such a problematic relationship with teacher. it is complicated by the fact that he looks so much like my father. in so many ways, his personal attachment to his students cloud his actions, the things he says, the way he relates to us.

so he called me an airhead a few classes back. we were discussing military interventions, i wasn't particularly paying attention to his loooong and wiiiinding explications. my mind wandered off, and when he finished his monologue, i raised my hand to make a comment. which turned out to be somewhat like what he said, only i said it in one breath. obviously he was pissed. and called me that name in front of class, all of whom were mostly older than me.

i took it in stride i managed to stay composed. but i was hurt of course. and humiliated. he was acting like a complete jerk like only he can be. he made a few other side comments, equally as humiliating.

i didnt say much afterwards. i drove him back to his apartment as usual. the next class i didnt attend. that day i wasn't in any particular mood to take any more verbal attacks from him. last friday i did go to class. i was hesitant to open my mouth, but i did anyway. i made a comment before i talked about the issue at hand, about how ive been feeling intimidated by my other classmate's contributions.

i did it in part to give myself some sort of excuse in case he made another derogatory remark. something like, "let it be known that this is the airhead speaking. after i spoke he said he didn't know why i made that comment. i said, ive been finding the course difficult. he said, well its because you've been absent. i said, i've been having a hard time from the start.

we were bickering, right there in front of everyone. it was embarassing, but i didn't really mind. i said, id like to talk about it later. he mumbled something like he didn't want to talk about it.

during the break, i approached him to flesh things out. i dont know what happened, but i explained my side, crying. i told him i was hurt when he called me an airhead, and made other comments. he apologized, saying i should know he doesn't really think that, and that he didn't know those words escaped his mouth.

what could i do? he hugged me tight. i wanted to let go because our other classmates where probably 4 feet from us and heard the whole exchange. it looked like a lover's quarrel for crying out loud. and he kissed my forehead. god, i thought he would kiss me.

this is without doubt, a brilliant man. i would say he is the best professor i've ever worked with. but he is also a highly unpredictable, volatile man. that is why, im keeping my distance from him.

i just hope, people don't talk.

its another sunday. and its pretty bad. just abject loneliness. longing for someone. just anyone? or a particular someone? my knight in shining armor? fuck, i don't know. i just feel so miserable today. no amount of clove cigarettes will dispel the the feeling. i wanted to go spend some time with my mom, but she's gone to tagaytay to see a property. business. i suppose to help keep her busy. maybe she's lonely too.

ecstasies in addictions

wallow in the ecstasy of self-indulgence. savor the after taste in your mouth. hold on to the moment, savor each nuanced detail. commit the taste, the feel, the smell to memory. breathe it in deep and slowly, reluctantly exhale. let it go. let it out your mouth, in between your lips. open up.

delight in the freedom of losing control. be free. free yourself of guilt, restraint and self-repression. succumb to the temptations and embrace self-destruction with open arms.

the depths you're willing to sink reflect the mindless joy of the moment, feeding your addiction. loving your addiction. basking in your addiction. falling down the downward spiral, in ecstacy still, you wonder how far til the very bottom. will it hurt? will you bruise? will you break?

enjoy your trip down the path of no return. never let there be doubts or regrets. never has self-abuse and self-loathing been wrapped up in such a heady concoction. leave the hurting for later.

i've had my share of astoundlingly stupid things i did. and last night takes the cake. fred came over because i pushed him to. i just wanted to see him and talk. we did, for the first couple of hours. on my bed of course, wit the u.s. open in the background.

i told him i will not make out with him. but maybe i wasn't forceful enough. maybe, i didn't really mean it? because i so wanted to hug him/touch him. and it feels so good when we kiss. the things he does to me. i don't have a problem with that. my problem is his reaction right after. because the last time, he pulled away from me. emotionally.

so last night i was prepared. maybe i wont hear from him in a few days. i got profuse apologies and regrets from him on text. i didn't respond. because i didn't regret it. i love this person. i think. why else am i risking so much because of him? why else did i let him have his way last night? because i wanted to get him off. because it felt good. because i care for him. but do i have the strength to not break when things go really downhill?

he says he cares for me and loves me as a friend. he says we probably shouldnt be in a place alone anymore because he can't help himself. are men mindless slaves to their lust? i wish i knew the answers. i wish i knew how he really felt for me. am i sending mixed signals? because that is all i get from him.

the things that come to mind when driving...

of whores, pimps and tits

advertizing is the the whore of capitalism. no its the pimp of capitalism. nah, better yet, according to muffin, its the tits of capitalism. yes. advertizing makes whoring customers of us all.

glossy, shiny ads unfold their come-hither promise of fulfilling our every need. from the basest to the loftiest. from the cheapest to the most expensive. ads cater to our desires of spontaneous fulfillment. the urge to acquire and consume is brought to fever pitch. constant bombardment of images flood our senses. from dusk til dawn, every waking moment they call to us.

and like zombies, we answer. under hypnosis, every created want must be sated. nevermind the limits of our buying capacity, nevermind the inanity of the actual product being bought. nevermind the superficiality. bandwagons must be rode on. trends must be caught...much like disease.

