ABERRATION
Kit Undug
I pointed to the sky
And I saw a beach.
There were umbrellas
And sandcastles
And floating slippers
And people were happy, in that sea in the sky.
I pointed to the sea
And saw some clouds
They were white
And fluffy;
They were shaped like
Everything, those clouds in the sea.
I pointed to a tree
And I heard it speak.
“You’re imagining me," it said.
"I can’t talk.
I’m not even here.”
So I soaped my eyes
And brushed my ears.
But still it was there,
That talking tree.
I looked into your heart
And I saw love.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Lessons in Breaking Hearts
When you break someone's heart, you don't do it gently. There is no way of killing someone softly. Roberta Flack is a lying bitch.
When you break someone's heart, you don't do it slowly. You aim for the jugular and go for the quick kill. A quick and short dose of pain, however intense that pain may be, is always better than pain prolonged.
When you break someone's heart, make sure you don't come crawling back to that person, telling them you want them back. Don't let that person give you the chance to break them all over again.
When you break someone's heart, don't be a coward. Never treat your partner badly, with the aim of pushing them to be the one to break up with you. If you want out, man up and say it. Again, speed mitigates pain.
When you break someone's heart, don't tell them you're doing it because you love them. Look up "love" in a dictionary, and you'll see what I mean.
When you break someone's heart, you don't do it slowly. You aim for the jugular and go for the quick kill. A quick and short dose of pain, however intense that pain may be, is always better than pain prolonged.
When you break someone's heart, make sure you don't come crawling back to that person, telling them you want them back. Don't let that person give you the chance to break them all over again.
When you break someone's heart, don't be a coward. Never treat your partner badly, with the aim of pushing them to be the one to break up with you. If you want out, man up and say it. Again, speed mitigates pain.
When you break someone's heart, don't tell them you're doing it because you love them. Look up "love" in a dictionary, and you'll see what I mean.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Headlines
1. Federer, Venus, and Serena manage to lose to lower-ranked opponents on the same day, August 14.
Talk about ruining a birthday.
2. My dad officially demotes me to doing girly house chores.
It took him 22 years to realize how terrible I am in the assembly of home appliances.
3. Two months after purchase, the DVD that a friend ordered for me from the United States is still "undelivered".
Indonesian customs officials probably liked the movie so much that they decided to keep it.
4. Harry Tanamor bombs out in his first match in Beijing, losing to a boxer from Ghana.
And the idiot can't stop grinning. Go figure.
5. Filipino athletes continue to fall to the opposition in the Olympics.
Makes me so proud to be Pinoy. Not!
6. An unsigned package is delivered to my house, causing our incredibly paranoid helper to panic for fear of "bomb-in-the-mail".It turned out to be the best birthday cake ever. Who it was from I still don't know, but who cares? :P
Talk about ruining a birthday.
2. My dad officially demotes me to doing girly house chores.
It took him 22 years to realize how terrible I am in the assembly of home appliances.
3. Two months after purchase, the DVD that a friend ordered for me from the United States is still "undelivered".
Indonesian customs officials probably liked the movie so much that they decided to keep it.
4. Harry Tanamor bombs out in his first match in Beijing, losing to a boxer from Ghana.
And the idiot can't stop grinning. Go figure.
5. Filipino athletes continue to fall to the opposition in the Olympics.
Makes me so proud to be Pinoy. Not!
6. An unsigned package is delivered to my house, causing our incredibly paranoid helper to panic for fear of "bomb-in-the-mail".It turned out to be the best birthday cake ever. Who it was from I still don't know, but who cares? :P
Monday, July 14, 2008
Miss Universe 2008 -- Lessons Learned
First of all, let me make it clear – I am not bitter. If this were 2005 or 2006, I would have had every right to be. But this is 2008, and let’s face it – Jennifer Barrientos isn’t the prettiest representative the Philippines has sent to the Miss Universe pageant in recent memory. That title (in the post-Miriam Quiambao era) would be a toss-up between Nina Ricci Alagao and Zora Andam, and since even they failed to make any impact during their reign as Bb. Pilipinas-Universe, there was no reason to get hyped over the current delegate. If Barrientos was to have any chance at winning a title, it would have to be “Miss Pouty-Lip Universe”, and even then Miss Kosovo would kick her ass.
That said, Miss Universe 2008 was still a pretty educational experience. They say TV is fast replacing literature as the optimal educational tool, and this year’s edition of what is supposedly the “most prestigious beauty pageant in the universe” (duh, it’s not as if other galaxies have their own pageants) proved that. Want to have a shot at becoming the most beautiful woman in the universe? Then read up – the following are valuable lessons you should not miss.
LESSON NUMBER ONE: The best way of getting a spot in the Top Fifteen is by hosting the pageant – We’ve seen it over the years, and Donald Trump made sure he got his point this year as well. By giving Vietnam a semifinal slot, the Donald effectively made a big “thank you” wave to the Vietnamese organizers. I have nothing against Miss Vietnam, but come on, man, no one’s convinced. The ridiculously low score she got in the swimsuit competition was enough of a sign – she was made to look pitifully out of place in the company of such giantesses. Seriously, that spot could have been given to some other delegate who had more of a chance.
