Devil's Hour

Five months ago, it felt scarier than my recent heartbreak.

Darker than my alter-ego.

June 23. Technically. 

Part of June 22's extended night.

Raining hard.

Braving my way home without an umbrella from our voice coach's gig at a bar.

Alighting a rusty cab with a driver that was totally weird. Weird driving. Weird music. Weird aura. Not looking at me the entire trip.

Checking my cellphone's clock: it's exactly 3:00 am. Touching down home, I was welcomed by our neighbor's open dirty kitchen in its unusual state - fluorescent light flickering. In a swift glance to my left, I saw a red umbrella seesawing on the ground. Thought it's our family's umbrella. But a look up at our house's facade, there's the blue umbrella I last saw hanging by the window when I left home. There can't be two umbrellas drying outside our house. Wind blew w/ what sounded like whispers from the softening rain. My neck craned back to the kitchen and for more than five or so years living in this neighborhood, it seemed only now that the cobwebs looked clearer, even "closer," than ever. Then one of our neighbor's dogs began making what occurred to me like aggrieved howls. Indescribable howls of pain. All the other minute sounds from the surroundings have now grown deafeningly louder. The whoosh. The cryptic ear-splitting feedback-like tone. The random sounds from the nature on an opaque night. I decided to dismiss the "3:00 am" idea. Finally bolting our door open, one shadow caught the corner of my eye and me dead in my tracks - a swaying Meralco meter chain in the middle of a line of all the other chains that were so steady. No more air this time. Both from the surroundings and inside of me.

Insidious? 

Maybe.

I might have had a "Devil's Hour" last night.

That was weird. Considering I was holding a fresh garland of sampaguitas in one hand all throughout. I sealed the night with a prayer as I offered the flowers to the altar. Parang Pinoy horror flick. Classic.

It Hurt Again

Revisiting the pictures, videos, chat messages, texts and memories you shared together...
before you delete them.


That hurts, doesn't it?


Danny Gokey's What Hurts The Most ironically captures our story with every line retelling how I was at home during a typhoon, with every word narrating how I watched you walk away during the closure, every inkling about how I was managing to brave the tears with a faint smile day in day out, and every iota of a lost lover feeling that sense of regret, probably for the rest of his life.

I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don't bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm ok
But that's not what gets me

What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin' to do

It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I'm doin' It
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin' with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken

What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do

What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do

Not seeing that loving you
That's what I was trying to do
Ooohhh...

Bigger Fish

they're right. i'm the bigger fish. 
i don't swim in my own tears. YOU swim after me. or WITH me.
either way, i'm not slowing down to catch up with you or let you catch up.
outpace me if you can but i will never ever again swim for you.
my vision is my surface.
my surface is my air.
this air keeps me full and filled.
I AM the bigger fish.

A Dose of Paulo Coelho: Relax Seriously

"Relax and don't take yourself so seriously. 
No one else does."


True.
And if I say, "I'm the next Paulo Coelho," will you also take me seriously?










Relax.
Don't worry...




I won't be.


'cause I'll be...








THE Kristofferson Guela. 
I'm claiming it. Someday. Today. Every single day.

for other Paulo Coelho Dose, click here.

I Am Not Moving On, I Am Moving Away...

...just so I could find someone like you.


Finally, the day has come that I am taking you off my chest by taking this off my lungs - my song for you - that by Adele.

That which encapsulates the very thought of me letting go of all the texts, the pictures, videos, gifts, movie tickets, 

promises & plans, and even temporarily 

those bittersweet memories we shared, 

yet letting that one glimmer of hope to stay in my heart to find, if not a mutual path with you, at least someone like you. 

Just Reminding, Not Demanding

When I was telling you "I love you," 

I wasn't demanding you to return it.

I was just reminding you.

Movie Review: Real Steel

The only thing I hated about Real Steel is its title. 
The rest is perfect for what could have been a Fathers' Day movie. Too heartwarming for a movie about testosterone and robots. 
And I'm not complaining.

The biggest promise of course can be seen in that kid, Dakota Goyo, who didn't just display his charisma in the big screen but also his ability to craft some chemistry with practically any ensemble he works with. He's as good as he was in Thor. What with those eyes brimming with so much emotions you can have a dose of yours too from it. A born actor.


The scene I both hated and loved was the goodbye scene 
between Charlie and Max upon the latter's turnover back to his aunt.
I love that the heart of the movie took shape in this scene. 
I hate that it broke my heart.
I simply hate goodbyes. In fiction and in reality.

Option

When you choose Option, 

that between Control and Command, 

it only means you want to be liberated from the firm squeezes of the control freaks. 

Choose to be free. 

You have an Option.

Cokeak

If Coke is for Happiness, Kokak is for Lunchness.

