You will never read this, but i must write it anyway

I ran away from you because you were dying and I didn’t want to share that burden. I ran away from you because for some reason you refused to see me despite our professions of love. But mostly, it was because I was afraid I would not be able to handle the emotional strain of losing a loved one.

And now you are dying, and I wonder if it would have made a difference had I been there. I know that i don’t even have to ask forgiveness from you because it’s already been granted, because that’s the kind of person you are. But I’ll ask your forgiveness anyway, because I am ashamed of my weakness and I crave absolution.

I hope there are banana pancakes in heaven, and that you think of me once in a while in a fond, forgetful way.

Redemption, broken people, and art that won’t sell

It’s curious how a lot of the stuff I’ve been watching recently (Half Nelson, The Squid and the Whale) deals with just how fucked up people are and how hard they struggle to get some normalcy back into their lives.  While i don’t think I’ve ever gone down those roads before I can appreciate the struggle of trying to right a life that seems like it’s gone terribly awry.  Life just never turns out how you think it will sometimes, and you have to learn to play with the hand that you’re dealt, even if that hand is a pair of deuces.

I’ve finished my painting, and when I finally upload the pics I’ll document the process I used to make it.  I have mixed feelings about my work.  I’m not terribly impressed with myself, but there is a sense of accomplishment, since I devoted myself to days working on this painting, and I learned a lot of things along the way, like how windy days can rally suck.  I’m thinking about what to do with the other 4×4 plyboard I have lying around, either a painting of Milla jovovich or more street art inspired stuff opposing police brutality. I’m thinking the Jovovich painting would be much more marketable…but since no one’s gonna buy any of my paintings anyway, what’s the point?  Police Brutality it is.

Quick Updates and a look at things to come

So.

My Holy Weekend project was to have an art sabbatical where i would devote all my energies to finishing one ginormous painting.  By ginormous I mean a 4×4 plyboard, which is not SO ginormous, but WAY bigger than anything I’ve done before.  Which isn’t a lot. So there. Anyway.  I have completed maybe half the painting so far, and a lot of time was spent with a process called acrylic transfer which I have yet to master but am slowly, ever so slowly learning to perfect (yeah, right).

Along the way, I managed to help my dad write copy for this new business he’s planning (hint: it involves water, straight from the tap), gotten through I think a third of Devil May Cry, a game that has belittled me and made me lay down my pride (I opted to play on easy automatic mode because the first few stages were SO hard but now I’m so not challenged anymore), and gone around UP with my 3/4 Chinese nigga Miriam J. Sy (gooks represent! What!) taking snapshots of street art in UP.

Now i must go back to cutting up stencils, which I left because my fingers were starting to get numb.

What are you passionate about?

Really, what? Because frankly, I don’t know what that is for me. I like a lot of things, and I’m pretty good at some of them, enough for me to make a decent living at least, but I don’t know what my passion is. It used to be making games, then it was writing, then it was drawing comics, then it was making concept art for videogames, then it was making stencil art, making t-shirt designs… These are all things I like, but I don’t feel like I’m passionate about.

I have a friend whose passion I admire more than anything else. I admire his talent, but I realized a year ago that his particular talent was perhaps equal to mine, if I only spent half as much time as he did honing his skills. Is this a matter of motivation? Can I be passionate about any of the things I mentioned above, given enough effort? Or have I really yet to find my true passion?

Is passion like love, in that you have to make a choice when the infatuation’s gone?

Oh, the emo-ness of it all.

This shit is for real yo, property hunting up in hea’!

The Sex Pad

I’ve been looking to get my own place for a while, and I’ve kicked things into high gear now, calling up brokers and looking at places from makati to pasig to mandaluyong.  It’s tiring business, this, and while I was taking a break and chatting with a college friend this nugget of pure wisdom eked out:

Camilo: you do now this means you will officially have a sex pad after
Camilo: haha
Ryan Sumo: oh yeah
Ryan Sumo: why do you think i want a my own place dude
Ryan Sumo: hello bachelor pad
Camilo Quevedo: behnd the mind of every guy who wants his own place is a horny little 12 year old.
Ryan Sumo: dude, seriously
Ryan Sumo: why else would you get your own place
Camilo Quevedo: say goodbye to underwear
Ryan Sumo: i say all this shit to my folks, independence, building emotional capital, yadda yadda yadda
Camilo Quevedo: haha
Camilo Quevedo: we all do
Ryan Sumo: goodbye to underwear?
Camilo Quevedo: slobby naked days
Camilo Quevedo: haha like lazy sundays

And there you have it ladies and gents, the only true reason why any 20-something would even consider leaving the safety, security and free-loading goodness of living with the folks: So they can have their own sex pad.

The Parking Space

I’d been browsing through local banks’ property listings, because sometimes they have really good deals up on auction/foreclosed properties.  While looking through UCPB’s list, I saw a makati condo that looked too good to be true.  405,000 for a condo that was walking distance from Greenbelt.  I didn’t care if that condo was as big as Harry Pottter’s room because at that price it was a fucking steal.

Turns out the 405k was to purchase a frickin parking space in the condo.

Life. Updates. Niece.

First off, my mom’s ok. The cysts , they were benign.

Life is good. It’s been mostly a blur of late nights, later mornings, and feebly trying to wake myself up with too much coffee, man. I’m taking it easy this week, trying to get my energy back with marathon “entourage” sessions, but it looks like the weekend’s gonna be a killer.

My niece is the most beautiful little girl in the whole wide world, and if you don’t agree with me I will fight you.

Proof:

See? Told ya.

Sleeeeeeeeep, I need sleeeeeep.

You know how there are weeks where you’re just sitting at home wishing you could be out doing something else?  This is not one of those weeks.  This is one of those weeks where I wish I coud curl up into a little ball and fucking sleepm because I have something planned for almost every single night.   It’s not as fun as it sounds.  Either that, or I’m really just getting old.

I need your support…

Cause my mom’s gonna be in the hospital tomorrow to have some cysts checked out to see if they’re malignant.   Prayers and well wishing are much appreciated.

Lies! All Lies!

I find it amazing how much people can lie, even to themselves and the ones that they claim to love, just to get out facing a situation head on. Lying only digs you deeper. If you really want redemption, face the fucking music, and stop lying your way through everything in a desperate effort to validate the mistakes you’ve made. Doing that means you never learned your lesson. You just wanted a way out.

Dammit why do I always end up with the crazies? Seriously.

LIES! the comic strip.

Texas Hold’em winnings + aborted boys’ nights out(s?)

I haven’t played Texas hold’em poker in a really long time, and so it was fun to come back from a long hiatus and win almost 1 grand from my friends. I finished the first game in third place after losing a hand to a child prodigy (my friend’s 10(?) year old kid brother), and won the second game over my friend Paolo.

One of the sweetest moments came when my friend Alex got wiped out, bought in the game for another hundred pesos, got a straight on the flop in the next hand, and went all in against me. Unfortunately for him, I had King-10 full house, also on the flop, so I did a little acting, then matched his all in. The look on his face was priceless, and then he said “Damn. I shoulda just gone to Pegasus and gotten laid.” Panalo.

After that we headed off to the newly renovated Mr.Kebab for a midnight snack, upon which we were supposed to attempt another boys’ night out.  Unfortunately, all of us were kinda tired by that point (it was around 1:30 by then), and so we shuffled off home making promises for another boys’ night out next week.