Now let me take this chance to send a shout out to some dumbo in the Philippine Government (and trust me, there are quite a lot):
Dear Jinggoy Estrada,
Instead of wasting your time bragging about the world’s umpteenth-richest Arab wanting to invest in Cebu, why don’t you spearhead a bid to host the 2009 Miss Universe Pageant? I say there’s no better way to serve your country’s interests than by showcasing its beauty to the “one-billion-ish people” who watch the pageant’s live broadcast (and stuffing its problems temporarily under the figurative carpet) while ensuring that an undeserving candidate from the host country gets that solitary semifinal spot on sale. Remember, elections are in 2010, and if you want any shot at reelection (or a higher office), this is the way to go.
(Bitterly) Sincerely,
ME!
LESSON NUMBER TWO: Miss Universe is an exercise in tolerance and diversity – South Africa, despite having long been freed from the curse that is apartheid, has been a little sparing with sending black representatives. So imagine how happy I was when I saw Miss South Africa 2008. Tansey Coetzee was black, beautiful, and a blockbuster! Armed with a megawatt-smile and a complexion to die for, she was the only African in the top fifteen. It was real unfortunate that she was sent packing after only one round, but my disappointment was tempered with the entry of another delegate to the top ten – Miss Spain! Now who said male-to-female transsexuals can’t make an impact at Miss Universe? LGBT community, rejoice!
Oh wait, she’s a real woman? But what about those broad shoulders… and that chiseled face? More importantly, that tranny stare she throws every single time she looks into the camera. Oh well, at least she looked gay. Don’t cut the celebrations! (Seriously though, look at her. She looked more like a man than Jerry Springer ever has.)
LESSON NUMBER THREE: Falling flat on your ass is part of the training for Miss USA – For two years running, a Miss USA has fallen flat on her ass. They might have figured that if Miriam Quiambao (Miss Philippines 1999) could make it as far as first-runner up after falling on stage, why couldn’t they? Crystle Stewart may have handled it a little more gracefully than last year’s “stumbler” (we will not name her for personal reasons, the most important of which is I still shudder/cringe at the memory), but she forgot an important point – Quiambao fell during the preliminaries, which allowed her enough time to get back up (literally and figuratively) and even use the fall to her advantage. The two most recent Misses USA fell during the coronation night, where judges are less forgiving, as is the crowd. Remember, timing is everything.
LESSON NUMBER FOUR: Being a first-timer at Miss Universe gets extra points – Botswana in 1999 (winner), China in 2001 (2nd runner-up), and now, Kosovo. If you want to at least make it to the top ten, make sure that you are representing a country that is joining for the first time. It it’s too hard to gain citizenship to Iraq, East Timor or the Vatican City (what an interesting swimsuit competition that’ll make!), befriend some separatist rebel leaders from your native country, and do everything in your power to help them achieve political separation and eventual independence. That way, you’ll have a new country to represent, and a top ten spot for the taking. Come on, Basque country, we’re cheering for you!
LESSON NUMBER FIVE: Never EVER answer the final question correctly – As our winners this year proved oh-so-clearly, the best way of winning the Miss Universe crown is by evading the final question altogether. Of course, it helps to know the Vietnamese word for “Hello!” to buy yourself some time before going on with giving an irrelevant answer. Good thing the timer (whoever he was) was so unforgiving with the thirty second limit. Timer I luuuurve you! :P
Case in point: Miss Venezuela. When asked, "who do you think has it easier in life, men or women?", she said, "God made us to share and have differences. Men think that the faster way to go to a point is to go straight. Women know that the faster way to go to a point is to go to the curves." Now thank you for that wonderful anecdote, Ms. Mendoza, but what about your answer?
Clearly, however, the judges didn’t mind, as she ended up winning. Meanwhile, Misses Russia and Mexico, who were the closest to making any sense with their answers, ended up at the bottom two among the finalists. So there’s the secret, girls – selective deafness. Should you find yourself in the same position as our five lovely finalists, pretend that you didn’t hear the question, play out an entirely different question in your mind, and answer THAT. I’m willing to bet my soul you’ll win.
In the end, Miss Universe didn’t disappoint. It evoked the unpredictability of the previous years, and was just as educational. More importantly, it has served its ultimate purpose – international unity. The world is united in saying one thing, and one thing only:
“SOMEBODY BUY THE MISS UNIVERSE FRANCHISE OFF TRUMP!!!”
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Fini La Comedie
Fini, La Comedie is perhaps one of the most heartbreaking songs I have ever heard. The original version is by Dalida, a French diva. This version is by the Philippine Madrigal Singers, sung during their New York Concert in 2007.
The French lyrics and the English translation of the lyrics follow the video. Tell me what you think. (Sorry for the amateurish translation. My French is primitive.)
