Wednesday, June 29, 2005


I never realized how hard writing my second book was going to be. I am officially two years behind in getting this project done. Getting published for the first time around was more or less an accident, I'll admit that, but now there is expectation, now there are deadlines, and now I got people breathing on the back of my neck. I sit down, and I feel focused. I feel determined. I feel inspired, but the stories and that come out on the computer screen simply don't add up to what I want to reflect. There are moments where I feel this intensity, and I write pages and pages of amazing stuff, but after a while that energy sputters out and it doesn't maintain itself. There are times where I feel like I am being buried in quicksand, the more I move the faster I get buried by this avalance of earth. The expectations are all mine, I don't feel like I have to impress anybody or anyone. My editor is satisfied with my journey, but obviously wants this all to end.

Which leads me here... Where am I? I know I have enough in my notebooks to finish my book, but how come I don't feel like its complete. There is something missing. What is missing? The past three years of my life have been incredible, tragic, and inspirational, and yet how do I piece these experiences together cohesively. I have a writer's block. I know that. I've had a writers block for months. I need to shake myself up.

I want to tell a story about transgression. Pushing the limits of one's body and mind. I want to challenge the perceptions of nature and technology. I want to write about desperation, what happens to intrinsically to us when we become desperate, and when if everything is lost, how we piece ourselves back together again.

I've been playing around the title of the book, and I like the concept of "dust" somewhere along. The closest working title I have so far is "From Dust". I like the biblical analogy to it, and it connotates a return to our roots. And the stories and poems in the book all revolve around that concept.

Friday, June 24, 2005



God! I love that show...

Thursday, June 23, 2005


During our high school reunion, Emily reminded me of one of my favorite past times in high school, scribbling on other people's book covers. If you sat anywhere around me in any one of my classes, I guarantee I would fill your paper bag book cover with so much nonsensical streams of consciousness, that you would have me committed to an insane asylum. Writing in other people's book cover was the only way I could keep myself sane from the mundane. It was really just a high school habit, because when I got to college I stopped doing it. Well first of all no one uses book covers in college, and none of my classmates wanted me to write on their books because they were planning to sell it at the end of the semester. So my habit of writing on book covers died out. That was one of my favorite memories from high school. I really wished I would've kept some of those writings.

Since I got back from the Philippines most of my friends have been walking around me like eggshells. They're very careful about mentioning death or morbid things around me, and it's starting to get annoying. Everyone is being extra nice to me, and really careful about my feelings. They're letting me get away with things that they would never let me get away with before. Please! Pretty please, with sugar on top, STOP IT! I feel a sin coming on, so please don't make excuses for me, I know I'm not.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: I Turn My Camera On (Spoon), Everything I Once Had (The Honorary Title), Everyone Knows Everyone (Helio Sequence), Talk (Coldplay), C'Mere (Interpol), Everything Is Everything (Phoenix), Sleeping In (Postal Service), and Spiders[Kidsmoke] (Wilco).

Tuesday, June 21, 2005


I am surrounded by people who are bored with their lives. They fail to see the inspiration that creeps up from each crevice, and it can be frustrating. I don't believe anyone should ever be physically slapped, but I think some people deserve to be shaken really really hard. There are stories around us each day, life is interesting...

"Do I have an original thought in my head? My bald head. Maybe if I were happier my hair wouldn't be falling out. Life is short. I need to make the most of it. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm a walking cliché. I really need to go to the doctor and have my leg checked. There's something wrong. A bump. The dentist called again. I'm way overdue. If I stop putting things off I would be happier. All I do is sit on my fat ass. If my ass wasn't fat I would be happier. I wouldn't have to wear these shirts with the tails out all the time. Like that's fooling anyone. Fat ass. I should start jogging again. Five miles a day. Really do it this time. Maybe rock climbing. I need to turn my life around. What do I need to do? I need to fall in love. I need to have a girlfriend. I need to read more and prove myself. What if I learned Russian or something, or took up an instrument. I could speak Chinese. I'd be the screenwriter who speaks Chinese and plays the oboe. That would be cool. I should get my hair cut short. Stop trying to fool myself and everyone else into thinking I have a full head of hair. How pathetic is that. Just be real. Confident. Isn't that what women are attracted to? Men don't have to be attractive. But that's not true. Especially these days. Almost as much pressure on men as there is on women these days. Why should I be made to feel I have to apologize for my existence? Maybe it's my brain chemistry. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. Bad chemistry. All my problems and anxiety can be reduced to a chemical imbalance or some kind of misfiring synapses. I need to get help for that. But I'll still be ugly though. Nothing's going to change that."
- Charlie Kaufman

If there is one thing I love about living in LA during the summer, it's the musical acts that come to town. Here is a list of concerts I'm going to...

