lobo

bansky wall art

balloons do not appeal to bale’s senses as much as books, music, toys or movies do. to bale, a balloon is just one part of the vast cosmos. he recognizes its significance to the whole universe, although he thinks the impact of a balloon to his life is relatively light years away. he thinks about things this way. aside from those things close to his heart, everything else seems irrelevant and trivial. this is bale’s life- not until he encounters the first red balloon that makes his heart beat with explosive lub-dubs in dolby digital surround.

for others, the balloon may seem like another balloon that makes up the vast cosmos of their existence, but to bale, it is even more significant than his books, music, toys or movies.

he met the balloon in a dark alleyway opposite ignoland when his heart and mind are both under the cumulonimbus clouds of desperation and fear. the balloon string wrapped itself to his wrists the moment it touched his skin giving him something to hold. since then, he never lets go of the string.

time proves that the balloon does not only provide an excellent company, but also serves as friend to bale.

it does not take long before love develops between bale and the balloon. the company of the balloon brings security and calm to bale. the hand of bale offers guidance and companionship to the balloon.

one should take note that at the beginning of their relationship, the balloon flies at par with the height of bale standing upright. but as the intensity of bale’s love for the balloon increases, his desire to raise the balloon to the pedestal up above the clouds becomes stronger.

each day, bale would breath love a la helium inside the balloon to inflate it and to make it fly higher. in as many times as possible, bale would huff and puff and huff and puff his air of love inside the balloon. after a relatively short amount of time, the balloon rises above bale up to the clouds, all filled with love.

for a fleeting moment bale feels happiness embracing him.

he still holds the balloon string in his hand. he can still see the balloon dancing with the wind up in the sky, red, dominant, happy.

at a certain point when bale could not contain the air of love in his system, that he wanted to huff and puff it again to the balloon, he realizes that the balloon has gone too high that even pulling it down with the string in his hand will do no good.

the red balloon that now appeals more to his senses than books, toys, music and movies is now way beyond his reach.

the wind often forces him to let go of the string but his mind and his heart is adamant to hold it tight.

now, bale walks around and contents himself blowing his breath of love to the wind hoping it may touch and reach the balloon.

bale is happy and contented with no regrets whatsoever for putting the balloon up above the pedestal in the clouds. at least he still has his balloon. despite what happened, bale smiles for he knows that the balloon would still move back down to him in the future when it runs out of air.

mahal ang gasolina

wag na wag mong hahayaang bigla ka na lang mawawalan ng pagmamahal sa taong nagpapatakbo ng buhay mo ngayon. kapag nagkataon, ang lagay eh para kang biglang namatayan ng makina sa freeway, hihinto ka, mababangga at babanggain ka, maaksidente ka, at maari kang mamatay.

of questioning the intangible

debra lewis sings very special on the radio as he prepares his monologue to his fog smeared reflection in front of the mirror.

“all my love is all i have
and my dreams are very special”

where is this frustration steaming from?

is it because you think you love the person more than the person loves you before?
is it because somehow, deep down in the abyss of your subconscious, you feel less loved, less special, and less important? crap.
how do you gauge that shit thought of yours huh? is it the lesser number of i love yous? is it the fewer amount of sms? is it the absence of smileys? wtf.
you, of all people should know that smileys, the words i-love- and you plus all the other cheesy-mushy sms, are just arbitrary signs and symbols that can never really be used to gauge a person’s love.
wait, is there really a love meter out there? i don’t know.

can you measure love? maybe not.

you often say i love you in almost every medium and way possible whenever you feel an eruption of feelings. you do love the person that much that you just have to keep on saying i love yous every now and then eh? you were never like that as far as your memory tells you.

“all my life i've looked for you
and today my dreams come true”

now you think it is your entire fault. all this feelings that make you feel crap right now is the product of your over expression. you know very well that you should never expect anything in the first place. you know that! what? has your rationality been shut down since your heart operates non-stop with love?

and so you try to repress yourself. yes, you told yourself to say i love you, i miss you and whatever words of affection you have in your arsenal in moderation. no, you don’t want to say those words at all.
and yes, you repress your feelings. and then what? it still hurts right? what an idiot.

going against the flow of love is like betraying your instincts, it is like messing up with your mind, it is like postponing the beats of your heart, it is denying the natural order of things, it is going against the universe! look what you get now.

you feel pain thrusting its claws deep in your head. you feel your heart pumping irregular beats. you feel your muscles ache. nausea posses you.

you think love can be quantified? i don’t think so.

so what is this bullshit about?

