Bisan Unsa Lang!

What’s Going On In Your Life, Jonas? In 10 Sentences

2012-01-22T23:22:00.001+08:00

1. Had a little row with the girlfriend.
2. After a couple bottles of beer, we’re doing okay now.
3. Spent most of my free time watching The Sopranos. Actually, Deadwood and Rome before that.
4. Feeling guilty not updating this blog.
5. Read a bit, which is not good. Should read more.
6. Winning most hoop games in Norkis Park, which is good.
7. Still writing for a Call Center slash SEO company.
8. Trying to grow an online niche venture.
9. Feeling bored sometimes.
10. Keep reminding myself not to get bored.

So there’s my 10 sentences for you, Internet.

Bisan Unsa Lang 2011! Or Here’s My Love to 2012!

2011-12-31T11:57:00.005+08:00

Welcome readers to our 2011 wrap-up! As has been the tradition of this blog, a few hours before the calendar resets to January with an additional number on the fourth digit, this post will once again give you the best (or maybe worst depending on how this post will turn out) of 2011.

I do this not only to oblige/entertain my avid readers (I have three ‘rabid’, dear readers out there. Hope you’ve a great time, in good health and cheer, enjoying and drinking the devil’s piss right now, as I am), but also to entertain/encourage myself, see where I am right now and where to go from here, what I’d done so far and what to do next, those kinds of things.

That said, let’s wrap up 2011, mm?

5 Best Posts of 2011

[Note: I’ve written 24 posts overall in 2011. This one included. That means I average 2 posts per month. Not much there, ain’t it? Disappointed, of course. No excuse. I must up that number in 2012. My first New Year resolution. Check.]

1. How I Shafted My Day Job (Well, Almost)

2. Welcoming a Summer of Nerdy Solitude

3. This Must Be Written Fast

4. Freaking Ingenuity

5. Okay Now, I'm Over a Hump, What's Next?

These are the posts that best represent my 2011, or what it was like.

Books I Have Read in 2011

1. The Paladin of the Lost Hour (Harlan Ellison)

2. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (Haruki Murakami)

3. Catching Fire (Suzanne Collins)

4. Dubliners (James Joyce)

5. Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret (Judy Blume)

6. Galloway (Louis L’Amour)

7. Mockingjay (Suzanne Collins)

8. Kafka On The Shore (Haruki Murakami)

9. The Sky-Liners (Louis L’Amour)

10. Woody Allen: A Biography (Eric Lax)

11. The Art of the Deal (Donald Trump)

12. Neuromancer (William Gibson)

13. The Name of the Rose (Umberto Eco)

14. Here Comes, There Goes, You Know Who (William Saroyan)

15. Rickles’ Letters (Don Rickles with David Ritz)

16. Now and Then (Joseph Heller)

17. To Have and Have Not (Ernest Hemingway)

18. The Big Sleep (Raymond Chandler)

19. Farewell, My Lovely (Raymond Chandler)

20. The Lady in the Lake (Raymond Chandler)

21. The High Window (Raymond Chandler)

22. A Treasury of Business Quotations (Michael C. Thomsett)

23. Rickles’ Book (Don Rickles with David Ritz)

24. The Element of Style (Strunk and White)

25. No Doors, No Windows (Harlan Ellison)

26. Codex (Lev Grossman)

27. Go Tell It On The Mountain (James Baldwin)

28. King Lear (William Shakespeare)

29. Don’t Shoot, It’s Only Me (Bob Hope with Melville Shavelson)

30. The Tipping Point (Malcolm Gladwell)

31. Without Feathers (Woody Allen)

32.The 4-Hour Workweek (Timothy Ferris)

33. Serenade (James M. Cain)

34. Love’s Lovely Counterfeit (James M. Cain)

35. The Butterfly (James M. Cain)

36. On Becoming a Novelist (John Gardner)

37. Literary Reflections (James Michener)

38. Writing Down the Bones (Natalie Goldberg)

39. The Louis L’Amour Companion (Robert Weinberg)

My goal is to read 100 books this year. Again, I hit the eagle while shooting the moon.

Best Comic Books in 2011

1. Hellblazer (#1-#285)

2. 100 Bullets (#1-#20)

Best Movies, Documentaries, or TV Series I’ve Watched in 2011

1. Dreams with Sharp Teeth (Documentary)

2. Deadwood (TV Series)

3. Games of Thrones (TV Series)

4. On the Waterfront (movie)

5. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

6. Steve Jobs: One Last Thing (Documentary)

7. Dean Martin Celebrity Roasts

8. Rome (TV Series)

9. The Sopranos (TV Series)

Created a Biz Website

RetirementPlanDB.com

I’ve something to do with that website. It’s a start-up that can hopefully earn some income this 2012.

There you’ve them. And oh, I am still working in the same call center company as staff writer, and also accepting freelance gigs on the side.

It’s now only 12 hours before ushering in 2012! Happy New Year! Your first slug of the wine (or beer) is mine. See you on the other side, my dear friend! Cheers!

Liveblogging Viloria Vs. Segura

2011-12-11T14:04:00.008+08:00

After some decent undercard bouts, Manny Pacquiao appears and joins the commentators, Henson and Chino to call the main event: Brian “The Hawaiian Punch” Viloria (30-3-0, 17 KOs) fighting against the Mexican fighter Giovanni Segura (28-1-2, 24 KOs). The three warm up a bit. It's a laugh alright. And I have my warm up and a hot cup of coffee.

