Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Shaving Grace

I stared without seeing my reflection.

I heaved a sigh.

"Do it."

I barely registered the locks of hair that fell all around me.

I ran a light finger across myself, taking all the sensations in.

"Yes, all of it."

I lost myself in my head.

Saturday, December 17, 2011


 feisty and stubborn but also secretly heartbreaking

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Saturday, December 10, 2011

An Open Letter


Dear Future Polaroid Cam,

Daily I endure the pleading days pregnant with waiting. Each day is a living lesson of patience; each night is an excercise of hope. The seasons are mute witnesses of the resilient fondness I have kept, and nurtured, through their passing. Someday, when my labors have borne their fruits, I shall set out of my barrow to finally claim you. Our meeting was inevitable and our reunion is in the offing. 

Soon, we will bear witness to the harmony of my smiles and your whirrs as our dreams take flight on dandelion wings.

With my love,

Friday, December 9, 2011


Michael König's video montage of the Earth seen from 240,000 miles up. He used 18 time-lapse sequences of photographs shot from the International Space Station.

The world is just beautiful.

Thursday, December 8, 2011


behold the royal plastic spoon
circa 2010

I have been smiling to myself for over the last 24 hours. 
Good things are made even better when they come as a surprise.
I have been blessed with the company, physical and otherwise, of friends.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Boys: Pick-up Lines II

Previously: Clit
                 Boys: Pick-up Lines I

I was by the bar just as everyone was getting into the mood. It wasn't quite the revelry that it would be hours later, but it was sure to get there. By then, I was absent-mindedly moving my head to the beat of the music and subtly swaying my body while I alternated between looking around and drinking. Without warning, a guy to my left turned to talk to me.

"Hi. May I know the time?"

I looked at him in surprise. It was the first time someone actually spoke to me. The closest thing before involved me having to wiggle, politely, out of someone's arms as they gyrated dangerously close. 
I was ambushed yet again. But although it seemed cute and promising this time, all I did was raise my left arm to indicate the watch on my wrist - the very thing I do with friends.

He blinked in confusion as he looked at the watch hovering inches from his face. I would've confused myself, too. To make up for it, I smiled, withdrew my hand, checked my watch and then told him the time.

"It's around one-fifty," I said while I looked him in the eye. He was attractive, gifted with piercing eyes and a nose bridge a lot of other men and women would pay thousands for., but most of all - he was taller than I was. That was always a plus. He was around my age. That was a first - older guys tend to mingle with me more than those my age. I suppose his smile was cute. It made for a fine contrast against the coy one I had then.

"Ah---" he stalled, flashing that awkward smile again. I took a swig of Tanduay Ice - my favorite companion on these solo-flights - to let him gather his thoughts. I hoped that fixing him with what I hoped to be an artfully seductive stare while he was grasping for words would make things a bit more interesting.

"--ahh, okay. I'm Oscar." He extended a hand. Now that surprised me. I was thinking he'd withhold his name until the most opportune moment, but here he was, smiling like some kid in a carnival. I wondered what that made me - was I one of the freaks or was I  one of reasonably normal - and enchanting - attractions?

"Oh." I deliberated for a second before deciding to return the favor. 

"You're cute, Oscar. I'm Spiral," I told him as I shook his hand. The beginnings of a wonderful fancy were forming inside my head then, expecting something interesting out of this experience, but things flipped over without warning.

"Thanks, Spiral," he said while shaking my hand a second or two too long. I looked on expectantly, remembering to blink my eyes just enough and at the right moments, while he scratched his head, floundering for words.

He looked over his peers, most of whom were sitting at a table just behind him - they were just as lost as he was, from what I could tell; his female friends were clearly new to this -, when his eyes lit up. He must've stumbled upon a brilliant idea to keep the conversation flowing. It was all too apparent. I was then decidedly confused when he fished the guy to his left, the very same guy who had been eying us both earlier, brought him over between us and flashed a smile that showed off his perfect set of teeth.