- Royksopp at the Hollywood Bowl - I've been waiting ages to see this phenomenal UK act, and to see them live at the Hollywood Bowl is just ice cream on top.
- Coldplay at Chula Vista - Need I say more.
- Ben Folds and Rufus Wainwright at the Wiltern - Sounds like a night of unforgettable music.
- Tiesto at the Sports Arena - I missed Tiesto on NYE, there ain't no way I'm missing him this time around.
- Beck at Universal City - Beck rocks! Beck rocks!
- Ryan Adams at the Wiltern - The most anticipated concert this summer in my calendar.
- Tegan And Sara at the Henry Fonda Theater - The return of my favorite twin lesbians to Los Angeles.

The act of splitting a hair four ways.

Don't be a mere two-way hair-splitter; grasp your pedantry firmly
in both hands and split your hair crosswise into four. This word
has found a secure if niche existence in the lexicons of academics
with a sense of humour since it was invented by Umberto Eco in his
novel Foucault's Pendulum, published in English in 1989. In a
mocking attempt to reform higher education, one character proposes
a School of Comparative Irrelevance, whose aim would be to turn out
scholars capable of endlessly increasing the number of unnecessary
topics. In it would be a Department of Tetrapyloctomy, whose
function would be to inculcate a sense of irrelevance in its
students. Another department would study useless techniques, such
as Assyrio-Babylonian philately and Aztec Equitation. The word
combines "tetra", four, with "pilus", hair (as in "depilatory"),
and the ending "-(e)ctomy", a cutting. As the component parts come
respectively from Greek, Latin and Greek it's a miscegenated
linguistic sandwich that no self-respecting scholar would invent,
which is no doubt why Umberto Eco found it to be appropriate.

Monday, June 20, 2005


I had my 10 year high school reunion on Saturday night, and it had been at least 10 years since I had seen most of the people who went to my high school. Some people changed, but for the most part everyone is pretty much the same. I learned that we all lead pretty dull and boring lives; and beyond all the pretentious smiles were a lot of unhappy people in the room, and that's kinda sad. When they talked about their degrees, jobs, cars, houses, investments, children, and stuff, I didn't sense that they were all genuinely happy with their lives. I didn't feel an overwhelming sense that people were doing things that they really wanted to do in their lives, and that were not taking full advantage of their opportunities, and that's a tragedy.

Reunions are nothing more than pissing contests, whomever pees the farthest and the longest wins. Perhaps its how society has defined success for us, and our inability to break free from that social standard. I've always felt and thought a little different, perhaps even a little detached from the friends that I grew up with. I refused to define myself by their standards, labels, cliques, and perceptions. "You label me, you negate me!" I've always been a little bit more adventurous, willing to take risks, and unafraid to make mistakes; and sometimes it leads you to dark corners and dark alleys, where you are forced to confront the darkness within yourself, but there is value in that. Then there are those moments when it all comes together perfectly, and the world is your oyster, and you are the happiest person in the room. It makes it all worth it, no matter what price you paid.

It was all very easy for us to regress back to our old cliques and social habits. I was determined to not fall back to those old traits if I was going to attend my reunion. So before everyone got settled down on their tables, I randomly chose a table with no one sitting on it and placed my jacket on there. I was going to take a chance by sitting in a table with random people. I did not want to fall victim to the same old barriers that divided our class, and I found satisfaction by hanging out with people I never got to know in high school. I had the opportunity to catch up with people that I never really bothered to know. Yet, we all shared a common experience, for better or for worse they are all a part of my childhood and this is something that will bind us forever.

"We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us..."

