Still dreaming of holding a microphone while singing Bon Jovi’s It’s My Life after spending the night before tiring my vocal chords on a videoke get-together with my friends at the office, and as a result, I forgot to prepare a suitable outfit for my cousin Sheryl’s wedding. All my pants were in the laundry, dirty. I thought of the cargo pants not suitable, so I didn’t wear it. But why on earth did I attend the wedding on shorts? I even asked my friends if it is okay to wear shorts going to a wedding even though I already knew that they will shout a no as an answer. Bon Jovi, Shot to the heart and you are to blame. You give love a bad name.. 
I banged open the door to my mother’s room and yelled, “All ready.” And my mom, who was busy making herself beautiful, asked me, “Is that what you’re going to wear?”
And I looked at myself and said, “Yes. Don’t you worry. I’ll stay at the last pew.” She smiled.
My uncle arrived to pick us up. As my mother and I were going towards the car, my gossipy auntie, who was, at that time, doing their laundry asked, “Hello. Where are you two going?”
My mother said, “It’s my niece’s wedding.”
She then asked, “And why is she wearing that?”
Hey, hey, just do your laundry, okay?!, Karen Walker silently shouted for me.
No more “Why are you wearing shorts?” questions. We stopped by at my uncle’s house to get his family and other relatives.
While waiting for others to get ready, my mother and Lola got into a discussion about a relative’s daughter who is now working abroad. I was busily taking a picture of the wedding invitation when Lola said to me, “Kaya ikaw mag-asawa ka ng Kano para dalhin ka sa US.”
Lola, if you’re talking about the American living in Calabasas, California, who loves surfing, who calls his dog Sativa, who is allergic to Sorbet, who sings with Mike, Jose, Kilmore, then I will live to your American Dream, I mutely commented.
Less than an hour of travel and we arrived finally at Mt. Carmel. Uncle Ed, Kuya Edwin, Auntie Clarita, and the other visitors were there already. The wedding itself was solemn except for my niece Analyn and nephew Adrian’s whines and shrieks. The lad was asking the lady to give him the mass booklet saying that my mom needs it. The lady refused to give it to him. And their little play was heard vis-a-vis the priest’s sermons.
When the wrangle was over, Analyn saw me with a camera and asked me to take a picture of her. And here she is.
And Adrian busied himself hitting the ebonies and ivories on the pew.
I liked it when the couple kissed after the priest officially declared them as man and wife and butterflies flew all over them. Here they are after the ceremony.
At the reception area, Oasis, while doing the traditionals.
I adore the cake, the leaning tower of Pisa cake, as I call it, as much as I like their idea of wind chimes as souvenir.
I want petit cakes for my wedding, though, placed at every table, and for the souvenir, what about a rocking chair, kidding, nothing in mind.
Tragically, Uncle Ed, who refused to let go a tear for a daughter who will now start her own family, suffered from stroke. A few words for the couple, a dance with her daughter and he collapsed. He was rushed to St. Lukes, the nearest hospital, and he is now at Labor Hospital under observation after having an operation. I pray for your recovery, Uncle Ed. I know how muy bien a father you are.
Filed under: Backdrop, Tabloid | Tags: Cannes, Fernando Merseilles, Foreign Language Films, reality, violence and poverty
Big Brother questions our stagnant performance and immediately orders our punishment.
The Public explains and makes a compromise.
A petal falls.
The Masses complains.
Change is inevitable.
The black one is under the mat
Or sitting on top of the gerbera daisies while mom is not around
Or seriously watching the Jellicles perform — memory… I was beautiful then…
I miss the one who wrote me this poem scribbled on the back of A.S. Byatt’s Little Black Book of Stories that she gave me:
A Song for Myself
i.
a beautiful song
sweetly playing in my heart
has now played its last
ii.
the placid waters
conceal their grief in ripples
of purple silence
iii.
a stranger sits by
the bank of the blue river
they sigh together
iv.
a new melody
is soothing my downcast heart
the last tears depart
v.
you catch the morning
when it comes… the dawn’s embrace
always brings a song
And I miss the one who sang me this song:
(whistling)
Here’s a little song i wrote,
you might want to sing it note for note,
don’t worry, be happy
in every life we have some trouble,
when you worry you make it double
don’t worry, be happy
dont worry be happy now
dont worry be happy
dont worry be happy
dont worry be happy
dont worry be happy
aint got no place to lay your head,
somebody came and took your bed,
don’t worry, be happy…
And I have to get out of where I lurk right now.
Big Brother isn’t doing anything sobresaliente for its employees.
Filed under: Familia
[e.e. cummings]
…His flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn’t creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile…
…his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he’d laugh and build a world with snow…
My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)…
1(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l
iness
On the December page of my centennial journal, Eraserheads was featured. Band’s history was posted on there. It reads: “In 1989, two college bands from the UP Diliman searched for members to form a new group. In December of the same year, Curfew, which consisted of Buddy Zabala on bass and Marcus Adoro on guitars, met with Sunday Sunday, composed of Ely Buendia on vocals and Raimund Marasigan on drums. The four decided to form The Eraserheads, from the movie “Eraserhead” by surrealist director David Lynch. Eraserheads became a prominent Pinoy rock band of the 1990s and one of the most influential bands in the history of Original Pinoy Music. For their unparalleled achievements in the music industry, they have been frequently regarded as “The Beatles of the Philippines.”