"This is Tom," he indicated the guy between us, patting Tom's shoulder's lightly. 
Now I was at a loss.

"...err...hi, Tom." I raised my hand in greeting.

"Hello..." he mumbled back and he half-heartedly raised his hand as well.

Remember the beginnings of a wonderful fancy that were forming in my head? They fizzled out with the finality of a full stop. I guess they were embarrassed and drifted off wordlessly several minutes later. I didn't mind it much. It was more funny than frustrating. Oscar, in all his boyishness, was admittedly cute, and his 'friendly' interjection was hilarious, but what it all really did was make me wish I brought friends along with me. Having to sway like a princeling coconut tree by my lonesome becomes too boring and repetitive. The presence of friends would have made for a nice change of pace.
To help me remember the funny exchange, I texted a few people about what happened, and I got colorful responses, which sparked just as colorful conversations the next day.

"Isa na namang: 'friend' na sana, naging bato pa."(Yet another would-have-been-friend!)

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Blame the maldito-eyes and maldito-smile, Spiral!"

"Spiral Dearest, with boys and with anything else: you win some, you lose some."

"Look at this way, Spiral: apply what you learned the next time you party."

"Boys will be boys, Spiral. There will be more bloopers."

Thursday, December 1, 2011


life goes on, spiral, with or without your father

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Beauty and Madness

What kind of loser writes on flimsy napkins while deafening music booms on and on, pacing my systoles and diastoles? Who does not give in to alcohol but succumbs to the gauze of nicotine? Every breath is a rebellion against established principles. Tiny embers light the night, cairns of dying stars immolating most resolve and conviction. My mute screams of protest fall back in on themselves as I reach new highs void of feeling. Feather-light caresses fail to penetrate my shell as I yearn for another in a place bridged by distance and warped by the unyielding bass of uncertainty...and perhaps mutual fear and exasperation.

Need shared worlds be sundered? What am I to do when my heart beats for another out of its own sentient and stubborn and sincere volition? I cannot spurn it away, for flesh and blood, unfeeling, kiss death in its absence. What is sobriety to do when it is doubted, when all of me is laid bare and yet I am bid to be clothed, and accused, wrongly, of laying waste to dreams? What is chance when it is taken away before it is given? What is strength when little fears cripple it so easily?

Stares of malign passions home in, rebuked by the pauper-prince's eyes that seek the one averted gaze from the familiar face of someone dear miles away. 

What kind of fool am I? One whose folly, embraced whole, cannot be helped. One whose breath was taken away even before paths crossed; one whose breath was taken away when paths and lives finally did cross; one whose breaths were taken away again and again and again, sweeter and sweeter with each refrain; one whose puny rhymes fail and whose tropes barely commit justice to the wretched mad impetus that spur it so; one who hopes and whose hopes unleash kaleidoscope upon kaleidoscope of butterflies which nuzzle and twist and tug, unyielding, at the very fiber of my being; one hopelessly imprisoned by moments held in stasis in the trove of memory, each relived perpetually, urging me to yearn for continuity, for more.

I am a fool, a willing victim of fate, who fell, beyond choice, beyond reason, and beyond salvation, utterly and wholly and madly with a friend. Crucify me if you must, but unfeeling repentance for this feeling that stole over me with utter abandon shall not spring from my lips. This is no sin. Let he who has never loved, in any way or form, cast the first stone.

Do not isolate me, please.


Once again I put my question to two young students, fashionable boys both, about eighteen, or what they called then in Florence giovani, being the most difficult of youths, too old to be a child, such as I was, and too young to be a man."

Vittorio di Raniari
Vittorio the Vampire
The Immaculate Conception
Chapter 15

Thank you for sharing, Geek.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Art Stuff


ms paint+mouse+one hour
Original size shown to preserve quality at the expense of the blog 's  OC alignment.

Because there ain't no reason you and me should be alone tonight...or for the rest of our lives, for that matter.