Mama cooked this for me with a pa-guilty reminder,

"Masarap 'to anak. Mahal nga ng kilo e. P240. Galing La Union"

New Epiphanies

Pag bumalik ka sa X, tatanungin ka ng kasunod - Y?

Nakakagutom pala si Mary P.

the best part of waking up is thanking God you're still alive. the worst is waking up realizing that somebody who used to be yours no longer thinks you're even alive.

the 1st time we broke up, i did write u a song. 

the 2nd, i did write u a blog. 

this time around, won't you lemme right what went wrong?

sometimes, we're bound to 

thank the people 

who broke our heart. 

they could make us rich. 

think Adele.

People prefer to be hated than ignored.

To be hurt by muriatic than the apathetic.

At least, with the former, you know you exist. 

Just because you found whom you think is the RIGHT PERSON for you doesn't mean you're also the RIGHT ONE for him/her

‎"We're so over I need a new word," said Carrie.
"We're so over I need a new life," I say.

Dear New Chapter in Life,

Let me open you soon.

NakakainiSex Appeal

May mga tao talagang sadyang malakas ang 

source: Paul Abramson

maski "may itsura" lang at maski hindi vainly conscious of how they look. Nakakainis kung gano sila ka-hot w/o making any effort. Nakakainiiiiiiis! Rawr!

Ito na lang ang mabibigay ko sa'yo:

source: Outblush

Ano namang ibibigay mo sa'kin in return?
wakeke =D

Part-Time Songer, Part-Time Lover

As a treat to my followers, lurkers included, here on the blog, here's an exclusive 1st peek at my latest cover.

Okay, okay, this really isn't an official "cover" cover 

but heck, this is how I destress myself from my latest heartache and you're gonna be the first to see how I pour my heart out 

with nothing but a microphone and my Wonder idol, Stevie!

Batu-bato sa langit, ang tamaan, peace!

PART-TIME LOVER

Call up, ring once, hang up the phone
To let me know you made it home
Don't want nothing to be wrong with part-time lover

If she isn't with me I'll blink the lights
To let you know tonight's the night
For me and you my part-time lover

We are undercover passion on the run
Chasing love up against the sun
We are strangers by day, lovers by night
Knowing it's so wrong, but feeling so right

If I'm with friends and we should meet
Just pass me by, don't even speak
Know the word's "discreet" with part-time lovers

But if there's some emergency
Have a male friend to ask for me
So then she won't peek its really you my part-time lover

We are undercover passion on the run
Chasing love up against the sun
We are strangers by day, lovers by night
Knowing it's so wrong, but feeling so right

We are undercover passion on the run
Chasing love up against the sun
We are strangers by day, lovers by night
Knowing it's so wrong, but feeling so right

I've got something that I must tell
Last night someone rang our doorbell
And it was not you my part-time lover

And then a man called our exchange
But didn't want to leave his name
I guess that two can play the game
Of part-time lovers
You and me, part-time lovers
But, she and he, part-time lovers

Vagina for the Weak

Of late, curiosity dawned on me as to why do people say, 
"get some BALLS!" to show some toughness 

when balls are so vulnerable & you have, on the other hand, 

the VAGINA getting the pounding.

To anyone short of guts, this I tell you,

GET SOME VAGINA!

This Is Me Series: Lasheng

So I woke up this morning to an overdue realization: it's OktoBEERfest! 


And since I don't drink beer, Imma make my contribution to this worldwide commemoration with a pretty novel idea of re-introducing myself to the world with what I call the "This Is Me" series.
Call it redundantly (read: MY blog + This Is Me series = me me me) narcissistic or egotistic but come on, apart from the fact that this is my blog, some of you sure do wanna know what it really feels like to be a "Kristofferson Guela."


We can start from the outermost layer, peeling off incrementally to my core. Or it can be random. Just so we could make this a real fun and exciting series to look forward to checking out.


First, This Is Me inebriated, tipsy, throwing out cheers, stripped not of clothes but of inhibitions, wasted, working, heartbroken, celebrating my birthday, celebrating my friend's birthday, celebrating my friend's friend's birthday (this is sounding so Facebooky), all in the name of the inevitable spirit of alcohol, I mean friendship or ex-friendship.


Ladies and gentlemen, 

THIS IS ME LASHENG (DRUNK)

The Love-worthier Quasi-Humans

Over a year ago, I penned this feature for a supposed launch of an online magazine. Inspired by my growing inner feeling then that bachelorhood is a rather wondrous way of celebrating singlehood than pressing, here's a throwback to a throwback to the persistent ghost of loneliness a.k.a. singlehood, fathomed below as a life's boon than bane:

INTIMACY

Ssssshhhhh...

You want to get intimate with me?

Can I tell you a secret?

