Confused-Shoes

For posterity’s sake.

Dec. 03, 2008.

Domeng Disini gives me a five for labor.

Marivic Leonen gives me two fives for civpro. (for a two-hour non stop recit).

hell.

In my moments of weakness I might have spoken of it. But I never meant it. Why would I want you away from me?

But my flaws began to unravel. I can’t even show a good trait in me. Maybe that is why I am so insecure, because I know myself. I might make one mistake and that’s it.

Well I did make mistakes. And yes that was it. No, I don’t blame you at all. I could not expect any one to understand me, the difficulty that is me. Maybe my Father could. But not even quite. I am too complex and too chaotic for my own good. Like the Greenday anthem. ‘Sometimes I give myself the creeps/Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me.’ And I am not paranoid nor am I stoned. That is just how I am.

I couldn’t blame you for choosing to go. I could sing a million love songs for the occassion. Laslas songs, as we know it. The past nights I was trying to forget everything. Hoping we could start again, start again. A brave new attempt at falling in love without the past issues carried over. But sadly, that wasn’t to be.

You have gone because you left and chose not to put up with me. I have made you go because I am too selfish and I am too conceited. I wanted you back, no, I don’t even want to let go because in my moments of darkness you are the only person I would have wanted to be with me. But that is not the case. You must live too, yourself.

I am used to this. Being by myself, and wishing good tidings to those whom I have caused to be hurt. I pray that may your dreams be granted. May you reach what you aspire for. I will always be a fan, an admirer. Maybe if I am lucky and you decide to come back, I’d be here. I promise.

I never wanted you to go. Hell I would have chased and followed the scent in your trail, like a bewitched dog. But I never want you to tire in pushing me away. Years of living insecure has taught me to know when I am unwanted.

Maybe if you’d only remember the promise that we would never part. To me that promise, that we will always stay together, rings true from the moment I wake to the time I close my eyes and force my mind to sleep. If i had my way, If I was good enough, I would never want to be away from you. I would never ever want to see us go. But I should have known better. Promises of staying together forever, that’s the basic stuff where all lovesongs are made of.

And sadly, that’s the one sacred promise most people forget so easily.

I close my eyes.

why can’t the things we mean be the only ones that actually get expressed and understood, and nothing more?

Deficiencies and excesses are fatal.  And so is expectation. And so does trust matter, and the lack of it as well. There is the past and the agonies of its wake, and there is the future, taking shape, beckoning, threatening. Oh, but then again the past and the future operate on the same plane: they are first-class torturers.

There is confusion and there is insecurity. There is unsolicited advice, with a sprinkle of concern. But sometimes everything is over even before the best intentions get filtered from those made up of sheer self-assurance and spite.

There is longing and there is ill-treatment. Emotional battery, it appears to me. The signs are unmistakeable, like the end of days. Ironically, the peak of all stress happens on the day most people honor their dead.

Before me is a vast array of options. But I haven’t got even a single iota of intelligence to choose what suits me best. Leave it all too chance and yes, I have a perfect expectation of being happy or ending up in misery. Either way that should be human nature and then nothing should come as a surprise.

I don’t know, I don’t know. Lots of times the blame’s on me. Of course now is absolutely no different. If it rains tomorrow, as someone assured me it would, or if the sun shines, it will not matter, really. Either I am drowned or burned. Death, it’s all the same. You close your eyes. I close my eyes.

The shock of your life comes when you realize your evil and your stench, when you discover that you have in you hideous things and you never ever thought they even existed. All of a sudden there they are in all their putrid and revolting glory.

The greater shocker comes when you get misunderstood.

(Well, not exactly.)

Two things. One, you’re not misundertood. In fact, it was loud and clear. What you are is evil and people get the message. Two, it ain’t a greater shocker because you’re bound to expect that you will get misunderstood, or understood, anyway.

I am Jed’s frustration, ranting at 21. This is his insecurity and inability, manifesting itself via this 21st century device called ‘blog’. It has a funny name, blog.