Edge of Glory
Lady Gaga

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


In the city only for a while
Here to face the fortune and the bile

Blue Spotted Tail
Fleet Foxes

Dangling cobwebs embraced me as I passed through the door, welcoming me back. It was only fitting, after all, a thin crust of dust caked everything in the room,  while traces of now-dead gray molds were cairns of moisture long-gone. Our unsettled past really does haunt us. I left Cebu three months back in haste. That afternoon saw me grabbing what quick-glanced decision-making deemed prudent to bring, or salvage. A variety of scraps littered the floor, the wooden figurine ashtray was a bowl of dust, and the books left behind: on the table, inside a paper bag, under articles of clothing, beneath the bed, atop the bed, inside a  cabinet, inside neon shopping bags - they were as corpses of the forgotten fallen in a place lost to memory. I left Cebu then without saying proper goodbyes to important people - the few people who knew my story; the few who knew and helped me through. Up until that afternoon, I wasn't even sure if leaving was the right thing to do. I feared it was cowardice, and feared even more that staying might be foolish, that pride was behind the resolve. I failed for the most part during the time before I returned home. It was a daily labor to just get up and slave through another cycle of monotonous eight hours repeating the same thing over and over and over again. There were occasional moments of clarity throughout that period: endless conversations under the sky that took me places and spurred me to great heights and taught me to savor the adrenaline rush of descents. I have really good friends to thank for them. They kept me sane. When I finally hit rock-bottom, I succumbed to a form of denial and depression. I lived an illusion, and lived on dwindling resources. There was one time when I willfully dove into the sea of questionable sobriety, to warrant a breakdown of the walls that barely kept my already over-spilling sentiments in check. That was a night of surrender, that I have failed utterly and irrevocably, of empowerment, that the admittance of a mistake is an act of courage, and of trust, that the first time I totally blacked out saw me come home safe and sound, albeit with a warped memory whose pieces I pieced together several days later. There is more to this tale, and though I wished to keep it for myself, for its virtues, I will write of it here that it be immortalized and transcend time.

Our unsettled past really does haunt us, but the present brings with it good things unlooked for.  Two great books came wrapped in silver accented by a red ribbon, sent by two Secret Santas. I consider it the first good omen for my return. I have several important things to finish within seven days, after which I shall be able to reforge the ties I have here. I have become quite the recluse, both here and in Bohol, and have done good friends a disservice. They are, after all, living balms to my soul. Tomorrow shall see me wade the waters of the unemployed seeking employment, and hopefully succeed. I have been floundering about for far too long for the rest, which I realized I really needed, to be considered reasonable. Today is the beginning of the next four and a half years of my life which shall see me work to support my studies starting June next year. Don't you dare end on December next year, world. This stranger has dared hope, and intends to work for it. Let me see this, and the many things and ties I need to accomplish and forge, through.

Monday, November 21, 2011

I, Stranger

Aunque en el futuro
Haya un muro enorme
Yo no tengo miedo
Quiero enamorarme

No Me Ames
Marc Anthony and Jennifer Lopez

Hopeless Haters

J, a highschool schoolmate and a former Mr. Intrams winner during his sophomore(and my senior) year gained weight when he got to college. He has this charisma about him and he's quite the looker himself, but apparently, these do not deter haters from bringing up his weight issues, which aren't issues to him when one thinks about it,  considering that it was his choice to get more weight. Being the human being that he is, he has his limits, too, as shown when he got fed up with all the jabs and posted this status(which got a lot of attention) on Facebook:

I may be fat, but: 1) I'm not ugly and 2) I can diet.

I like this style of shooting haters down.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Friday, November 18, 2011

The Child I Wasn't

Taken at a happy place, during happier times.

Most of me was built at school. What little is left was either built, albeit shoddily, or broken at home. There was less of the former than the latter. I recently looked through old photographs from my childhood. What's left now is more knowledge than memory of the moments when I felt extreme happiness. Most of them happened in places outside our old house, with folks from school.