If you, with your invulnerable heart and incorruptible disposition, can promise me not to spread this like fire but akin to a kindled candle only the 2 of us can keep it burning, then here it is:

Yes, I hug my unan. I kiss my unan. I make love to my unan. Yes, we have been married for 27 years now. And for the record, we only have a love-love relationship. Leave the love-hate moments to the quasi-pillows called humans.

I call that perfect intimacy. She, my unan, knows not just who I am but what I can become. She crumples to a smile when my face creases to a frown. She cushions my dog-tired head and insists on cushioning my traffic-worn feet as well. She is sensitive to my woes but more importantly to my tears. She listens to my monologue and her listening silence alone makes it a dialogue. She babies me when adulthood is menacing crises. She balances my emotions. She is intimate with me.

Don't get her wrong. She is not necessarily passive. In fact, she'd hug me back knowing she's armless (and prefixes it with “h” when it's becoming too tight she'd assure me it's harmless), stands as an absorbent diary, and only wages fights when I declare a “pillow fight!” She is so soft she pushes my buttons on the right places and avoids so at the stormiest times. We are intimate. That is intimacy – “when she knows the right buttons to push and knows even better when not to push them,” as my best friend once put it.

It is not carnal.

It is not closeness.

It is not “you and I.”

It is not a synonym for shared privacy.

It shouldn't be a euphemism for sex.

It is detail.

It is buttons.

It is a “pillow.”

PS: I cannot even reversibly call them quasi-humans. That is a shameless insult to them. Because in our 27-year intimacy, no human and only she had stood and understood every trickle of my drool as juice of my craving dreams, a mouth agape with awe, and at the end or rather beginning of a new day, is never tempted to brand it Eeew-timacy.

IS

is tired kissing you...r a**. 

is tired missing you...are supposed to treat me.

is tired hugging you...r misgivings about me. 

is tired of you taking me...for granted.

is tired of you wanting me...to vanish for good. 

is tired of loving...the way you lie.

This One's Different

I'm used to breakups.
After 5 officially serious relationships, and a handful of not-so-serious others, even I am surprised by myself getting that Jack Skellington mode back on too easily whenever that "heartbreaking" situation would arise.
But this one's, the officially serious 6th, DIFFERENT.


First, when we got to know each other online, I got easily captivated...more by the fact that someone so beautiful would connect with me in the virtual world.


Second, in the real world, the 1st time we met was also my very first and only time I had that thing called love at 1st sight. I can vividly recall that dreamy memory when I was approaching from behind and that being a "somebody" to someone I thought would look at me as a nobody was getting just inches and inches closer. Been abusing repeating that daydream material slow. mo. inch. by. inch. slow. mo.


Third, I waited 2 agonizingly long years to become officially us. Been dating that long on and off probably because we've been waiting for the "ripe time." Not just right but the "ripe time." I mean eating green mangoes is just RIGHT for my titillation-starved taste buds but wolfing down those juicy, yellow mangoes is just the RIPE we all want, don't we?


Then 3 months ago, we became us. We tumbled for awhile at the beginning. But who the eff is perfect in the Martian world? (Okay, that "Martian world" is meant to be the 1st figurative phrase I just coined to best describe this thing). It was my happiest. Since my officially serious 1st. Both of them were the only ones to have caught myself saying, "this is the person I wanna marry someday." 


"Marry someday," yes. Thus I waited. Two effing long years. Had I had enough money, I would've married at that very instant of saying "yes, you're my lab [love] too."


Marry the person whom, Fourth point, I confidently describe Ideal for being beautiful inside out, family-oriented, super smart, super talented (let's not even talk about how we both love theater and certain same artists), career-driven, a leader, really friendly, magnanimous, Bible believer, a conversationalist, faithful, and really, really charming. Not to mention, my height. And do we make good music together? If there's a better word for YES, i'd say that, colorful flags raised, Sennheiser mics on max.


But what can I do? To someone I've waited in every possible calculated way, one wrong move can bring about one calculated decision - to break it up.


That after weighing all possible options and considerations, as a calculator would objectively say, "it's zero because it's zero." 

Not even "zero for now, but probably millions later" or 

"zero but there's hope. minds can change. so can hearts." or 

"zero can take a heart's shape too. just not now but wait, it'll reform back to the heart you always wanted to form together. like 2 swans kissing or 2 penguins lovemaking."

When it's final, it's final.

Unforgivingly zero and final.

So why is this DIFFERENT?


Because this time, even my Jack Skellington can't take that "temporary pain" of losing what he long considered his Ideal Half. Note: Jack Skellington is 100x thicker than my pathetic, weak, asthmatic skin.


that "temporary pain" that will surely evolve into an "eternal baggage."


that "temporary pain" that will haunt me forever thinking "I just lost the person I wanted to marry and that's just temporary? That happiness was...after all, just "temporary"?






