Who needs a freakin' review anyways?

NICK on her Ex-Bitch

I try to hear her voice, try to separate that single pitch from the shouts and applause. But she’s as lost to me as she was the night I cried and she didn’t turn back to see if I was okay. Three weeks, two days, and twenty-three hours ago. And she’s already with someone else.

My eye is still used to searching for her in a crowd. My breath is still used to catching when I see her and the light is angled just right. My body is still used to hers moving next to mine. So the distance—anything short of contact—is a constant rejection. We were together for six months, and in each of those months my desire found new ways to be fueled by her. It’s over can’t kill that. All of the songs I wrote in my head were for her, and now I can’t stop them from playing. This null soundtrack. I’m tired, she’d said, and I told her that I was tired, too, and that I wanted to take some time for us, too. And then she’d said, No, I’m tired of you, and I slipped into the surreal-but-true universe where we were over and I wasn’t over it. She was no longer any kind of here that I could get to.

One of NICK & NORAH's enlightening conversations

“What are you talking about?”
“The Cure. What do they think they’re the cure for? Happiness?”
“This coming from the bassist for The Fuck Offs?”
And I can’t help it. I think, Wow, she knows our name.
“Dev’s thinking of changing it to The Fuck Ons,” I tell her.
“How ’bout simply Fuck On?”
“Maybe one word? Fuckon?”
“The Friendly Fuckons?”
“My Fuckon Or Yours?”
“Why is he such a fucking Fuckon?”
I look at her. “Is that a band name or a statement?”
“He had no right to do that. None.”
We break into silence again. I lob a question right into it.

From the burly bouncer dressed in a Playboy Bunny outfit

“There’s no such thing as ready,” she says. “There’s only willing.”
She reaches over and puts her hand on top of mine. She’s not making a pass at me—she’s trying to pass something on.
“I have all the proof I need,” she says. “The proof is always in the dancing.”

NORAH says

“Look,” she says, raising her Tina Colada, “I owe you a kind of explanation. I know you probably think I’m a horrid bitch from the planet Schizophrenia, but I’m honestly not trying to mess with your head. I’m just messing with my own head and I seem to have dragged you along for the ride. I think you’re nice to me and that scares the fuck out of me. Because when a guy’s a jerk or an asshole, it’s easier because you know exactly where you stand. Since trust isn’t an option, you don’t have to get all freaked out about maybe having to trust him. Right now I am thinking about ten things at the same time, and at least four of those things have to do with you. If you want to leave right now and drive home and forget my name and forget what I look like, I wouldn’t blame you in the least. But what I’m trying to say is that if you did that I would be sorry. And not just sorry in an I-apologize-I’m-so-sorry way, but sorry in a sad-that-something-that-could’ve-happened-didn’t way. That’s it. You can go now. Or we could stay for Where’s Fluffy when Toni’s set is over. I think they’re playing a surprise show here tonight.”

NICK answers

“No,” I go on. “It does. And if I left, you’d probably want to give me my jacket back. And if you did, I wouldn’t be able to put it on, because the whole time I’d be knowing how perfectly it fit on you. How even though the sleeves are ridiculously too long and the collar is all fucked up and for all I know some guy named Salvatore is going to come in this very club in two minutes and say, ‘Hey, that’s my jacket’ and strike up a conversation and sweep you off your feet away from me—even though all those things are true or possibly true, I just can’t ruin the picture of you sitting there across from me wearing my jacket better than I or anyone else ever could. If I don’t owe it to you and I don’t owe it to me, I at least owe it to Salvatore.”

While Where's Fluffy is playing

Dev’s elbow hits my back and I press forward and she’s right there and I’m reaching out and she’s right there and right at that moment the amps amplify and the music takes on such a pulse that it becomes my heartbeat and her heartbeat and I know it and she knows it and this is the point where we could break apart and that would be it, totally it. But I look into her eyes and she looks into my eyes and we recognize it—the excitement of being here, the excitement of being now. And maybe I’m realizing what a part of it she is and maybe she’s realizing what a part of it I am, because suddenly we’re not crashing as much as we’re combining. The chords swirling around us are becoming a tornado, tightening and tightening and tightening, and we are at the center of it, and we are at the center of each other. My wrist touches hers right at the point of our pulses, and I swear I can feel it. That thrum. We are moving to the music and at the same time we are a stillness. I am not losing myself in the barrage. I am finding her. And she is—yes, she is finding me. The crowd is pressing in on us and the bassline is revealing everything and we are two people who are part of a lot more people, and at the same time we’re our own part. There isn’t loneliness, only this intense twoliness. There’s only one way to test it, and that is to dare a movement, to push it farther and see if she wants it to go there. I find her lips and I make that kiss and she’s pulling my hair and I’ve got the fabric of her jacket bunched in a fist and it’s nothing like talking and it’s right there and we’re taking it and taking it and taking it. And my eyes are closed and then my eyes are open and I see her eyes are open and there’s a part of her that’s pulling back even as our bodies are pressing and it’s the fear, of course there’s the fear, and I just hold her close to tell her I understand.

