Queenfisher's Wings

Hanging with Pupil

2006-02-05T06:59:00.000-08:00

Totally went starstruck over Ely Buendia when we had our shoot for the mag yesterday. Would have wanted to tell him I had him sign my Circus album ten freakin' years ago. Hahaha.

The pupil guys were cool, and are great musicians. And they were game to pose with me for this picture. I'm sure they'll go a long way with their new album Beautiful Machines. I watched them twice already. One at a press launch and the other at the Bahay ng Alumni at the UP. Magnetic, way too cool.

Oh and tried the archery thing. Legolas, hats off!

Awakening of the Muse

2006-02-03T09:51:00.000-08:00

It's funny how the band started: all a hilarious joke. Alex and I merely hoped to play at this bar near the office. We wanted the usual mill: acoustic of course, just for the kicks and for the money. Ha ha! Then the joke went forward, both of us asking another officemate to join. Then another in the form of a beer buddy. Then alex's cousin. And now we're a band with gigs. Whoever thought this would have happened. Well, it's not that we're still goofing around. When I spent a big wad of dough on a new synth, that was it for me. Everything's real and must be taken seriously.

I had a band before but that was ages ago. Oh, seven. Yeah, ages. And it feels great to practice again, get excited over a show, and well write songs. It seems surreal now that I am doing this. Whenever I sit in front of my keys, I ask myself, "Is this for real?" Crazy. And I envisioned playing at this bar called Saguijo. Just four months ago I thought that maybe in a year if we're lucky. And we're playing there in three weeks. I'm overwhelmed. Completely still in a state of shock.

Anyway, finally after two years I'm back at Ang INK. It's a group that illustrates children's books, based at the UP. To be in an environment again filled with artists is utmostly charming. I've been put back in water. My exhibit? That's another story. A dream maybe in a few years. For now, things are great. I feel a sudden burst of energy, as if awaken from a deep slumber. I just hope the growth ain't a premature one. We'll see.

The World is my Limbo

2006-01-18T09:09:00.000-08:00

How it is, difficult. Sometimes the idea of flying out from a window is tempting, romantic even. I've always dreamed of flying anyway- the thought of the floor, of an end. And I've always admired the courage of the fallen angels. How determined. How definite. As if they are sure that life elsewhere is better, anywhere as long as it's not here.

I feel like the world is my limbo. I walk as if somewhere, I've lost myself. There, here, I look only to find out that I do not know what it is that I'm searching for.

If I end things now, then what?

The Moon Tree

2006-01-15T04:51:00.000-08:00

I got a stint as a photographer for this wedding yesterday. My feet are still throbbing after following people around from 9AM till 12MN. It was crazy, but fun nonetheless. And the required photographs were of the documentary kind so that gave me a lot of creative freedom-to shoot at my own discretion.

I wouldn't say I'm a big fan of weddings. The giddiness of it all pushes me back to think of what I do not have, or almost had. As the night carelessly progressed, I felt more depressed. While downing coffee liquor, in the middle of mandatory happiness, I asked for beautiful things to come my way.

But the night truly hides its surprises. Later on, it gave me the wonderful gift of moonlight. Here, a picture of my moon tree. I left with a wish granted: Beautiful things are sure to come my way.

After the Breakage

2006-01-10T20:22:00.000-08:00

It has been what, five months since the breakage. And I remain broken. And if anyone can propose any form of repair, I'm open to new ideas that I might have left out. Done the booze thing, done the spending time out with friends, done almost anything imaginable. Maybe it's just time then. Maybe.

It's not as if I haven't been on ground zero before. I have. If my memory serves me right, this is the third time that my ailing spirit was tossed to delirium. Ah, the consequences of letting your heart go, loving unconditionally like as if tomorrow won't come. But I haven't regretted anything. At least I know that I am capable of giving and of loving - like this. It is now that when I look back that I say that it was beautiful, while it lasted. An experience for the books.

And what is it that I have learned? Many I would say. But ultimately, it all boils down to loving the self before, during and after the breakage.

The State of the Rambling Mind

2006-01-05T08:05:00.000-08:00

I'm thinking, when will this come to an end - forgetting that is. I feel utmostly stuck, hoping that two years would pass. Then maybe I won't be recalling and reminiscing as much. But time, does it really provide healing?