This is jed, always accused of employing dirty tricks, unconventional warfare. Appeal to pity and the like. They say I am feigning weakness when in truth i have nearly bled to death. People react violently to the statements I make and at the same time they couldn’t care less. Ugh, I fucking hate the phrase ‘at the same time’.

I stop blaming. There is really, really no one else and nothing to blame but me. I am a tower of Babel of conceit and reservations. I am the Little Prince gone awry. A 360-degree view and all around me I see my despicable little green monster selves in mutiny, up against the overwhelmed semblance of my civil sanity. There is really, I repeat, absolutely no one else and nothing else to blame but me.

A heap of self-shame once again, I write. I rekindle the creative in me. Creative in finding and making ways to emphasize my plight. Ah, the inner Neitzschean in me who would have eaten Tyler Durden or Holden Caulfield whole. In my worst moments I am still a colossal power, a seminal tour-de-force.

There is time for weeping.

The songs to play on the five nights of my wake, and the one to be played on the funeral itself:

1st night: Jason Mraz’s You and I Both - the song that best shows my hopelessly romantic attitude towards love in general, plus a good welcoming song to mourners because of the killer lines - ’see im all about them words.’ You could all even sing along to the song when Mraz cries his heart out in the final chorus.

2nd night: Eraserheads’ Hard to Believe, which, for me, is the best-written English song by a Filipino band. Though the harmony may not be too textured and unlayered, it, however boasts of a killer guitar solo that highlights the conflict of sadness/hopefulness embodied in the song. Easily the most intelligent love song made in the Philippines. ‘Please don’t take it all away/With you heaven is still close enough to touch’ simply breaks my heart.

3rd Day: Led Zeppelin’s All My Love - a most lovely love song that is nowhere cheesy, sentimental, or soft. It speaks of a failed love with the lover remaining unconquered - all the while promising more. The other side of my take on falling love - as a direct opposite to You and I Both. Killer line - ‘ sometimes I get a bit lonely’, which is so damn true. But he fights back with a Nietzschean concept of the superman, and, ultimately triumphs. And even if I don’t, I’d still be okay.

4th night - The Verve’s Bittersweet Symphony. This is rock taking a look at society, the rockstar lamenting not the silliness of love affairs but the demise of man in society in general. ‘I need to hear some songs that recognize the pain in me, yeah/ I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, i feel free now’ best describes my affinity for music, and my reasons for music. This is quite possibly the saddest song in the world. It speaks of poverty, pollution, resistance, stubborn-ness, change, personality, and music. Music. Oh and yes, it speaks of death. Perfect for the wake.

Last night: Oasis’ Live Forever/Coldplay’s Live Forever cover - the only hopeful song to be played in the wake; this song must be played like a double single, the Oasis original first - carefree, happy, youthful, then the Coldplay cover - and see how they turn this song about living forever so quickly damn depressing. ‘Maybe I just don’t believe’ speaks of who I am 40& of the time. Perfect for the huling lamay - which is when most of the mourners (or the well-wishers) come - and this might just possibly be the only inspiring song in the repertoire.

On the way to the funeral - play a medley of Bic Runga’s Sway (my desperate plea to my lovers not to go), Damien Rice’s The Blower’s Daughter (again, of depression about being left), Coldplay’s The Scientist (if only for the lines about questions of science and progress not speaking as loud as my heart), Bloc Party’s This Modern Love (for all those relationships of mine that didn’t work out), D’Sound’s Tattooed on my Mind (an ode to infatuations, for I am perpetually infatuated), Natalie Imbruglia’s Wrong Impression and Identify (the former, for those whom I loved but didn’t understand, the latter, my own ode to my false view of myself), The Killers’ All These Things That I’ve Done (a grand way to apologize to everyone), Texas’ Say What You Want (for all those who have something left to blame me for), New Radicals’ Someday We’ll Know (if only for the song i love most to sing along to) and finally, just as the coffin is being taken out of the hearse and prepared for the funeral, let them play The Beatles’ I’m Only Sleeping. