to Make it in America. Just to get a kick in the balls. Soon, New York. Soon.

This always gets to me. I don't know why. I know some people who tell me that it's a whole lot different when you get uprooted from where you came from. I believe them. I think it's true and that you can't just get taken away from all that you are, were and currently represent. It'll be suicide but you just get this lump in your throat and it makes you want to throw yourself into that uncertainty. Just because it is a thriving desire and you know the rewards are greater than the risk.

Fuck. This. Shit.

round two

this is how we die
nakaw mula sa kaibigang balikbayan

Heto na naman nga at nagpopost ako ng litrato ng ininom namin noong sabado lang. Kagagaling ko lamang ng Bicol upang bumisita sa mga kamag-anak at ito ang sumalubong sa akin. Hindi naman ako umaangal pero hanggang ngayon ay malabnaw pa rin ang dugo ko dahil sa dami ng alkohol na aming nakonsumo noong araw na iyon.

Masaya ang pagsasalu-salo namin. Bumalik kasi ng bansa ang isa sa aming pinakamalapit na kaibigan, treat nya ang alak at sagot namin ang pag-ubos nito. Plastado kami nang maubos ito. Buti nalang at maraming yelo pangkontra na rin sa sobrang init ng panahon. Wala kaming litrato habang nagkakasiyahan dahil abala sa pakikipagkwentuhan.

Minsan naiisip ko kung totoo bang tinatanggap ko na ang responsibilidad ng isang pagiging young adult. Napapansin ko kasing hindi naman nabawasan ang pakikisama ko sa mga kaibigan ko kahit na nagkaroon na kami ng mga trabaho at kanya kanyang pinagkakaabalahan. 

Tumatanda kami pero parang hindi umuusad sa responsibilidad. Ang ginagawa ko nalang pag ganoon ang naiisip ko ay tinatagayan ko pa ang sarili ko nang mas mataas na shot, boom, tapos ang pagninilay-nilay. Sinasamantala ko lang ang panahon hangga't kaya. Mabuti na yung ganoon para sa'kin. 

Mas mahirap naman maghanap ng ganitong samahan kesa magpapayat at magbawas ng bisyo. Maswerte talaga ako sa buhay ko. Pakshet.

2 weeks

Noong nakalipas na dalawang linggo ay halos hindi na ako pumasok sa opisina. Hindi ako hinahanap ng boss ko at talagang wala na kong nagagawa na pwedeng ilagay sa portfolio. Pakiramdam ko eh wala na akong nagagawang mabuti o di kaya'y nakukuha mula sa kasalukuyang trabaho ko. Nakakainis ako at ang kawalan ng oportunidad upang palawigin ang sarili. Non-productive talaga.

Buti nalang, yung dalawang linggong nakaw sa aking trabaho ay hindi naman napunta sa wala. Nakasama ko ang anak ko at mas nakapagbonding kami nang maayos. Kahit na puro "Ayaw, daddy" ang sigaw nya e nagkakakulitan naman kami. Nakakaaliw talaga ang bata kapag lumalaki na. Hindi ko lubos maisip na magtatatlong taon na siya. Ambilis. Gumugwapo pa si loko kahit unti-unti nang numinipis ang ngipin nya dahil sa formula milk nya. May katamaran din kasi siyang magsepilyo at nakakatulugan ang pagdedede.

Habang papauwi ako galing Baguio matapos ang isang linggong pag-ibig kasama ang aking anak at ang kanyang mommy, naisip ko na malayo na nga ang narating ko simula noong mga panahong sinubok ang tatag ko bilang isang tao at bilang isang lalaki. Mag-aapat na taon na rin pala nuong nagsimula akong tumulong sa negosyo ng pamilya ng mommy ni Gab bilang bantay sa puwesto nila sa palengke. Marami akong natutunan sa lagpas isang taon na pagtulong ko sa kanila. Mas naalala ko iyon noong nakita ko ang mga kargador, nagbubuhat rin kasi ako ng mga kaban ng bigas noon at nagkakamada kahit papaano.

Mabilis lang talaga ang panahon. Ngayon ay nasa isang dead-end job ako, dati naman ay estudyante lang na sumusubok guamawa ng paraan para sa isang parating na baby at pamilya. Napapaisip ako sa mga nangyayari, palagi naman e. Matapos ang post ko na ito ay susubukan kong ilabas lahat ng mga isipin ko noong nakalipas na dalawang linggo. Susubukan kong sumuka ng mga entries. Napapabayaan ko na ang talaarawan kong ito. Paano nalang pag may Alzheimer's na ako? Pano ko malalaman kung gaano ako kadaldal noong kabataan ko.