C'est fini
C'est fini la comédie
Tout avait commencé
Comme une pièce à succès
Dans le décor tout bleu
D'un théâtre de banlieue
Nous n'étions que nous deux
On s'est aimé longtemps
Au point d'oublier le temps
Qui tout au long des scènes
Transformait les joies en peine
Il a gagné le temps
Il est content
Quand il nous voit chacun de son côté
Comme des étrangers
Nous n'avons plus en commun
Que les mots quotidiens
Le décor n'a pas changé
Mais les acteurs n'ont rien à jouer
Il faut baisser le rideau
C'est fini
C'est fini la comédie
On était bien parti
Eternité garantie
On était seuls au monde
Devant tout l'amour de l'onde
Pas de sens interdits
Il a gagné le temps
Il est content
Quand il nous voit chacun de son côté
Comme des étrangers
Nous n'avons plus en commun
Que les mots quotidiens
Le décor n'a pas changé
Mais les acteurs n'ont rien à jouer
Il faut baisser le rideau
C'est fini
C'est fini la comédie
Tout avait commencé
Comme une pièce à succès
Dans le décor tout bleu
D'un théâtre de banlieue
Nous n'étions que nous deux
C'est fini
C'est fini la comédie
Everything is over,
The comedy is over
Everything began
As a brilliant representation
In blue scenery
Of a suburban theatre
(Where) there was only the two of us
And we loved each other so long
Almost forgetting about time
Which in all our stages
Transformed pleasures into a pain
And time has defeated us
It is glad
To see us, both on different sides
As strangers
Nothing more connects us
Except threadbare words
The scenery has not changed
But the actors have nothing more to play
Time to lower the curtain.
Everything is over
The comedy is over
We part well
(And) Eternity is ours.
We are alone in the world
On waves left our from love
But nothing more remain of our forbidden feelings.
And time has defeated us,
It is glad
To see us, both on different sides
As strangers
Nothing more connects us
Except threadbare words
The scenery has not changed
But the actors have nothing more to play
Time to lower the curtain.
Everything is over
The comedy is over
Everything began
As a brilliant representation
In pink scenery
Of a suburban theatre
(Where) there was only the two of us
Everything is over
The comedy is over...
The French lyrics and the English translation of the lyrics follow the video. Tell me what you think. (Sorry for the amateurish translation. My French is primitive.)
C'est fini
C'est fini la comédie
Tout avait commencé
Comme une pièce à succès
Dans le décor tout bleu
D'un théâtre de banlieue
Nous n'étions que nous deux
On s'est aimé longtemps
Au point d'oublier le temps
Qui tout au long des scènes
Transformait les joies en peine
Il a gagné le temps
Il est content
Quand il nous voit chacun de son côté
Comme des étrangers
Nous n'avons plus en commun
Que les mots quotidiens
Le décor n'a pas changé
Mais les acteurs n'ont rien à jouer
Il faut baisser le rideau
C'est fini
C'est fini la comédie
On était bien parti
Eternité garantie
On était seuls au monde
Devant tout l'amour de l'onde
Pas de sens interdits
Il a gagné le temps
Il est content
Quand il nous voit chacun de son côté
Comme des étrangers
Nous n'avons plus en commun
Que les mots quotidiens
Le décor n'a pas changé
Mais les acteurs n'ont rien à jouer
Il faut baisser le rideau
C'est fini
C'est fini la comédie
Tout avait commencé
Comme une pièce à succès
Dans le décor tout bleu
D'un théâtre de banlieue
Nous n'étions que nous deux
C'est fini
C'est fini la comédie
Everything is over,
The comedy is over
Everything began
As a brilliant representation
In blue scenery
Of a suburban theatre
(Where) there was only the two of us
And we loved each other so long
Almost forgetting about time
Which in all our stages
Transformed pleasures into a pain
And time has defeated us
It is glad
To see us, both on different sides
As strangers
Nothing more connects us
Except threadbare words
The scenery has not changed
But the actors have nothing more to play
Time to lower the curtain.
Everything is over
The comedy is over
We part well
(And) Eternity is ours.
We are alone in the world
On waves left our from love
But nothing more remain of our forbidden feelings.
And time has defeated us,
It is glad
To see us, both on different sides
As strangers
Nothing more connects us
Except threadbare words
The scenery has not changed
But the actors have nothing more to play
Time to lower the curtain.
Everything is over
The comedy is over
Everything began
As a brilliant representation
In pink scenery
Of a suburban theatre
(Where) there was only the two of us
Everything is over
The comedy is over...
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Au revoir, Justine.
Henin shocks tennis world with retirement
Justine Henin, the world's top ranked female tennis player, has just announced her immediate retirement from professional tennis at a press conference in her native Belgium. The five-foot-five Henin, who at 25 has seven Grand Slam titles to her name, lost for the last time to eventual German Open champion Dinara Safina of Russia last week in three sets.
Her retirement comes as a shock to the tennis world, especially because she is the first player, male or female, to quit while at the top of the world rankings. She is also the reigning champion at the US Open and the French Open, which will start in less than two weeks' time.
Henin, whose one-handed backhand was referred to by John McEnroe as the best in the game, has had a tough year by her standards, losing four times in the last four months. Her most painful loss came at the hands of Serena Williams, who drubbed her, 6-2, 6-0, at the quarterfinals of the Sony Ericsson Open in Miami a month ago. Williams, with whom Henin had a close and intriguing rivalry, said that she felt "sad to see her go. She was a champion and she will always be remembered."
WTA Tour President Larry Scott also lamented Henin's shocking decision, saying "It is rare that an athlete leaves at the very top of her game in this day and age." He added, however, that the Belgian had a "fighting spirit second to none," and that she "will always be remembered as one of the all-time great champions" of the game.
The four-time Roland Garros champion's departure from tennis leaves Russia's Maria Sharapova to take over the top spot, followed by Serbian Ana Ivanovic at number two.