NICK with Dev

“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I’ve thought a lot about this.”

NICK while waiting

While they’re in the bathroom together, I try to distract myself by coming up with a list of things that could be worse than having your vehement ex drag your current she’s-so-frickin’-cool girl away for some cubicle camaraderie (or conflict). I come up with the following:

• Having your pubic hair trimmed with garden shears.
• Having your pubic hair trimmed with garden shears by a frat guy who’s had twelve shots of Jägermeister.
• Having your pubic hair trimmed with garden shears by a frat guy who’s had twelve shots of Jägermeister during an 8.6 earthquake.
• Having your pubic hair trimmed with garden shears by a frat guy who’s had twelve shots of Jägermeister during an 8.6 earthquake with lite jazz playing.

I have to stop there. It’s just too horrifying.

Still waiting

Maybe this is my way of creating the illusion of control over something I have no control over. Like, if it’s just a story I’m telling or a song I’m singing, then I’ll be okay because I’m the guy who’s providing the words. Which is not the way life works at all. Or at least not when it’s unfair.

The Song

March Eighteenth

The way you’re singing in your sleep
The way you look before you leap
The strange illusions that you keep
You don’t know
But I’m noticing

The way your touch turns into arcs
The way you slide into the dark
The beating of my open heart
You don’t know
But I’m noticing

NORAH on being Jewish

“Tikkun olam,” I repeat.
“Exactly. Basically, it says that the world has been broken into pieces. All this chaos, all this discord. And our job—everyone’s job—is to try to put the pieces back together. To make things whole again.”

NICK on NORAH being Jewish

“Maybe that’s it,” I say gently. “With what you were talking about before. The world being broken. Maybe it isn’t that we’re supposed to find the pieces and put them back together. Maybe we’re the pieces.”

NORAH's discovery

I can’t think about what Dad did because the skies have suddenly opened up and it’s a hellacious downpour, but what is Nick doing? He’s dancing a jig at the curb, his arms outstretched, his face tilted upward to receive the splash. Joyful.

I don’t tell Nick my call is finished. I just watch him. A while ago when I looked at Nick, I felt inspired by the line from that Smiths song playing earlier at Camera Obscura where Morrissey sings about how what she asked of me / at the end of the day / Caligula would have blushed. I don’t know that I care anymore about piecing together whether Nick’s straight or gay or somewhere in between. I’m thinking I would like to dance in the rain with this person. I would like to lie next to him in the dark and watch him breathe and watch him sleep and wonder what he’s dreaming about and not get an inferiority complex if the dreams aren’t about me.
I don’t know if Nick and I are going to be friends or lovers or if he’s going to be Will and I’m going to be Grace, which will be disappointing along with boring, but whatever Nick and I are going to be to each other, it can’t be—it won’t be—just a one-night-stand thing.
I know this.

NICK

Singing in the rain. I’m singing in the rain. And it’s such a fucking glorious feeling. An unexpected downpour and I am just giving myself into it. Because what the fuck else can you do? Run for cover? Shriek or curse? No—when the rain falls you just let it fall and you grin like a madman and you dance with it, because if you can make yourself happy in the rain then you’re doing pretty alright in life.

The make-out

He pulls me back up so our lips meet again, and I’m lost all over again, lost inside his mouth, feeling his breath, feeling his heartbeat against my hand pressed on his chest. My hands want to wander all over him, but his lips are sliding so sweetly around my own, my hands can’t focus. His hands focus just fine. He’s definitely a breast instead of thigh man. Only his hands go slow, caressing and teasing instead of Talpillaging (good job on the breast tutorial, Tris), and I can feel my chest straining to high attention, wanting, more more more. Then Nick’s hands move away and I want to murmur, No no no, come back, hands, but my mouth is too busy occupying his. As Nick’s hands fumble and smooth over my back, clearly looking for a bra strap to unclasp, my lips can’t bear to pull away from touching him to tell him, Honey, it’s a front-clasp bra.