“you need me and i need you
love and us is very special”

when you try to measure the love of the person you love, you don’t really measure love per se, you are measuring the person. you are measuring the person’s ability to say i love you, the person’s reactions to your sms, the person’s sensitivities, the person’s sensuality.

you know very well that it should never be the case. you remember one seemingly stupid joke you heard about love.

“love is not the question, it is the answer.”

sounds stupid but it could make sense if you think about it.

how can you succumb to the doubt, the opposite of trust, to rule over your heart and mind when you very well know that you love the person? wait, you never had doubts regarding your love for the person. you have doubts regarding the person’s love for you.

you need to get back to your senses soon. i doubt if you can keep up with this i will not say i love you to you every second of the day façade.

you know, love will always be there but the feelings fluctuate.

the level and the intensity of love is everchanging so never expect your love to be reciprocated in the same level, amount or intensity because it is impossible. take note, you cannot measure love. you learn that in grade school, love is intangible.


you need to get a life.

“love and life and life is loving, it's very special”

he turns his back against the mirror, grabs his phone and said i love you.

reading ghostwritten

i wanted to say that it’s not america they’re aping, it’s the japan of their parents that they’re rejecting. and since there’s no homegrown counterculture, they just take hold of the nearest one to hand, which happens to be american. but it’s not american culture exploiting us. it’s us exploiting it.
-satoru

this is one of the powerful lines that caught me so far while reading david mitchell's novel ghostwritten. satoru, a half-filipino, half-japanese kid who loves jazz music, is one of the poignant characters of the novel. the novel features chapters in various places around the globe (mongolia, london, okinawa, petersburg) i am still stuck at hongkong. i'll tell you more about the book after i move forward to different places. sleep always punches me down in a chapter for days whenever i will try to read on the bus and on the train.

adventureland is summer’s chocolate chip pot cookie

james (jesse eisenberg) is a comparative literature major whose graduation is not really the most pleasant of all. his less than two weeks girlfriend breaks up with him after he confesses his virginity and then he learns that his parents will not be able to fund his europe trip and his college education after his dad was transferred to a new job with a lower salary which leads him to find himself a summer job as a games host at the local amusement park in their town- adventureland.

james thinks that summer will be a bummer and boring (as the lightly desaturated hues of the movie to adapt to the 1987 setting) because of the job hours and the salary until he meets em (kristen stewart). since then, things get better and more exciting than taking a roller coaster ride and winning a giant ass panda that nobody ever wins.

saying that kristen stewart is hot in this movie is an understatement. she does not only make this movie more romantic than twilight, but she also shows that she can act! consider me now as an official fan. actually i just realized that kristen is the hot singing yuppie girl at the movie into the wild, ok consider me now as a super fan.

writer/director greg mottola adds a spin of superbad with a great mix of romance, love, pain, drama and hope to this movie that can leave you high like em’s chocolate chip pot cookies.

since i always find comfort in the aura and the sensation brought by old songs, falling in love with the soundtrack is a breeze. inxs, crowded house, david bowie, the replacements, the cure, and the velvet underground are some of the artists that delivers great music throughout the film.

adventureland is almost like nick and norah’s infinite playlist but is more attractive in some ways. perhaps it’s the classic pop music, the laidback life, the pot sessions, the virgin love affair, the random adventures and the life itself of the characters.

voicemail

i hear you

you hear me

but our voices never meet

please leave your message after the beep.

just woke up, partial headache with the dreamers

matthew (michael pitt), the american cinephile exchange student in paris is an advocate of a revolution of thoughts, intellect, culture and love. he is against violence, that’s what he always say to his newfound friends in paris, the twins isabel (eva green) and theo (louis garrel). isabel and theo’s radical beliefs and ideologies against the government and the ongoing war is often countered by matthew, the american with liberal thoughts. although the culture of theo and isabel greeted matthew’s senses right smack in the face, he slowly learns to accept what he perceived to be the twisted life and relationship of the twins (sleeping with each other, taking a bath together, kissing, watching movies, role playing scenes from classic movies, etc).

