Monday, November 24, 2008
feline tranny

i came from lunch today. as usual, i was wearing the wrong outfit for the weather, my raise-my-spirits sundress was well, rained upon. it was still raining hard, and when i got out Box O'Rice i found myself in a existentialist dilemma. shades of me being a drama queen, but i couldn't cross the street cause the floodwaters were rising (read my entry about the libertad deluge).

stopped and stared for a while pondering my options, do i bravely cross the waters or walk to the kanto (flood's at its lowest point here) cross the street, and cut on the sidewalks to Xocolat? took the second option, i'm here at Xocolat, and so much for existentialist ponderings.

and, as it turns out, my sweet, pretty Catherine, dear readers, is a boy. yes, you heard me. a siamese boycat. i don't know how or why jeff and i could  have missed the obvious for the 4 months he's been with us, but by early afternoon last saturday, he had tiny balls to show for it so we're calling him Santino for the moment. the deal is: i can name him anything i want as long as he responds to it. Kung Fu, for example. or Sleeky. Or Lazy. Amihan and Kapayapaan aren't really options, but i admit, i got bummed out when i found out he was a boy.

i mean its like finding out there's no santa, hell, i was singing to "her" my "prettiest cat in the world song" and wanting to buy dresses and getting into arguments with jeff about how outfits are "frivolous", and he, in the end ,turns out to be a boy.

i'm planning to turn him into the first trannycat though, i'm going to sing Cher/Madonna songs and surround him with glitter and high heels. not the best way to raise a cat, but if he takes the bait, he's gonna be a sistah real soon. :)

Posted at 01:27 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Friday, November 21, 2008
i dreamt i was dreaming, i was wired to a clock

..tickled by the minute hand too. my laptops telling me i've got 20 minutes before the battery dies, so this is gonna be quick.

i've been getting panic attacks. cabin fever is the pits. i've been holed up in my room, barely talking to anyone (much less seeing anyone), i wish the exams were over and done with already. its only thursday. fat chance.

and i miss Cat like crazy.

have i blogged about my black and white lazy furball yet? i got her for my birthday, present from the jeffcat. i swear i need a cat break. she's siamese and has blue eyes. i gotta get good vibes from something who won't speak and just rub against you. (disadvantaged people don't count).

i want this shit to be over. i'm jittery. so jittery.

Posted at 01:00 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Tuesday, November 11, 2008
pathology of pathos (i'm alliterate and fucking witty)

Sneaker Pimps: Waterbaby

Your heart is served cold
Your sights are set in perfect stone,
And when you go you go alone,
And when you stand you're on your own,
I wash the streets from your skin when you come home

We're nothing like friends,
You have no time to lend,
And if you're guilt then I'm the shame,
And if I'm hurt then you're the blame
You wash my trace from your skin and you leave again

Random laid plans, 40 days of one night stands,
And when you go you go alone
You walk the cross you made your own

I wash the streets from your skin when you come home


the bell jar just isn't as fun when you've got stockholm syndrome. i sound like karl. not. good.

Posted at 02:58 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Monday, November 03, 2008
happy halloweenie

spent a better part of last week confined. wasn't too happy about it, it all started with the hoopla for the forum that i'm working for, september and october blew past and left me spinning. literally.

800 delegates from various UN member states trooped to the PICC  (Congo, represent! Palau wuz in da houze!); i was billeted at the nearest hotel from monday last week and i was being the busiest bee ever (PICC is not exactly the most pedestrian-friendly convention center.) anyhoot, we partied like rock stars on monday night, a supposed prelude to  the weekend debauchery we had seriously planned for.

by midnight, only miguel, neve, shar, justin, aldwin and i were left. miguel, neve and i were the only ones drinking, and getting embroiled in a discussion that involved ninoy aquino, philippine culture and psychedelic drugs. neve left a bit after, so miguel and i were left to trip on justin and shar while screaming along to the deftones and breaking glasses over the balcony.

one love, good vibes all around.

woke up the next morning with a whoa, this is some serious hangover shit. by dinner, i started feeling that all was really not well since i felt feverish. by wednesday, i was getting chills and a panic attack, so i SOS'd jeffcat and checked my sweet, sweet ass out of the hotel and headed straight home.

thursday night saw me getting tests at the kidney center, and i was too weak to put up a fight when the doctor said i had to be admitted. and as everyone who knows me knows that i have an intense fear of needles, i almost passed out when she put the IV in, but i'm a trooper, so over the next few days resigned myself to almost passing out each time i got blood tests. oooh, for what they were worth, i got winehouse worthy needle marks on my arms. :)

friday was cool, my titas met jeffcat and they likee likee, so he spent the night mursing (that's male nurse for you non-scrubs fans out there) me and catering to my every whim. andie was my nurse the next day, and by saturday, i was bright-eyed, belligerent and vain so i knew i was all right; i spent most of the day haranguing my nurses into letting me go home (i wanted to fucking smoke already!).