An infinite playlist by NICK

When we get to Ludlow, I remember the song I began to write, in an hour that seems like weeks ago now. Can so much really happen in a night? The song was never really over, but now I have the ending—I don’t know how I’ll phrase it, but it will involve our returning, it will take in the strange pink light and the Sunday-morning quiet. Because the song is us, and the song is her, and this time I’m going to use her name. Norah Norah Norah—no rhymes, really. Just truth.
I shouldn’t want the song to end. I always think of each night as a song. Or each moment as a song. But now I’m seeing we don’t live in a single song. We move from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord. There is no ending here. It’s an infinite playlist.

NICK

My heartbeat accelerates. I am in the here, in the now. I am also in the future. I am holding her and wanting and knowing and hoping all at once. We are the ones who take this thing called music and line it up with this thing called time. We are the ticking, we are the pulsing, we are underneath every part of this moment. And by making the moment our own, we are rendering it timeless. There is no audience. There are no instruments. There are only bodies and thoughts and murmurs and looks. It’s the concert rush to end all concert rushes, because this is what matters. When the heart races, this is what it’s racing toward.

NORAH

I hesitate even though I know my wavering could cost us the approaching train. If I make this jump, then this is real, he is real. I will have broken the law for him and that will bind us together forever, outlaws, like Bonnie and Clyde. And look how that worked out for them.

If I do this, it will be like jumping into the middle of the mosh pit. Dangerous. Exhilarating. Terrifying. It’s only a fucking turnstile, but what if I don’t make it to the other side. Some people never make it out of the mosh alive.
The deafening screech of train brakes announces the train is in the station.
Nick says, “Are we in this or not?”
To throw myself into the breach of our great divide will be a leap of faith.
I grab hold of his warm hand. Deep breath.
Ready.
Set.
Jump.

Me on NICK AND NORAH'S INFINITE PLAYLIST

So, who needs a fucking review of this book?
Read it.

What is spontaneity?

Spontaneity is an noun that is defined as "the quality of being spontaneous and coming from natural feelings without constraint." Yeah. Whatever. I did it today.

I was spontaneous.

If you could call them spontaneous.

Well, first, I did not sleep in my abnormally normal hours of sleeping (6 am - 2 pm) when I'm on night shift because I was finishing this book about a nerdy girl and a slacker boy falling in love in senior year. When I finally had the sense to sleep, I was awakened by a text from someone that I have to meet later. My deep slumber abruptly came to an end. I don't really want to go but I have to because it is one of those things that my mother will definitely nag me about if I miss this appointment. After meeting her, I still have like two hours until I have to go to work. I really hate being idle in the mall. It sucks. I mean there are so many things you could do there but then most of those things involves spending your hard-earned money of things that will definitely not give you much satisfaction. So to avoid ruining my budget, I went to this part of the mall where you could sit and listen to live acoustic music.

Surprisingly, the things that I have done today that I categorized as spontaneous were actually useful.

First, because I had this absurd idea that I really have to finish what I was reading or else the world will end. So there I was, reading and wondering if it would be a great idea to continue when my sister went online surprisingly. So we chatted for like 15 minutes. I really was not expecting that to happen today. It was a good thing I was spontaneous between 6 am till 9:30 am.

Next thing, while listening to this band which I forgot the name. It's like this uncool and unimaginative name that most bands give themselves when they are (the band members) not really that close enough to hang out with each other and think of much cooler names. The band basically called "____ (somebody's name, probably the one on vocals) and The Band". How lousy is that! I mean, aside from the name, the band was quite good. The vocalist looks like Jessica Alba so the men there are probably salivating over her and they really have a cute guitarist. So I was there, chillin' when I heard this very familiar intro of the song they are singing. Surprised again! They're playing Boys Don't Cry by The Cure. How rad is that! I totally dig this band after that song. Another spontaneous act that led to me to decide that I would come to the mall once a week a just listen to acoustic music for free.

Spontaneity definitely rocks!

Why make a list?

I need to make lists. I can't function properly without them since I am a 100% pure blooded selective amnesiac. Like, I always forget the things that I've heard and sometimes the things that I was thinking even though I heard or thought of them for like an hour ago.

So the question is: What's on my mind today? And the answer is.... (drum roll) Naomi and Ely and the fact that I really love them. So I'm creating my WHY-I-LOVE-THE-NAOMI-AND-ELY-BOOK List.

WHY-I-LOVE-THE-NAOMI-AND-ELY-BOOK List

(1) Music Mixes

So love them! I always think that making a music mix for someone you like is way better than telling them in the most boring, old and conventional way - telling it in their not-so-shocked face... But it's even more better in the book since all the songs in the mix has those cute reasons why they are in the mix. So totally brilliant.