one night, matthew and theo had this conversation as they were drinking the age old wine of theo and isabel’s father:

matthew: if you really believed what you were saying, you’d be out there.

theo: where

matthew: out there on the street

theo: i don’t know what you mean

matthew: yes you do. there’s something goin on out there. something that feels like it could really be important. something that feels like things could change. even i get that. but you’re not out there. you’re inside with me, drinking expensive wine, talking about film, talking about maoism, why? no, tell me why? ask yourself why? because i don’t think you believe it.

somehow, the drunk matthew contradicts the sober matthew who is never an advocate of violence in demonstrations.

bernardo bertolucci’s the dreamers (2003) deconstructs many of the common society’s norms about family, brother-sister relationship, friendship and love. the film shows the dreamers (matthew, theo and isabel and all the other extras of the film) in their own pre-conceived, developed truths and how they are able to make their dreams into realities.

the most poignant scene for me is the time when matthew tries to convince theo and isabel to abandon their plan of fronting the line of demonstrators to surreptitiously throw a bomb to the line of policemen. matthew says that they have to fight with their brains and then kisses theo and isabel to imply the importance of love but the twins were adamant and inseperable. they pushed through the front line, joined the flood of people on the streets, and an uproar signs the clash of the opposing forces of the society.

hold your scream inside the hurt locker

the hurt locker is a bomb that you can’t easily diffuse by shutting your eyes and covering your ears. this kathryn bigelow film about a group of u.s. army explosive ordnance disposal (eod) (bomb squad) team in present day iraq is more explosive than the transformers smashing and destroying structures and historic monuments around the globe.

the explosions of this war movie are not limited to the bombs exploding around the warzone. it extends and resonates far deeper into the senses, echoing the violence of war, amplifying the deafening silence caused by the conflicts of the mind and the heart, and continuously igniting the fire of the truths that are like bombs ready to detonate in front of us anytime.
the movie kept me glued to my seat, with fists clenched, teeth clashed, and breath on hold because of the incessant pounding of my chest. thanks to the solid imagery and the raw elements of gore and violence.



kudos to the production staff and the director’s talent in arranging the elements of suspense, drama, excitement, passion and choices in an engaging way that allows the audience to experience the dangers and the life inside the labyrinth of war that often seems distant but is actually around us.

if you want a different kind of an explosive movie, watch the hurt locker. this movie best shows the deadly explosions of silence.

graffiti of the mind

lungs are slowly painted snow as i breathe the fumes of the white lacquer spray paint for over 15 minutes inside the room that deprives air of escape. if i stay there for another minute my lungs would swell with toluene together with all the other chemicals trapped inside the can of aerosol paint.

my childhood memories tell me how i used to like the generic paint fumes and how i would secretly sniff it from freshly painted walls and furniture around the house. the pleasure one can derive from the occasional inhalations is addictive. yes, i was an addict. the smell paints an atmosphere of temporary euphoria, paralyzing the senses, in many ways than you could imagine and trapping you in a place devoid of fresh air to breathe- which at times could be your salvation that will remind you of who you are.

i underestimated the demi-god of the workplace when he ordered me to cover the coffee-colored stains on the walls using the can of lacquer spray paint. i thought the paint job will be as easy as a fart but i was wrong. standing on top of the aluminum ladder to target the stains spells h-a-r-d and spraying the paint all over the place spreads suffocation.

the first five minutes will give you a false feeling of happiness. childhood memories flood the mind, memories of first crush, first love, first kiss, etc. the next five minutes will offer thoughts of the future. plans in the next five years, possible career move, gradual changes in dispositions and ideologies, achieving goals set- most of these thoughts dominate the mind at this point. the more you stifle your breathing, the more you inhale the paint fumes. the following five minutes is cloudy, perhaps due to the amount of paint fumes inside your body. at this point, when the paint fumes dominate the oxygen in the air, a revolution starts to boil inside. thoughts of why the hell am i here and what the eff am i doing this crap pops and is suddenly replaced by feelings of self pity, anger, regrets, ecstasy, bliss, lust, pain, hope and excitement. without warning, those thoughts appear like shackles and chains that traps you in your situation. your head feels funny, your breathing limited, your heartbeats out of rhythm, your senses shut, and your spirit down as if enslaved by the can of paint in your hand.

at times like this, willpower is essential to free the self. i summon all the remaining strength and sanity of my being and decided to quit. i deliver the paint fumes to their exodus out into the office rooms, down to the corridor, out into the outdoors. i slam the door open just in time before my lungs get white.

balance of the sexes in other communities of the world

this one is interesting. nat geo's taboo features various communities around the globe that recognizes many other genders/gender preferences aside from a man and a woman.


