we know there’s something, right?

despite the inconsistencies and the uncertainty, i guess, it’s better to let things as they are.




oh crap

the week had been swell.

and i can’t help myself.

Incubus-I Miss You – Incubus

I miss you ~ Incubus

To see you when I wake up,
is a gift I didn’t think could be real
To know that you feel the same, as I do,
is a Three-fold utopian dream

You do something to me
That I can’t explain
So would I be out of line, If I said
I miss you.

I see your picture,
I smell your skin on,
the empty pillow next to mine
You have only been gone ten days,
but already I am wasting away

I know I’ll see you again
Whether far or soon
But I need you to know, that I care
And I miss you

BF’s now in a GAME!

this is one GREAT way to campaign for the 2010 presidential elections!


i was in the Inquirer

and i didn’t even know that it was already printed. July 31, 2009.

read it here.

understanding your intricacies

only one song comes to mind. and it is beautiful. the song, i mean.

on fragile fleeting moments

i’ve always wanted to read a Hayuki Murakami novel. but can’t because of the time and laziness. but i did come across one of his short stories. at ava’s blog.

after reading the whole thing, it frightens me to realize that these kinds of things still appeal to me. despite the fact that i feel and think that i’ve found her. kahit na malabo.

well, i could still say that it is good writing.

Haruki Murakami: On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo’s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she’s not that good-looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn’t young, either – must be near thirty, not even close to a “girl,” properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl – one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you’re drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I’ll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can’t recall the shape of hers – or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It’s weird.

“Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl,” I tell someone.

“Yeah?” he says. “Good-looking?”

“Not really.”

“Your favorite type, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to remember anything about her – the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts.”


“Yeah. Strange.”

“So anyhow,” he says, already bored, “what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?”

“Nah. Just passed her on the street.”

She’s walking east to west, and I west to east. It’s a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and – what I’d really like to do – explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we’d have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

“Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?”

Ridiculous. I’d sound like an insurance salesman.

“Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?”

No, this is just as ridiculous. I’m not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who’s going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. “Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me.”

No, she wouldn’t believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you’re not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I’d probably go to pieces. I’d never recover from the shock. I’m thirty-two, and that’s what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can’t bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She’s written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she’s ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She’s lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started “Once upon a time” and ended “A sad story, don’t you think?”

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

“This is amazing,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you’re the 100% perfect girl for me.”

“And you,” she said to him, “are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I’d pictured you in every detail. It’s like a dream.”

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It’s a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one’s dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, “Let’s test ourselves – just once. If we really are each other’s 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we’ll marry then and there. What do you think?”

“Yes,” she said, “that is exactly what we should do.”

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other’s 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season’s terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence’s piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don’t you think?

Yes, that’s it, that is what I should have said to her.

all eyes on BF

well, let’s see.

election time’s coming up and our good MMDA Chairman is on the roll.

for the past few years, i have openly expressed my dislike and discontent for Bayani Fernando’s gestapo tactics and blatant abuse of power.

but this time, let’s give him a little fighting chance. i’m thinking, why not advertise Bayani Fernando?!

i’ll link his campaign website! ahaha. done in very good taste, as it is very consistent with his choice of colors and design.

and of course, you have here the MMDA website.

see the difference?


the TnL blog has done some snooping around with the MMDA website and said this because they found this.

but seriously, also, see his Metro Gwapo profile on Political Arena.com to know more. i confess that i do need to do some more reading on BF.


on a more recent event, i hear people grumbling about the crazy traffic on Katipunan Avenue in Quezon City, in front of the Ateneo University on workweek mornings.

well, people say that that there’s a new U-turn scheme which they say was not announced. because of the misinformation, motorists who frequent the area tend to stick to their usual routes causing the traffic.

GMANews.TV – Motorists irked by heavy traffic in Katipunan Avenue – Video – Official Website of GMA News and Public Affairs – Latest Philippine News

Shared via AddThis
there have been many re-routings before. many accidents have been reported due to these ‘misplaced’ U-turns. a friend’s car was hit. with her was a promising Ateneo high school varsity player. the kid was directly hit. he died. this happened some time in 2005.

however, the MMDA has this to say on the matter. read it here and here.

despite all the talk, i’ll just stick with what TnL has to say.

basta, DIGz na lang, pare. ahaha.

Tunay na LaLake daw si BF?!

those TnL guys are really fucked up.

after saying that BF “ay ‘di Tunay na Lalake,” they suddenly take it back and say he is one.

but i do believe their rationale is undebatable.

kaya nga DIGz ito, mga tol!

on level ground

reveling the moment. even though there isn’t much to see.