The announcer introduces the fighters. Segura walks into the ring in his signature flashy shorts and Mexican music. Brian Viloria comes to the ring on a Rocky song.

First round

Viloria opens it right away with a combination. Segura is the Aztec fighter we know, trying to dictate the tempo and giving us a taste what the direction of the fight would be going. Viloria lands clear punches to the right side of the head of Segura, who just shrugs them off and tries to land brawl-style bombs of his own. We’re witnessing something very special here, folks.

Round two

This is a nice repeat performance of the first that any boxing blooddoodle right now is digging. Looks like a mouse is forming on the right side of Segura’s head from the flash left hooks of Viloria. Again the same hooks are finding the target that seems to slow down the Mexican pressure fighter.

Round three

The mouse swells up and now transforms into a huge “bukol” as big as a Chocolate Hill in Bohol. But still the brave Aztec Warrior will not go down and throws more bombs to Viloria’s face and body. Viloria is difficult to hit but a few straights and hooks landed that cut the left eyebrow of Viloria.

Round four

All the commentators are talking about right now is the swelled up right part of Segura’s head. Another face is forming at the side of Segura’s head, says one. Viloria meanwhile is continuing to pummel the head and body of the opponent.

Actually, the architect Filipino pugilist is now molding whatever he wants to mold of the swelling hill. Apparently, the game plan or style or whatever of Segura is not working. The round card girls are turning their heads to another direction rather than on the ring. The grotesque continues.

Round five and six

The drama inside the ring carries on with Viloria trying to finish off Segura and put a stop to his suffering. But the still dangerous Segura is drawing out all his reserves and heart, not only to survive but to salvage a losing campaign and try to knock out the champion. Yet Viloria is difficult to figure out. And with that head, it looks futile.

Round seven

Brother-in-law stands up from his seat and goes to the kitchen. I hear him now washing the dishes. He peeks for a look-see. The referee should call a time out and call the ring side physician, he says and goes back to his dishwashing.

Round eight

Same futile effort by Segura who absorbs more punishment. Another left hook counter by Viloria that landed to the hill and must have done some damage to the brain. The referee steps in to stop the fight. Good call referee. That’s for Segura’s health.

Congratulations to Brian “The Hawaiian Punch” Viloria!

I need a drink.

Hard-Boiled Brilliance

2011-11-19T10:08:00.007+08:00

I’ve been thinking of doing this for a time. But always putting it off. Just want to post something about Raymond Chandler and James A. Cain. Cripes these blokes, man. I’d like to tell you about my religious experience reading them.

I’ve heard of Raymond Chandler, but couldn’t find his books after pillaging booksale shops for years. The first time I got acquainted with James A. Cain was reading an interview of James Ellroy. He said something about two and other so-called hard-boiled writers.

You see, he was not much of a Raymond Chandler fan. Said the writer’s overrated, not hard-boiled enough. If you want truly hard-boiled stuff, read Dashiell Hammett. Or James A. Cain. Now Cain wrote cool, doom stories about doom people in fucked up situations, yet happy about it.

When James Ellroy said those things, I nodded my head off, ignorant that I am. I haven’t read any books by Ellroy. I’ve tried but couldn’t continue to the second page. But what he said activated something in me. I have to find Raymond Chandler’s or James A. Cain’s or Dashiell Hammett’s books. All their books. And I have to look harder.

Then, oh pure joy! Almost had a heart attack when I found not just one but four books of Raymond Chandler. If you are a hard-boiled reader like me, you would be too. The gods were good to me when a month later I also discovered three novels of James A. Cain. So again remember that lesson, kids, if you want something really bad, try harder to get it. I haven’t found anything by Dashiell Hammett yet but I won’t give up. Maybe I’ll have to look ‘harderer’?

Raymond Chandler:

The Big Sleep
Farewell, My Lovely
The Lady in the Lake
The High Window

James A. Cain:

Serenade
Love’s Lovely Counterfeit
The Butterfly

The looking was long, the reading short

It took me several months to find them books. I finished reading them in a few weeks, a few blissful weeks. And James Ellroy was right about James A. Cain. Maybe I’ll try again to read L.A. Confidential and see what happens after first one. But he was utterly wrong about Raymond Chandler. The man’s underrated. Raymond Chandler is brutally brilliant.

Okay, I lied when I told you that this post is about my religious experience reading them. Perhaps that would be a nice post for another day. I want this one to be quick, sweet, short. So I’ll stop here. Still need to pillage bookshops some more and find me some Dashiell Hammett’s books. Now move along.

That Old Photo

2011-11-06T21:24:00.008+08:00

Looking at that old picture evoked fond memories in me. It was taken 11 years ago, in a photo studio in Ayala. Those days, taking your picture was something special. It also cost a lot. Digital camera wasn't widely used yet and a roll of film was expensive. So we had to be careful with every shot and tried not to blink.

What we would do with the picture is something special, too. Most considered it a sacred relic. There was no Facebook, Friendster wasn’t even thought out. What we had back then was what we called a picture frame or a photo album if you'd a lot of pictures. Some put it in their wallet. I put mine somewhere in my locker to scare off rats.

That was 2000. Y2K scare and doomsday did not happen. We just welcomed the new millennium and everyone was just happy to be alive. We weren't crazy about Internet. We don’t hear of Google yet, heck we didn’t even hear of Wikipedia. We went to real libraries to read books or do our research.