I remember my Kuya playing their Cutterpillow album on our old cassette player, and learning on the guitar the Poorman’s Grave intro, one of my favorite songs from the group alongside Fine Time, Waiting for the Bus, Wishing Wells, Huwag Mo Nang Itanong, etc. I like Poorman’s Grave because it gives the listener a glimpse of social categories and their differences, the almost cliche dichotomy of the poor and the rich, of the helpless and the powerful, of the well-fed and the hungry. Now, I think of my professor in Philippine Institution quoting Rizal, saying that the masses were yet not ready for change because they still possess low level of consciousness. Catholicism was pointed out as the main reason of the repression of knowledge back then. That was in the late 1800 and what about now?
Poorman’s Grave Lyrics goes like this:
I.
I know a man who had nothing
He was a poor man all his life
He lived in a shack by the roadside
With starving kids and a loving wife
II.
He went to church every Sunday
He prays from morning until night, he said
Good Lord, why have you forsaken me
When everything I did I thought was right
Refrain:
Now my Life is coming to an end
There’s only one thing I’m wishing for
All my days I have never sinned
So I hope you won’t ignore
What I’m asking for…
Chorus I:
Oh, honey when I die
Dress me up in a coat and tie
Give my feet a pair of shoes
That I haven’t wore in a long time
Put me in a golden box
Not a cross on a pile of rocks
Bury me where the grass is green
And the gates are shining…
Chorus II:
Oh honey when I die
Give me a bed of roses
Where I could lie
I’m gonna use up all the money that I saved
‘Coz I don’t wanna lie in a poorman’s grave…
III.
I know a man who had nothing
He dreamed of satin sheets all his life
He lived and worked like a dog
Licking every boot he sees just to survive
IV.
He comes home drunk every night
Wakes up the kids and talks to his wife, he said
Honey you have been so good to me
I only wish we had a better life
Refrain II:
And now my lifes coming to an end
There’s only one thing I’m wishing for
All my days I have lived in shame
So I hope you wont ignore
Just what I’m asking for…
Chorus I:
Oh honey when I die
Dress me up in a coat and tie
Give my feet a pair of shoes
That I haven’t wore in a long time
Put me in a golden box
Not a cross on a pile of rocks
Bury me where the grass is green
And the gates are shining…
Chorus III:
Oh honey when I die
Give me a bed of roses
Where I could lie
I’m gonna use up all the money that I saved
‘Coz I don’t wanna lie in a poor man’s…
Oh honey when I die
Give me a bed of roses
Where I could lie
I’m gonna use up all the money that I saved
‘Coz I don’t wanna lie in a poor man’s grave…
Filed under: Licorice | Tags: Brandon Boyd, From the Murks of the Sultry Abyss, Incubus, White Fluffy Clouds
Wishing I have his two books: White Fluffy Clouds and From the Murks of the Sultry Abyss.
Filed under: Licorice, Tabloid | Tags: Brandon Boyd, Eraserheads, Incubus, Morning View
Planning to take hold again of my brother’s guitar, which I quit playing after Eraserhead’s Huwag Mo Nang Itanong sounds monotonous when I strum it, I went to his room to get the instrument. In there, I found the guitar hanging on the wall, acting like a Van Gogh painting. I grabbed the instrument, laid it on my brother’s bed and started looking for those old song mag we have.
I found myself looking at a Music Channel song mag … where music speaks your language!…, which I bought, as far as I remember, because its cover is the Irish pop act discovered by Ronan Keating called Westlife. Yeah, I was a sponge during my high school days, liking what my girlfriends like, not having a concept of what Music really means.
And kudos to my enlightenment!
Now, I eyed the unread article:
“Two years and two million records after the release of “Make Yourself,” we Incubus were hell-bent on the idea of making our next record in an environment that would transcend the confinement and potential banality of the conventional recording process. We needed to continue moving forward with the ideas and adventurousness, which sparked this project into flame so many years ago. Escape that creepy, dentist’s office vibe which seems to permeate every recording studio, and most importantly reinvent the concept of the ‘Studio Tan.’
So, in keeping with those philosophies, we all moved into a magnificent Malibu mansion, set up our gear in the living room what was used here and it was donated by a very generous and talented man by the name of Steve Vai. One late evening, we began conjuring and experimenting with this track and it quickly brought to mind the image and analogy of floating freely down a river; hence the content of the song. Our friend Suzi Katayama, who has in the past worked string arrangements with the likes of Bjork, Madonna and even yours truly for an acoustic performance in L.A., lent her classical finesse to this story. And in doing so helped it become exactly what we envisioned — a song so atmospheric and vibratory, it would make those who listened to it doze off into a land of rivers, kung fu, unicorns, eventually making the listener pee in his/her pants. (Attainable goals I think, but please don’t operate any heavy machinery while listening to this one.)
These are but a few of the songs on a very diverse record. And though they will give a pretty good indication of the climate of this work, I would encourage listening to the entire album preferably while driving down your friendly, neighborhood highway (minus the last song.)
I am sure that we are all aware of how ridiculous the idea of a band biography really is especially one about a band who has accomplished very little in retrosepct. The word in itself, biography, invokes the thought of self importance, large unnecessary adjectives and an 8 by 10 picture showing you all how vain we really are. But it is a necessary evil, for now. And if it in any way, large or small, allows us more time and resource to continue pursuing our idea of eccentricity and tracenDANCE, then I am willing to bend a little. So if you have any questions regarding theraphy, Pirate-Core, tour bus full contact grappling, plastic surgery, who slept with those girlfriend and/or any other inquiries, please don’t hesitate to refer to our website board, where every rumor you hear, read, and/or come up with all by yourself is 100 percent true.”
Cheers,
Brandon.
