Hang-ups, Krip and Once Again Kurt Cobain was Killed at Magnet

When does a day officially ends?

A typical Monday almost came to its doldrum end when suddenly I received an SMS from a friend. It was almost a month since I last heard from him with a message that said, " Ang hirap mo namang ayain.", which nudged the paranoid in me that he's a bit "tampo".

He is actually a sub-friend, if there is even such a word. He's a friend of a friend or rather, to put it more accurately, he's a friend of a guy-friend whom I had deep emotional issues with.

He was bored and feeling a bit under the blues. He cannot find somebody who's willing to share a drink with him on a Monday night and still not a total wino-head to talk to. Here's the dilemma, I was kind of looking forward to a ho-hum Monday night (as what all Mondays should be) and the paranoid guilt trip I had when I repeatedly turned him down a couple of times before....decisions...decisions...

The Paranoid Me won provided it'll be reasonably near. It was around 10pm when I met him at Magnet Katipunan which is just a sec of a drive from where I live. Smoking wasn't allowed upstairs so we settled outside along with a few chimney-mouthed individuals. We filled each with updates and stories that seemed lost along those years that we haven't heard or seen each other. I was casually having fun until our common friend was brought up. It was inevitable I guess. He asked why it didn't develop...flourish...or work out. Bakit nga ba?

For one, we'll surely clash. We're too much the same to work it out. Another is, he's a pricking maarte and I am a schizo with the blues, which from the last time I checked, is a bad combination. But still....

The night went on. Krip Yuson sat at the table behind us and we caught a glimpse of his brilliance... the amateur band played good songs, it was just too bad their voices sucked. Seal's A Kiss from a Rose was sung then they went on with Rape Me of Kurt Cobain. I almost saw, among my empty bottles, the already-dead Nirvana vocalist lying at the floor as the Magnet's band singer repeatedly pulled a few more shots of ammo to his head. Patay na, binaril pa ulit!

Tsk tsk.

Unicorn Bacardi

The past weekend should have been fun-filled for me.

I went to my sisters' place for a dance night out. On my way there, i bought a shirt to cap off my psyched gimmick mode. When i got there though, we were just tired. We decided to have a low key indoor drinking session but with a twist. Since we were never the siblings who put their perfect oufits to waste, we played dress up.

Then, we went to a nearby supermarket and scouted for the cheapest but of high quality alcohol.The goal was to get Tequila Sauza. It seemed, however, that everybody was onto this drink as well. It was out of stock. Dang it! We carefully looked rack to rack for the next best thing. What drink could get us off burning holes in our air sacs but not in our pockets? Nothing really tickled our fancy until we asked the sales lady.

We found ourselves enticed with the Bacardi Mojito pack. It had a glass tumbler, CD-Rom on how to make Mojitos and, the best of all things, a dildo-shaped stirrer for the price of 500Php. And just like that, we found our drink. The mojito night whipped us into a buying frenzy. We bought the ingredients for the mojito and went straight home after.

It was only then that we found out we forgot to buy club soda. Still, the night had to go on. My sisters concocted what I suspected to be, an orange juice with mint. In my mind, I was wondering if that drink would complement the Bacardi straight up. But then again, what the heck? I was way too busy putting on heavy eye makeup. Then Blacky, our guitarman/ friend, joined us. Everytime we and our closest friends drank, Blacky would join us. He would be Carlos Santana and we would be the many, many superstar guest singers in his album.

Nobody was in the mood to sing, though. We just chatted the night away. I thought, it was perfect. The topics were interesting enough to keep me from taking out my Shakira voice-belting prowess and instead put our about-to-be-fried brain cells to good use.I felt Blacky was relaxed at thought that he won't be playing guitar the entire night. He was so relaxed that he raised a topic so difficult and so provocative that got everybidy thinking.

"Who is/ are your unicorn/s?" Blacky said.

To this day, the issue would still arrest my thoughts. This was one of those moments where I wished Blacky would fucking shut his mouth and strum a melody. He was beginning to ruin my night.

"Who are your unicorns?" I thought to myself.

"Aren't they the mythical characters, usually white horses with horns that possess magical powers that can dispel evil and bad luck?"

Wrong. Apparently there would be several meanings to this creature. In psychology, there existed the unicorn concept or something you could describe but definitely unreal or imaginary.

The typical unicorn we grew up believing and loving.

Then Blacky's theory of unicorns. He said, unicorns are those people you have desired and/ or longed to have but never did. This was no longer, I said. The very reliable Bacardi was kicking my ass and my head was processing too many images, too many memories. too many feelings, mostly painful ones. I have had more unicorns than a real... well, i would not know what could be the unicorns' exisitng counterpart. Suffice to say, I had too many unfinished businesses with "relationships" I invested in. Associations that hunted and haunted me for years. Could I be a unicorn collector?

"I never had any unicorns. I got every person I wanted to have and have me," my eldest sister said.

I bellowed, "Lies!" Of course she had a lot of unicorns as well. If not, then she would not be single now. My middle sister said she had one. All of us knew who that guy is. She then added, "But I was a unicorn to everybody."

We could never be more related. Blacky said he has had two. One being the girl my deceased ex chased after dumping me. The other, a girl whom he played with as a child. In my mind, that could be a character he just made up in one of his games.