I kept hearing that quote from Magnolia all night. I've confronted most of my demons over the past few years, but there was one that I haven't had the opportunity to resolve. Perhaps this was the wrong time and place to confront her about this, but it was something that had to be done. I really didn't know what to say or do, and I'm not sure she knew how to react to it as well. I'm not sure if anything was really resolved (and I'm not sure if it will ever be resolved), but I'm glad that I was able to at least apologize and say my peace.

I probably drank too much. I probably didn't take things too seriously, but I was glad that I went it brought back some wonderful memories of my childhood.

Steffi will be flying in from Stuttgart in a couple of weeks. I haven't seen in her in over a year, and I'm excited to see her again. She's only staying for a couple of weeks, and I'm not quiet sure what her itinerary is, but I'm looking forward to meeting up with her.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005



The Jeepney is one of the symbols of the Philippines, it is a reliable and inexpensive way to get around the city. It's kinda like a bus, but its better than a bus because there are no designated stops. During the day, swarms of jeepneys, all with various paint jobs, invade the city like locusts, they are everywhere. So I've written a primer on how to properly ride a jeepney in Bacolod City.

How to get on a Jeepney:
1. Stand wherever you are, and wait for a jeepney to stop. Read the route written on the side of the jeepney, and usually they'll ask "Masakay ka 'to??"

2. If you...
a. don't like the jeepney looks
b. don't like the music it is playing
c. don't like the driver looks or smells
d. don't see any hot chicks inside
You can
a. look everywhere else but at the jeepney, and ignore the driver
b. step back and stare at other jeepneys
No need to bother and open you mouth...

3. Once you're in a jeepney, don't make eye contact with other passengers, clutch on to your wallet and other valuables, and refrain from starting unnecesary conversations while you're in the jeepney, people will just look at your weird.

How to get off a Jeepney:
1. Say in your normal tone of voice: "Sa lugar lang..."

2. Wait until the driver acknowledges you when he replies in the same tone of voice: "May manaog di...?"

3. At this point, as you're about to pass your stop, you can scream at the top of your lungs: "Sa lugar! Sa lugar lang!"

4. If the driver fails to stop, don't worry as the rest of the passengers will assist you by whistling, screaming, and banging on the jeep until it stops.

5. As the driver finally pulls over a half kilometer away from your destination, you have the option to yell: "Bungol!" If he stops a full kilometer away, then you have the option to yell: "Puta!!"

6. Take your sweet ass time to get off.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005


After seeing Talk To Her, I was inspired to check out Pedro Almodovar's Bad Education. Here are my reactions to this movie:

"Ummmm, OK!"
"Is he really going down on him?"
"So that's what it looks like..."
"Is anyone watching me watching this movie?"
"I should take a cold shower after this movie..."
"Enough of this homosexual tension already!!!"

This movie is a mind-fuck!!

Why do white boys love Dave Matthews Band? If you are a white boy, age somewhere between 20-40, there is a 90% chance that you own a DMB Album. I mean white boys love DMB, and they are dedicated. They act like teenage high school girls at their concerts, gawking and fawning at DMB. I mean don't get me wrong, I think DMB is a fine musical artist, I have nothing against him, but its just eerie how almost every single white boy is connected through DMB. Say anything bad about DMB, and you're bound to get some white boy all riled up.

Monday, June 13, 2005


This weekend Mary and I went to the 8th Annual Erotica LA Convention at the L.A. Convention Center. I had a lot of fun, met a lot of creepy guys, but I definitely had a lot of fun. I've never really met a lot of porn stars in my life, most of them are stereotyped as abused, drug-riddled, and sex-obsessed whores, but they're not really that much different than regular girls. Sure they've been part of gang bangs, but I know a few goodie-goodie girls who have a few skeletons in their closet as well. The only difference is that porn stars get paid for doing it and it is recorded for future viewing.

There is something about porn stars that just make you want to take them home and cuddle up with them in front of an open fire. Their skin is softer than you'd expect, especially after years of being fucked by countless men. Their fake smile is so good, that you're actually convinced that they are enjoying it when six fat, hairy, and smelly men are grabbing them from every direction.

During my stroll through the LA Convention Center, I actually met up with one of the porn stars. We hit it off pretty well, and we exchanged numbers and e-mail addresses. Now, I don't know if I can ever date a porn star, but it was pretty cool to know that I can get one's phone number. And no, I don't plan on calling her. And no, I won't give you her name or her number, so don't ask.