(2) Gabriel

What can I say. I wish I could meet someone like him... (sigh) He's an original. He's cute and hot but then he doesn't use his hotness to be a jerk, he knows how to feel and he thinks too. He's perfect in a not so perfect way.
He's made the mix for Naomi... I wish I was Naomi... (sigh)

(3) Naomi

Really love this girl! Period.

(4) Ely And Bruce The Second

I hated Ely while reading this book and I pitied Bruce The Second throughout the 200 something pages but I later realized that they are real. I mean, they could exist. There could be someone in this cruel world that is about to experience or experiencing or have experienced what they have experienced. So I incinerated the hatred and pity.

(5) Starbucks

If you are in a setting like New York, there's no way Starbucks is not to be mentioned. It's one place New Yorkers has a chance of feeling like they're boring people. It's actually Naomi's favorite hang-out but the odd thing is she never drinks coffee from Starbucks.

(6) Queerdom

I love queers! I'm sorry if it's not a politically correct word to use. (peace) And being able to get a glimpse of what they are thinking (through this book) is an enlightenment.

(7) Book Cover

As what I have said, it's unpretentious. Need I say more? Well, I'm partial to yellow... (It's practically the cover's color... :D)

To get a free copy of the book, go to my e-books library and download the e-book for free.

Where can I find a gay bestfriend?

First thought. So liked the cover of the book. It's so unpretentious that you could guess that there's really something deep within those covers.

First reaction. Okay. The book contains such pretty and radical slang that only true blooded New Yorkers could actually comprehend. I really had a hard time understanding it and yet I can't stop reading it. Its not-within-this-world plot and the never-thought-of turn of events made this book soooo good that you have to forgive the ones who have invented those NY street words. This book is definitely profound and not to be taken without a whooping amount of seriousness.

I know. I've been raving about it but you don't actually know what I'm talking about. It's this book titled Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. So the story goes like this. Naomi is a straight girl who's forever in love with his bestfriend named Ely who is unfortunately gay. They've shared their lives together that they are not regarded as individuals but as an institution. If there's Ely then Naomi is probably around within the 5-meter radius. Really. That close. To avoid jealousy that could threaten their friendship, they created a NO KISS LIST. It is a list of all the boys that they could not kiss in any way possible. But then, Ely kissed Bruce The Second, Naomi's boyfriend and it was okay for her (she doesn't like Bruce The Second as much as he likes Ely) until Ely falls in love with Bruce The Second and that was the time the institution of Naomi + Ely starts crumbling. And that's the start of discovering their individuality and starting out a new kind of friendship, a better one.

Last thought. I'll never change anything that has happened in this book. It's perfect as it is. An enlightening read for girls who have male bestfriends (gay and straight) and an interesting read for boys who also have female bestfriends (straight and gay). And a must read for all who doesn't have both!

What is Bob Ong thinking?

This blog contains my reactions and oppositions to Bob Ong's writings (Ang Pabloritong Libro Ni Hudas) about cellphones. It's in Tagalog so for English-speaking people, bear with me. I might translate it into English soon....

Haayyy... Hindi naman pala ganon kagaling si Bob Ong sa pag-iisip tungkol sa cellphone. Bakit? Anong nagawa nang cellphone sa kanya nong bata pa siya kay ganoon nalang ang galit nya sa mga cellphone dito sa mundo?

Sabi nya, more or less, eh, kinu-control na raw nang cellphone ang buhay ng mga gumagamit nito. Heller! Eh kasalanan ba yon nang cellphone? Bakit ba, may utak naba ngayon ang mga cellphone para i-hypnotize ang mga gumagamit sa kanila para gumawa nang mga hindi dapat gawin? Kung ganon na nga, bilib na talaga ako sa teknolohiya. Hindi naman kasalanan nang cellphone yan eh. Kasalanan nang mga gumagamit at nagpapagamit na mga tao. Sa totoo lang, malaki ang pakinabang nang cellphone sa mga buhay natin. Hindi lang naman sa masama nagagamit ang cellphone, pati na rin sa kabutihan. Halimbawa na lang, yung mga fundraisers na ang ginagamit pang raise nang funds ay through text. At kung meron kang ka-meet sa mall or sa daan ay hindi na sasakit ang ulo mo sa pag-alala kung nasan na yung ka-meet mo kasi may text at call na. At pwede na rin gamitin ngayon ang cellphone para makapagpadala nang pera sa mga nangangailangan. Ito rin ang ginagamit nang magsyota para ayusin kung anumang away na namagitan sa kanila. Hindi mo ba nakikita? The cellphone builds bridges and not gaps!