Last night, I was watching TV. This psychiatrist commented that people never forget but with time as the healing catalyst, good memories will replace the ill. Really now, I thought.

If feelings are always triggered by things or events associated with the desired object, thanks to the part of the brain called the amygdala, then does healing really exist or is it just an unachievable state? When does the amygdala stop from associating? And if it doesn't, how can one move on? Does one really move on or are we all in denial? One would say, 'Ive moved on,' but when a memory surfaces, then the effect: coming back to square one. I am intellectualizing, as always as defense to my pain. But how can psychological defense mechanisms work if one is aware of its usage?

Too many questions...How exhausting it is to ask, when the real answer is that no one really knows for sure.

An Offering to Janus

2005-12-28T08:36:00.000-08:00

I will be going up to beautiful Baguio this weekend to celebrate the New Year. I need this time now to think, to restore my energies, to nurse my wounds, and to paint. For lately, my mind has been severly cluttered with heavy baggage. It is my hope that I leave everything there - the much-awaited renewal.

At the top of the northern mountain, I will be offering myself to Janus, the Roman god of new beginnings and of harvest. And burn things that must be burned. Destroy all that destroys me. And on the first day of the coming year, I will be back here in the city...cleansed by a deity with two faces.

Pusoy Dos

2005-12-27T07:12:00.000-08:00

Ganito tayo maglaro noon.

Nakatingin ako sa'yo pero ang mga mata mo'y nasa lamesa, sa upuan, sa may bintana, sa pagkaing nakahain sa harap mo, sa yosing unti-unting nauubos sa bawat pitik ng kamay ng orasan. Hindi ba't ako ay nasa harap mo rin? Pero pakiramdam ko na ako'y parang hangin na iyong nilalampasan. Itinuring mo pang akong kalaban. Hindi ba't ikaw ay ang aking kasama?

Aminin mo, ilang beses akong lumuha. At ilang beses ka ring lumingon -
papalayo.

At bakit hindi ka na noon makatingin?

Alam ko ang sagot. Alam kong may itinatago kang mga lihim na akala mo'y hindi makararating sa akin. Dahil ayaw mo akong masaktan o mawala - noon. Ganyan ka kasi. Ang gusto mo'y lagi kang nananalo. Ang gusto mo'y lahat ng mga baraha ay hawak mo.

Hindi mo ba alam na lahat ng lihim ay nabubunyag? Hindi mo ba alam na ako ang may hawak ng huling dos?

Sa lahat ng mga oras, wala ka nang ibang inatupag kundi ang mga pakikibaka mo. At ibinigay ko ang sanlibong tenga para makinig sa mga daing mo. Inabot ko ang aking mga kamay para alagaan ang mga galos mo. Na pati sarili ko'y aking kinalimutan para sa'yo.

At ano ang isinukli mo?

Sabi mo, "Ipikit mo ang iyong mga mata."

Ipinikit ko nga. At wala akong nakita.

At ano ang itinaya mo?

Sinta, ako. Ako.

The Disheartened

2005-12-25T08:13:00.000-08:00

The task of finding love again is a perilious journey altogether. It's about trusting again, only to be disheartened. It's about finding respect, then to be disrespected - again. Then walk for another mile, another bend. There you will find another man, disguised to be the right fit, only then to end up disheartened and disrespected in less than a few meetings. How many times does one have to undergo the same process to finally stumble on the lifetime partner?

Is it that my standards are unattainable or is this really a deterioration of sorts? What is it with men and sex? I really try not to generalize too hastily, but forgive me - it's Christmas. I think I'm allowed a bit of pessimism after trying too hard in being jovial.

Hopefully love is possibly attainable -
in solitude.

The Saltwater Fish

2005-12-20T07:22:00.000-08:00

While driving back this evening, I noticed the moon hovering above the city. It was beautiful. I felt like it was an eye of the cosmos watching over me. And at that very moment, I felt blessed.

Somehow I know that the universe has conspired to teach me a valuable lesson. It said to me, "Love yourself." For I have forgotten how I once was - the independent thinker, the saltwater fish, the adventure seeker. How long have I slept, hybernated, forgotten how it was to live?