Here are some pics, I hope you enjoy them as much as I did:

For more pictures check out my friendster photo album...

Why do girls love to do the wave in a baseball game? I think the only reason girls get dragged out to see a baseball game is for the chance to be part of the wave. What is up with that?

Thursday, June 09, 2005



I finally had the chance to see Pedro Almodovar's haunting film about two men who love two women in comas, but are in very different circumstances. Although there were various themes about love, friendship, and sexuality that were wonderfully woven in the story, it was his exploration of solitude that really grabbed my throats. There is a creepiness and charm in the character of Benigno (Javier Camara). His character makes you uncomfortable, but you can empthasize with him because he has so much love to give in his heart, and all he really wants to do is love the woman of his dreams. Marco (Dario Grandinetti) has a different situation, his relationship with a female bullfighter is turned upside down when she goes to a coma after being gored by a bull. The two men meet each other in the hospital, and develop a friendship that binds to each other, and the women that they love.

The characters develop so beautifully in this movie, that I found myself wondering if this story was originally written as a novel. The story and the character really captured me, and disturbed me. I found myself unable to sleep for hours after its viewing. This is what a motion picture should be.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Fix You (Coldplay), Cucurrucucu Paloma (Caetaon Veloso), Comin' Back (Bent), Dirty Epic (Underworld), How Do You Keep Your Love Alive? (Ryan Adams), Bombay Night Of Dreams (Ottmar Liebert), and Smooth Operator (Sade).

Tuesday, June 07, 2005


Throughout the past NBA season, I have been cringing at the success of Shaquille O'Neal and the Miami Heat. As a devout Laker fan for most of my life, I was really troubled with all the disparaging comments that Shaq had for the Laker organization. After almost a decade in LA, I finally understood why everyone hates Shaq when they're not playing for their team. Shaq is just a big lazy crybaby. So when he was traded to the Miami Heat for Caron Butler and a bunch of stiffs, I knew that the true measurement of that trade relied on whether Shaq could deliver a championship to Miami. Thank god he's not doing it this year, at least for a year Mitch "Cupcake" Kupchak can be relieved that he didn't just give away a championship to Pat Riley. If Miami doesn't win a championship with Shaq, the trade was a draw as far as I'm concerned. God it felt so good watching Shaq lose to the Pistons last night.

As for the Lakers, the future looks grim. The draft is coming in a few weeks, and I'm not too optimistic that they'll be able to get anyone that can actually make a difference. I'm not a big Kobe Bryant fan, but I've always rooted for the uniform rather than the player, so I'll root for him as long as he is wearing the purple and gold. Those Lake Show days with Nick Van Exel, Cedric Ceballos, Eddie Jones, and Vlade in the mid 90's were a lot of fun, and we never won a championship.


First I have to say I love Coldplay. Now that I got that I out of the way, how come this album sounds the same as A Rush Of Blood To The Head. Where the hell is the innovation?? If Coldplay is supposed to be the next most significant band of my generation, they have to evolve, or they'll simply implode and become Counting Crows. X&Y is a pretty decent effort by Chris Martin and gang, there's hardly a bad track in the whole album. His trademark crescendos are still omnipresent throughout, and it buoys the songs that transition from soft to loud, then loud to soft. Parachutes continues to be one of the best albums I have ever heard, and Rush of Blood and X&Y, although they are outstanding musical accomplishments, pales in comparison to the lyric and sonic genius of Parachutes.

Yesterday Steve Jobs announced that Apple was no longer going to use the IBM Power PC Chips that they've been using for over a decade. Starting 2006 they will start using Intel chips for their Macs. After years of fierce rivalry between Apple and Intel, Apple conceded to their competition. It's not all bad, but it's not all good either. For the next two years or so Apple will suffer some growing pains, but its loyal customer base will be happy because they will finally see faster processor speeds on their macs. We can only hope that Apple's strengths, innovation and creativity, will continue as they utilize the power of the Intel processor.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005



If you can't read the headline it says "A mysterious log holds the secret to an outlaw's past and a threat against Lucas and Mark McCain". This is just too easy...