Farewell, Penthouse

Let’s say goodbye, the hundredth time, and tomorrow we’ll do it again

– My Chemical Romance

Penthouse – this is a special place brimful of memories that will hold a special part in the hearts of its occupants lulled to a bottomless ocean of hopes and dreams. Its lofty location is a downside to weak and shaky knees unaccustomed to endure winding stairs, with the innumerable flight of steps to boot. Getting here to feel its magnetic warmth would surely offset the tiresome jaunt. This can be the only place in the campus where only few of the many bright minds meet, where individuals of different idiosyncrasies, ideals and endeavors congregate, where brainiacs gather to postulate senseless and sensible theories, debunk faulty procedures and standards, and raise significant and not-so-significant points for this small world to acknowledge or refute. This is the only place where intense intercourses are an imperative to ejaculate the irrepressible qualms of the curious mind; and masturbation is solace for the world-weary and downtrodden spirits (of course, this is done mentally). If you want to unwind after the school hours, feel free to sing and belt out gibberish to your heart’s content and drown your sorrows with a surplus of general knowledge, anecdotes, criticisms, bloopers, juicy gossips, highbrow words, prejudices, porno reviews and all that jazz. This is the only place where euphemisms are always triple-entendre, where the genderless Christian God can have a phallus, where formalities and politeness are temporarily disregarded for the sake of barbarism, and where appearances are just superficial attributes to the deception each and everyone is capable of doing. Those who have already set foot on this hallowed ground will surely realize that life is a cosmic joke of sorts. The transience and impermanence of life is but an outright contradiction against its essence and purpose.

Should the killer boredom strike unbidden, there’s another world which lay just on the other side of this working room. It is colloquially known as the Veranda. The vistas of the Manila skyscrapers puncturing the sky, the colossal statue of Lapu-Lapu facing west, the LRT carriageway with its three generations of train cars, the massive corroding columns and girders of the former Jai Alai Building, plus a beautiful sundown rendered picturesque by Rayleigh scattering and the polluted Manila air, make it a favorite haunt for those who want to kill time and want to derive inspiration from some elusive and unseen Muses.

This place has already charmed many generations; those who are too smitten by its mystical aura can vouch for that. At this point in time, letting go of an old friend may not become a piece of cake. Packing bags, stripping it of its contents and vacating it for good are equal to saying those unutterable parting words. So long and good-bye.

Star Gazing

I always love to look at the stars, to marvel at their nocturnal beauty, and to admire them wholeheartedly like a teary-eyed child after recovery of his lost cherished playthings. So God really loves all of us, and just by looking at the stars I feel kind of extra-special because of this mystery-laden wonder. He, who flung about lump of rocks and self-illuminating gaseous balls in this ink-black stretch of vastness, is the reason behind the intelligent design of all things seen and still unseen.

And now, we can enjoy romantic candle-lit dinners under the star-seeded heavens, with the faint but cute backdrop of the Milky Way, the ambient light of the full moon, the twinkling constellations and the short-lived pretty shooting stars in a collision course towards the Earth.

It never fails to amaze me that we are all just microscopic carbon-based specks dwarfed by celestial supergiants and humongous spheres of helium and hydrogen. These things, some of which are beyond human scale, do nothing but evoke perplexity and human insignificance.

Nevertheless, we are no ordinary creations; we can think, we can reason out, we can feel, we can fare the oceans, and we can reach the heavens and the outer space. But from an omniscient point of view, we are just wretched bunch of grasping creatures, ever clueless and confounded as to what the Creator’s intentions really are.

I always love to look at the stars and ask myself the absurd, oft-repeated question Why am I here? What if I’m just created to admire the starry skies? What if my sole mortal purpose – my raison d’etre – is to become astonished by the Universe’s inscrutable complexities? I don’t know… I don’t know yet.

Nang Binosohan ko ang Mundo Nila

Ang sarap pala maging bossing, kahit saglitan lang. Kapag binigyan ka na ng oportunidad na umupo sa dakilang office chair (ang pinakamatayog sa lahat), wala ka nang ibang papangarapin pa kung hindi ma-glue ang pwet mo sa kalambutan nito. Gagawin mong tomba-tomba ang leather na upuan, dede-kwatro ka at kukuyakoy, itataas-baba ang lever, at iikot-ikot ito na parang carousel. Sa harap mo naman ay nakatambad ang isang computer monitor na widescreen ang aspect ratio, nakakalula ito, pero sanayan lang. Fit for a king, ika nga.

Pwede kang manood ng hardcore porn na life-size dito, pero sa bahay mo gagawin yun, dahil ikaw nga ang bossing, disente ka dapat. Kapag trip mo naman, puede mong utusan yung mga subordinate mo na ipagtimpla ka ng kapeng walang asukal, o ibili ka ng Coke Zero sa Mini-Stop. Mag-a-abot ka lang ng malutong na paper bill habang sumisipol at tatapik-tapikin mo ang armrest ng iyong 'seat of authority.' Maangas di ba? Pero may mas maangas pa dyan. Ikaw, bilang bossing, ang kinatawan ng kampanya mo at ikaw ang haharap at mambo-bola sa mga kliyente. Ang mga tauhan mo naman ang sasagot ng telepono at magbu-bukas ng pintuan kapag may bisita. Sila ang magko-compute kung magkano ang total expenditure ng inyong kumpanya sa mga nagdaang buwan; ikaw naman ay hihikab lang ng malaki habang pupungay-pungay ang mga mata. Ikaw ang utak, sila naman ang kamay. Kung baga sa pelikula, ikaw ang bida, at mga sidekick lang sila.