There are six of us in that picture. I remembered them now clearly when we were just kids and how I felt about them. I rarely interact with them now. One passed away last year (and I am missing her). One is happily married with kids. Others have reinvented their lives and found their place in the world. A lot of things have happened since then. The world itself has moved on since that picture was taken and we've moved on with it.

Years later, I lost my copy. But one of us still has it and uploaded it on Facebook and tagged me. When I saw it legions of emotions and nostalgic memories just went off inside me.

It's now eleven years since that moment was frozen for posterity. Eleven long years of grappling with my hormones, breaking things and committing plenty of mistakes. Eleven years of discovering my self, forming my philosophies in life, and building some strength.

Add them all up, and what you have is the result of who I am today.

Ads Free!

2011-10-22T14:36:00.000+08:00

I'm pulling out all the ads on this blog. Now you can enjoy reading Bisan Unsa Lang! without straining your eyeballs from ad links scattered around here and there. I’m not making money from them anyway. And they don’t help me write better. So they have to go.

But just the same, ads or no ads, I could still be bad for your health.

Standard Procedure (Part 1 of 2)

2011-09-29T22:36:00.024+08:00

So I called in sick Tuesday, right? Because I was really sick, the bones and muscles of my body ached like I was hit by a truck. Actually, I felt sick since Saturday and fought off the bacteria with Red Horse and a pack of Marlboros. The bacteria apparently won.

But I am the type who won’t just go down without a fight. Never giving up. So Monday I reported to the office walking like a somnambulist, did my bit of the day, and trying not to punch the face of the office guard.

Tuesday morning, the body just shut down, hibernating more like. I couldn't get up. Every inch of my muscles hurt like hell, or whatever hell is, but I’ve surely lived in it a lot nowadays. So I fought my way to reach the telephone and called the HR.

Listen, darling, I’m sick.

What?

I’m sick. I can’t come to the office today.

Who are you?

It’s Jonas Perida, luv. Put a mark on my record and tell the Boss I’m dying I can’t go to work today.

Whoever you are, don't call me darling or bob. I don’t know you and this is the Information Desk of Mandaue Police Station. And you certainly need help. I'll send over a buddy if you'll tell me your address. Who do you say your name again?

Toot-toot-toot***

Must be the bacteria, poking fun at me. Just you wait you teratoid nitwits I’ll have a little surprise for you. I dialed again, carefully. This time I got the right woman on the line. HR told me to cut the crap of dying and just take my medicine and get well fast. They will miss me soon. Also procure a medical certificate when I get back. Standard procedure.

Blitzkrieg! The Nellie Ball! That’s What Smart Gilas!

2011-09-24T18:58:00.008+08:00

Smart Gilas just fricking blew it! Why can't we have Norman Black or Franz Pumaren to coach our national team? Okay, Toroman has more experience coaching in the international level. But I digress! We just saw the results!

Basketball is basketball wherever you play it. You dribble the same round ball, shoot it through the same round hoop. The team who can dribble faster and score more than the opponent win the game. We don't have the size, we don't have the height. What we have is speed! We could have outran and outgunned Jordan or even China.

We have much better point guards who can push the ball faster than point guards from China, Iran or Jordan, pass the ball to faster power forwards or attack the rim if necessary. This type of game doesn’t need a Haddadi or a Yao Ming. This isn’t a game for 7-footers. We just need Alapag or Barroca, Lutz, Lassiter, Ranidel, Williams out there.

Don Nelson

Manny Pacquiao doesn't have the size when he fought David Diaz, Miguel Cotto, Margarito, and other supposedly stronger, bigger and taller opponents. But his speed was just too much for them. Speed conquered Poland in one day. It’s the fucking Blitzkrieg! The Nellie Ball, baby!

Only 61 points? Cripes, they should have offset their lack of size and height with Pacquiao-style aggressiveness and speed! Only 61 points? Now that's like Ortiz fighting a fucking Mayweather! We could have been Pacquiao with those caliber of talents and athleticism we have in the team!

That one is on Toroman. He could have learned a few things from Norman Black or Franz Pumaren. Heck, he should have borrowed from Paul Westhead and Don Nelson. These people can do great things for Philippine Basketball. Can't we ever have that privilege, that honor for next FIBA Asia Championship?

Paul Westhead

John Constantine Meets His Creator

2011-08-25T23:15:00.009+08:00

Found this while searching images on Google. Been months since I read Hellblazer. This one is from Hellblazer #120 when good ole John Constantine meets his creator, the great Alan Moore. Or the great Alan Moore just appeared on Hellblazer because he can. Or Paul Jenkins decided it's time to pay his tribute to the great Alan Moore, or whatever makes you happy.

Okay Now, I'm Over a Hump, What's Next?

2011-08-20T14:23:00.003+08:00

Been almost a month since the last post. But this time I’ve good reasons. So I’m not complaining. Just a few interesting things for this post, boys and girls.

First, I’ve hit a milestone or something this month. The first time ever I’ve lasted for a year working in the same company, and I’ve quite a string of them companies enough to connect Cebu to Bohol after over 3 years as a professional mindwhore. And so far I’ve no plans of going anywhere. The boss is nice. I have a great team in my department, and I am earning money. Not boatloads of them, yet. But enough money to go by, and still have some to spare for books and a quick booze.

One year, baby. No fireworks or whatever. Just a fucking milestone. And that’s that.