- 14 May 2008
Kit Undug for AP
Justine Henin, the world's top ranked female tennis player, has just announced her immediate retirement from professional tennis at a press conference in her native Belgium. The five-foot-five Henin, who at 25 has seven Grand Slam titles to her name, lost for the last time to eventual German Open champion Dinara Safina of Russia last week in three sets.
Her retirement comes as a shock to the tennis world, especially because she is the first player, male or female, to quit while at the top of the world rankings. She is also the reigning champion at the US Open and the French Open, which will start in less than two weeks' time.
Henin, whose one-handed backhand was referred to by John McEnroe as the best in the game, has had a tough year by her standards, losing four times in the last four months. Her most painful loss came at the hands of Serena Williams, who drubbed her, 6-2, 6-0, at the quarterfinals of the Sony Ericsson Open in Miami a month ago. Williams, with whom Henin had a close and intriguing rivalry, said that she felt "sad to see her go. She was a champion and she will always be remembered."
WTA Tour President Larry Scott also lamented Henin's shocking decision, saying "It is rare that an athlete leaves at the very top of her game in this day and age." He added, however, that the Belgian had a "fighting spirit second to none," and that she "will always be remembered as one of the all-time great champions" of the game.
The four-time Roland Garros champion's departure from tennis leaves Russia's Maria Sharapova to take over the top spot, followed by Serbian Ana Ivanovic at number two.
- 14 May 2008
Kit Undug for AP
Thursday, May 8, 2008
A Quiz
Here's a little quiz for all of you:
Question: How do you know you're really, genuinely, painfully missing someone?
Choices:
a) You see his face everywhere;
b) You see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there;
c) You break down because you see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there;
d) You break down because you see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there, and you do this while you're in a bookstore;
e) You break down because you see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there, and you do this while you're in a bookstore, in the middle of the romance novels section;
f) You break down because you see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there, and you do this while you're in a bookstore, in the middle of the romance novels section, while the speakers are blaring the sappy S Club 7 song, "I never Had a Dream Come True".
To answer, post a comment!
Question: How do you know you're really, genuinely, painfully missing someone?
Choices:
a) You see his face everywhere;
b) You see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there;
c) You break down because you see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there;
d) You break down because you see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there, and you do this while you're in a bookstore;
e) You break down because you see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there, and you do this while you're in a bookstore, in the middle of the romance novels section;
f) You break down because you see his face everywhere, but you know for a fact that he's not there, and you do this while you're in a bookstore, in the middle of the romance novels section, while the speakers are blaring the sappy S Club 7 song, "I never Had a Dream Come True".
To answer, post a comment!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Madz in Jakarta!
The world's best choir is coming to Jakarta, Indonesia!
For details and up-to-date news on the Philippine Madrigal Singers' Live Concert in Jakarta, visit the concert's official website:
http://madrigalsinjkt.wordpress.com/
For questions, suggestions, and other matters, please feel free to e-mail madrigalsinjkt@gmail.com or kwechkwech@gmail.com. :)
Thursday, February 14, 2008
A Song for VDay
I'm not usually a sucker for Valentine's, but I just realized that this is the first Valentine's Day in 5 years that I'm either single, or date-less. Sad.
If you're anything like me this V-Day, don't click the play button on the video below. Likewise, don't scroll down to read the lyrics of the song. It'll make you wanna kill yourself for being single, lonely, unattached, unable to commit, or just way too ugly to attract anyone (choose whatever is appropriate). I don't want to have the Interpol/CIA/FBI chasing my ass around cyberspace for driving loveless people to suicide. Please.
But if you're any of the following:
1. drunk in love;
2. dating someone;
or
3. happily married (key word: HAPPILY);
then by all means, play the video out. Listen to the song and read the lyrics below. It'll make you smile for the right reasons. I swear.
FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE
(art.: Bright Eyes)
This is the first day of my life
Swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach
Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don't know where I am, don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go
And so I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever, I especially am slow
But I realized that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home
Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed
You felt as if you'd just woke up
And you said, "This is the first day of my life.
I'm glad I didn't die before I met you.
But, now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you
And I'd probably be happy."
So if you wanna be with me
With these things there's no telling
We'll just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
Besides, maybe this time it's different
I mean I really think you like me
__________________________________________________
Happy Hearts Day, everyone.
If you're anything like me this V-Day, don't click the play button on the video below. Likewise, don't scroll down to read the lyrics of the song. It'll make you wanna kill yourself for being single, lonely, unattached, unable to commit, or just way too ugly to attract anyone (choose whatever is appropriate). I don't want to have the Interpol/CIA/FBI chasing my ass around cyberspace for driving loveless people to suicide. Please.
But if you're any of the following:
1. drunk in love;
2. dating someone;
or
3. happily married (key word: HAPPILY);
then by all means, play the video out. Listen to the song and read the lyrics below. It'll make you smile for the right reasons. I swear.
FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE
(art.: Bright Eyes)
This is the first day of my life
Swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach
Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don't know where I am, don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go
And so I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever, I especially am slow
But I realized that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home
Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed
You felt as if you'd just woke up
And you said, "This is the first day of my life.
I'm glad I didn't die before I met you.
But, now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you
And I'd probably be happy."