except the hospital didn't think so. sunday morning came with an announcement that i was to stay another night for a stupid blood test. when i heard this my temper flared and i grabbed my dextrose stand, and nasty unsexy hospital gown a-flapping, headed to the nurses station and went, 'how dare you keep me here for another night for another bloodtest! you don't even know my diagnosis and i have been here for the past three days already! I demand to see my physician! call her!'

suffice it to say that the good doctor got to my room huffing and puffing and telling me that yes, i could go home, so i paid the bills and got the hell out of there. i swear i got cabin fever; losing three days of my life brought a whole new meaning to the word confinement. still on leave, so i got a pedi and a facial so i'm good to go back to work tomorrow. wee. and it's almost the fso exams and the holidays, so ima milk the years last few drops of goodness before the year ends. peace out, every little thing is all right. ;)

Posted at 06:09 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Saturday, September 20, 2008
by the pricking of my thumbs

disclaimer: if you thought you were getting good vibes from this entry, you're not. go someplace else. if you're reading it anyway, call me. i probably need to talk to you. karl, i'm starting to hate your disappearing ass.

All the Pretty Faces:
The Killers

Help me out, I need it
I don't feel like loving you no more
I don't feel like loving you no more

Help me out, I need it
I don't feel like touching him no more
Help me out, I need it
I don't feel like fucking him no more
Well how did it happen
I spent two long years in a strange strange land
Well how did it happen
I'd do anything just to be your woman

You're not going anywhere without me
These trials don't prepare the air of love
You're not telling anyone about me
And you shake and you bleed while I sing my song

I don't feel like, I don't feel like
I don't feel like loving you
I don't feel like, I don't feel like
I don't feel like loving you

I don't feel like touching you
I don't feel like touching you
I don't feel like touching you
I don't feel like touching you
You can't tell anyone about me

You're not going anywhere without me
Help me out I need it
You can't tell anyone about me
Help me out I need it

I don't feel like, I don't feel like
I don't feel like loving you
I don't feel like, I don't feel like
I don't feel like loving you

i was supposed to blog about emo, pretty things since it's a week before my birthday (hoo-fucking-rah) but this week has been a long one, and i'm sick and tired of running up against imbeciles who get all nice only when they need something from me. yes, i have a guestlist for my birthday parties but i got a shitlist too.

what the fuck's so hard about cutting me some slack? is one good vibe too hard to ask for? 

here's what i was saying this time last year:
The period between August and September is always cataclysmic for me no matter what year it is or whatever my dharma is. I swear to honest God I'm getting my ass kicked.

looks like i'm on an eternal loop. if anyone else wants to fuck me over, get a number and get in line. i swear to god i can't wait to get my ass home. i need a breather, i need a breather.

Posted at 10:48 am by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Wednesday, September 10, 2008
tales of september: greek tragedies

Something of Biblical Proportions:

so i was haunting my favorite ukay store after work, scored a coupla bags and a hot jacket. stuffed my stuff into my uberlarge work bag and headed out to the train station. mother of god, a storm was raging outside when i stepped out from the store, so i lit a cig and figured out my options.

floodwaters (hardcore baha, yawa!) had risen to calf height and for the life of me, myself and i, i couldn't see for shit cause the pasay-libertad area was DIM enough to begin with and the rain wasn't helping at all. i saw a trike about to pass by, so i ran out to hail it.


my feet flew out from under me and i fell into the floodwaters, i felt one of my slippers slipping from my foot while my umbrella flung from my hands; my dress was soaked through and the floodwaters smelled real foul.

i rose up, got my ass back to the sidewalk and stared blankly at my feet, one foot naked, the other one still wearing a slipper. some streetkids ran up to me to ask me, ate, ok ka lang? and i went, yeah, nahulog lang ako sa baha.

felt pain shooting through my foot, when i looked at it i found out that i stepped on something sharp (please god, i hope it was broken glass) and that my foot was bleeding. had no choice but to put on my work heels and limp all the way home (unglam, unfab, and slightly smelly, i know, i know).

couldn't go to work yesterday cause i couldn't walk, for all the trouble my foot's worth i got cabin fever and ended up pestering jeff the whole day.