Also I saw a friend reading Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which reminds me of a review I wrote in college and was published in The Philippine Star. I’m ashamed of it now. But hell I was young and inexperienced and like any foolish young college kid I only wanted to see my name published in a national newspaper. So to my penance and further embarrassment, I’ll lead you to that link:

Decoding Dostoyevsky’s ‘The Brothers Karamazov’.

P.S. The Philippine Star paid me P5,000 for it. Spent all of them on books.

A Quick Ballscratching: A Post About Books

2011-07-25T22:19:00.016+08:00

It was also July 25 last year when I posted this. That’s purely coincidental. I have less number of books on the list this year compared to last year. But I’m busier and got more writing gigs than last year. So let’s just leave it at that.

My Little Nook and Mini-Library

Why I am blogging about this again? Primarily to encourage myself to keep on reading, because there are zillion of books out there I haven’t known and read yet. And I want them all, or at least hoard as many as I can, read them, sleep with them, know the characters who live in them, live their worlds, breathe the air they breathe, witness their suffering, see their lives go to pieces, watch them put their lives back together, a sweet dose of shock of recognition after shock of recognition, facing challenges and overcoming hurdles, backing away and heading on, leaving me hungrier and thirstier, as I reach out for a cold bottle of Red Horse, and a hearty smoke outside.

Damn good books do that to you, and you’re damn glad they did.

So nothing’s change with my target. The goal is still to read 100 books this year. It could be biographies, how-to books (very rarely these days), and novels. Mostly novels are on the list this time. It’s a very short list, too. But still a list and I love a reading list especially when there are new authors in them. I’m happy to see them there because that means I’m making some progress. Qlso vhey make my list a bit nicer.

Again, I am far behind from hitting my target, much far behind than last time, coincidentally, also July 25 when I posted it. Oh, I've said that already? Wtf. Must be the Red Horse. But, you see, list like this is good. I mean it’s good to see some efforts you put into it, unless you're just creating a fake list. Mine isn't a fake list. It's honest list of an honest reader, who loves to list books he's read and see if he's exerted enough efforts, good enough efforts to pat his back and scratch his balls just for the heck of it.

So here are the books I’ve read since the start of January this year:

The Paladin of the Lost Hour (Harlan Ellison)
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (Haruki Murakami)
Catching Fire (Suzanne Collins)
Dubliners (James Joyce)
Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret (Judy Blume)
Galloway (Louis L’Amour)
Mockingjay (Suzanne Collins)
Kafka On The Shore (Haruki Murakami)
The Sky-Liners (Louis L’Amour)
Woody Allen: A Biography (Eric Lax)
The Art of the Deal (Donald Trump)
Neuromancer (William Gibson)
The Name of the Rose (Umberto Eco)
Here Comes, There Goes, You Know Who (William Saroyan)
Rickles’ Letters (Don Rickles with David Ritz)
Now and Then (Joseph Heller)
To Have and Have Not (Ernest Hemingway)
The Big Sleep (Raymond Chandler)
Farewell, My Lovely (Raymond Chandler)

Enough for ballscratching, I’ll stop here. If you have some things to say, just anything, let me know on the comment below. If not, just go away.

Freaking Ingenuity

2011-07-17T23:09:00.006+08:00

I should blog more. But thanks to my ingenuity to find reasons not to, I manage splendidly to cultivate idleness and become quite liverish about it, telling some noisy drunk to shut his foul mouth up or I’ll kick him senseless off the jeep, and beggars to screw themselves some more.

But I’ve done a fair job writing for other people to pay my rent and put food on the table. Some pleasant writing for my day job in a call center company, and some more pleasant writing for a couple of freelance gigs.

Yet again blogging is different. It’s more than just stringing words, and making them readable and pleasant to people reading on the internet. Blogging allows you the luxury to write the kind of thing you want to read, or the kind of writing not trying to please people, but yourself, and hopefully provide some entertainment to random souls stumbling upon your blog, or at least fuck some minds and eyeballs, or maybe learn new ways to fuck minds and eyeballs.

That’s what I missed about blogging.

So what I’ve been up to these days aside from making an honest living and feeling guilty for not updating this blog? Well, reading up old and new authors – William Saroyan (Here Comes, There Goes, You Know Who), Joseph Heller (Now & Then), Ernest Hemingway (To Have and Have Not), Raymond Chandler (The Big Sleep), blokes like them. Listening to old albums of Sting, Talking Heads, Kenney Chesney, their sort of music. Also watching films like Dreams with Sharp Teeth, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, This Is Spinal Tap, and my hoarded collection of Dean Martin Roasts.

You get the picture.

Now all these things while juggling freelance writing jobs, appearing in the office for work Monday to Friday like any honest man, and planning to set up some nice online biz as if all those things mentioned above aren’t enough.

And I love every minute of it, every single fucking minute!

New Weekend Habits, Umberto Eco, Facebook Friends, Et Cetera

2011-06-05T10:22:00.008+08:00

Good morning, Nerdshine!

Woke up at 6 this morning. Put on the shoes, grabbed a banana from the fridge, and gorged it on my way straight to Norkis Park, which was more crowded than usual, with Basketball players and joggers. After some stretching and warming-up, I ran for a couple of miles and practiced on my shooting. A new weekend routine, started for almost a month now.

Home at 7, reading The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, a 600+ page novel set in 12th century. A hilarious book about books and monks, and monks murdering monks over a special book, and a young monk making love to a beautiful wench while reciting passages from the good book, and a lot of other 12th century curious things told with helluva humor that an Umberto Eco could only pull off . Now I know why a good professor of mine in college loves this novel. After reading a hundred pages, I put the book down (I always put a good book down a lot because I don't want to leave its world too soon. I also put a book down for good if it isn't good and its world doesn't interest me.)

