Open wounds

I can’t stop the bleeding, I can’t stop the pain. Stupid infection.

The Anniversary

A year ago an infection developed in my sinus that grew to immense proportions, eventually reaching my brain’s membrane, triggering a seizure, a catheter, and an almost month-long hospital stay where I was on the brink of death.  This year, I got a reminder of that when an infection developed in my upper lip, ballooning it to Jolie-like proportions.  I’ve seen the doctor and apparently it’s not too serious, although the meds cost 2 grand, and I have to walk around with a strange upper lip for at least a few more days, after which the pus will start leaking out and…well, it’s not pretty.

I’m probably going to purchase one of those thin gauze masks that they sell in drugstores just to hide it, cause I’m vain like that.  I can’t even look at other people properly cause I hate when they stare.  I hate how this had to happen right now, when I’m at a really low point in my life.

I have half of Angelina Jolie’s lips

 

And I didn’t even have to pay for lip injections like Goldie Hawn.  I just had to be bitten by an insect while I was sleeping saturday night.  My right upper lip has now swollen to Jolie-like proportions, and it’s a littel disconcerting to look at myself in the mirror.  Like they say, when it rains it pours.

I miss my friend.

I thought about it long and hard. Why didn’t I feel the same way I did before, when I broke up with my ex? Why didn’t I want to throw a party? She betrayed me, betrayed my trust, and I was insanely angry at her for doing it because she knows my history, and knows how that would hurt me. But a part of me felt that something was wrong with how things turned out.

I realize now that while I was angry at my lover, and I may never forgive her for what she did, I miss my best friend. My last ex was never really a friend, we never really would have gotten along outside of the relationship. That’s why it wasn’t as hard to let go. That’s why I don’t feel like throwing any parties right now, because I’ve lost one of my closest friends.

A little rusty

This being single business is hard work, especially since life thrust me into it rather unceremoniously a few days ago.

Regardless, I decided to make the most of it, so I spent most of yesterday vegging out in front of the TV getting through the second half of Suikoden 3. That game’s terrific, and I think I’m just about two thirds through it after almost 3 months of intermittent play. Next on the list was working out, because being a single, overweight geek is never fun. I know, because i spent most of my life as a single overweight geek.

I was pretty set on getting a good night’s sleep since I’d only slept 4 hours that night (and this night too, for that matter, but my friends called me up at 8ish and said they’d pick me up for a night of boozing and girl watching around town. I figured, why the hell not right? I might as well get used to this anyway.

I’d been watching queer eye for the straight guy before they called, so I felt inclined to dress up a little (read: i was feeling very gay about what I wanted to wear) and ended up with an outfit that I hoped would attract some attention. I wore a black tanktop and bootcut pants, my big brown shoes, a semi fit dark blue polo on top of the sando,my cuntomary necklace and bracelet, and for good measure, my Justin Timberlake-ish hat. I daresay I looked pretty damn good in my outfit, and I went out with a good vibe for the evening.

First stop, Eastwood. The crowd was…disappointing to say the least. Can you say day off? We had a bucket of beer in cafe Adriatico, which had the worst service ever. I mean, we didn’t even have a bucket for our bucket of beer, because hey’d run out. Needless to say, after finishin our beer we left eastwood for better pastures, and ended up in the Fort. After a brief interlude scoring free krispy kreme doughnuts and walking along the beautiful but rather subdued serendra complex, my friends and I settled on drinking in Jack’s.

And that’s where I saw her. A smoking hot Fil-Am chick wear the most drool inducing outfit you ever saw. A red corset, a mini skirt, leggings, and almsot nothing else. It was like a porno movie come to life, I seriously didn’t think chicks like that existed. She was with two friends, one was a cute, chubby brit, and the other…well the other girl deserves a sentence of her own. Imagine a fat, dark, ugly chick with the fashion sense of Michael Jackson…if he suddenly decided he wanted to do punk music.

I was with two friends as well so if that chick had been halfway decent…but I’m getting ahead of myself. So anyway, hot girl rather casually asks if she and her friend can bum a cig, and I say sure, walk over to their table (which is just a few steps away), leave the pack and lighter, and go back to my seat. I imagine how awkward that must have looked like and I shudder in shame. Still, what was I supposed to do, give them each a cig and offer to light it for them? So I play it cool like it’s the most natural thing in the world to happen, and wait for them to light their smokes.