Sickboy and Sickergirl:

My apartment is behind my moms, it makes for crazy situations for another entry but that's where Sickboy's story begins. My room is on the third floor, from my window i can see into Sickboy's home next door; i know they've got a backyard with a grotto/fountain, that they hang their laundry on top of the "servant's quarters" (to quote my illustrious ex-boss), that their maids break out into karaoke standards from time to time and that i'm sorely tempted to buy a pellet gun or a slingshot to hit their motley crew of terribly yappy/fugly little dachshunds/shi tzus.

i sing along (loudly) sometimes, while my next-room-neighbor sings as well to the thrumhums and vibrating buzzbeats of the washing machine inside her bathroom (yes, i hear her). but sometimes, the monotony of this charming scene is broken by the sounds of Sickboy's random howls and ululations.

i have seen Sickboy; but not up close since he's always in profile or he's down below in the yard. built like a penguin, bald and in his thirties, he's afflicted with some sort of syndrome that makes him flap his arms around while he's trundling in the yard, yowling and yowling until people bring him back in. i asked the guard at mom's apartment why the neighbors don't just institutionalize him (for my sake, really), but the thing is, he brings the family 'swerte' so they don't give him up.

Not-so-fresh-from-the-sleep-i-never-have, i wake up, have coffee, get dressed for work and walk down the stairs and out the door of my apartment. from the door, i have to walk to the gate. it's during this interval that i pass by my mom's apartment. two doors away from her unit, i always hear some woman screaming, "mga baboy! mga hayop kayo! p***ina!" while her faucet's turned on the whole time.

i asked my mom about Sickergirl, and she said that they pay up to 500 bucks per month for their waterbill individually ever since she started staying there cause she never turns her faucet off and keeps on screaming invectives all by her loathsome lonesome. rumor has it that her bedroom's always damp, someone from her house somewhere drops by occassionally to bring her food, but it doesn't help the screaming or the dampness at all.

my mom, like me, is a pretty hard tripper, so when Sickergirl's on a roll, it goes something like, "mga baboy!" "baboy ka rin!" "mga hayop kayo!"  "mas hayop ka!"  and so on, my mom like the crazy Greek chorus to the epic tale of the Crazies on A**** Street.

but for me, Sickboy and Sickergirl could be lovers like Pyramus and Thisbe in an alternate universe; only a wall keeps them apart after all. maybe if they met, just once in this lifetime, they would recognize in each other's eyes something familiar. (and for once, shut up for 5 minutes already. sorry. couldn't resist.)

    (passage from Pyramus and Thisbe: by Ovid)
"Cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? But we will not be ungrateful. We owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." Such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer.

Ya Mama:

i was lounging at my mom's one afternoon, when the stillness was broken by the sounds of someone being broken. plates were being thrown around, a woman screaming upstairs (this is not Sickergirl, but the SickestWoman ever), and the dulled THWAP! of palm meeting flesh repeatedly and a child screaming his lungs out.

it went on for half an hour, my eyes were bugging out and i was telling my mom that we should call the cops on her. or hell, bantay bata 163 at least. turns out it's pointless cause the woman works for 163 (ah, irony); or an affiliate company anyway. hate to think the trauma the kid's getting, and i don't ever want to see that vile, vicious shrew cause i might hit her back (causing an endless cycle of paybacks-a-bitch on her end and bad karma on mine), or she might turn me to stone with a single hateful glare.

i've seen the kid though, scrawny as hell, with a scared, pained look in his eyes.

what's with the address right? bad feng shui? and i thought my old apartment had it bad. or maybe its because the gods are bringing destruction about since they've made this trio insane.

Posted at 12:23 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Thursday, August 07, 2008

H is for Help, E is for Ergent, L is for Love Me, and P is for Please Hurrry!

Currently feeling: agitated, then bored, then agitated again (meds kicking in)

...but is really: curious now, some people never cease to surprise me.

Wishing for: something i'm starting to get sick of waiting for (was never a patient girl)

Listening to: the generic march they play during the start of graduations/events and some woman talking loud enough to be heard from the next room. (wtf. these walls are thin.)

princess langwidere needs to put her bad head on right now.

Posted at 05:30 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Thursday, July 31, 2008
fits of juno/ i dream in color

Anyone Else But You: (The Backrub Sonata)
Moldy Peaches

You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on your back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train
I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me
So why can't you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

Up up down down left right left right B A start
Just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

You are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

We both have shiny happy fits of rage
You want more fans, I want more stage
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

Don Quixote was a steel driving man
My name is Adam I'm your biggest fan
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

Squinched up your face and did a dance
You shook a little turd out of the bottom of your pants
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you

incidentally, came across a lil piece of trivia: nabokov's got synesthesia; its a condition where particular letters and numbers have associated colors. woohoot. am i one? or am i dreaming/blogging i am one? i mean, i've been coloring my entries before i found this out. wee. want to think in cartoons sometimes. i want synesthesia!

