Moving forward

Listened to new music again yesterday. New albums by Grandaddy, Elbow and Cloud Nothings. It’s been awhile. The last new album I listened to was Metallica’s Hardwired… to Self-Destruct, and that was in early January. Since then it’s all been throwback music, mostly from the 90s, my decade, a long ago and sorely missed period of my life.

For the last couple of weeks, my life seemed to have hit a snag. Static. Unexciting. Plain, boring, dead. Even the comics and books and magazines I read were old shit. Ditto the series I watched (Jessica Jones, from 2015). It was as if my psyche has lost its interest on new things and, hence, the future. I heard friends yak about the stuff that’s making them excited for 2017 — from new Stranger Things season in November to Megadeth on Pulp Summer Slam in April — but the feeling won’t rub on me. I sat there hearing them but at the same time having an out-of-body experience.

“Absence/lack of excitement. Tell-tale sign of depression.” Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell me about it.

And Wednesday last week I exploded into rage. Long story — I could write it but won’t. Too ugly. Too painful. And what’s the point?

But yesterday I listened to new music again. And I’m looking forward to watching John Wick 2 this weekend, and curious about the upcoming sitcom Powerless, and seriously considering catching Megadeth for the second time in these shores. All this I take as a sign that I’m finally moving forward now.

Playlist: HardlineDouble Eclipse


The last 3 days

Couple of minutes before midnight on a Friday. Just got home. Writing this as I wait for the coffee to cool down. Ditto my mood.

Turned 38 yesterday. There was no party. No drunk girls dancing to loud music blaring from the speakers. All the debauchery happened in my head, and the only food involved were the ones ordered for the “feeding program” that me and two other January celebrants sponsored at the office the previous day. Pancit (for long life), lumpiang shanghai, cake, pork barbecue. Soft drinks, but no beer.


On my 38th name day I woke up, had breakfast, took a dump, showered, got dressed, went to work, did what I’m paid to do for nine hours, said thank you to well wishers online and in person, punched out, went home, brooded, slept. In short, it was not unlike any other ordinary work day.

Today, I punched out early at work to meet the wifey in Makati. But she came a bit sloshed from drinking with an office-mate and at one point was even kind of belligerent. Would’ve loved to walk around Glorietta and Greenbelt and savor the night until our feet ached, but that’d be no fun in her condition. Instead we dined at Yoshinoya and went home.

Happy birthday to me.

And then the party’s over

I thought I was handling it pretty well. Then I realized I wasn’t. Fucking post-holiday blues, man.


It happened in Cubao on my way to work (still a holiday today, but no such thing in my gig). I saw the stalls that were selling Christmas decors (before Christmas) and fireworks (New Year) being dismantled and torn down. That drove home the fact to me that the holidays are over, and that it’s now back to the tired old boring-ass routine of the daily grind. What’s sadder is the fact that when I get home tonight, the wifey will no longer be there waiting for me, as she has to sleep early for her work tomorrow. I will miss those late-night chats over tea or coffee we had over the past few days. That’s actually my memory of Christmastime 2016. I am sentimental like that.

At work now. The air is syrupy quiet. Fighting to let the wretched post-holiday fact sink in… and not doing a pretty good job about it. Just smoked two cigarettes despite New Year resolution to drop the damn habit. Oh well…

Playlist: Blue Oyster CultClub Ninja; Bad BrainsI Against I

Little girl on EDSA

6251276268_3777a1c04c_zGave a little homeless girl a hotdog-on-stick today. Gave her one also yesterday, and I thought it was a one-time thing, but there you go. I guess I just can’t stand seeing her on that grimy EDSA sidewalk, looking as filthy as her surrounding, so young (about 4 or 5 years old) and helpless, without doing anything to help her. A hotdog-on-stick was the least I could do.

Writing this here not for the praises. If I want praises I’d post this on Facebook, complete with a selfie and a witty hashtag. No, not my style…

Kept thinking of those noisy assholes bickering on Facebook. So much politics, so much drama, so much hate. It’s one self-righteous party throwing mud at the other self-righteous party, and it’s been going on for a long time now. It sickens me, and it makes me both sad and mad. All that trash talk, all those holier-than-thou pronouncements. Meanwhile, we have homeless kids on grimy sidewalks, hungry, and nobody seems to care. Whatever the fuck happened to priorities?

Playlist: Mad SeasonAbove; GruntruckPush