nicotine free

it’s been a week that my lungs have gone to break from suffocating. i want to quit. i could no longer take cigarettes like a convenient store. the fastest and pathetic way to vent out stress. slight masochism. delighting the flurry of white feathery curls passed onto the air while staggering your lungs to its exhaustion and to your death. hmm. not a bad idea for a totally hopeless person. though there are numerous things that i like about smoking. from opening a fresh pack, flipping and separating a wish stick, lighting, inhaling, exhaling white curls, tapping ashes into the ashtray or onto the floor, up to the filter and finally throwing the butt into a projectile form. but the best thing i like about it is you get to flatter and feed your inmost fantasy through a superstition that someone’s thinking of you when your cigarette tip’s perfectly pointed. hmm. see, i told you it’s not good to smoke. it will only damage your sense of reality. seriously, i want to grow out of stress without depending on vices just to cope. so i’m tearing down the habit.

3 weeks of art, fishballs, & c2s

when you love something so badly, something that you've been wanting all your life, and along the way that dream seemed to drift away because of the demands of reality and survival, that somehow tear your idealisms and hopes, you'll still find ways to get it back. whatever means. just to say to yourself, you did your best. no regrets.
nearly putting aside everything for a "successful" and "rich" life, just a year ago, i had a vision of putting up an artist house that would serve as ground to inspire and teach young talented filipinos (jumping back to age 10, i told my parents that i want to be a national artist though i never knew how and what it means to be one.). that idea suddenly gave life to something that i have long forgotten, the colors on canvasses i see in museums, the multitude of strokes and lines that make up one simple picture. then i started drawing again just to see if i still have it. well, not bad but i still need to practice. until an opportunity to be enrolled in a basic drawing class came with the right timing and budget, i found myself under jamel obnamia's instructions. the workshop lasted for three weeks in which we learned mostly about reducing overwhelming objects into lines through techniques, modified blind contour and negative spaces. we also learned tone values through pointilism, cross-hatching, smudging, and shading, just to train the eyes where to place values in the drawing.

being a part of a class in which you can say everyone has talent and passion is really fulfilling that i felt i lost a lot of years off my age. this morning was our last day and exhibit. parents and friends came to see our 15 days hard work. the exhibit was formally opened by national artist napoleon abueva by blowing of bubbles.

gigit's story

cynthia alexander at saguijo

my 150 pesos entrance fee is all worth every cent for cynthia's perfomance. she never holds back anything. the energy. the drive. the passion. it's too overwhelming. and great, she has her 3rd album out already. so i sacrificed a week's snack money for her P450 cd. 14 beautifully woven tracks from this genius, cynthia ayala alexander, a singer-songwriter, arranger, producer, and multi-instrumentalist. it's worth it!


comet's tail
by cynthia alexander

days go by like fire burning in your hand/ a map of destinations written on my skin/ days go by like rivers flowing from your eyes/ a face beneath the water ripples in the sky/ days go by like flowers in a stormy bloom/ comet's tail a-flying/ i find me finding you finding me finding you finding me finding you finding me/ days go by like love/ poetry forgotten/ a pendulum of shadows on the moon/ days go by like dreams and swirling clouds on planets/ comet's tail a-flying/ i find me finding you finding me finding you finding me finding you finding me/ comet's tail/ icicle fire/ comet's tail/ dripping silent/ where/ when/ there/ then/ till its time/ if/ so/ why/ how/ is it time/ here/ now/ we are/ here/ it is time to be going/ dust to dust/ against the dark

mornings are great!

going to art school and finally doing what i really love give my heart a skip. the break of a work-house routine for three weeks is just sanely great. sa wakas! everyday seems new. even the pathway that i always walk on to upcfa seems new. i love everything. the wonderful colors that make up people and surroundings. the delineation between dreams and reality. they're all beautiful. too tangible, you can almost taste it.

weather report

for the record. the weather today is blissfully warm and radiant. not of the ordinary. my mind seemed to have taken off to somewhere indulgent of peace. 

without a line

i'm sick and tired of being sick and tired
healing, bleeding, new skin for wounds again
closing to find deeper openings
wrecking identities of a shapeless face
tumbling like wet clothes in the dryer
the friction, knitted threads shred
in my stomach, can you feel it?
in your womb turning
am i all worn out?

turning..
turning..

sick and tired of being sick and tired
of turning.. turning..
there's no point of ending

irrashaimase

welcome to this whole new little room i've made.