Hindi lang masarap maging bossing, masaya din pala. Bilang bossing madiskarte ka dapat, madaling mag-isip, may presence of mind at may katangian ng isang competent na pinuno. Hindi ka magiging bossing kung pagtunganga lang ang skill mo, ang pagba-browse ng mga sexy picture ni Ariani Nogueira ang inaatupag mo, at pagfe-Facebook at sumagot ng quiz ang agenda mo sa office hours. Kung ganito ka, wala kang karapatang umapak sa hallowed grounds ng isang opisina; mas bagay kang mamitas ng mga talbos sa kangkungan.

Ang sarap pala maging bossing. Dahil narating mo ang isang tuktok na sinimulan mong akyatin galing sa baba. Bossing ka, hindi dahil pinalad ka, kung hindi dahil naunahan mo ang mga subordinates mo sa isang uphill climb, dahil mapangahas ka at malakas ang stamina mo na lampasan ang mga pagsubok. Pustahan, wala ka sa posisyon mong yan ngayon kung wala kang direksyon sa buhay, magulo man ito pero hawak mo pa rin ang manibela. Dahil hindi ka nakaupo sa napakalambot na office chair kung wala kang commitment sa trabaho mo. At dahil hindi ka ngayon naka-titig sa nakakaliyong monitor kung hindi ka nag-pursige, nag-tiyaga at minsan ay nag-ilusyon na magiging bossing ka rin.

Inspiration

It is a gut instinct to stoop down at the sight of a beautiful object or a formidable piece of art that triggers and evokes chaste emotional admiration. But to weep at them is more sublime than to kneel in astonishment. To appreciate aesthetics in its raw and final form is nothing compared to dissecting the materialization of a form starting from random whims and concepts up to its making. Creating an art out of nothing is the climax. Having a productive input is the anticlimax. From an outright vacuum sprouts horror vacui, a chaos blooms into order and unity, and a vast array of beautiful form and shape pandering to man’s every senses is admittedly the corollary. We see magnum opuses of all sorts every day, we pass across them, step on them, touch them, but some people’s appreciation is threateningly low. Those who overlook have little or no sense of harmony at all. The minority who appreciate are those who build, improve and keep each and every type, kind and form of art. Those who destroy have no sense of harmony; they have incongruent minds that signify disorder. Nature, the mother of all art, must be revered and respected. Being the highest form of art and the unanimous apotheosis of beauty, it lends form to many facets of man’s way of life and way of thinking. So the next time you see a marvellous creation, it is not necessary for you to kneel and fake a baby cry, just breathe deeply, relax, and let the Muses do take control.

Kingpin

If I were a kingpin, then you were a cog. Guilt of insignificance may attack anyone unawares, but it still can be remedied. If you find yourself a waste of space, a particle of dust that always end up stuck on allergic nostrils, then your days are now numbered. Finding your niche in this world is not that easy, but learning to adapt to every situation will surely make a big difference.

In Between Sex and Scandal

WITH PURITY AND WITH HOLINESS I will pass my life and practice my Art. I will not cut persons laboring under the stone, but will leave this to be done by men who are practitioners of this work. Into whatever houses I enter, I will go into them for the benefit of the sick, and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and, further from the seduction of females or males, of freemen and slaves.

-Excerpts from the Hippocratic Oath.


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If I were to record a video of myself having a kinky coitus with a voluptuous, submissive and oversexed woman on a king-size bed, I would make sure that that precious video would last more than eleven minutes full of erupting passion. I would position the handy video cam in a well-hidden vantage point without her knowing it. I would perform sadomasochistic rituals worthy of videoing, and then perfect both the introductory and closing rites with a brain-freezing, mind-blowing you-know-what. I would make sure the audio is fine-tuned and the LCD allows for ultra light sensitivity to record superbly the melodic moans and the fast-paced drama. After the fussy preparations for this act of love would come the fruition – a sex video that would make illicit movie pirates earn easy bucks and the old conservative fogies of the Optical Media Board gloat with disgust, or horniness, for all I know. But that would only happen if I was a person who was out of his mind, a person whose sanity was hanging by a thread. If I recorded one, or yet another one, I would meticulously stash it into a personalized compartment at home, and it was my duty not to leak them in the cyber space and garner the monitors of sex-starved netizens jerking off their way onto the pearly gates of heaven.

Never would I share them to everyone, even to my closest friends, and never would I let my partner know it. But the lecherous pervert that I was, and if necessity of thrill arose, I would upload the carnal video sans the incriminating faces of mine and my partner to protect our ‘dignity’ and save my sorry ass from the curbed humiliation. Oh, paradoxes really go hand in hand. And if I were a public-servant professional, a practicing physician with the well-chiseled body, the good looks and a bountiful libido, with the hots for groin-paining chinita TV commercial models, and actresses who splurge money on habitual rhinoplasty and breast augmentation, and Amazon models, I should duly find a way not to spill the beans of my dirty deeds. I should play safe because if and only if I were an ethical person; and I should not if I were a brash, attention-seeking, perverted prick. Not to mention that I have had violated human rights, so to speak.

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If you want the link/s for the video sites, find them yourself in the Internet. Just be resourceful. Take my word for it.

Haiku: Rain

It's not that I'm feeling emo because of typhoon Emong, it's just that I'm running out of decent things to do.


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Rain, rain, go away,

Why early in summer days?

Ashore, let me play.


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So instead of going out, I am cooping up myself in the house, thanks to the intermittent rain showers and a signal-number-one storm unusual for the sunny season. Earlier this day, I took a bath under the rain, and the raindrops were piercing and pelting my skin. Acid rain, probably.