image, stature and status must be upheld. the flashier the whore the better. the best pimps must exhaust all their creative juices to sell at the highest price possible. and we, customer-sheep, are powerless it seems to resist. after all, who can deny the urge to fuck and be fucked?

i meant to just get my book, 'global transformations' from him. i really did. i drove there, last night, to our meeting place, not a little bit angry. i was unsettled, a bit furious mostly because i felt rejected and hurt by fred. it wasn't an excuse to just see him. because if i really wanted to, he offered to give me the pasta he made a couple of weeks ago.

and so 9.30 sharp i was waiting in the car outside for him. he came, taller than i remembered last. he seemed to have gained weight, which is good rail thin as he is. i saw him, clutching my books and it was awkward. both of us standing looking at each other, not knowing what to do with ourselves. and then he reached into his pocket and brought out a small stuffed dog. "i want to give this to u for safekeeping," he said. my resolve melted, my anger blown away like ashes of clove cigs. water pooled in my eyes, and i can only stare at the brown and beige doggie, dumbfounded.

"do u want to sit down?" i said. we sat down, sitting perpendicular to each other. as usual, he was staring at my breasts. but i take no offense, since he does it every time we see each other. they're part his afterall, or so i said when things were uncomplicated and sweet.

we sat down and made small talk. i asked him what to call the dog. he said it looked like his dog haru who died a couple of years ago. more small talk, mostly i wasn't looking at him. but i was looking at his arms, his hands. i so wanted to reach out and touch him. the electricity, the want, the chemistry if you will, between us is palpable. still. i hadn't seen him in weeks, and what i truly wanted was mostly unarticulated even to me last night. but when i got home, i knew that i still wanted him.

it was only 15 minutes or so. he was sick and had to go home. i needed to be away from him before i took leave of my senses. he walked me to the car, i opened the door and he said, "can i get a hug?" my eyes watered again, i was looking at a point over his right shoulder, but i gave him his hug. half-baked, half-assed. i didn't want to touch him too long. it hurt.

when i got home, i cried. because i realized i missed him. it didn't matter how much he hurt me. like always, through text, he told me he loved me. friend. always with that qualification. he said he'll love me in his own obscure ways. i believe him. i texted back saying i wish i had the wisdom to see him trying and that i loved him too. and that i wish i had the wisdom to do it selflessly.

a practice in self-obsession. when we get into a romantic relationship, don't we fall in love with ourselves through the eyes of someone else? loving and appreciating ourselves through someone else.

isn't that just fucked up? but doesn't it have the ring of truth in there somewhere? we see ourselves through another person's perspective, our flaws are accepted and glossed over, our strong points admired and appreciated. and we preen, pose and are glad for it. isn't falling in love the ultimate act of vanity?

so are we destined to be drawn to the same kind of person over and over to correct past mistakes in failed relationships? so it would appear. i keep getting attracted to the same kind of man. dark-skinned, independent, self-contained, self-made and a bit antisocial. the relationship starts, like all new ones, giddy and exciting. it mounts into intense fireworks...then goes downhill from there. what am i doing wrong? and how many times do i have to go through this to learn my lesson?

god has a bone to pick with me. this year has been a lesson in humbling. and without question, i have been humbled. i think s/he's teaching me valuable lessons in giving and in patience. in forgiving also. question is, have i learned anything? wish the learning process weren't so painful.

my damned pride won't let me realize how puny i am as a human. how inconsequential, how irrelevant. my world of course, always revolves around me. but i like it that way. reaching out to other people only seems to cause pain. and an added distraction i can't really afford. but trying to unravel other people is addicting isn't it? and once the mystery is solved? it all seems to go downhill from there.

sometimes i wonder if my brain is even capable of attaining even the slightest bit of immateriality. but i am material, made of flesh and bones. the spiritual seems farfetched, and not quite of this world.

flashes

clips of images flash before me.
behind naked eyes,
blindly seeing
the naked lust in yours.

fused mouths flash before me.
the slightly sweet taste
reminds me.
the feel of your lips, your tongue, your teeth
covering my flushed body.

addled by lust, hot flashes
course straight between.
the imprint of you
fused in my head.
the feel of you in my mouth, embedded.

need flashes between.
wanting, craving you and hating
the empty bed, emptiness
of you leaving.

anatomy of emotional disengagment
dead inside you say. heartless you say. incapable of feeling you say. low emotional quotient you say. a classic emotionally retarded male.

a divorce occured in your psyche, in which the part of you that feels is switched off. whether voluntarily or not is debatable. the causes of such divorce might take some time to correctly identify and disentangle. and i am not in the position or frame of mind to do so for you. i have no rights. i have no obligations.

do you suffer the ill-effects of an unhappy childhood? have you learned to turn off that part of you that gets hurt each time you are rejected? is that it? or is it just because you're afraid? of what? of being hurt? we all get hurt. we all have our crosses to bear. we all bleed red.

don't you crave the feeling of closeness sometimes? don't you miss the feeling of belonging to something other than that world inhabited by one? is it worth it? are you happy living in your head? won't you venture out once in a while. being happy means taking risks. it means going out on a limb. it means reaching out and being reached in return. it means turning on those switches you've turned off.

why should you feel the highest of highs if you can't feel the lowest of lows? do you want a flatline? in the middle, seeing nothing. feeling nothing. open your mouth. say something.