Around the world, customs differ, but almost every society shares one thing the concept of gender. Many believe that there are only two: man and woman. But in India, transgender men who cut off their genitals live as women and form a third gender. In Indonesia, hermaphrodite priests lead a society that recognizes five genders. And in rural Albania, women swap one gender for another to gain equality. Sometimes even the most conservative cultures must make room for those who challenge convention. But for many, embracing additional genders is still taboo.

eirōneía

at the toilet pool
life escapes the cicada
sleeping alone

a fly awaits death
down the web between flowers
freedom falls as rain

video clears obama's glance-to-sexy-back photo

apparently, one frame does not capture the truths of the scene.

f u control freak

f u
cannot control the world your way

f u
think you’re extra special because you’re the only one who feels exhaustion and pain

f u
feel like the cosmos will always be on your side

f u
think you own my life

f u
speak to any human being as if they’re your puppets

f

u

!

firebrand

stinging blisters and scarlet blood marks appear around his lips whenever his soul detects the looming presence of the firelion of his heart. it’s as if the dormant volcanoes under the epidermis of his skin are programmed to erupt whenever they sense the approaching aura of the firelion, forming clouds of memories of the flesh, the heart and the mind.

the marks are not rashes, mind you. one may say that those marks around the circumference of his mouth are signs of the repressed burning affection to the firelion. those could also be the marks of the firelion’s kiss but nobody can really tell.

it could be attributed to his intimate connection with this firelion, but nobody really knows. the firelion owns his heart now.

medical specialists fail to pin the source or the cause of the burns. no technological advancement of the day could surmise the sudden appearance and disappearance of the red marks.

it only occurs before and after his sudden encounters with the firelion whenever the twins of gemini balances on the towering scales of libra.

no soy meteoro

mexican co-worker wears his yellow meteoro shirt. once he told me i look like meteoro. then he gestures his hands creating an invisible helmet then steers a metaphysical wheel while flashing his big hagrid-like smile. he speaks limited english so most parts of our conversation are composed of hand gestures and a number of facial expressions. he told me i resemble meteoro more whenever i wear my large and dark sunglasses. i allowed him to continue for a few more minutes before i was able to pop my question, “who the hell is meteoro?”

“meteoro! don’t you know meteoro?” he said. “no, i’m sorry”. he motions his hands steering an imaginary wheel. “fast!” was all he can say afterwards.

to solve the early morning puzzle, i consulted google and found out that meteoro is speedracer in spanish. oooh. interesting. yes, it’s the anime speedracer later turned into a movie of psychedelic colors with lots of cg sequences. in the film adaptation, meteoro was played by emile hirsch, the guy who played the character of christopher mccandless aka "alexander supertramp" in the movie into the wild.

i find a similarity between me and meteoro the racer- we are both driven by the will to do what’s best for our loved ones while inevitably attracting trouble. but that is all into it. i don’t know how my large and dark sunglasses makes me look like a racer, but it somehow makes me look like an anime though.

years back, i always wanted my life to happen quick, like speed racer quick. you know, i wanted to grow up fast, experience this and that fast, do this and that fast, finish this and that first, until at a certain point i felt tired and suddenly realized that i should slow down. experiencing life in a speed racer racing kind of speed gives you a psychedelic view of the world at speed around you- you don’t get to appreciate the details and the smallest of things that could have made you happy.

as of now, i think i am more like the into the wild guy, alexander supertramp who took things real slow while pondering and experiencing life till one day he met his demise in alaska, alone. i am no meteoro. i enjoy speed but i don’t want to race with life right now. in a race, there’s a high probability that when you crash, you die, instantly. i don’t want a quick death without appreciating the tiniest beauty of the world around me.