So if you wanna be with me
With these things there's no telling
We'll just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
Besides, maybe this time it's different
I mean I really think you like me
__________________________________________________
Happy Hearts Day, everyone.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Tickle-Me-Reinder
Anyone who hasn’t listened to the Philippine Madrigal Singers’ rendition of the Z. Randall Stroope composition “Riveder Le Stelle (We Beheld Once Again the Stars)” should do so immediately. “We Beheld Once Again the Stars” was the Madz’ fourth song in their performance in the 19th European Grand Prix of Choral Singing, and everyone who had the great fortune of watching the choral Olympics say that this was the song that won the Madz the Grand Prize. Apparently, Z. Randall Stroope himself seems to agree – I went to his website (www.zrstroope.com) a while ago and discovered that the “listen” button for “We Beheld…” on his samples page is a link to the YouTube video of the Madrigals’ EGP performance of the same song. The song is eight minutes long, so downloading it takes some determination, given the buffering speeds in third world countries. But trust me when I say that once download is complete, any time spent is well worth it. The entire performance is brilliant – if the first verse doesn’t move you to tears, wait until you hear the last ninety seconds of the song. The first time I listened to it I was in a coffee shop, but the setting didn’t stop me from tearing up when I heard the AMAZINGLY BRILLIANT (all caps sooo intended) climax. If I didn’t know the text of the song was taken from Dante’s “Inferno”, I’d have the first verse as my wedding march (more about weddings in the next part of this post). If my word isn’t enough, you can always listen to it yourselves: www.zrstroope.com/wboatsyoutubeclip.htm
* * *
I had a weird, weird dream last night. I was in some hotel room, getting prepped for my impeding wedding to a girl (yes, a GIRL!!!) who I somehow deduced to be the daughter of a mafia don. In the middle of hair and make-up (yes, MY hair and make-up!!!), and under the watchful eyes of my soon-to-be mother-in-law, I hatched an escape plan that would take me far, far away to Germany (why I thought of Germany, I’ll never know).
As soon as Mafia-Mom left the room to check on her daughter, I somehow found the panache to hit the make-up artist to the point of unconsciousness, jump from 3 storeys up a hotel building to a rundown lawn, and run several hundred meters without giving myself away to my not-so-soon-to-be father-in-law’s henchmen. As if the dream weren’t interesting enough, my getaway vehicle was a pedicab driven by a smiling old man, who got me to the airport very, VERY quickly. Once there, I breezed through check-in and immigration, much like I do now, what with my diplomatic privileges and all (the things a diplomatic passport can do! Hahaha!).
Then the dream got even more interesting.
While waiting for my flight, I bumped into the Dutch Men’s Volleyball Team. Somehow, my Uncle Gorshil magically appeared, too, and as soon as Bram Ronnes passed by my uncle asked me to take a picture of them together. I said yes, and then as I hit the “capture” button on his camera phone, there he appeared. No, not Santa Claus, or Jesus Christ, or Heath Ledger, may he rest in peace. It was Rainder Nummerdor (http://www.fivb.org/en/volleyball/Competitions/WorldLeague/2003/teams/VB_Player.asp?No=10302), him with the killer spike and killer-er smile. I melted at once at the sight of him, him over whom I spend countless hours catching TV reruns of the Nestea Euro Beach Volleyball Tour. I instantly wished I could change flight plans, and instead head to Amsterdam (where I presumed he was going). I was speechless, motionless, for fuck’s sake, and it would have been a huge waste had my uncle not stepped in (thank God for uncles). He asked if I wanted to have a picture of me and Reinder Nummerdor taken, to which I said a resounding, “yes!”. Imagine my surprise when Reinder, as if on cue, immediately huddled next to me and put one of his arms around my waist and his face within breathing distance of mine. I could’ve literally snorted him in if I wanted to, but of course I wanted to do something else.
And then he did it.
No, we didn’t fuck in the pre-departure area, although I wouldn’t have minded. Instead, he held my hand, pulled me towards him, and started tickling me. Yes, he TICKLED me. He tickled me until I started convulsing with laughter, laughter that was borderline orgasmic. I tried tickling him back, and he laughed back, too.
And then, it ended. Not the tickling, but the dream. I suddenly awoke to the smell of sunny side-ups and fried rice, usually a comforting smell, but now nothing more than an irritant. I desperately wanted the dream to continue, so I tried closing my eyes again. Of course it didn’t work, but I was desperate, neh?
I thus felt weirdly irritated the whole day. I never knew that tickling could be so, uhm, sexual – and until this morning I never realized that I haven’t been tickled by anyone in a long, long time. I was somehow put off by the fact that it’s been ages since I was last tickled, and that I’ve never been close to being tickled orgasmically. And by Reinder Nummerdor, at that!
Agh. Reinder Nummerdor – will someone please bring me to the Netherlands and introduce me to him?
I promise not to tickle.
* * *
OMG. I just saw someone using one of those primitive-looking, analog phones with long, stretchable antennas. You know, them that look like cordless phones, only you could bring them outside your house and still enjoy coverage. I used to have one of those. Luckily for all of us, smaller, handier, and more aesthetically appealing mobile phones were invented. I don’t know how I would survive bringing such a bulky thing around.
Maybe I should ask the guy how he does it. Lol.