When they’re done, Hot girl turns to me, flashes a killer smile and says, “muchas gracias, senorito,” to which i reply coolly with “no problem,” and smile right back. That should have been my cue to invite them over to join me and my friends at our table, but I got cold feet. Maybe it was the fact that i didn’t have a car with me at the moment, and that I still lived with my folks that made me feel like a bit of a scrub. I don’t know, i just got cold feet, and the more I listened to their conversation, i wanted to kick myself in the ass for not saying anything.

Apparently hot girl is to be engaged soon, and was pretty blatant with her friends about wanting to get some before taking the plunge, comparing it to how guys hire strippers at a bachelor party. So check it. This smoking hot chick, who had a tattoo on her lower back by the way, was set to go. This was a “I’m getting married soon so I’m going to let you have your way with me.” kind of scenario, and I so missed out on it.

Or maybe not. Ugly friend was arguing with her that she wouldn’t allow hot girl to do anything stupid, like go home with somebody that night. But since it was a girl’s night out, she could do anything she wanted while she was here at the fort, except get laid. Hot girl countered with “well what about if we get it on in the car?”. I almost gagged on my beer. They eventually left to go to Prince of Jaipur, and both of the cute girls said “thanks” to me before they left, and all I could say was “no problem”.

God, I can hear them talking about it now, I’ll be “no problem guy” in their conversations. Sigh.

I need a unit in Makati, and I need to start driving again, and then maybe i’ll start getting this being single thing right. Till then, I’ll take this as a lesson learned. Next time, if an ugly friend is getting in the way, just get her name and number, say you have to go, and tell her you’ll call her later.

I took it down, because I’m a wuss.

Yeah yeah, fuck you. All of you.  I hate me.

I hate posting song lyrics…

But sometimes when your player is on shuffle mode and it hits a track that says exactly how you feel you can’t help it.  Plus, I just realized how depressing some of Jamiroquai’s upbeat songs are.   Without further ado, ladies and gents, Jamiroquai’s Little L:

There you were freaking out,
Trying to get your head around the fact that me and you and love is dead
See how Im trippin out
cos you cant decide what you really want from me

Why does it have to be like this?
I can never tell
You make me love you, love you baby
With a little l

There you were shouting out
Cranking up your altercations, getting upset in your desperation
Screaming and hollering
How could this love become so paper thin?

Youre playing so hard to get
Youre making me sweat just to hold your attention
I cant give you nothing more
If you aint givin nothing to me

Dont you know that
You make me love you, love you baby
With a little l
Why does it have to be like this?
I can never tell
Seems like youre stepping on the pieces
Of my broken shell
cos you make me love you, love you
With a little l, you know
Thats the way you make me love you, yeah

Yeah, I highlighted the lines that really hit me, cos I’m emo that way.

Do, or do not. There is no try.

Kudos to those who understand the reference.

I need to start doing and stop talking.  The inertia must be broken.  Time slips by as I comfortably earn more and more and buy gadgets to blunt the edge of the knowledge that I haven’t really accomplished anything worth noting.

Drive. Focus. Energy. Now.

Would you want to control love?

Love is sinmply chemicals, so this article in the economist says, and it can, to a certain extent, be controlled. Scientists two years ago said that there’s no way to properly control love, but that certain stimulants could “encourage” it, especially among people who are socially awkward due to genetic defects.

Wide eyed love fanatics dream of a day where “everyone will be loved” and no one would ever be left alone because love could simply be engineered between two people with the proper dose of pills. I wonder if I would rather have that pre packaged love sometimes, rather that the chancy 50-50 proposition that most romantic relationships seem to be. I mean, I wouldn’t really know the difference right? Even if I knew it was the drugs I wouldn’t care because I’d be too much in love. Or maybe the love fanatics would dress up as angels and go around dosing people with chemicals as they sleep, making sure that every day hundreds of people would wake up feeling the need to be in love.

Read the article, and lemme know what you think.

Heavenly TV

When I was younger and more emo, I had a theory that every person’s life was a TV channel that was being broadcast to heaven, and the angels that were supposedly watching over us actually were, and they were laughing their asses off at our miserable lives. The more screwed up your life was ( in an omg you’re my half sister and we just made out way rather than a sucide bomber in baghdad killed my entire family kind of way), the higher your ratings were. Everytime something bad would happen to me, I’d shake my fist at the heavens , challenging the most powerful program director/manager in the Universe to bring it on. And the angels would hoot and holler and tell the Man to do more, and more bad shit would happen to me, ala “the Truman Show”.

I think I’ve just hit upon my next comic strip.

Chris, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry, but I’m really thining of a story that plays to your strengths as an artist, and nothing’s happening. We’ll do that collab for sure though.