This is the 1986 film version of the novel, starring Sean Connery.
I'll probably download it when I'm done with the book.

Then, I check my emails on my laptop, NBA updates from Yahoo!, and, hell, check some updates on Facebook. Maybe I should stop doing that last part, but once I get there, some nice pictures from friends who are having a great time in Bohol or friends celebrating birthdays or a random FB friend changing her status from “single” to “in a relationship”, or from “in a relationship” to an open one, then back to “single” again, things I can’t just let to pass without dropping some nice FB zingers, and I lost many precious minutes of my life that I won't never get back. Seriously, I should stop doing it, because as you know Facebook, I really hate you. There I said it.

Anyway, Nerdshine, it's a weekend and everyone loves a weekend post to spout over, so there you have it.

A Pair of Beauties, Ain't it?

2011-06-04T22:24:00.005+08:00

This just arrived this afternoon.

It's a new pair of Adidas! This one's a high-cut and a bit lighter than the low-cut, old pair of Adidas I've been using for a year. I've some nice time with it in my little nook. Feeling the pair. Took some quick pictures. Put them on. They fit fine.

So I went to Norkis Park to try them. Won two games in a row. That says a lot. Now this pair will bring me to places, far far places.

The Nerd Visited Paradise, Hangover, Black Eye

2011-05-29T14:43:00.009+08:00

Let’s see. Things happened this past week. My team went to this place called Hidden Paradise Mountain Resort. Team-building, they call it. But it’s to get drunk really. So the whole time we did our best to get drunk, gorged victuals on spare time, when we’re not emptying the bottles, or for some fees, tried the ZipSplash, Monkey Bridge, all dandy facilities they have there. It’s a fine experience, a fun break from too much routine. Let me just lead you to this link where I wrote a full feature article on said weekend bash with my team.

Second, I got a black eye yesterday from playing basketball. The other guy got the brain hemorrhage and is recovering in the hospital. Okay, he wasn’t in the hospital but it came to my head of putting him there when I saw the damage of his accidental elbow shot to my face near the left eye. Fuck, I hate some awkward guys playing basketball. They should stick to playing on their neighborhood's one-on-one basketball, not in Norkis Park where seasoned players play. Their awkward moves caused a lot of accidents on the court, if they’re not hurting themselves, they hurt other players. Unfortunately, it’s me.

He’s taller, but I’m well-built physically and I think stronger for years of playing basketball and soccer. I almost ran him over on a drive and cheap-shot him every time he got near me. But playing with an eye shut wasn’t really working on my side if things go dirtier than it was already. And I am not a dirty player, though I played a lot of them for years. If things went to a free for all fight, I think I’ve befriended enough friends on the court including the referee who sided with us. And the guy’s a new face anyway on the court.

When I confronted him after the hit, he turned scared like shit. Told him never to do it next time, if there’s next time, and stop brandishing both elbows like a fucking psychopath. One look at him and I think he got my point. He should.

Actually, it’s partly my fault. I played with a hangover, and had a bottle of Red Horse in the morning. But I’m still a fairly good player even in that condition. I can carry myself proper even with some alcohol in me. But still that’s not really a good thing to do especially pick-up basketball in Norkis Park.

If you want to get hurt, follow what I did. Because with alcohol in your body, the reaction time is a few split seconds late, your reflex isn't sharp, and playing with a bad reflex isn't a good idea in Norkis basketball, you're putting yourself in some dangerous situations which you normally avoided. So again for the nth time, it’s the same lesson learned.

Now excuse me. I’m going back to Norkis Park. No alcohol this time.

What Happened, I Used to Be Cool

2011-05-14T14:05:00.017+08:00

True. For almost nine years, I was what you would call "cool" or "kyul" or whatever.

But that’s past now. I drifted away from that life, and eventually turned uncool. Like when all people on the planet want to watch Thor or a huge Manny Pacquiao fight, I wouldn’t watch it. Okay, I lie on that second example. I’ve watched that huge fight last Sunday on a crappy livestream, which is almost equivalent of not watching it. But, I’ve seen that part when a hellacious left cross landed on Mosley’s face, the poor old fighter hit the canvass, the livestream froze, but that didn’t matter, I shouted at the top of my voice and clapped my hands like a crazy seal for over a minute, and a child in the next apartment cried loudly for almost an hour. So it didn’t exactly turn out well.

I somehow stopped being cool and that doesn't matter now. Nice people used to contact me or sent a sweet gal to me and asked me if I could be one of the facilitators of a big event, or speaker to that big event, or organized that big event. But I stopped going to any kind of events these days. I found out a couple of years ago that they’re only a waste of time. Then, burning bridges ensued, you know.

So I quit being cool, and started calling myself ‘nerd’, for lack of a better term. Because nerd is cute. And I love the habits that go with being nerd. Like I have more time now for emptying bottles and reading books and comic books and graphic novels I have hoarded for years.

So you see, I am not cool. Sod that!

Anyway, my life can be summed up by this line I've posted on Facebook. A beautiful, apt line I stole from the poet Jack Gilbert:

"I’ve lived a life now with a lot of quiet in it—either alone or with someone I’m in love with."

And that's an unrelated picture. For lultz.

Finally Read Neuromancer

2011-04-28T14:09:00.005+08:00

You’re probably more nerd than me. But at least I've finally read Neuromancer.

