Hello Google, My Old Friend

vs.

Also:

Oh hai, Neal Cruz! 

Disclaimer: All photos ripped from the intarwebz. Thank you Google image search. 

You Can’t Be Lazy on May 20.

In case you didn’t know, I’ve been passionately supporting (insert warm, fuzzy feelings that remind you of sunshine, unicorns, butterflies, and little children laughing at the park) this small community of yogis and yoginis who are making a difference by helping people who are affected by HIV and AIDS along with their families and friends. And I think the group has being doing a great job spreading awareness regarding the disease as well as breaking the walls of discrimination against people living with HIV (PLHIV).

This coming May 20, 3 P.M. at the Promenade area of the Quezon Memorial Circle, YOGA FOR LIFE  will be holding an open-for-all yoga practice entitled ONENESS THROUGH WELLNESS,  in celebration of the 29th International AIDS Candlelight Memorial. The event is a commemoration of the lives of those we have lost to AIDS, a celebration of the healthy and happy lives of People Living with HIV (PLHIV), and a call to the public to fight the stigma and discrimination of PLHIVs and their friends and families.

So if you like doing yoga and you want to do something for society, come. The community will appreciate your support, and your body will thank you for the activity. Seriously, would you rather do yoga or spend your Sunday afternoon sitting in front of your TV, eating chips and feeling sorry that you’re such a slacktivist slob?

Interested? Find out more here: https://www.facebook.com/events/226464297457922/

We Are All Made of Stars.

“The most astounding fact is the knowledge that the atoms that comprise life on Earth the atoms that make up the human body are traceable to the crucibles that cooked light elements into heavy elements in their core under extreme temperatures and pressures. These stars, the high mass ones among them went unstable in their later years they collapsed and then exploded scattering their enriched guts across the galaxy guts made of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen and all the fundamental ingredients of life itself. These ingredients become part of gas cloud that condense, collapse, form the next generation of solar systems stars with orbiting planets, and those planets now have the ingredients for life itself. So that when I look up at the night sky and I know that yes, we are part of this universe, we are in this universe, but perhaps more important than both of those facts is that the Universe is in us. When I reflect on that fact, I look up – many people feel small because they’re small and the Universe is big – but I feel big, because my atoms came from those stars. There’s a level of connectivity. That’s really what you want in life, you want to feel connected, you want to feel relevant you want to feel like a participant in the goings on of activities and events around you That’s precisely what we are, just by being alive…” -Neil deGrasse Tyson, Ph.D.

The Soy Boy’s 2012 New Year’s Resolutions

I’m lame when it comes to fulfilling new year’s resolutions. Last year, I swore to finish one of my novels-in-the-making, but so far, all I’ve accomplished that’s close to anything worth reading is the juicy list of the misdeeds I’ve committed this year. Okay, that was a lie–you’d be interested to know I’ve written superb stuff about inspiring artists and great places all over the world during my magazine stint, plus I’ve done some amazing press releases when I was volunteering for the MyShelter Foundation project, Isang Litrong Liwanag. (I know you’re still not over the list so let me repeat: the list does not exist and I did not video myself doing something scandalous…like, say, stuffing my mouth with food at midnight like a fat boy relapsing on his diet.)

The Tales of the Happy Homo Consumericus, Part 3

Ayn Rand would approve.

(Disclaimer: no, I am not a capitalist pig! I take offense! How dare you hint that I am fat? And the pigs do not approve. We’re not friends anymore, please go away, kthnxbai.)

If you know me very well then you know very well that I enjoy buying stuff. I am secretly a hoarder. By buying, I do not mean buying the most expensive stuff out there. A part of me secretly loves the thrill of acquisition and the discovery of amazing deals. As I’ve said in an earlier blog post, I have this illusion that I am not easily swayed by marketing hype. I won’t hesitate buying something unpopular simply because it is unpopular. As long as something works, I’m all for it.

I have a confession to make though: I actually fell for the crap that is Easy Pha-max Wheatgrass C.A.N., thus momentarily shattering my delusions of being an educated consumer (thank my selective memory that I am easily able to forget about thi–what was I talking about again?) All the while I was consuming vats of this snake oil thinking it would actually prevent cancer.

The Tales of the Happy Homo Consumericus Part 2

Whoever said money doesn’t buy happiness is likely not as privileged as the rest of us who grind our bums off everyday against the cheese grater of existence.

Despite the Tsunami Scare, I Went Ahead to Do Some Grocery Shopping

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It’s depressing to think about all those people who’ve been hit hard by this calamity. Times like these make us realize that we are but minuscule beings in the grand scheme of things. No matter how we try to convince ourselves that we’re bigger than life, circumstances have a way to shake us up and bring us back to our proper place.

I Goth A Feeling

Friday last week, I went to Katrina Pallon’s exhibit opening at Penguin Gallery with Megan, Angelo, and Chloe. Was strolling at SM Makati at first, debating inside my head whether it was worth buying a big carton of Tipco Broccoli. In the end I settled for the small one. Then I bought yogurt. The yogurt should give me enough lactobacilli to kill the fungi growth. For posterity I should remind myself to not drink tetracyclines for vanity reasons, ever. It’s not worth it. I’m definitely poorer from the experience and my pimples aren’t gone and I still have a blister pack of unused medication just waiting there, tempting me to pop them all. Having a lot of choices to consider makes me want to jump at them all.

