mix tapes...este MIX CD

in the tradition of latest late night and earliest early morning writing spree: 11:54 pm. 2009.03.26. (happy 26 months gogol!!)

BREAK UP MIX CD FOR VANESSA

This has been a favorite activity of mine long before playlists in digital players existed. This is how you make a playlist before: you get a blank cassette and fill it up with the music of your choice, different cassette for different mood.

And sometimes you give it to a friend who can relate or somebody you want to make a good impression to.

Right now I am helping a friend go through some tumbles so I promised to make a mix CD for her.

It began during our few exchanges through a social networking site of sad sad song lines so (INSERT SOME LIGHT BULB HERE, a 10-watt, tungsten lamp, maybe) I decided to make one: a mix cd of break up songs.

In 2005, keith and I (well, he arranged the song orders after I gave him a bunch of songs form my own roster and that somehow makes him the actual author of the mix cd, and insisted I abide by that code of ethics of proper recognition) made a mix CD for our friend to give to a girl he was courting. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out to be so exclusive to him or the girl since we, after a while, made a similar record of that mix cd and gave it to alfredo diaz. Alfredo Diaz is a lovable person suffering from alopecia. But he has a long curly goatee, which is not alopecia-c somehow. His goatee amazes our 2-year old boy. It tickles him touching it, I guess. It feels like pubic hair, only that the hair grows on his chin and not on some crotch. Feel it to believe it. Touch it when you see him.

That 2005 mix cd was called BIG GAY HEART, after a lemonhead’s song. Personally I think keith chose the title because our friend was so TORPE, it’s almost gay. In alfredo’s case, the whole phrase fit him really well. He is gay and he has a big heart – I MEAN HIS HEART IS BIG AND GAY, or to put it properly, HE’S JUST A PERSON WITH A BIG HEART AND ALWAYS GAY. Or something like that. It’s a little confusing but let me know if it confuses you in more than one way.

In 2007, we again decided to make one mix cd for alfredo. I didn’t intend to give it on his birthday but there wasn’t much time and we only got to meet on his birthday. It doubled as birthday gift and a ritual offering to him. LIFE IS MELANCHOLY was the title of the mix cd. You see, judging by the title alone it really wouldn’t fit as a birthday gift. Remember, alfredo has a big gay heart. Although if you ask him, he’d always say he is sad. He loves to feel sad for other people to the point of being funny. It’s a mannerism of some sort that he can’t shake off. And that actually makes him the BIG GAY HEART.

We ate some really sweet cake on his birthday, played some songs, were introduced to some bunch of friends, mingled in small groups: there’s the dining table group, the porch group, the living room set group, the near-the-book-case-group, the small near-the-piano-group (which was my group), and the even smaller late-comers group. Then at 10 pm it was time to go home because I had to feed the 1 year old gogol.

Keith and I said we would make it a ritual to annually give alfredo a mix cd until we get tired of making one or until this cd technology disappears into oblivion but because alfredo got caught up in being a zarzuela director, I, being a japayuki mother to gogol, and keith being a major plumber I was only able to make a shortlist of about 10 songs to the next installment, supposed to be a 2008 mix CD, still left un-arranged and un-burned. So unready for reproduction. The set was supposed to be called LIFE IS PRETTY and would contain happier tracks. But the august (and everything after) activities were never repeated, as very usual of alfredo because he’s just plain ABNORMAL and doesn’t want any activity to come in regular intervals, more so this one group turn into some crazed cult-y clique. So it stopped and he never replied to my SMS and never answered my calls more so return them.

I would bump into him from time to time and he would scowl at me. That’s just him.

But I know he continues to adore me.

The third of the series of 3 was supposed to be like LIFE IS SO FUCKING AWESOME that sort of collection but up to now I still haven’t thought of any decent title or made any decent list of the possible songs to be included in the ONE HELL OF A MIX CD he’ll remember for the rest of his alopecia-c life. (Somebody once made a mix cd of me and entitled it JERILEE MASSIVE MUSIC MIX. It’s 12 gig worth of songs if it’s not really massive I don’t know what is).

So on the Lenten holiday I will make Vanessa a mix cd she’ll also remember for the rest of her life. Because that’s the only thing I’m really good at. One thing that I really mastered:

Making people feel good about themselves.

(Which I believe makes me a God then. Now, I should really stop doing this to myself).

texting

a text exchange between rej and kitoy on the day of gogol's birthday, january 26, 2009.

Rej: Ta pwede ka kahapit somewhere bakal pineapple in can butang ko sa ham

Kitoy: Okay a, amo na handa ni gogol?

Rej: Huo ta. Ham kag laswa kag lokus.

Kitoy : Ano ang tskato nga spelling ? Lokus ukon lukos

Rej: Depende sa accent or sa rasa.