10 Things I Hate About Funerals

10. funeral parlor agents -- your father is there lying dead in the morgue. even before you're fully coherent of what has happened, like buzzards...funeral parlor agents await you outside, waiting to pounce on you while your guard is down. if u do not have the presence of mind, u'd be robbed of 300,000 pesos on an impersonal funeral service. vultures living off of the dead.

9. mmda rescue team-- first off, they take forever to 'rescue' the victim from the mangled car. so long in fact, the victim doesn't make it to the hospital. second, the fuckers steal all the victim's valuables and money. only in the philippines.

8. bystanders/'witnesses' to nothing-- stupid morons couldn't even take down 3 letters and 3 numbers of a red car. too busy
ogling people inside smashed car. and contemplating how they'll be able to steal from the victims. at least they didn't take my mom's credit cards.

7. capitol medical center clerks in 'admissions'-- they hear you wailing your lungs out. you learn of your father's death. and what do they do?? they continue jabbering on on the phone like insenstive mongrels that they are.

6. money-grubbing relatives-- no decency whatsover. they suck you dry while you'r busy thinking about the specifics of the wake, the legal/paper work, how to feed people, your mother in the hospital. they blindside you....and take as much as they can while you're not thinking clearly. blood is so fucking thick it congeals.

5. maniac priest of sto. domingo church-- theres the dead lying there father, what the fuck are you doing manhandling me and one of my titas?

4. walang hiya former friends of my mom-- there for the spectacle, waiting to see a show. as in, my father's mistress showing up and making a scene in the wake. then they go and harass my mom when she's finally discharged from the hospital. they have the gall to show their faces, act contrite, and expect to be catered to by my mom who's obviously not in any condition to do so. fuckers. dipshits.

3. insensitive highschool classmates-- obviously tactless to ask 'o, ok ka na?' hello. my father just died. stupid. and then they
go on jabbering about beauty pageants and beauty contestants. and then jabber some more while a mass is going on. stupid fucks. who asked you to come anyway?

2. worrying about what to feed people, and how to 'entertain' them-- this has got to be the only country where people come
to wakes at all hours of day/night. dont they have specific veiwing hours in other countries? we have got to rest for crying out loud! and then they come and expect to be catered to like we're hosting a party or something. it is a wake. somebody died. DEAD. as in not coming back. do not expect to be fed red ribbon pastries along with your orange juice.

1. the man lying in the casket is my father.

my father died. car accident last monday. he and my mom were driving their fancy car. like a reckless kid, he lost control and slammed against this building along edsa. my mom broke her left arm. last week was hell for me. anyway here is the the euology i wrote:

Dear Papa,

Where you are, no pain endures, no troubles worry, no grief abides, no sorrow should linger. Where you are there should only be comfort and peace and love. Where you are, we, your loved ones gathered here, your friends, your family, remember you and celebrate your life, however brief it may be. Where you are, your pure heart reaches us still. Your kind intentions, kind words, kind eyes.

We are here together in solidarity. We are gathered here today, papa, to bid farewell to your earthly remains. Everyone has come to help usher you in, on a new chapter of your life. And in a new chapter of all of our lives. A chapter in which you shall continue to live on through all of us in our memories. A chapter in which you will be watching over all of us in God’s embrace.

People seem to be at a loss, coming up to me, Jon and Mama, thinking of consoling words to say, something they could do to ease the pain. But what does one say to a friend when a loved one has passed away? There are no words to describe our sorrow in your passing. Just like there are no words to take away the grief and make everything right again, back to how it was when you were here with all of us.

So we gather here today, and embrace the pain. Because the pain reminds us all how you were, alive. The pain reminds us how you will be much missed. How you have touched all our lives however briefly. And so we embrace the tight feeling in our chest for it will get us through the toughest times. I know, in my heart, that should the sorrow remain, so too does love for you Papa.

I know Papa would like to thank each and every one of you, for coming here today to see him, and share in the grief of his family. And so, I thank you. Mama thanks you. My brother Jon thanks you. And Papa thanks you.

isn't life ultimately about relationships? its about cultivating and tending to ur family, friends and those around you. they need care and constant attention or else they will wither away. we're social beings and ultimately we need other people to validate our existence. so us breathing, alive, taking space in this universe has some sort of meaning. and we're not just taking up space for making money, being famous and living disjointed lives. we need people. you and i. not just to make life more exciting and meaningful, but to learn from, to compare notes. just..to be. how come nobody taught me this? could it be i wasn't listening? why is it that life's best lessons have to be learned the hard way?

nice. this is great. not only is my tagboard down, but so is my commenting system. time to change...which i'll get around to doing as soon as possible.