I recall one day when I came home from school in sullen spirits. The weather that noon was sunny, with periodic glares and the occasional pinches. Instead of potholes, those painted nails dug out red welts deep into my skin. The living room ceiling did not shelter me from the intense downpour of shouting, name-calling, spanking, and more glaring. All of these did nothing to help my five year-old self.

All these years later, I still have a photograph, taken by a now-forgotten member of the old household, to remember that day by. The scars are gone, but I cannot say if I ever truly and wholly healed. Despite having faded, the melancholy is still clear in those light and tear-glazed eyes.

I have several similar photos, each yellowed memento with their story to tell. Those  days shaped me. It's a small wonder that quite a number of people remark that I look different today. They claim that the perceived difference is both physical and intangible; that somewhere along the way, something or several somethings were lost. These people have only seen the good photos - those taken from moments and accidents of sheer joy. Most, if not all, of them were experienced in the presence of people unrelated to me by blood.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Monday, November 14, 2011

Donnie Darko

I saw this post in tumblr. the other day and got curious enough to know more about it. They're gif images made from the movie Donnie Darko. Further research showed that it was a good movie(rated 85% by Rotten Tomatoes), but it was of the type that gets appreciated much, much later after its release.

I just finished watching the Director's Cut edition of the movie about half an hour ago and it kept me hooked from start to finish. Suffice to say that the two hours I spent watching it was well-spent. I urge all fans of psychological and sci-fi genres to watch it.

Here's a torrent link for those interested in seeing the film for themselves. Enjoy!

Saturday, November 12, 2011

I, Caterpillar

Metamorphosis Attempt II, Phase 1
The Strange Case of the Missing Necktie

See now, when we stumble, we learn how to navigate better.
See you soon, Cebu.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Five A.M. Laugh Trips


You must be very special to Chris, for him to bring you here in my house without asking permission.

Pakinggan mo na lang yung sasabihin ng bata.
Shush. Just listen to what the kid has to say.

Why? What happened?

I'm ugly.

Hey, you have no right to say that. Beauty is relative.

That's the point.

Oh my gosh. Tama nga si Chris - may problema ka nga.
Chris was correct when he said you had a problem.

Stylist ka  ba o fashion designer?
Are you a stylist or a fashion designer? 

Ha! Am I a stylist, Chris?

Mhmm. Not too flamboyant, alright?

Wala akong allowance para sa damit eh.
But I have no budget for clothes.

Don't worry, darling I'm rich, and you are an emergency.
This is something for the community.


Apparently, Bath House(2005) is loaded with enjoyable satirical takes on otherwise somber issues and scenarios in the gay community. The movie has its moments despite the many snags such as lackadaisical acting by some characters, among other things. See, that's the only comment I'm gonna make and I'll not pass judgement on cinematography(although it certainly didn't blow my breath away) since I'm not an expert on the matter. I'm currently thirty-seven minutes and twenty-one seconds into the film and I look forward to how this plays out. I just had to blog that particular funny exchange, which made my morning and succeeded in taking my mind off of things that have been bothering for the past two days. Now I'm in a good mindset to take on the challenges I'll be facing later today, as I'll be helping friends and batchmates from UP's Kadugong Bol-anon put together their activities later. It'll feel good to be productive!

Saturday, October 22, 2011


together for one year short of two decades

It's so hard to get old without a cause 
I don't want to perish like a fading horse 
Forever young, I want to be forever young 
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever

Forever Young

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Cold Snap

A day comes when we realize that we do ourselves a disservice by staying the way we are, and so we change. We come to terms with the thoughts kept at the back of our minds - white elephants we had hoped ,but failed to vanquish. We secrete ourselves from the theatricals we wrap our lives in: the sunshine, the grass and the flowers, the mock-dreams mock-lived - the props we willed into being, contrived in our stage without an audience but the poor friendly souls we drag into our delusions. We come to a point where we accept that the life to live is the one outside the bare space of the mock-theaters where our petty little woes are magnified in the expansive emptiness, no matter how lavishly furnished.

