You make me shoot you one for three (143) points.
No, you're no rebound.
You make my heart dribble so fast how can I say foul when what I did for you was fall.
Oh how my love for you will never ever fade away.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Bask In Love, Basketball
For so long, I have been travelling.
You make my heart dribble so fast how can I say foul when what I did for you was fall.
You make my heart dribble so fast how can I say foul when what I did for you was fall.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
When Music Listens
Last night saw me Bed Soundtripping yet again. That lull into the twilight when sleeplessness makes you ponder, reflect, introspect, brood, & eventually overthink things I shouldn't even be bothering myself with in the first place. But Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce & Mariah were simply an inescapable nightcap.
Could that set be any gayer?
The funny part was I was just playing Usher, Chris Brown, Ne-Yo & Bruno Mars days prior and boy was I so into the mood for love during such high time.
Could that even be a straight thing, dude?
Whatever.
Thing is, when these ladies started filling my ears with their bittersweet music, instant schmaltz crept into me. Unwelcome musings began flooding my head: with my current "BTB" (boyfriend-to-be) status for someone, am I
a. being taken for granted? Put on hold because presumably not going away?
b. being a wait-there guy? Placed in a queue of priorities and only when I am worth a time or two will I finally earn my well-deserved turn?
c. being stupid? Held back by somebody who thinks I am too unassuming, too meek, too good (to be true), a lamb to the slaughter, a reserve, despite the explicitness of enamored feelings?
d. being tested? That if I make a single misstep, I'm automatically out.
e. being saved the best as I may be the last? Sounds the one I would want to be.
Heck, my music knows me better. And surely, Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce and Mariah all knew it wasn't my listening to them that mattered last night. Instead, it was THEIR listening to my every thought between their heartfelt lyrics, their pained words & affectations that did. That whenever we soundtrip to our favorite singers' hits, it's not us who really do the listening; it's them as they transform to become our biographers & therapists. And that notion relieves our hearts, knowing there is someone (or some star) out there who can retell our life story, a star who sees above us, who can translate our indescribable pains into words, and transmute our outbursts into glorious belting. Music therapy - Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce and Mariah as our best listeners in times ourselves cannot be to our own.
Could that set be any gayer?
The funny part was I was just playing Usher, Chris Brown, Ne-Yo & Bruno Mars days prior and boy was I so into the mood for love during such high time.
Could that even be a straight thing, dude?
Whatever.
Thing is, when these ladies started filling my ears with their bittersweet music, instant schmaltz crept into me. Unwelcome musings began flooding my head: with my current "BTB" (boyfriend-to-be) status for someone, am I
a. being taken for granted? Put on hold because presumably not going away?
b. being a wait-there guy? Placed in a queue of priorities and only when I am worth a time or two will I finally earn my well-deserved turn?
c. being stupid? Held back by somebody who thinks I am too unassuming, too meek, too good (to be true), a lamb to the slaughter, a reserve, despite the explicitness of enamored feelings?
d. being tested? That if I make a single misstep, I'm automatically out.
e. being saved the best as I may be the last? Sounds the one I would want to be.
Heck, my music knows me better. And surely, Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce and Mariah all knew it wasn't my listening to them that mattered last night. Instead, it was THEIR listening to my every thought between their heartfelt lyrics, their pained words & affectations that did. That whenever we soundtrip to our favorite singers' hits, it's not us who really do the listening; it's them as they transform to become our biographers & therapists. And that notion relieves our hearts, knowing there is someone (or some star) out there who can retell our life story, a star who sees above us, who can translate our indescribable pains into words, and transmute our outbursts into glorious belting. Music therapy - Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce and Mariah as our best listeners in times ourselves cannot be to our own.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Today's Date: January Happy
I once declared myself Jaded.
Debunking the possibility of that Hallmark-defined thing called True Love.
Heck, there are more divorces than marriages these days.
Adele is a hit.
Heartbreak rhymes more with Chocolate Cake, Love with Dead Dove.
That is, every heartbreak seems a celebration of reunion with oft-ignored friends (gorgeous candle included), a liberation from emotional diet (extra poundage of tears and drooling included), a still time to capture sweetness in your Solitary Life's context than in Relational One (extra bitterness and betterness included).
Dead Dove? Do I need to redundantly shout "self-explanatory"?!
For all that, I lied. It's more than once I declared myself Jaded.
It's been a push-and-pull game between a rosy picture & a bitter graffiti of Love.
It's been "I love you...only you...now and forever" to each and every piece of emotive history.
It's been Love as a Music to my Ears and Music as an Ear of my Love.
It's been Heartbreak as a mere "break," not one's own life to take; and ah, Love that fits like a Glove.