* * *
I had a weird, weird dream last night. I was in some hotel room, getting prepped for my impeding wedding to a girl (yes, a GIRL!!!) who I somehow deduced to be the daughter of a mafia don. In the middle of hair and make-up (yes, MY hair and make-up!!!), and under the watchful eyes of my soon-to-be mother-in-law, I hatched an escape plan that would take me far, far away to Germany (why I thought of Germany, I’ll never know).
As soon as Mafia-Mom left the room to check on her daughter, I somehow found the panache to hit the make-up artist to the point of unconsciousness, jump from 3 storeys up a hotel building to a rundown lawn, and run several hundred meters without giving myself away to my not-so-soon-to-be father-in-law’s henchmen. As if the dream weren’t interesting enough, my getaway vehicle was a pedicab driven by a smiling old man, who got me to the airport very, VERY quickly. Once there, I breezed through check-in and immigration, much like I do now, what with my diplomatic privileges and all (the things a diplomatic passport can do! Hahaha!).
Then the dream got even more interesting.
While waiting for my flight, I bumped into the Dutch Men’s Volleyball Team. Somehow, my Uncle Gorshil magically appeared, too, and as soon as Bram Ronnes passed by my uncle asked me to take a picture of them together. I said yes, and then as I hit the “capture” button on his camera phone, there he appeared. No, not Santa Claus, or Jesus Christ, or Heath Ledger, may he rest in peace. It was Rainder Nummerdor (http://www.fivb.org/en/volleyball/Competitions/WorldLeague/2003/teams/VB_Player.asp?No=10302), him with the killer spike and killer-er smile. I melted at once at the sight of him, him over whom I spend countless hours catching TV reruns of the Nestea Euro Beach Volleyball Tour. I instantly wished I could change flight plans, and instead head to Amsterdam (where I presumed he was going). I was speechless, motionless, for fuck’s sake, and it would have been a huge waste had my uncle not stepped in (thank God for uncles). He asked if I wanted to have a picture of me and Reinder Nummerdor taken, to which I said a resounding, “yes!”. Imagine my surprise when Reinder, as if on cue, immediately huddled next to me and put one of his arms around my waist and his face within breathing distance of mine. I could’ve literally snorted him in if I wanted to, but of course I wanted to do something else.
And then he did it.
No, we didn’t fuck in the pre-departure area, although I wouldn’t have minded. Instead, he held my hand, pulled me towards him, and started tickling me. Yes, he TICKLED me. He tickled me until I started convulsing with laughter, laughter that was borderline orgasmic. I tried tickling him back, and he laughed back, too.
And then, it ended. Not the tickling, but the dream. I suddenly awoke to the smell of sunny side-ups and fried rice, usually a comforting smell, but now nothing more than an irritant. I desperately wanted the dream to continue, so I tried closing my eyes again. Of course it didn’t work, but I was desperate, neh?
I thus felt weirdly irritated the whole day. I never knew that tickling could be so, uhm, sexual – and until this morning I never realized that I haven’t been tickled by anyone in a long, long time. I was somehow put off by the fact that it’s been ages since I was last tickled, and that I’ve never been close to being tickled orgasmically. And by Reinder Nummerdor, at that!
Agh. Reinder Nummerdor – will someone please bring me to the Netherlands and introduce me to him?
I promise not to tickle.
* * *
OMG. I just saw someone using one of those primitive-looking, analog phones with long, stretchable antennas. You know, them that look like cordless phones, only you could bring them outside your house and still enjoy coverage. I used to have one of those. Luckily for all of us, smaller, handier, and more aesthetically appealing mobile phones were invented. I don’t know how I would survive bringing such a bulky thing around.
Maybe I should ask the guy how he does it. Lol.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The Admirable Number Pi
Three point one four one five nine two six five three five eight nine seven nine three two three eight four six two six four three. That's about as long as I can remember. How long can a number run, you ask? About forty feet, in the case of the admirable number Pi. The longest snake on earth calls it quits at about forty feet.
What is a number, first of all? Isn't it something between zero and nine? How can a puny Greek letter, that which resembles a shack with a corrugated tin roof, also be considered a number?
And how important can a number be, anyway? We all hold numbers un-dear. The mere image of numbers sends us scuttling away for cover (at least our minds do the running away for us). How can something so inexplicably long and endless be of so much weight to civilization?
Mathematicians think they know the answer. They are both human and intellectual, so they think they hold more authority than anyone else to explain the universality of the number Pi. Ask them, and they go on explaining about circles and diameters and ratios and peripheries. You feel feeble and unimportant just listening to them. Mathematicians are like the numbers they study -- in the name of preserving self-worth you end up scurrying away the first chance you get.
Physicists think they know the answer. They, too, are both human and intellectual. But they think that they hold more authority than mathematicians, because to them physics encompasses everything else in science, mathematics included. Ask them about Pi, and they start babbling about the universe, cosmological constants, and spherical coordinate systems. "Spherical what?", you ask. Exactly my point. Hurry away, then.
The Egyptian scribe Ahmes (c. 1800 BC) thinks he knows the answer. He is intellectual, too, no doubt. And he thinks he holds more authority than mathematicians and physicists combined, because he was both mathematician and physicist. He is the first person to whom the discovery of Pi is ascribed, and he got to within two-hundredths of the modern value by simply dividing 256 by 81. Ah, numbers again.