Anyway, so while strolling at SM Makati I texted Megan if they were going to Pallon’s exhibit and turns out they were eating at Fish & Co. at Greenbelt 3. So I went there and we all went to Penguin Gallery and Bar, which we couldn’t find despite the map Megan printed since there were no signs outside the place. So Chloe suggested we go look for the place where there are a lot of people wearing black. True enough, there was a sea of black-garbed people waiting right in front of it.

I don’t understand goths just like I don’t understand emos. Is it about wearing black? Even if I’ve been a friend to one for the longest time I still don’t get it. I used to think it was about being dark and depressed and wanting to be a vampire, but then the emos came and they invented stuff like vampire social clubs and Twilight. I don’t get wanting to be all glittery but maybe that’s because I’m not emo. Still, I don’t see much difference between them and goths because they both like wearing black and putting eyeliners on. With our tropical weather it must feel like hell to go out wearing black. Like that woman Diane Pernet. But she’s not goth, they say she’s just fashionable.  Beats me.

The next day I went to Shangri-la Mall to watch “Inception” with Randy and the people from Planet Zips. It was trippy. But I guess everyone’s already saying that, plus gushing about how Christopher Nolan’s a genius. It felt like “The Matrix” all over again anyway — the paranoia of an alternate universe just really has a way of making people go crazy.

I wonder what sorts of dreams I would have if people went inside my head. I used to remember some of my dreams but lately everything’s been blank. It’s weird for someone who works as a creative to have the dullest dreams. Or maybe I don’t have dull dreams; maybe, I’m dreaming of the color black. Now THAT’S trippy.

My dreams are goth, perhaps.

Camera Chameleon

I have a thing with cameras. Not like a perverted fetish sort of thing. I happen to like them but I’m quite undecided with what to make of them. Are they good or bad?

Of course some would argue that a camera is like a hammer. The same hammer that can pound a nail can crack open a skull and clobber someone to death, or torture people by prying off their teeth one by one as they scream for mercy and hope the heavens strike them dead and spare them from excruciating pain. That Korean film “Old Boy” opened me up to the many possibilities the hammer offered aside from its common hardware purpose.

In Britain, the surveillance capital of the world, there is one CCTV camera for every 14 people. In total, that’s around 4.2 million cameras peering at each Briton’s every move — from crossing the streets to driving their cars, and shopping in malls as well as peeing in public places plus picking up street hookers and inconspicuously having public sex in some dark alleyway somewhere. The irony of it is that George Orwell, the author of “1984” — that dystopian novel of a future where everyone is closely monitored by an authoritarian figure dubbed as Big Brother — is English. In the land of irony, the British are kings.

Anyway, cameras are very effective tools for fame-whores. Andy Warhol once predicted that in the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes. The future has come, and now we have the likes of that guy doing the Numa Numa dance in Youtube and all sorts of faceless fat men jerking off at Chatroulette. The web has become an avenue for posers and ADHD-afflicted bloggers who stupidly jump from one topic to anoth — ooh wait there’s a

Yesterday, my officemates and I attended the first anniversary party of Flippish.com in Fiamma at Jupiter Street where we had our fill of margaritas courtesy of the open bar. The local website positions itself as a purveyor of a “wide variety of original online shows made with the Pinoy in mind”. Think current tv programming — except with the virtual world as its newest platform. What’s great about this is that people don’t have to endure a boring show, and the producers can automatically track which show isn’t gaining its fair share of viewers.

That’s one thing I like about the internet: it empowers people with choices. But then again, the existentialist in me asks, is there really a choice? Are we really free? Are we in the Matrix? Has one of the Wachowski Brothers completed his quest to become a full-fledged woman?

closely monitoring

Altered State of Consciousness, minus the Chemicals

Medications are part of my existence. Every day I have to take thyroid hormones to keep my metabolism normal, as surgery took 85% of my thyroid which left me hypothyroid after. I was planning by the way to keep it with me but the surgeon said they sent it for further study. I don’t think they found anything cancerous. Up to now, I still feel really bad for 85% of my thyroid and I hope it didn’t get dumped in some sanitary landfill, found by some curious scavenger, and afterward ending up as a homeless family’s dinner. I wish they gave it a decent burial at the very least, or a proper cremation. We did have fun times, to think of it, despite the fact that it made me very, very sick.

Apart from the thyroid hormones, I used to take antidepressants and anti-schizophrenic drugs along with lithium. I once suffered a bout of depression which I’m glad to be over now. I was diagnosed with a personality disorder but not the type that causes one to casually start a homicidal spree, so society can rest assured that I do not have to be locked up in some mental institution.

To add to that, I have junkie friends and herbally-inclined acquaintances (and by this I do not mean in the wondrous field of botany). On the other end of the spectrum I also have a friend who works for the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA). One of these days I’m planning to invite all of them to our house for some tea and cookies.

Interestingly though, there are ways to alter one’s consciousness without necessarily ending up in the company of Amy Winehouse, Courtney Love, and the Gucci Gang. According to this Boston.com article , your next big trip to la-la land might just be two ping-pong balls and a radio away. How? Tape the halved ping-pong balls over your eyes, turn on the radio and listen to static, then lie down and start hallucinating!

There’s also a site online called “Get High Now” that lets people experience different mind-trips without having to worry about police barging in your front door, leading to a 15-year prison sentence requiring long hours of hard, back-breaking labor. So before you snort that next line of coke, why not try these instead? A party with all your cokehead friends lying down on couches and having a brain-blowing high might finally just be your ticket to chemical freedom.