This day may have seen me spoiling myself with my First Simply Thai, First Gelatissimo for the Year or First Sinfully Gift from Someone Who's Made A Mark in my Heart yet...
I still don't believe in Love unless we're describing my family, my faith or myself.
But I believe in that happiness so indescribable conventional people call them Love.
Yes, only the conformists could comfortably agree it is dubbed Love.
I can honestly say though that I feel ineluctably incomplete saying I ____ you without having to include Love.
Maybe I still rely on conventionality, conformity and completeness at times I feel my heart is blissfully happy with someone as blissfully happy.
But only I can tell it is Like, Omnipresence, Vitality, and Endearment at the indistinguishably same time.
Debunking the possibility of that Hallmark-defined thing called True Love.
Heck, there are more divorces than marriages these days.
Adele is a hit.
Heartbreak rhymes more with Chocolate Cake, Love with Dead Dove.
That is, every heartbreak seems a celebration of reunion with oft-ignored friends (gorgeous candle included), a liberation from emotional diet (extra poundage of tears and drooling included), a still time to capture sweetness in your Solitary Life's context than in Relational One (extra bitterness and betterness included).
Dead Dove? Do I need to redundantly shout "self-explanatory"?!
For all that, I lied. It's more than once I declared myself Jaded.
It's been a push-and-pull game between a rosy picture & a bitter graffiti of Love.
It's been "I love you...only you...now and forever" to each and every piece of emotive history.
It's been Love as a Music to my Ears and Music as an Ear of my Love.
It's been Heartbreak as a mere "break," not one's own life to take; and ah, Love that fits like a Glove.
This day may have seen me spoiling myself with my First Simply Thai, First Gelatissimo for the Year or First Sinfully Gift from Someone Who's Made A Mark in my Heart yet...
I still don't believe in Love unless we're describing my family, my faith or myself.
But I believe in that happiness so indescribable conventional people call them Love.
Yes, only the conformists could comfortably agree it is dubbed Love.
I can honestly say though that I feel ineluctably incomplete saying I ____ you without having to include Love.
Maybe I still rely on conventionality, conformity and completeness at times I feel my heart is blissfully happy with someone as blissfully happy.
But only I can tell it is Like, Omnipresence, Vitality, and Endearment at the indistinguishably same time.
Now Playing:
"If this isn’t love, tell me what it is.
'Cause I could be dreaming or just plain crazy"
"You try to fight it, don't even try to hide it,
emotions falling down like the rain.
I can't find the words to explain it.
Ain't it crazy how I fall
everytime you call my name"
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Happy News Year!
Happy Anniversary!
Whew!
That sounds a lil better than mere Gong Xi Fa Cai.
All the same, this year and last appear to be no less than promising.
In fact, 2010, according to one broadsheet, was "perfect."
Can't wait to grasp 2011's version of this perfection.
Whew!
That sounds a lil better than mere Gong Xi Fa Cai.
All the same, this year and last appear to be no less than promising.
In fact, 2010, according to one broadsheet, was "perfect."
Can't wait to grasp 2011's version of this perfection.
"Picture Perfect"
Photography: Joe Malicdem
Publication: Manila Bulletin
Date Published: January 25, 2011
Page: G-6
Monday, January 9, 2012
Not A Matter Of
"Timing, in love, is not a matter of time.
Mr. Right or Ms. Right, in love, is not a matter of person."
- Kristofferson Guela
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Hard Humor
A mordant sense of _ _ _ _ _ - hard to find.
- hard to find a match in.
- hard to find a match in this sarcastic world.
- hard to find a match in.
- hard to find a match in this sarcastic world.
3 Kings, 3-Year-Old Epiphanies, 3 Poems
It's all about the 3 today.
3rd entry this year.
3 Kings.
3 Poems I have exhumed from my iTouch's Notes, safe-kept for
3 years now.
While they may sound coming from a lovelorn heart, they do not necessarily reflect my undisputedly happy state these days.
3 words - I'm just saying.
3rd entry this year.
3 Kings.
3 Poems I have exhumed from my iTouch's Notes, safe-kept for
3 years now.
While they may sound coming from a lovelorn heart, they do not necessarily reflect my undisputedly happy state these days.
3 words - I'm just saying.
U can ignore drugs but not addiction.
U can melt ice cream but not the flavor.
U can take a break but not forever.
U can cover with umbrella but not over the rain.
U can kill a charming boy but not that love.
Time has a clever way of healing pain in the sense Fate has a clever way of bringing back that pain…the feelings…the love…again
and again
and again
even in more Times Time will be able to heal.
Cut me nails; make me clean.
Net search me; make me wanted.
Drink my RTD; make me wide awake.
Cut the talk; you make me lonely.
Ban me; you make me aborted.
Dehydrate me; you make me drown in my nightmares…and daydreams of wanting you back.
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