My officially serious 1st just boarded the ship last month. Now cruising around the world. So I have just lost my most reliable sounding board to run to whenever breakups would happen and challenge my sanity.
The officially serious 6th has just become the officially serious 6th ex.
What to do?

Self-preservation mode?

No. What's preservable with a broken self?

Self-pity?

No. This situation couldn't get any more pitiful. Spare self of pity, and leave it to the situation.

Self-destruction?

Can be. Borrow one. But no. I'll have, in the end, no one.

Self-love?

Probably but I can't self-makelove right?

Self-ishness to love again?

Uhmmm...maybe.

Why not yes to that last?

Neil Gaiman will surely be proud of me.

Questioning Musing

why does being too good scare some people that they question reality and push them to un-trust u instead & be insecure about themselves while in the relationship? 

accept it: if i love u, that's downright coming from my heart, no less. who's loving u is merely genuinely romantic, not an unfaithful maniac.

Temporary

When you said that as I need to move forward (and actually, away from you) and that this is just "temporary pain," 

did you also mean to imply you just desired to give me temporary happiness?

Now I Know

Why I always end up feeling disappointed towards unfulfilled promises.
That's because, as you quoted Elizabeth Gilbert, "Human hearts may make their promises, but human minds can change."


Should I thank you then that you changed your mind? And consequently changed your heart?


Why didn't I ever check your Twitter back when I was doubting you? Probably because I trusted you as you never did trust me.

Last Weak is Over

Yes, my weakest week is over.
Yesterday told me so.
Everybody knows it is.
Last (time to be) weak is over.


As to how much pain I'd had to endure, I know no other way to retell it but through putting it into a song.
Here's me singing, looking jolly on the outside but quite different looking in.

It gets harder every day, but I can’t seem to shake the pain
I’m trying to find the words to say, please stay
It’s written all over my face, I can’t
Function the same when you’re not here
I’m calling your name but no one’s there
And I hope one day you’ll see nobody has it easy,
I still can’t believe you found somebody new
But I wish you the best, I guess.

‘Cause everybody knows, that nobody really knows
How to make it work, or how to ease the hurt
We’ve heard it all before, that everybody knows
Just how to make it right, I wish we gave it one more try
One more try
One more try
'Cause everybody knows, but nobody really knows

I don’t care what the people say
They brought it all in anyway
Baby don’t fill up your head with he-said, she-said
It seems like you just don’t know
The radio’s on, you're tuning me out,
I’m trying to speak, you’re turning me down

And I hope one day you’ll see nobody has it easy,
I still can’t believe you found somebody new
But I wish you the best, I guess.
‘Cause everybody knows, that nobody really knows
How to make it work, or how to ease the hurt
We’ve heard it all before, that everybody knows
Just how to make it right, I wish we gave it one more try
One more try
One more try
One more try
‘Cause everybody knows, but nobody really knows

Oh I wish you’d understand
Oh, just an ordinary man
Wish that we had known
Everybody knows, but nobody really knows
And I know one day you’ll see, nobody has it easy
I still can’t believe you found somebody new
I wish you the best, I guess.

‘Cause everybody knows, that nobody really knows
How to make it work, or how to ease the hurt
We’ve heard it all before, that everybody knows
Just how to make it right, I wish we gave it one more try
One more try
One more try
One more try
‘Cause everybody knows, but nobody really knows

Another 1st Day of Happainess

I can't quite reconcile the reality that I'm starting yet another month with another moment of Happainess.
Reality sucks.
Gelatissimo doesn't. It comforts.
Me.

Sourness of Strawberry + Darkness of Chocolate = Happainess

Song Today: Must Get Out

I’ve been the needle and the thread

Weaving figure eights and circles round your head

I try to laugh but cry instead

Patiently wait to hear the words you’ve never said

Fumbling through your dresser door forgot what I was looking for

Try to guide me in the right direction

Making use of all this time

Keeping everything inside

Close my eyes and listen to you cry

I’m lifting you up

I’m letting you down

I’m dancing til dawn

I’m fooling around

I’m not giving up

I’m making your love

This city’s made us crazy and we must get out

This is not goodbye she said

It is just time for me to rest my head

She does not walk she runs instead

Down these jagged streets and into my bed

Fumbling through your dresser door forgot what I was looking for

Try to guide me in the right direction

Making use of all this time

Keeping everything inside

Close my eyes and listen to you cry

I’m lifting you up

I’m letting you down

I’m dancing til dawn

I’m fooling around

I’m not giving up

I’m making your love

This city’s made us crazy and we must get out

There’s only so much I can do for you

After all of the things you put me through 

Why Breaking News Cannot Have a Heart

Imagine receiving heartbreaking news instead.