I always read for pleasure. So I’m not just limiting my reading to just comic books, ,graphic novels, and L'Amour's western. From time to time, I relish some Ernest Hemingway or Saul Bellow or Joseph Heller, and others. In fact, I also read the Art of the Deal by Donald Trump, packing my head with some nice load of entrepreneurial ideas that I could use for my day job, in a call center. Okay, sod off!

And now I’ve just finished William Gibson’s Neuromancer, which is said to be science fiction’s answer to fantasy’s The Lord of the Rings, which I’ve tremendously enjoyed reading in college. Neuromancer, on the other hand, is a bit difficult book to read and enjoy if you don’t read sci-fi that much. I don’t read sci-fi that much, though I’ve always wanted to, and I am still looking forward to read Ray Bradbury’s and Harlan Ellison’s books, and perhaps some Philip K. Dick and Neal Stephenson. And now I worry if I will also enjoy their sci-fi books.

But, who knows, after Neuromancer, everything’s possible.

Threading the Murakami Landscape

2011-04-06T23:57:00.016+08:00

Reading Murakami brings back that feeling I had the first time I read Gabriel Garcia Marquez (One Hundred Years of Solitude). Both writers when you've just first read them dare you to think they’re full of shit, with all their mystery, magical realism and other frigging realm where people are mugged, raped, get laid, and marked. Yet you couldn't stop reading them.

You want more of their shit, and when you’re finished, you realize the joke is on you, and you get an unmistakable feeling that those wicked authors are laughing at you somewhere, and you cannot but love them for making that joke, and admire their wickedness as well.

Drunk with the ideas they put on the pages make you want to pillage bookstores and spend your last penny on their books, only if you really want it. I don't really want it.

That’s why if my sister reads this (only she doesn't read anything I write), the post explains why I drunkenly threatened her one time (actually a lot of times) to buy me Haruki Murakami books. I read Murakami's two colossal books (The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Kafka On The Shore) this way, and those of Gabriel as well. Both authors are simply magisterial in their own magical way. And as you know, dear reader, I dig everything magisterially magical.

Other books I've read since January:

The Paladin of the Lost Hour (novelette) by Harlan Ellison
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Dubliners by James Joyce
Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume
Galloway by Louis L’Amour
Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
The Sky-Liners by Louis L’Amour
Woody Allen: A Biography by Eric Lax

Books I’m reading right now:

The Elements of Style by William Strunk, Jr., and E. B. White (First time that I really enjoy reading a book that has something to do with grammar rules. As you know, I hate it since Elementary. Maybe that’s something to do with that cranky old teacher we had in Elementary.)

The Art of the Deal by Donald Trump (Need to read this for my day job.)

Books on my queue (actually, it’s frighteningly long, but here are just five of them):

The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, Neuromancer by William Gibson, Fifty Years of American Poetry, A Passage to India by E. M. Forster, and Now & Then by Joseph Heller

Sleep well tonight, my internet darlings.

This Must Be Written Fast

2011-03-29T23:36:00.018+08:00

As you may already know, I am an indolent blogger. But when pangs of guilt have been buggering you for days, you no longer find joy in your two shots of whiskey per night, even reading Hellblazer leaves your mouth dry and lighting a fag only heightens the intensity, you don’t sleep well, and those days of making excuses of not doing your sodding obligation to the holy chore of blogging, or whatever that means, have finally taken its toll.

And so a night like this would come when you just start pounding the keyboard, stringing words one inch at a time, and stop a bit too early to look at what you’ve done to the blank page, and if that’s good enough to reward yourself with another slug from the bottle. And you curse yourself because you know it isn’t enough and you’ve to keep pounding the keyboard, and grazing whatever sprout you find in your head at the moment, and voila, you've written a 170-word introduction for a shitty post.

But, hey, it's still a post and I shouldn’t complain. Anyway, I just feel like passing the savings on to you.

- I’m almost finished reading Woody Allen’s Biography written by Eric Lax. I think I’ll finish reading the book tonight. It’s a real treat for people who admire the wit and genius of Woody Allen, and offer apt sacrifices for the man, if you can afford it. I can’t. Also watched four of his movies these past weeks: You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger, Manhattan Murder Mystery, The Purple Rose of Cairo, and, of course, a new personal favorite, the eponym of Whatever Works.

- Been teaching my older sister (and my younger brother later) about search engine optimization (SEO). I know a lot about this shit and I should be filthy rich by now if only I use what I know to my advantage. But I’ve been an Ockham’s Razor-type of bloke for a long time now, and I’m too lazy to change. So I just teach what I know to others (that means my ate and my lil brother) so that they will soon become rich because, unlike me, they deserve it.

- I’m still working on the same company. That should be something, right? Been 8 months now and counting. This is the longest since I quit the college teaching job in 2006 (10 months I was there). I’ve been writer/editor in Smart Traffic Company for 6 months. And have been to various writing stints, 8 companies in all, since I left UST in 2008.

Okay, I feel better now. Sorry for tonight’s ill-conceived rants, dear friend. Must be the cheap whiskey. Come back later for a much decent, sober post. I owe you one.

In Which I Went to The Outpost

2011-03-15T23:46:00.016+08:00

Not only did I go to The Outpost. I stayed there for over 3 hours and listened to band music, smoked a pack of cigs and drank beer with some friends. I wonder why that was the only time for a long time that I did something like it. I usually spend my weekends at home, curl up in bed with funny books, classic novels, or watch filthy movies till the afternoon, then, play basketball from 3PM to 6PM, eat a big dinner, take a long cold bath and then watch filthy movies. Wait, I’ve already said that.