A day comes when we shed several hundred wasted lifetimes. A day comes when we wake up, and then take a first real shower. It's time to chase our dreams.

Today My Life Begins
Bruno Mars

Tuesday, October 18, 2011


Christopher, you really can be a nasty bitch.

Damn right.

Meredith Brooks

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Ramon Blues

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid

A Case of You
James Blake

*image owned by spiralprince

Friday, October 7, 2011



Stronger than Maydays.

La Roux

Monday, October 3, 2011

Being Tyler Durden

Tyler Durden, Oh yeah.

Last Saturday dawn, I was asked by my high school teachers to help them with an event at school. I had to oblige, besides, I had nothing else to do while I festered here in Bohol. It felt good to feel alive at the prospect of going back there to share something I was good at: computers and speaking in front of an audience. 

I was in a good enough mood that I showered at four in the morning, and then again a few hours before leaving for school. None of the current students were there when I still went to school. No one knew me, save for my siblings, and the younger siblings of the school mates I knew and who knew me. My high school teacher, thesis and club adviser, and mentor asked me to judge two contests: business project proposal and power presentation for the school-based STEP conference. I was the school, and subsequently the city's representative for the regional division contest for powerpoint presentation back in my senior year(2008). As for the business project proposal, I only knew the basics, not the technicalities, and so I focused on the proposal part of the contest when I judged the students. 

It felt empowering to sit there with my old teachers as equals to judge the young blood, but more than that, it felt good to share to the students my experience and general guidelines, as well as several tips and tricks when it comes to presenting an idea or something else in public. I was decidedly in my element then. One can say that I have a flair for voicing out an idea, and well, public speaking in general. 

Expression, in its several forms, shall always be a passion for me: very few things can compare to the thrill you get from presenting something abstract and getting yourself understood and subsequently appreciated by your audience. It's as the Master Jedi said:"I am not a teacher. I am a rockstar." It's all a stage, and you have to own it. I owned it then. I always had this suspicion that I had an ability to teach well, or at least make myself understood effectively in a way that does not breach individual sensibilities. When I taught Junior Physics in my senior year for teacher's day, I got a positive feedback from teachers and students alike. My siblings and teachers told me last Saturday that the feedback from the participants was good and that the general opinion was that I was effective as a speaker, a teacher, and a judge. Heck, my siblings told me their classmates thought I was cool. It felt refreshing to do that stint. It reminded me of a brief thought a few months back: I thought of the possibility of teaching Art after college, aside from actively pursuing art as a career. I don't know. It might be wishful thinking, but I do know that it does seem more tangible than my old delusions. At least I am sure that this is something that I conceived on my own - not a dream or idea dropped at my lap by someone else. It feels me. I felt as bad-ass as Tyler Durden in a good way. 

Maybe, just maybe, I was meant to be a cool teacher, among other cool things.

Friday, September 30, 2011

Poached Eggs

source: *

My first attempt at cooking poached eggs was a failure. Oversight due to a tiredness and four am judgments do not help at all. It was fun, though. I tried to emulate the boil-water-then-stir-then-drop-the-eggs-in method I saw on Masterchef. The attempt was shoddy and half-hearted. I shall try another day.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Kris Aquinio, Pantene, and Grammer

I'm not really the type to discuss things like commercials, but when I just saw this a few minutes ago and I knew I had to talk about it here. Seriously. One would think that a commercial from an international company that features a figure touted to be among the countries top endorsers has no room for a gross grammatical error above. Seriously.

So, Miss Aquino, what's you're secret?

This commercial is still aired on t.v.


What could I give, or lose, to reweave this life?