Posted at 01:38 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Monday, July 28, 2008
final fantasies

spent saturday cavorting on the beach and trying to learn how to surf (operative word: trying!). was with the jeffcat and his friends, i went from bouncing along the shore in the morning to being bounced along the shore in the afternoon.

wussied out when the boys started out cause the waves looked pretty scary (not helping that i have a phobia of open water), so i soaked up the sun and spaced out and checked out this hot surfer guy (who was checking me out too) to kill time.

decided to get lessons in the afternoon, told myself i'd conquer the waters and be the best surfbunny ever, but hell, several painful wipeouts, bikini snafus and a downpour later, i called it quits and settled for running into waves while looking sexycute for my baby.

there were some turtles by the sea at the resort too, i wanted to set one free cause the tub it was in was slightly bigger than itself, it couldn't really swim around, just settled for a slight spin and some pointless paddling.

saw the cage was open so i went in and made gurgly noises, but the turtle just kept at its half-hearted paddle, it was pale from a lack of sunshine so when i came closer, i realized it stank so i lost all sympathy and decided to head back for a nap. we got back to manila late, got a buzzy sort of headache so i slept for 12 hours straight.

sunday: boom.  i finally FINALLY got to see the dark knight. i swear to god i was blushing during half of the movie, christian bale is so fucking hot! i almost died when he took his shirt off, i was all dreamy-eyed, hypnotized by the glory that is Christian Bale. i have to see him in person even for just five seconds in this lifetime. oh my god. oh my god. i've loved him since empire of the sun, he was such a beautiful boy! he's the kind of guy you know you'll neverever have, not because it's not possible but because he's got his own space and all you'e reduced to is just adoring him from afar. what i wouldn't give for him to look my way. intense dark eyes, sharp planes of his cheekbones, the cruel set of his hard, hard mouth. oh my god.

just call me yours. i love you.

Posted at 12:40 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

Monday, July 14, 2008
mono no aware (the sadness of things)

It was turning out to be the longest Sunday.  I had gotten home late in the morning, wanting sleep, needing food, and had given up both prior, recent and current attempts at reading between several, long and very complicated lines. Got home to my apartment to a roommate who slept the whole day.

So I did some laundry, tried a shot at being happy but my stomach was a cold empty shiver so I gave up and slept the afternoon away.  Woke up, grabbed Lola to get coffee and some seriously needed Me time but when I got to Xocolat, his friends were there so I had to do the good girl thing and ask him to come over. He did, eventually, so I resigned myself to boredom, a lack of attention and overheard references to people/situations/places/lives I don't know. I felt a fever coming over me, and with it a strange, pervasive melancholia.

Focus on the smoke coming out of my mouth. In the dim I kept breathing in, each exhalation a pretense or a prayer.  He would rub my arm, my neck, or give little kisses but I was restrained and listless, he would never read into this.

Shit I can't tell him because he won't tell me shit, shit I can't ask because he doesn't either.  Coffee was all gone, and suddenly I felt a little older.  

Read other people's blogs, echoes of the mundane, the hysterical, their not-so-secret vanities, the profound and pedantic, but I was looking for something, anything to soothe me. The café had closed, it was the last card game and I ran out of cigarettes. Tried to buy Me time but he just had to take me home. Three Libras was playing in his friend's car, an ironic thing I turned away from. Dropped us off so I bought a fresh pack, tore into it, and lit up. It was raining, he took my hand in his and we walked home.   

Shit I can't tell him because he won't tell me shit, shit I can't ask because he doesn't either.

To the rest of the world, we looked like any other couple. Girl in red tank, jeans and slippers, boy in comfort hoodie, jeans and chucks, holding hands on a cool night, except that was the last thing i wanted to be doing. But I couldn't resist, I said, you should have gone home with your friends.  But you're sick, and you might get mugged. I melted a little bit, but I said, I'm a big girl, I can handle that.

Anything except this night.

Broke the silence to ask for the proper spelling of somber/sombre, and near the apartment I saw a couple locked in a tight embrace. It could've been heartbreak or something else but I know how these stories go.  

We paused at the entrance to the apartment, I reached for a hug and still thought it was funny when I couldn't reach him. Can't meet you on Friday, my tita's in town but I'm good for the weekend. He said he had plans with his friends.

One last kiss and I snapped, turned away for the last time before I got rid of my cigarette.  

Shit I can't tell him because he won't tell me shit, shit I can't ask because he doesn't either.

suko gyud kaayo ko. save your rage for those who deserve it, stop blaming other people for the shit you went through because if you think you know every fucking thing on the planet, you don't, your unthinking unkindnesses will be the death of everything i promised myself and what i promised i'd be for you, you don't know half of the things i've done before i met you. so if i see you, and still hear you rage about me, other people, other things that are beyond you, i will get the hell away from you.

Posted at 08:34 pm by 50ftqueen
get down on your knees  

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