Now that I went to this place where music, cute girls and beer, and some weird people who call themselves artists congregate during weekend nights, my nerd power probably ratcheted a few notches down, and I don’t really hate it.

Welcoming a Summer of Nerdy Solitude

2011-03-07T21:00:00.021+08:00

Well, I missed those years when every summer was two-month worth of mardi gras days. You could spend the summer jumping seamlessly from one fiesta to another. I am not saying I can't go back to spending my mardi gras-type of summer days that way. I can. Just that, I no longer want to do them, choosing a nerdy solitude or sometimes with some of my nerdy mates, on a beach somewhere, enjoying some laughs, drinking anything they want to drink (they chose tequila and Red Horse), gorged on grilled pork, chicken and fish, someone brought spaghetti, and washed the food down with cold coke or a deep glass of cold beer. They swam on the pool, others on the beach. I stayed in the cottage minding my tequila, and thinking of swimming early the next morning.

We talked about the situation in North Africa with Sir Jobs and Lindsay's husband, who just arrived from the Middle East a month back. Lennel called me for a pickup game of beach volleyball. I figured I'm still fairly good at it, especially when fueled by a bottle of tequila and a whole lechon manok. We lost but t'was good fun and we gained new friends.

It's evening, finally. My mates packed up their bags. Some have other commitments or dates that evening. I downed a glass of Red Horse, and poured another one. They asked me if I'm coming. Told them I'll stay a while. I'll probably go in the morning. Are you sure? Yes, I said. I still want to enjoy the view (I wanted to add, I hate to go back to that cancer-filled air in the city, but only said it in my head.) But it's almost pitch black here. There's no view to enjoy this time of the day, you silly. I can see a bit, Luv, if I look harder. Besides, in a few hours, the sun will rise again. Not in 10 hours, darling. Be sure you don't do anything funny here. I am not in a funny mood right now. Don't worry, I said. Okay, folks let's make sure Jonas has enough food and likker. And let's go back to our cancer-filled city. That's Jonas coinage, by the way! Thanks, so you can now read minds and you're also very thoughtful. Thank you. Sir Jobs, please tell the wife not to hit on the gas pedal harder, I want to see you all Monday morning. You, too, they said, almost in unison.

I lighted a fag, and saw them disappearing from my vision.

Around 2AM, the resort was absorbed by silence, except a distant sound of yodeling that didn't belong to the beach's natural symphony, breaking the stillness of the surroundings. It didn't take much long when the body worked up on its own. The brain took command and I remembered this particular girl's smile, which I associated with a song I can't now recall. Met her way back then. Still wore the purity robe that time. My whole body though was screaming for fresh good air of freedom, from all pretensions in the system and the people populating the system like fucking germs. I don't know why she liked me. Maybe the robe of fucking purity has something to do with it, or maybe the germs. Let my thoughts wander around her and those short crazy lustful moments we spent together, till finally succumbed to sleep.

Ever a light sleeper, I woke up at the first stirring of dawn. Lighted a Marlboro, got my camera and took a couple of snapshots.

Cripes, that was my first sunrise in years. Think I should do this more often.

How I Shafted My Day Job (Well, Almost)

2011-02-19T23:06:00.030+08:00

“You’ve proven yourself. Evaluation result is high. Though aside from those strengths you once showed me during the first interview (that goes something like here), which are kind of stupid and I suggest you stop doing them for laughs or to scare us, you’re pretty much the real deal, ain’t you? But you’re fine. Now if you’ll just sign these papers...”

“What papers?”

“These papers. You see, they materialize, as you know, when you’ve done a great job and we’re expected to offer you for a contract extension, and, umm, yes, a higher salary for your pains.”

“Ah, those papers. So how much will you pay me for another run of mindfucking?”

“Well, I should ask you Jonas to stop referring to your job as "mind-something" especially when talking to a lady. Now the amount of pay raise is also on the paper, if you’ll just be kind enough to pay attention and not to hold the papers upside-down, flip it please so that you’ll see the contents of our new agreement.”

I skimmed the pages, six of them which included the result of my evaluation. At the last page it said I got 4.8 out of 5, which, of course, impressed even me. I read the first page again which is where my signature will be. I looked at the smiling HR manager, noticed the green color of her right earring, and a crazy sperm-of-the-moment thought came to my head prompting me not to sign it.

“I won’t sign it.”

“What?! What do you mean you won’t sign it?” she asked, bewildered. “You mean you won’t work with us anymore?”

“Maybe. But not that really. It’s just that when everything seems to go smoothly. I become a bit suspicious. But that’s just me, I think.”

“Well, that’s weird. And we’ll surely miss you if you quit the job. The offer stands though. If you want some time to think it over, I think it would be best for you and the company. But we don’t have so much time, you know that.”

“Perhaps, that’s what I need. Thanks for your understanding, Miss Luv.” And I went out of the office, leaving her more bewildered.

I did not report the next day, which naturally upset my department manager. He said whatever I’m dealing with at the moment I should get over it, and fast. Can you just come to the office for at least a half-day of work, he asked me. I said I am not good at working half-days and he knows that. When I can’t start the day right, I won’t be able to finish the day right either. Also have some important things to mull over.

I was actually invited for a job interview. It’s a new company here in Cebu promising poor blokes like me of high paying salaries. Said company turned out to be owned by a bunch of Americans with Indian names, whose main headquarters are based somewhere in California.

Long story short, the meeting didn’t pan out well. Also I’ve realized I’ve missed my work, my special chair and the good people I am working with almost everyday for the last six months. Which would be a good thing, I think, rather than leaving a company who’ve expressed their desire for another mindfuck run on a higher pay, to a new company that I ain’t sure yet if they know ding-adow to wab-lida, or whatever...

So ‘nuff of shafting, I’m staying.

Impulse In The Afternoon

2011-01-25T23:55:00.012+08:00

Brewed coffee, tall, luv, said to the girl.

I settled warmly on a comfortable chair and examined my treasures. One of my life’s deepest regrets is that I read books very late in life. No one ever told me it’s important. I was already in college when one afternoon impulse made me pick up a book I found in a dusty library. I was 17. I’ve never stopped reading since then, playing catching up. And there’s a lot to catch up.

I bought James Joyce’s Dubliners and Mozart, a biography by Maynard Solomon, in Booksale.

Impulse brought my legs to a Jag boutique. Doted on some new designs of tee shirts. But decided I need no new shirts. So glimpsed for the nth time at the woman behind the counter, sighed and got out. Same impulse (or was it a new one) said to my brain, hey, Brain, how about a new notebook and pencils. Said right. So went straight to National Bookstore, passed a P100 below books sign, ran my eyes over the titles. Eyes stopped at Frank McCourt’s Teacher Man for only P99. I had a copy once which I gave to a good friend, bought it for P245. Tempted to buy a new copy but I don’t like buying books I have already read. Put the book back on the shelf, saw Hermione Lee’s Biography of Edith Wharton and bought it.

Found the notebook I was looking, a small cutter, and a set of Mongol 2 pencils. Paid for them at the counter and started hunting for a good coffee shop to spend the afternoon. I found a cozy place called Coffee Dream.

Plain or flavored, Sir? asked the girl.

Plain. Make it extra black, luv.

Sharpened a pencil, read some pages of Joyce and a blurb of Mozart's biography. Put the book back on the table, tasted the brewed, and commenced to write.

Impulse in the afternoon is the dog's bollocks...

The Best Posts of Whatever Works 2010!

2011-01-08T00:16:00.012+08:00

Not much inclined to write about best post of something or making any lists of this and that. But during a smoke break, a crazy incessant thought came to me saying, hey Jonas, how bout this crazy incessant thought: since you are always out of ideas or just too lazy to come up with ideas to write in your blog, why not try something different this year like writing the best post of 2010? There may be some poor blokes, or perverts, or those who are on their way to become one out there who missed something from the past year. Who knows maybe one of those posts will inspire one of them or keep them company during a loney night.

That still didn’t budge me to do anything. So I took a deep drag of my cig and thought that idea is crazy, not my style, but on an afterthought, I like it. So I told myself, okay Self, I’ll do it. I’ll write the post but only after a few shots of brandy on the rocks tonight.

So now just have a few of those rocky-brandy shots, and I am now ready to present to you, ladies and blokes: The Best Posts of Whatever Works 2010!

[Now wait, I have this little note: You see, I am not much of a blogger either. I average 1 or 2 blog posts a month this year, which I think is a consistency on my part since I started blogging 3 years ago. So I found the picking of a shortlist of the best this year very easy indeed. Kay, nuff said.]

Here's said list:

Profiling My Little Psychological Nook (or things you'll find in my room)

J. D. Salinger's Death: The Sound Of One Hand Clapping

My Job, This Blog, and Druuna

Sweet'O Voice of Yesteryears, or Now I Know I Could Do It

What do you read?

Conversations With My Self

A Tale of Two Piles

A Boned Life, Books, Comics, & My New Job (Yay!)

Friday Drunk, Mother’s Talk, and My Gold Mine

I Now Have a PLAN!

So there. That should at least silence the little conscience inside me. Also enjoy! A shot of rocky-brandy will do it for yah! Promise.

My First Post of 2011! Or A Quick Drunk Reminiscence of 2010!

2011-01-05T23:20:00.011+08:00

I recall it was January 2010. I was mulling over my future. Working as an advertising specialist in a huge corporation, I was not happy with where I was and what I was doing that time. The job was quite easy actually making up things out of nothing, messing up the poor minds and eyeballs of people who happened to see my works on our advertising site. In short, it was a very fine good paying job, as my mother would put it.

I resigned anyway to the dismay of my advertising team and our manager, and the consternation of my mother. You can still come back if ever you change your mind, said the manager. We handshaked and off I went into the world of unemployment and new adventures.

It’s one year now. I haven’t changed my mind. Even managed to hop in from one company after another, 4 companies, and my last count says 8 companies in all since I left the good old university. And it seems like I’ve done the right decision, that is, after a time working with new faces in a new working environment, meeting more interesting people and some characters I couldn't find anywhere else. And yes, also met a very lovely woman for a companion along the way. I keep losing, though, many good friends and wonderful workmates every time the call to leave hit my gut.

Yet all I can say now is that everything in the world seems not showing any sign of disinterest in their wonderful conspiracy to bring me closer to something. Whatever it is, I only have the slightest hint. But with all the downsides, upsides and all those screeds that go with not settling down to some good place, I am enjoying the journey.

And hope you are, too, wherever you are and whatever you have now this New Year! Here’s my best wishes and prayers for whatever its worth for 2011! Cheers everyone!