You roll with the blows and make peace with what is past. 
The morrow is what you make it.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Design Inspiration

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Sunday: Peeves

For the nth time, I've attempted to change my lay-out. I really have to develop certain skills. I always doubt my eye for color when I work with all the technical css-html stuff. I wanted to put together a pastel-psychedelic theme but I fell terribly short of the mark. The technicality is annoying me. I was never the css-html code person. My attempts at microsoft's frontpage application back then were graphic-based. I'm a GUI person. I put together what I need as a base and fine-tune things using the technical stuff as needed. I have always preferred working with tangible things - I do a lot better when putting together things for a bulletin board compared to my shoddy work here. I know I could always learn more of css and html, but I really can't be bothered because I'm not interested, but that might change when I get back to school(hopefully) next year. I suspect being an Advertising Arts in the Fine Arts program will require me to leap over that hurdle. At the moment, though, it really doesn't help that I am limited with what I can do with blogger's default lay-out editor alone, but that really gives me no excuse. I need to get my act together. Another change may come in the coming days.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Transcript VIII: Jedi and Padawan Bloopers

My best friend is giving me his entire set of film slr for free.

Build a darkroom asap.

I'll try film - old school approach.

You'll figure it out.

I'm sure it's easier than math.

How are you gonna upload your shots?

I'll take photos of the negatives.


Good nutrition has given me intellect but not length of bone.

That just made me laugh.
And I've told you before: height isn't everything, Obi.
But it does help from time to time.

So, yesterday was teacher evaluation day.

How bad did you do?

My students answered this on the comment card:
Strong Points of the teacher.
They wrote, "sexy."

Hay nako(I'm not surprised).

Whatever gave them that idea.

I'm pretty sure you did.
You claim to be such a lot.

Ah, impressionable young minds.

What did they write in the weak points portion?

I dunno, they usually say i scare them and shit.

They find you sexy and scary.
Not surprised.
I imagine one of them's a joke.

Rain more on my parade, will you? Haha.

What sort of monster are you?
I suppose you're a vampire.

I dunno.

Lestat? Armand?

You can be Lestat.

I'm Renfield, lolz.
He was a lawyer

I need to read more Anne Rice.
So, which vampire am I???

Not Anne Rice - Bram Stoker.

Ahhh. I haven't read a Stoker yet.
Will take note of that.
Which vampire am I, though?

Victor of Underworld.

Damn you.
I have the right to be young and sexy!

Whatever you say, Spiral. Haha.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Transcript VII: Ugly Stares

Enter Serenity
Master Jedi

Manila was weird, but i learned how to ride the bus from NAIA3 to edsa.

How was it weird?

I rode a jeep from Taft to MOA. I sat beside this chinese kid.
He kept staring at me. I kept wiping my face.
Abi nako na koy kugmo.
(I thought I had snot on my face)

You look Singaporean.
He must've thought you were a kin.
*epic musical score plus eye candy transformation*

I dunno.
I decidedly felt so ugly.
Like - weird.
Maybe because dugay na ko wa kasakay ug jeep.
(maybe because it's been a long time since I last rode a jeep)

I think you were right to have felt ugly.


You didn't get to prep much did you?
I get feelings like that whenever i don't get to dress up properly.

Nope, cause I just came from the court.
I was just wearing an undershirt.
"Ampangit ng katabi ko, titigan nga"
(the person beside me looks ugly, I should stare at him)

So that's what you do.
You stare at ugly people. Haha.

Well, no - Pah!

I have decided that this convo is funny.

It is. Anyway, ni-die down na akong fascination for Calculus.
(my fascination for Calculus died down)
I now think it's much ado about. Ewan(I dunno).
But at least i now understand it's origins.

Ha! Wait till you see Vector Calculus and the rest of that shit....
Damn it.
You know...there's an explanantion.
You wanna here it?


God, this is like the jeepney all over again!
This is my explanantion:
when you type, you type words automatically.
Sometimes, di nag ko-connect ang language brain and lizard brain.
(sometimes, the language brain and lizard brain aren't in sync)





Someone's flustered. 


More than an elder brother I never had, it's at times like this when I sorely wish he were my father.
Or at the very least my father was like him, no matter how slightly.