Kitoy : Matyag ko tskato ang lukos. Kay ang lokus daw bisaya nga locus. No? Do you concur?

Rej : Hmmm…I stand by my first statement nga depende sa rasa. Or sa region. Or if you’re speaking with your mouth full. Besides maski taga lambunao ka nga gahambal karay a with American accent like that dinagyang candidate surely you “lukos” will sound “lokus”  /low’cost/. Do you agree. With a period

amen.

camera whores

i love to use this phrase. camera whore.

this has been one of my favorite adjectives for the past months, influenced by my friend vanessa, a major camera whore herself. 

which makes us really good friends because i don't like my picture being taken. i'm better at being the shooting that the one smiling at the shots. 

gogol and his tatay went camera-whoring last weekend at CPU. i was their photographer. 

we had a lot of fun. 

we also did some people watching because it was a sunday and so many baptists in their sunday dress are going to church. from little children to ugod ugod adults. 

gogol had fun calling out to the tuko's and the tiki's at the rose memorial. i didn't like the tiled floor of the entrance to the rose memorial because it's slippery and my stomach turns over every time gogol gets away and runs to the other end of the hall. i had to ask kitoy and we both said it would have been better if they used pebbles or plain concrete. the entrace is utterly and dangerously slippery when wet. 

before i get into more discussions of why i don;t like this building, allow me to go on with my photo essay. 

and oh, they made a very terrible addition to the top floor of the henry luce library. i'm no CPU alumnus but i;ve lived on the street leading to this wide campus for almost 3 years now and i;ve seen how they ruined the respectable building. 

now it's just ugly ugly ugly. 

NOW TO THEW PICTURES>

presenting................

gogol and his tatay HHWW along the university street.

gogol wanting to grab the camera. 

tatay said this could be his brad pitt candid pose. 

BWAHAHAHAH.

because gogol still wants to grab the camera and wouldn't budge when his tatay called on to him his tatay left him alone. he ran after his tatay when he felt his alone-ness.

that's him looking like a dancing little elf.

(little na gani elf pa. nano.)

how do they call this area in CPU? Miami palms area?

kitoy and i had a short super crash course on palm trees that day. 

these (the tall ones) he said are washington palms.

now on to the fields. gogol scoured the field like a dog on ecstasy.

i asked him to give me a smile but he just showed me his crooked teeth. 

i don't think this would even qualify for a grin.

second time i asked him to give me a grin.

on the third time, his grin totally faded away. 

i wonder what he'll be when he grows up.

judging by this photo alone.

and back to camera whoring.

and brad-pitt-tom-cruise posing

more washington palms. 

with some humans here and there.

and some more washington palms. 

with some more close-up of humans here and there.

and a terrible flash photography.

same thing sans flash.

same thing 4 seconds after...

CAN YOU BELIEVE HOW THIS PICTURE TOTALLY REVEALED HOW HYPERACTIVE GOGOL IS? 

his tatay never moved an eyelash and look how different his pose IS in this picture than the previous one. 

we should really stop giving him sugar for breakfast.

NOW.

I WILL CALL THIS SHORT INTERLUDE TO MY CAMERA WHORE PHOTO ESSAY:

THE (UNDERRATED) FLOWERS OF CPU.

the fake peanut plant flower. 

and the clear clear blue sky.

with ants all over it. i mean the flower.

on the flower.

coupling fake peanut plant flower.

real sweet.

HENCE...........>>>>>

<<<<<.....THE ANTS.

still kissing despite the ants.

tall proud flowers of fake peanut plant.

more flowers of the fake peanut plant. 

and this blue-light violet-periwinkle-all shades-of-purple-you -can-make-yourself-imagine-them-to-be flower. we played with the seeds as tots. 

(i will teach gogol this trick if these will still exist in 10 years)

you put a drop of water on the dried seeds and pop they go.

and the pink hedge favorite: SANTAN.

AND THE BUILDINGS WHICH I-DON'T-THINK-THE-STUDENTS-CARE-SO-MUCH-ABOUT

(because i feel the students here are trained to be workers workers workers this university wants to produce workers and board passers not thinkers, leaders or innovators but people they can send to dubai or qatar or middle east to become cad monkeys for ugly buildings or to london or the land of the no-more-milk-and-honey to become milking cows. i wish i could help change how their teachers think of them. but i can't, can i really?)

yes. i finally was able to get a good perspective of this building.

with a point and shoot camera. at 8:30 in the burning morning of a Sunday.

bloody sunday.

 

and of this ugly bandstand.

that, at the corner, again, is a washington palm.

last but not the least,

the lonely yellow car underneath the dying tree.

on a warm warm warm Sunday.