It is time. Now I have gained strength. I am ready to tread deeper waters.

Line Travels

2005-12-18T05:05:00.000-08:00

People, they walk through us.

I feel we are travelling in line segments. We all start with a point, then we move to make a line, then we stop - another point. At the time we stop to make another point, we intersect with others or another. At a memorable point of intersection, we yearn for eternal repetition. Like for instance, a romantic night with a lover. When we live in that certain moment, wanting for all days to be exactly the same or to remain at that point, that is when we get stuck. Attachment.

It is difficult to move if one stays at a certain point for too long. Though we must know we are all travelers. Living is all about moving on and on and on. In our luggage, memories to be savored. A rich past. Everyone must accept that we are all meant to leave or to be left behind. And the next step, is a future waiting to be taken in as a memory.

Distances

2005-12-16T19:38:00.000-08:00

Let me love you here, from this distance. It is true. I love you, still - like everything else that I deem constant. Like as if love has an end. It doesn't. But it changes. Like everything else. Like the seasons. Like a leaf. Like you.

We are in the same city, where the same trains cross. Where the same river runs. But I feel you are in another place in a different time. In another country perhaps where here, there is rain while there, spring. And your tongue speaks of a language I will never understand.

If this is a mistake, then let it be. Let it be.

Let this be a New Year

2005-12-15T08:48:00.000-08:00

In a couple of days, the year will come to a close leaving a sweet but the same time a bitter taste in my mouth. I feel like I've lost an arm but gained another foot. There is excess at the same time, loss. Both blessings and pain were in abundance. The first time that my equilibrium was shook so hard, that at one point, I did doubt my survival.

Did pain and gain equated to a break even? My answer is no. For it is this year that I have gained wisdom and have learned more about myself - my capacity to love, to forgive, to hurt, to let go and to choose love in the end. I have learned to believe in the strength of my wings which I have folded for so long. And I have learned to immerse myself in darkness and have faith in nights.

So I am welcoming the next year, my life, with my scars and bruises. I will say, here I am. Let me learn more from you.

I Want for You to be Still

2005-12-12T08:06:00.000-08:00

I bought my first digital SLR camera last Saturday, something I've been salivating on for more than a year. I just want to share some of my first shots. Here's my picture at Cafe Ysabel, having coffee and conversation with two good friends. I'm in love with this place, an abode for the wounded. For now my achilles' tent.

The next one here on your right looks like a UFO. But actually it's a lighted school gymnasium. Seems like it's floating, but going nowhere really.

And the picture on the right is a palm reader at Quiapo. I've seen her often near the stalls that sell flowers. At this moment, she's having her break from looking into the future. Putting rouge on her pale lips. Ah, beauty and pain, our constant bedfellows.

And the last one is a picture I took of a statue that's sitting beside me now as I type this.

Starting Over

2005-12-08T11:28:00.000-08:00

There are just things that get lost, without the hope of being found again. Like my last blog. For eight months, I have labored till the wee hours - religiously summarizing time, days, intricacies of my life history because I wanted to say to the world that here I am, a person with this name, existing in this space. And it was gone. Just like that. But losing now is something I'm trying to get used to. Because there's nothing to own really except for the self. Everything's made only to be cherished and to be remembered. But never to be owned. Though I do ask: Where do deleted words go? I feel they are here, somewhere beside me. Floating like dust particles that my eyes fail to see. Microscopic? I have no idea. Nor do I have answers for the rhetoric.

So here I am, starting a new blog. With the hope that I will not lose everything I type here. I am crossing my fingers - the only thing left to do.

It's 3:23AM and I am far from sleep. Just a few hours ago, I was at a bar somewhere in this country's business district, holding a beer and listening to good music. Though I'm not really sure if I was listening. I was distracted by this man who went to dance in front of everyone. I would like to describe him as someone who has just came from one of Edgar Allan Poe's stories. He wore a red blazer too short for his long white shirt, jeans tapered to his ankles. His eyes were painted black. Eye liner perhaps. And without a care for the world, he danced. His eyes closed, mimicking birds, fiddling with air. Don't you ever wish you can do the same? Be silly, dance, without minding an opinion. How courageous, I thought, for this man to just be.