Alam kong walang patutunguhan ang post na to. Pasensya na at pumupurol na haha

red ink, hard liquor, food and family

A good buddy of mine recently celebrated his birthday. We've known each other since we were in grade school and have suffered and enjoyed the same tumbles and initiations of early life. Along with two other friends, we watched ourselves as we all marched into manhood.

He had prepared everything for us to be drunk kings and hooligans. Home cooked meals that gave warmth to our bellies and the heart as well. His family had moved to Baliuag and since then, we haven't seen his family as often as we did back in our younger days.

To say that the night we spent over at their place is an understatement. We drank, ate and laughed our asses. His mom and pop welcomed us like we were long lost children, telling us how much they've missed us and recounted the stories of old. His mother even served us a meal that was very special for us since we always had the same good food for our new year cookout: carbonara with white sauce and bacon bits. It was such a nice feeling. They are all good folks, my buddy's family, they are.

Slowly, it dawned to me, after the haze of alcohol that we all enjoyed so much and the brotherhood that we've shared throughout the years we knew each other: we were men now but kids in us never left.

I just hope that it stays the same. Sometimes, there are just things that are not meant to change.

We are currently waiting for the fourth guy to get back home for a vacation in the coming month. We already miss him and our guts are ready for another all nighter. 

Act like gentlemen, drink like motherfuckers.

i need a list on my arms

Today, I am again reminded of how reading takes you to the place you least expect to be and yet feel that it was a needed shove.

I cover paper with words every day,
But the stories never go anywhere
I find worth going.

-Timequake by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
Chapter 11, page 45

I remember saying this to a loved one recently. I told her that I do write but it sort of still sucks and depresses the shit out of me that I haven't written anything that goes out to where I want it to be. The exchange came over a cup of coffee, recent memories, feels and slight realizations. 

She said that I know that I am good at what I do and that is what separates me from her. I refuse to accept that statement.

She is lovely. I always forget to tell her that. 

Today I am reminded again of how much I refuse to learn the essential things. I need to close my eyes to the superficial as I feel more mundane than I was yesterday. I am also reminded of how the creases on her eye lids have smeared the emerald tint of her liner.

I need to go back into loving things, people and the prospect of tomorrow. I need to be reminded always and it sucks.

pantyhosed

“A man is not old until regrets replace dreams.”  -John Barrymore

Photo credits: Clayton Cubitt.

Visit the man's colossal pinboard of interesting finds and perspective here.

I've been thinking of creating a Tumblr account for a while now. My friend suggested the thing when I told him he was already famous on the site (among poets and literature peeps) and he is. He suggested that I'd get better reach when it came to audience. Though, I thought, I have all the audience I need in this personal space.

Tumblr has a certain thing for anonymity. The mysterious and the hidden at the same time being exposed and extroverted. Everything is projected outward but with a black strip to mask identities. Clayton Cubitt is not one of those fellas on Tumblr.

He puts out, not in the perverse way. His photographs show just that and his head on approach to the usual secrets in the real world. Gritty, dirty, flashy, real, rigid and starkly familiar. You can say that it's a bit hipster, meh, everyone has his two cents about everything.

I've been following his work for more than 5 months now. And I can say that I highly enjoy his works and his class. Dirty classy.

I especially like the way he connects his photographs with quotations from people I haven't even heard of. It is a diverse collective. His photographs look larger than life but occur within the dimensions as they do. 

peek-a-boo

I'll try to re-write what I've accidentally deleted a while back. Fuck.

Well, my story started with how much tv series and movies I've been watching recently and that I can't seem to enjoy the plots that much because of something I've read. It's about a tip or interview of some sort that Vonnegut gave and it was about writing. The main idea was to let something miserable happen to your characters whenever you're writing. It just stuck all the way though up to now.

So, when everything's going diddly fine on Breaking Bad, Girls or Boardwalk Empire, I automatically assume that the grim part of the script is just waiting at the turn, waiting to blind side you and just depress the fuck out of your fictional world. Yes, they are written superbly by people who are just plain great, genius even though Calvin Weir Harris wouldn't like to hear that word around him or used to refer to him. That sounded fragmented.

Well, the thing is I automatically assume that the characters are on a suffering race and that it's just a matter of time until the next big thing bursts their bubble. The conflict is amazing, however. The weaving of the stories and how they all end up tangled in the end, just fucking brilliant. I sometimes catch myself thinking why I didn't think of that shit? It's always safe to think that someone's going to get shot and turned into human goo in a plastic barrel. 