As for me, like I said, I have had a lot of unicorns. That wouldn't be the worst thing. The problem here would be that I kept unicorns and somehow continued to collect them. Blacky said the best way to get rid of them is to confront them or let them go. I found difficulty doing either one of them.

Unicorns are just too beautiful to be set free running wild into forests. In the hearts of my hearts, I would like them to stay but unicorns have magic. They are just too powerful to be controlled and here in my "ranch" all i could do is hope.

I was thinking of unicorns when i forgot my wallet in a restroom stall.

Aborted Mojitos

Eto na.

Friday came last week. A plan was carefully thought out by me and my ever dependable, hesitationless gay brother, we decided to go out that night. Our phones were smokingly busy when Friday dawned and we were so gigglish with the plan. My hypertensive sister, with her experience of drought, was also excited and I was busy trying to reach some other friends to complete the ensemble.

As expected, the thing that happens to almost every well-thought plans happened to ours. Cancellations, late replies, laziness bit our asses, and the beds with clean sheets were calling our name to just spread our lazy bones and call the masahista to get the day over with. To no avail, my late comer of a brother finally arrived bringing with him a new shirt to get his ass inspired. Who cant say no to that?

But then, we can smell the stale air of partying out fading. We wanted to party but we wanted to stay comfortably in our house with our reliable Ate Glo and our non-bathing mascot. There was just one problem, we wanted to stay but we also wanted to be glamorous!

One bright idea after, we went on. Here's the plan: we will play dress up, with our make-ups on, we'll pose till we're numbed form it and drink tequila till the last drop. We hurried up and went to SM Hypermart to buy tequila. WALA!! We faced this difficult dilemma of choosing what now?!

As if we heard the angels sang, the saleslady offered this White Bacardi with free glass and a rustproof steel mixer that was shaped like a dildo....we bought it right away! From its box was an instruction on how to make a mojito out of it. We decided to give it a go.

We shopped for the ingredients but stupidly enough, forgot the one that will play the most part for the mojito, apart from the Bacardi of course. We stupid sisters forgot the club soda but bought the lime, the mint etc!

That night might be the night of the aborted mojitos but we sure had fun! The White Bacardi neat sure kicked us in our butts! We stumbled, slurred and fell our heads snoringly in our pillows but we had our smiles pasted on our lips that night because the head swirl was worth it!

Anonymously Alcoholic

Stumbled a hundred times over...probably more.

Fell face up...face down. Fell and got bruised all over. Fell with knees scraped and palms scratched. Fell with a rib bone almost broken.

Car got crunched in the right bumper. Crashed and punched its tires. Dented each sides...some are noticeable...some are screamingly evident.

Got my license confiscated by cops an event too much. Did everything decently imaginable to escape any sanction. Smiled...cried...bawled...and presented conceivable alibis - comedic, bright and incredible.

Gained friendships...lost some. Met some decent lovers and got broken by more than one.

Drunkenly sent brutal messages aiming to hurt. Amassed numerous regrets and shrugged a lot more.

Got emotionally hurt and learned to accept everything isn't so. Had the long forgotten courage realized then posed some questions too forthright to be asked.

Sang a thousand and one songs...laughed in every circumstance that was possible.

Played the guitar well...played it terribly. Broke many fingernails along the way.

All in all it was fun. It was comforting... and everything became significantly bearable once I am with friends and under this.

my short-term bucket list

1. ride the last mrt trip from taft to north ave. and then eat goto.
2. perform a song to an audience preferrably "chasing pavements" or "slow me down"
3. sing to a newlywed
4. survive a trip without friends and/ or family.
5. wake up at 5am and sit by the seashore alone.
6. fall in love and get into a serious relationship.
7. get laid, eventually.
8. study voice
9. get MA
10.shack up with someone

Naisip ko lang...

nanggaling ako sa pinakamalungkot na sale sa balat ng lupa. yung Bench sale sa dimensione? Bakit ba naman hindi pa ako nadala nung una at bumalik pa ako ng pangalawang beses. Ayan tuloy, may naisip akong sad.

ayoko maging "sale." bago ka man akong stock, tininda naman ako sa mababang halaga. pero napagtanto ko rin mas mahirap maging "second hand." mura ka na ngang ibebenta, ginamit ka pa ng bonggang-bongga. yun lang.

Voyeurism and Exhibitionism

Everybody has their own eccentricities. I believe that each of us no matter how hard we try to hide it has our own peculiarity. These are kinks that define our inner character, our own secret stash of traits that make us who we really are.

One really tries so hard to pose oneself as an honest, decent and a God-fearing human being. Most often than not, one also achieves this kind of portrayal, with just a few minor setbacks along the way. We pride ourselves moral with a wink etched in our dirty little minds making us grin because we know we're far from being so.

Sex scandals, porn mags, x videos, or even the more prosaic media of smut tabloids are few of the apparent validations of our generation's quirks. C'mon, a sex scandal posing as a national issue has really stamped us with this one. One can be a voyeur and one can claim as an exhibitionist.

But the kinks doesnt really stop at sex. We post our deepest darkest selves in blogs for everyone to see. Gone are the days of diaries with locks where we express all the angst aiming to overpower us. We are now left with the protection of a codename tending to cover our sickened identities. I think this is exhibitionism in its feral basic form. And yes, I am an exhibitionist hiding behind my "cramped glitter bug" identity....and you my friend is a voyeur waiting for the hem slip to show a peek of a little skin.