racing the wind once more

a year back, i was frustrated with my life. i spent idle nights typing away opinions that made my virtual audience either ecstatic in agreement or frivolously outraged. i was a gluttonous swine who gobbled and snorted for compliments and criticisms that, in my mind, were sterling proofs of my existence.

i ached for a niche that i was in an incredulously rabid struggle to grab that overhanging tree root sticking out of the side of a steep plateau, trying to hold on to a world where i somehow had worth... or at least the semblance of such. that or i've watched one too many looney toons episodes since i was five.

now, i take a step back and realize: i am happy. i am contented with my life.

though my ride came in a little late, i know that somehow getting there. this ain't an aimless road trip to nowhere no more. i'm friggin' back in the saddle!

oh, i just pray i don't jinx it.

bottled monologues - series 7

you,

i thought that i could go on forever with this. i thought i would always never mind the rope burns of clinging on to the reins too hard. i guess i've reached the point.

it's not that i don't care anymore. me not giving a damn about you and wanting you out of my life are the last things i would ever think of doing. it just became easier for me to understand that there are some things that are better left to go its path, without me accidentally being the roadkill.

you can go east and i may ramble along westward but it shouldn't exactly mean that we are creating a void between us. after all, ferdinand magellan proved something to the world. we might still cross paths and be on the same road once again.. and we will.

though i sound so sure, i'm not the epitome of certainty. there are times that everything plays a prank on me and suddenly, i'm off again facilitating a heated debate with myself. despite these, i know i'm taking baby steps and getting back my unadulterated objectivity---the tool i've always used to manufacture the unsolicited advice i gift-wrap to my friends all throughout the year.

i recently learned to affix certain letters of the alphabet to interesting words and coinciding with that, i've graduated from pathetic to apathetic.

i might get my certificate from siddartha gautama soon.

me

of swordsmiths and silver-tongued vultures

"unhappy the land that is in need of heroes."
--- bertolt brecht, german poet-playwright

fpj is dead and the politics in this country is as alive as ever.

truth be told, i might have voted for fpj in the past election if not for the scaly-skinned, tie-wearing scoundrels who infestated his presence. i even prayed for gma to cheat her way into public office (and something tells me that my "prayers" worked wonders that time).

fpj may have been a good man with the noblest of intentions for our nation but the treachery of our politicians is upped to a level where even satan himself would feel robbed of his sense of pride. they would have done all that they could to make him the puppet who blindly believed he was a real president. heck, he might even have a blue fairy fluttering along in the person of ernesto maceda!

it's still his suffocatingly media-covered wake. i'm sickened with the last minute bustle for mileage that the filthy politicos are doing. truly, they can never siphon enough. they had to suck it dry.

susan roces uniwttingly welcomed politics into her beloved husband's death the very instant she ruefully recounted every hurt she has kept unsaid for the longest time. i'm not a big fan of the administration myself but those raw words that could be easily dismissed as a grieving wife's sentiments did more and will do more than it seems to be capable of.

because of that uttered pain, these one-track mind scavengers can conveniently catapult the angst and disgust of the people towards advancing their political schemes. it's just ironic to note that mrs. poe was keen on reiterating that she "will not be used by politics". they've already secured the dog leash on her and she doesn't even know it. is this the deja vu we didn't want to see?

i'm sorry if i'll be sounding like an snotty, opinionated elitist but i don't agree that the masang pilipino has the cunning to see through the facade. at the end of their day, the person who supplies them with kilos of rice and other provisions that quiet a rumbling stomach is the one who they remember. no one can argue with the promise of food on the table and peso bills that speak volumes. more often than not, ideologies and principles succumb to practicality and poverty. ask erap, i heard he was the one who perfected the formula.

sometimes, you wish that a fabled hero valiantly strides into the scene and restores the proper order of things with one mighty swing of his sword. you hope---and that may eventually be our redemption... hopefully.

ain't that a bitch?