Hindi dapat isisi sa bagay ang mga kaguluhan dito sa mundo kundi isisi sa tao. At hindi rin sa service provider dahil nagtratrabaho lang naman sila ahh. At lalong hindi natin dapat isisi sa mga cellphone companies dahil ang gusto lang nila ay magatulong sa pandaigdigang kaginhawaan. Gusto lang nilang sumaya at guminhawa ang buhay natin sa pamamagitan ng mga teknolohiya.

Ang sekreto lang sa paggamit nang cellphone ang ang tinatawag nating "moderate use". Kailangan lang na i-control ang paggamit nito. Hindi ka dapat nagpapa-apekto sa mga sinasabi nang service providers.

Ako nga, ginagamit ko lang ang cellphone ko sa mga importanteng bagay. Hindi ako nagtetext tungkol sa mga tsismis at hindi makabulohang bagay. Dahil din sa cellphone eh nakukumusta ko yong mga mahal ko sa buhay dito sa Pilipinas at sa New Zealand.

Tandaan lang natin na tayo ang dapat may control at hindi ang bagay na dapat kino-control. At gamitin nang sakto ang mga teknolohiya, huwag i-abuso at gawing masama sa paningin nang tao.

This is only an opinion. I don't have anything against Bob Ong. I actually find him funny and I'll be buying his other books. Peace out Bob!

Would I survive living in a graveyard?

One cold foggy night, a silent murder happened in 33 Dunstan Road somewhere in the Old Town. Three people were killed. A man, a woman and a girl. At the time of the murder, in the attic of the house in 33 Dunstan Road, a little boy was unknowingly making the greatest escape of his life. Armed with just a rubber pacifier, the bored toodler who just learned how to walk, went out of the house and up the hill. Being silently chased by the watchful and talented murderer, that boy fund refuge in the most unusual and safe place in town - the graveyard.
And the adventure in the graveyard begins...

-My own introduction to The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

(Just trying to be like Gaiman... hehe...)

I'm really amazed by Neil Gaiman's imagination. Who? Yeah, who could think of writing a book about a boy living in a graveyard? I can't think of single sane person who could.

The story evolves around the orphaned boy appropriately name Nobody Owens (made me think that maybe Gaiman used the phrase "nobody owns" as basis for this...), Bod for short. Being given the Freedom of the Graveyard, Bod can talk and see the ghosts living in the graveyard. With ghost parents and a not-dead-and-not-alive person as a guardian, Bod's adventures in the graveyard is unexpected and at the same time sad. If your expecting to be scared while reading this then forget about it.

Being my first Gaiman book, I really don't know what to think of it aside from the fact that many people love it. Reading the first few pages of made it me realize that this is not your normal children's book with the almost perfect hero or heroine. Bod has issues he needs to deal with and lessons learned through hard experiences. It is a serious book with a wee bit of humor (really love the inscriptions on the gravestones!). This book is a fast and entertaining read. It made me think that living in the graveyard is really like living in the normal world.

I just thought that it should be a longer book, maybe a series. It is not detailed enough. I was actually curious on what the Honour Guard and the Jack of All Trades is all about. I think Gaiman should have delved deeper with the war of the Guards and the Jacks.

All in all, really enjoyed the book. I'll be buying more Gaiman books.

I'll leave the phrases or sentences that I love in the book....

"The treasures of ten thousand years ago were not the treasures of today" -Nobody Owens

"You're alive, Bod. That means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you're dead, it's gone. Over." -Silas

"Of all the organs, the tongue is the most remarkable. For we use it both to taste the sweet wine and bitter poison, thus also do we utter words both sweet and sour with the same tongue." -Nehemiah Trot (the poet)

"Dish best served cold. Do not take revenge in the heat of the moment. Instead, wait until the hour is propitious" -Nehemiah Trot (the poet) on REVENGE

"It's like the people who believe they'll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn't work that way. Wherever you go, you take yourself with you." -Silas

Guess who designed my blog?

Noticed the changes? You can't if this is the first time you got lost in here.

Ok. I changed my blog design. And guess what. I was the one who designed it. Kudos to me! I actually have a pink blog and now I have a green one. This would be the first of the future designs that's gonna come out. hehe

I'm actually thinking of giving out free blogger design templates since I really found it so fun making them but it has to wait since work comes first (sigh).

Ok. Gotta go! Au revoir!