And so you continue running.
The pageant of personalities claiming to have been gifted the ability to discern the importance of the number Pi doesn't stop at page's end. It can go on across a table, through the air, over a wall, a leaf, a bird's nest, clouds, straight into the sky, through all the bottomless, bloated heavens. Some will claim utmost academic authority, armed with diplomas and certificates and thick spectacles, while some will claim divine inspiration. Some will do so with the passion of a swarm of bees defending their colony from being de-honeyed.
But at the end of the day, when someone asks, "what is the number Pi?", what do we answer? Do we say what the mathematicians say? Or do we pretend we like physics, and babble off about cosmological blah blah? Do we refer the inquisitor to Ahmes (not that we know where his remains lie)?
You may or may not take me seriously, but I think I know the answer. I am not an intellectual, but at least I am human enough to understand that knowledge, like the number Pi, is practically endless. I do not claim to hold any authority, but I nonetheless fancy that the bounds of human wisdom, like the number Pi, cannot be comprehended at a glance, by calculation or imagination, not even by wit -- that is, by comparison to anything else in the world. By nature we have limits, but of all the things that make us human, it is our intelligence that is least bound.
Yes, the number Pi is a mathematical constant, one that scientists use to try to understand the universe. But it is also as it appears -- a shack with tin roofing, a house. It represents everything we know and are about to know, that shelters us from the ignominy of ignorance and incapacity. It symbolizes our departure from dinosaurhood, our march to brilliance. The number Pi is us -- allegory to how far humanity has come in terms of reason, and to how much further it seeks to stride.
That we have come so far, from being mere cavemen, to mathematicians and physicists and modern day Ahmeses, is testament to the virtual boundlessness of our intellect. Whether we are children, adults, or veterans of the world, there will always be that extra room in our seemingly limited brains for things new and untrodden. All new knowledge is initial, because it never ends, much like every single digit in the hierarchy of the admirable number Pi.
"It keeps on with its rather remarkable five,
its uncommonly fine eight,
its far from final seven,
nudging, always nidging a sluggish eternity
to continue."
-from Pi, by Wislawa Szymborska, 1976
What is a number, first of all? Isn't it something between zero and nine? How can a puny Greek letter, that which resembles a shack with a corrugated tin roof, also be considered a number?
And how important can a number be, anyway? We all hold numbers un-dear. The mere image of numbers sends us scuttling away for cover (at least our minds do the running away for us). How can something so inexplicably long and endless be of so much weight to civilization?
Mathematicians think they know the answer. They are both human and intellectual, so they think they hold more authority than anyone else to explain the universality of the number Pi. Ask them, and they go on explaining about circles and diameters and ratios and peripheries. You feel feeble and unimportant just listening to them. Mathematicians are like the numbers they study -- in the name of preserving self-worth you end up scurrying away the first chance you get.
Physicists think they know the answer. They, too, are both human and intellectual. But they think that they hold more authority than mathematicians, because to them physics encompasses everything else in science, mathematics included. Ask them about Pi, and they start babbling about the universe, cosmological constants, and spherical coordinate systems. "Spherical what?", you ask. Exactly my point. Hurry away, then.
The Egyptian scribe Ahmes (c. 1800 BC) thinks he knows the answer. He is intellectual, too, no doubt. And he thinks he holds more authority than mathematicians and physicists combined, because he was both mathematician and physicist. He is the first person to whom the discovery of Pi is ascribed, and he got to within two-hundredths of the modern value by simply dividing 256 by 81. Ah, numbers again.
And so you continue running.
The pageant of personalities claiming to have been gifted the ability to discern the importance of the number Pi doesn't stop at page's end. It can go on across a table, through the air, over a wall, a leaf, a bird's nest, clouds, straight into the sky, through all the bottomless, bloated heavens. Some will claim utmost academic authority, armed with diplomas and certificates and thick spectacles, while some will claim divine inspiration. Some will do so with the passion of a swarm of bees defending their colony from being de-honeyed.
But at the end of the day, when someone asks, "what is the number Pi?", what do we answer? Do we say what the mathematicians say? Or do we pretend we like physics, and babble off about cosmological blah blah? Do we refer the inquisitor to Ahmes (not that we know where his remains lie)?
You may or may not take me seriously, but I think I know the answer. I am not an intellectual, but at least I am human enough to understand that knowledge, like the number Pi, is practically endless. I do not claim to hold any authority, but I nonetheless fancy that the bounds of human wisdom, like the number Pi, cannot be comprehended at a glance, by calculation or imagination, not even by wit -- that is, by comparison to anything else in the world. By nature we have limits, but of all the things that make us human, it is our intelligence that is least bound.
Yes, the number Pi is a mathematical constant, one that scientists use to try to understand the universe. But it is also as it appears -- a shack with tin roofing, a house. It represents everything we know and are about to know, that shelters us from the ignominy of ignorance and incapacity. It symbolizes our departure from dinosaurhood, our march to brilliance. The number Pi is us -- allegory to how far humanity has come in terms of reason, and to how much further it seeks to stride.
That we have come so far, from being mere cavemen, to mathematicians and physicists and modern day Ahmeses, is testament to the virtual boundlessness of our intellect. Whether we are children, adults, or veterans of the world, there will always be that extra room in our seemingly limited brains for things new and untrodden. All new knowledge is initial, because it never ends, much like every single digit in the hierarchy of the admirable number Pi.