Vonnegut made sure I thought of that. Though it still makes you itch to see what happens and it makes you want to feel surprised about how the next punch to the gonads is going to wrapped and packaged. Will it be subtle and striking or in your face brass knuckles to shuffle all your teeth out type of way? We don't know that, only the idea that when something gets all high up in one point, the crash is sure to come. Talk about being a pessimist even in the fictional world.

Hell, what is the world without struggle, right? It's just one struggle after another. You never run out of those things. If you do, it's either you're dead or in a coma.

Watching Ruby Sparks and One Day made me feel that thing with the highs and lows and all that roller coaster of emotions and shit. What will happen after Calvin and Ruby's perfect relationship? What happens next, now that Em and Dex are finally together? It's a Russian Roulette and the bullet always ends up in your chamber. It waits for the final click of the hammer.

Fuck, yea. Naisulat ko uli pero nawala ang karamihan sa train of thought.

photos were taken from the internet

plastic sheeting

I promise, this will be the last snip for the day.

What we get from the feeling of finishing a very interesting article, story or post we write is something that varies in shade, intensity and purity. We can never put it in words with such quantification and precision, the essence is not contained in a jar in its entirety. Writing has been an escape from the real. Writing has been the  reality for the imagined. Writing has been the instrument to bend and break. Writing has been the wall which many have leaned on when they have rubber legs from all the whiskey they drank. The feeling is fleeting in its sense that we don't know that what we may write is some sort of magic for others. And that the magic in itself is not knowing that we've made real some things that have not been real for a long time.

I don't know about this post but I just want to write it. Maybe it's just the cold getting in between my toes.

15-seconder

"If he doesn't read your stories, he doesn't read you."

Dialogue from Girls, season 2.

Makes you think, really. About the person you're trying to open up to. And the ego that you are feeding. Writers have small, big egos. 

Humblebrag, motherfucker.

olympia

The problem with writing in a euphoric state is that you get too attached to the feeling that when it flutters away, you close your hand into a clench that you end up with only a dusty glitter of what you had. Trying to write a good story is one thing. Living it, that's an entirely different script.

I need to find myself a typewriter.

Thank you, more please.

Flashes.

Tried a new joint at the local mall earlier. It's a Filipino restaurant that's celebrating the most (probably) Filipino food of all: adobo. The food was good. No, better. It was fulfilling. What made it fulfilling is not just the flavor alone, although it reminds me of home since we are fond of eating adobo with just the right amount of glistening oil and liver. The crew was very hospitable.

I'm sure that it's part of their job to be so but it's a feeling that very few people can fake. The generous servings of steamed rice, it's all-you-can eat btw, and the smiles make a good combo. I know, I'm a rude bastard at times but I always make it a fact to say 'thanks' whenever someone is serving me something to eat. 

Kahit sa carinderia, sa turo-turo, sa pwesto ng mga fishball o betamax. Lagi kang magpapasalamat. Kahit banas ka na sa haba ng pila sa MRT at parang wala nang marunong magsabi ng isang salitang dapat ipinupukpok sa sub-conscious at lalo na sa conscious self natin. 

What better way to repay their kindness (by not spitting at your food) than a resounding "salamat" to top it off.

That's the least they deserve for doing their jobs and doing it well. It's fun to see people do the same to crew members even if the service is crappy or needs a little tweak for improvement. Did I mention that they have amazing fried garlic toppings on their adobo?

That moment reminded me of a movie I watched. It was a suggestion from a very special friend. Happy tummy. Somewhat happy soul.

an intro instead of a story.

photo from fashionologie.com

"It shocks me when young kids still say, 'I want to do a magazine,' he says.

"Really? Do you want to do a magazine because you want to be an editor- what you think life is, that romance- or do you want to communicate? Because if you want to communicate, why the fuck would you want to communicate, why the fuck would you put all those obstacles in your path and have to print pages, as opposed to going right on the Internet and actually communicating?"

Damn. Scott Schuman.

An excerpt from GQ's June 2012 issue interview with the man behind The Sartorialist.

Success over night or success in a slow but steady notion.

Still, success is success.

Personally, it is a debate whether the print actually moves more obstacles in front of would-be bloggers when it comes to publishing praise-worthy work. Print is a mainstay, I keep telling myself that but it really has to do with doing real hard work to make it big.

We look at magazines to create images in our minds. We have the internet to translate it instantly with the help of terabytes worth of information and inspiration.

Damn, man. That really made me think.

pity, pacquiao and pablo

Pacquiao does not owe anything to people saying squat about his KO yesterday. 

He was faced with a top-tier fighter like himself. 

He got hit by 'Il Dinamita' square in the face.

