September 14th, 2004

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: One-Hit Wonder. Posted at 12:43 AM by staticriot. Huwag mo akong pagsasabihang nakalimot na ako sa mga prinsipyo ko. Huwag mo akong pangaralan tungkol sa mga bagay na wala ka namang naiintindihan. Huwag mong isampal sa akin ang sarili mong mga pagkukulang; kung mayroong di sapat, dahil iyon sa kahinaan mo. Oo nga't may kinalaman ako sa gulo, ngunit ikaw ang ugat, ikaw ang nagsimula nito. Tanggapin mo. Tanggapin mo ang lahat ng mura't galit ng madla bilang pasasalamat nila sa nagawa mong ingay. Rednex - Cotton Eye Joe 3 pulse(s).

June 20th, 2004

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: Verse II: Raping Reality. Posted at 04:02 PM by staticriot. And while what I do not know cannot hurt me, I try looking for it, knowing it, for the pain it burns me is worth the fulfillment of my greed. Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit 2 pulse(s).

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: Verse I: Firefly. Posted at 03:58 PM by staticriot. These creatures come and die, very much like the chances being handed to us by Fate. (I saw this firefly torch the fresh unrealities of my dreams.) Goo Goo Dolls - Black Balloon 1 pulse(s).

May 26th, 2004

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: Mindspill Symphony VII. Posted at 06:38 AM by staticriot. (Cross-post: jpudong.) (I am surrendering to gravity and the unknown; catch me, heal me, lift me back up to the sun. Help me survive the bottom.) We never knew these waters could feel so dry. Swimming around the island, I held her hand tightly, but let her go upon nearing the cove. I thought it was time, and she knew otherwise. Underwater, I could see her tears bubble up like freed oil - her eyes were as blank as ever, and where her poignant smile used to be, there was a horrifying howl of fear and wretchedness. It was sickening to think that all she was then was a corpse waiting for her grave. We had to trudge on. Through the waters and along the beach, I dragged her body and felt her fury grawing on my fingers, and by the time we arrived at the altar, her pale hands had turned blue and her eyes were white as the sun. Meanwhile, the Latecomer dogged us like a wildcat pursuing its prey and enveloped us with the stillness of an asylum. I had to retaliate - I would not accept failure at this point, especially not at her expense. In a fit of desperation, I embraced her numbness and parried the illusion of the Latecomer. The cliff was higher than I thought it was, and I was not able to survive the fall, not with all the sharp fangs that were Nature's rocks below. (Tail in hand, dizzy and clearly, unable to just let this go.) My consolation was her safety. She held my hand and pulled me into the waters by the cliff's side. I didn't realize these waters could feel so dry; perhaps it was my own coldness that etched that impression into my senses? Nonetheless, she held my hand tightly while swimming, circling the island, only letting go upon nearing the cove. She thought it was time, but I knew otherwise - the Latecomer will hunt us down, the cycle will survive, and the pain will remain. Underwater, I could see my own tears bubble up like freed oil - my vision was blank as ever, and where my playful smirk used to be, a foul cry of agony was weaved on. All I was then was a corpse, a failure, an inanimate testament to my futile struggles to succeed beyond my reality. (Calm these hands before they snare another pill and drive another nail down another needy hole. Please release me.) A Perfect Circle - Gravity Pulse.

May 11th, 2004

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: Of Swords And Passion. Posted at 02:49 AM by staticriot. How quaint: bloody pink eyes stare; wine dries, breaks sight into a tempestous lip-lock e un duello delle spade bagnate. The Darkness - Love Is Only A Feeling Pulse.

May 6th, 2004

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: Larong Pang-Mayo. Posted at 11:57 PM by staticriot. Nakapagbilang ka na ba ng mga patak ng luha ng tala kung kailan ang sinag ng umaga'y bumubuhos na sa lupa? Nasabayan mo na ba ang indayog ng sapa sa tuwing ang mga ulap ay bumababa upang mangisda ng mga ngiti at tuwa? Nakalaro mo na ba ang hanging kumakanta habang nariyan ka't nangangapa sa kalahatan ng nasasakop niya? Ako: hindi pa, hindi na - magbilang? makisabay? maglaro? Samantalang ang sarili kong mga luha'y sumasabay, nakikiiyak sa pag-ikot ng bilog habang pinipilit kong maghanap ng kandidatong susuportahan ko - iyon ang katotohanan ng panahon: higit na madaling sumakay sa bangkang may layag sa halip na magsagwang mag-isa't lumutang nang walang direksyon; hindi ako boboto, ngunit may susuportahan ako. (Hindi mahirap intindihin ngunit madaling sisihin kapag lumubog na ang kayamanan at sa huli'y kailangan pang sisirin.) Urbandub - Come 5 pulse(s).

May 5th, 2004

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: Mired. Posted at 11:25 PM by staticriot. It's stoutness was dried by a lustful auburn spell; languor was once dynamic before life was exhausted by Him who sunders all. The embonpoint sagged - in the last teardrop, the smoldering coal: embers of Radiance waned, And here in the glades lay the prize of Him who gave rise to an emerald's demise. Led Zeppelin - Kashmir Pulse.