"It keeps on with its rather remarkable five,
its uncommonly fine eight,
its far from final seven,
nudging, always nidging a sluggish eternity
to continue."
-from Pi, by Wislawa Szymborska, 1976
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Im back .With baduy songs.
I haven't posted in a long time, I know. And I'm sorry. I hope I can make it up to you with this self-deprecating post.
Someone asked me recently if there were any baduy songs in the playlist on my Walkman phone. In the name of retaining my pride, I immediately shot back, "absolutely not". But a faint hint of hesitation betrayed my otherwise cool response, and I was caught. My friend insisted on having a look at my playlist herself. In the end, I had to accede to her challenge, but not before a challenge of my own:
Lemme see your playlist too.
So we swapped phones, and ended up laughing at each other's musical tastes. We're all baduy to some degree, I discovered. And you're not exempt.
Here's a list of the five most baduy songs on my playlist:
5 -- Barbie Girl (Aqua) -- Datu and I penned an overly obscene version of this song a loooong time ago. I'll post the edited lyrics here sometime soon, but be prepared. It's friggin dirty.
4 -- Boom Boom (Vengaboys) -- at first, I thought the lyrics said, "Boom boom boom boom, I want to be a broom..."
3 -- Dr Jones (Aqua) -- God. Help. Me. This is probably one of the most baduy songs ever, and that includes songs not even on my playlist.
2 -- Dragostea Din Tei (O-zone) -- This song by a Romanian "boy band" doesn't really sound "boy-ish". Sounds more gay band to me. Plus, it has one of the worst music videos ever.
and the top spot goes to...
1 -- Ride a White Horse (Laid Back) -- Baduy singer, baduy lyrics, baduy video. Nuff said.
Someone asked me recently if there were any baduy songs in the playlist on my Walkman phone. In the name of retaining my pride, I immediately shot back, "absolutely not". But a faint hint of hesitation betrayed my otherwise cool response, and I was caught. My friend insisted on having a look at my playlist herself. In the end, I had to accede to her challenge, but not before a challenge of my own:
Lemme see your playlist too.
So we swapped phones, and ended up laughing at each other's musical tastes. We're all baduy to some degree, I discovered. And you're not exempt.
Here's a list of the five most baduy songs on my playlist:
5 -- Barbie Girl (Aqua) -- Datu and I penned an overly obscene version of this song a loooong time ago. I'll post the edited lyrics here sometime soon, but be prepared. It's friggin dirty.
4 -- Boom Boom (Vengaboys) -- at first, I thought the lyrics said, "Boom boom boom boom, I want to be a broom..."
3 -- Dr Jones (Aqua) -- God. Help. Me. This is probably one of the most baduy songs ever, and that includes songs not even on my playlist.
2 -- Dragostea Din Tei (O-zone) -- This song by a Romanian "boy band" doesn't really sound "boy-ish". Sounds more gay band to me. Plus, it has one of the worst music videos ever.
and the top spot goes to...
1 -- Ride a White Horse (Laid Back) -- Baduy singer, baduy lyrics, baduy video. Nuff said.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
On men and apples
Men are like apples on trees.
The best ones are at the top of the tree.
Most boys don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling from above and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy.
So the apples at the top are left, thinking something is wrong with them, when in reality, they are amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's man enough to climb all the way to the top.
The best ones are at the top of the tree.
Most boys don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling from above and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy.
So the apples at the top are left, thinking something is wrong with them, when in reality, they are amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's man enough to climb all the way to the top.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
I Owe
There is much I owe
to those I do not love.
The relief in accepting
they are closer to another.
Joy that I am not
the wolf to their sheep.
My peace be with them
for with them I am free,
and this, love can neither give,
nor know how to take.
I don't wait for them
from window to door.
Almost as patient
as a sun dial,
I understand
what love does not understand.
I forgive
what love would never have forgiven.
Between rendezvous and letter
no eternity passes,
only a few days or weeks.
My trips with them always turn out well.
Concerts are heard.
Cathedrals are toured.
Landscapes are distinct.
And when seven rivers and mountains
come between us,
they are rivers and mountains
well known from any map.
It is thanks to them
that I live in three dimensions,
in a non-lyrical and non-rhetorical space,
with a shifting, thus real, horizon.
They don't even know
how much they carry in their empty hands.
"I don't owe them anything",
love would have said
on this open topic.
to those I do not love.
The relief in accepting
they are closer to another.
Joy that I am not
the wolf to their sheep.
My peace be with them
for with them I am free,
and this, love can neither give,
nor know how to take.
I don't wait for them
from window to door.
Almost as patient
as a sun dial,
I understand
what love does not understand.
I forgive
what love would never have forgiven.
Between rendezvous and letter
no eternity passes,
only a few days or weeks.
My trips with them always turn out well.
Concerts are heard.
Cathedrals are toured.
Landscapes are distinct.
And when seven rivers and mountains
come between us,
they are rivers and mountains
well known from any map.
It is thanks to them
that I live in three dimensions,
in a non-lyrical and non-rhetorical space,
with a shifting, thus real, horizon.
They don't even know
how much they carry in their empty hands.
"I don't owe them anything",
love would have said
on this open topic.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