Most people would probably wake up a week later if they were hit as hard like that.

Congrats, Congressman Pacquiao. You showed how much of a classy fighter and figure that you truly are.

But just so you know, you can lay low with the Lordy-Lordy thing. Your mom is not a bit happy with it.

Anyhow, let's not forget the many different people who tuned in to the fight. They are really hoping and betting on Pacman for the win. Not to mention, many of these people are also recovering from the devastation that Typhoon Pablo recently brought to people in the south.  An estimated 600+ are never to see Manny's next fight on pay-per-view or national tv. Even more are missing and probably have not seen the fight from where they are. Mind you, they might still be alive under the colossal weight of fresh earth and angry rocks swept by the floods from Compostela Valley and CDO. Others might be drifting in the ocean as they sailed to win money from angrier seas and tides.

It is funny how our people can see the silver lining even just for a little while when it comes to tragedy. If I were at Comp Valley when the typhoon hit, I'd probably be dead by now.

We are a tragedy prone people. We lose lives over floods and slides and rain and shit. Hurricane Sandy was a tragedy all the same but Pablo or Bopha did something worse. I think we have a problem with that, the world has seen more images and news about Sandy than Bopha. Even typhoons have supremacy issues. As long as it is the center of "human civilization" (just like in those alien and catastrophe movies) and more English-named cities and buildings, they'd have more coverage. Let's just hope and pray that something like Bopha does not happen to 'Merica.

Sana lumaban pa ang mga kababayan nating nasalanta. Bangon tayo, tulad ni Manny. Mas mahirap lang kalaban ang mga illegal loggers at si Inang Kalikasan.

how to fucking make it out of work

I've been watching this show religiously. It's a 2-season series that's made up of 8 episodes per season. Bad news is that it got canceled on HBO and 'may' have the chance of resurfacing on another channel.

This is something of a wake-up call for me since the show revolves about 20-somethings in their constant sprawl to hustle and make a name for themselves at the gritty NYC. It's a good story but short lived.

"Hustle" is such a strong word for me. It represents a scuffle, street smarts, struggle and balancing victory and defeat. The events portrayed on the show represents each and adds a spritz of comedy and relatability (not to mention generous amounts of nudity and innuendo.)

Staying up late just to watch the complete two seasons made me want to take a move on with my plans for a silk screen printing business. Yes, if I weren't writing, I'd be making clothes. Sucky and tacky, I know. The prospect of making good clothes that people can actually appreciate is something I've thought about waaaay more than I do for work.

Once I get enough funds to start my own craft, I'd quit this day job and make my own way. The confidence and doubt of the characters are fighting to win over each other. It's another relatable thing for most 20-somethings. I'm feeeling like I'm writing a review for Thought Catalog but that's how it is. We never figure out what we want to do in our 20s. Some of us may have good day jobs but the fact of the matter is, most of us don't want it, we just kinda need it to stay afloat in a quagmire of bureaucratic ladders.

Many of us can say that we are anchored by something in some way, most of the time, that's true. MOST of the time. But we still feel like floating. And this post is already starting to rise up to the surface instead of sinking to my deeper thoughts.

Anyhow, I'd get a start up on my business as soon as I have the money. In the meantime, I think I'll make a concept for my project. 

Fuck! I love this show. Dirty, ambitious, flashy and fucking rad. Higher being, please send us season three. You can do it anytime you wish, we'll be waiting.

Good morning, Doctor.

Photo from The Selvedge Yard

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming– “Wow! What a Ride!”

— Hunter S. Thompson

Wise words from a man who didn't wait for life to take him away. Badly bruised and beaten, half-drunk and half-stoned on a full head-on collision course. Life is supposed to wear people down. Otherwise, we should have been made immortal and forever young in our physical shells.

Threadbare and worn to the ground, I'm feeling like an old man with no trophy or medal or some sort of accomplishment to put up in the air. I know you don't believe in luck, Doctor. I don't, either. Let's get beautifully mangled.

Half-hearted Monday

photo from The Selvedge Yard

“I make a point of staying right at the edge of poverty. I don’t have a pair of pants without a hole in them, and the only pair of boots I have are on my feet. I don’t mess around with unnecessary stuff, so I don’t need much money. I believe it’s meant to be that way. There’s a ‘struggle’ you have to go through, and if you make a lot of money it doesn’t make the ‘struggle’ go away. It just makes it more complicated. If you keep poor, the struggle is simple." 

- Kenny Howard aka Von Dutch

The quote came from The Selvedge Yard.

I believe that this should be a constant reminder, to everyone. Making money is not bad, unless it becomes what you live your life for.