May 4th, 2004

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: Lunampara. Posted at 12:34 AM by staticriot. Barya Siyang si Buwan (maliwanag ngayon sa Kanyang kabuuang nakatago kanina sa saglit na pagsamantala sa Kanya ng mga ulap.) Sabagay, iilan lamang naman ang mga lamparang di nakasusunog-hangin, ang mga Buwang di nagpapagahasa sa dilim. Silverchair - Tomorrow Toad The Wet Sprocket - Walk On The Ocean 4 pulse(s).

May 2nd, 2004

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: Mindspill Symphony VI. Posted at 01:12 AM by staticriot. (Gravity, no escaping gravity.) Behind the train's tinted windows, he could only see the dim sparks of what few lamp posts the highway had installed. It has always been this way down here: trains never travelled beyond where their tracks took them, people never got to see the greater landscape beyond the lines of sight the lackluster windows offered, and what decay smudged the old city walls, people paid no heed, for they had no means of getting through the steel doors of the secluded free ride, anyway. Soon, he hoped more than he thought, the trains would eventually wear their tracks out and, in a most appropriate ending, get derailed. Crash now, a voice screamed. Behind the riders' stares lunging at every direction, idleness reigned, for there were all the reasons in inaction and none otherwise; they knew that they could only go where their visions allowed them and where their limited capacities dreamed them to be. He believed they knew wrong. Behind eyes shut, there was only her pale, reticent face: she was as constant as the city that never got off its foundations, as firm in her resolute silence as the monotonous playlist that was the ambient stillness of the train; to him, the only difference lay in the scales of grayness, for there were no tones, nor hues, nor life - there was no progression, and only the unsaturated untruth of fruitful existence stared at him straight in the eye as if to mock him. (Across the night, it was the moon that stole my slumber. Across the night, I fell in love with people sleeping and hugged a man's arthritic shoulder.) Perhaps it was fair enough for the world to have stopped for him and for everyone else in the train, because in this world, progress never truly existed, except for Time, who never even noticed Her own challenge to chance upon a train derailed, a world animated. It has always been this way down here: trains never travelled beyond where their tracks took them, people never got to see the greater landscape beyond the lines of sight the lackluster windows offered, and what decay smudged the old city walls, people paid no heed, and for a fair reason, or so it seems. They had no means of getting through the steel doors; besides, the seclusion was for free, however dead it was. Placebo - Special K Silverchair - Across The Night 7 pulse(s).

April 30th, 2004

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: Diviner's Tea. Posted at 02:21 AM by staticriot. (Cross-post: Bellpepot. Revised.) But you see, I never lifted my cup of tea, (Being the) Same diviner stuck with a glass of water - The same melody of the cup beating at You, and the sight of you, Heating your coffee. Ah, and since you have, The lust for things should've, In some way, had - that Same diviner now, bare and glad That you, to my delight Lifted my cup of tea. Silverchair - Abuse Me Pulse.

April 29th, 2004

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: Sundance: The Two-Headed Lamp. Posted at 06:33 PM by staticriot. The focal point was a two-headed blue lamp which in all the living quarters' unlightedness stood proud in its luminous elegance. If it could sway to the rhythm of the turbulence peeking from the outside, it would be too much for Gene's heart to keep from melting. A dance, a two-headed lamp, and a frenzied storm of frolicking thoughts; fronting the watery background of his window, Minerva's soaked hands were slapped on this still image: waving, knocking. He was not home - "picking wild berries in the urban south," as Gustav put it. "Wild berries and gin, jazz and nightlife!" And how they used to go about the urban south then, the Whangpoo River nights. "Where from? My Whangpoo River, oh where I was born and bred to be a fisherman!" Gustav would yell out of his drunken stupor and to Gene's amusement. Of course, he was not from anywhere near Whangpoo, nor Shanghai for that matter, but how he desired to be a fisherman, living by the silent waters of his own fishing grounds. "I tell you, Gene, there's nothing better than letting the sea lumberjacks do their jobs while us nobles sit back and enjoy luxury," he rapped on, reeling from the effects of alcohol. "Still, I wish I could do all that manual labor, that challenge of raising those fishing nets in triumph against nature's greed and... selfishness!" Selfishness! What arrogance, and what consequence does he have in store for himself – Gene would not be surprised if Gustav's booze gets the best of him and pushes him off a boat, drowning him. Nature's cold greed, so to speak. The sick, they uttered curses that they be lifted from their afflictions, and He heard them, and by tens greater He handed degradation – Boons of pleasure, He challenged – for how can one appreciate pleasure more than by experiencing the extreme inverse? Minerva dropped her journal, wept, and drifted to sleep. "I inveigled you, but am I sorry? I do not know – I'm missing you, after all. I owned you. For a while, at least, I am certain I owned you." Her hands slapped on the windows of his empty living room, the lamp's biting lumens piercing her eyes as much as it has pierced his. "Like a child wanting a doll," Gene reminded. Dirty Vegas - Days Go By Soundgarden - Like Suicide 11 pulse(s).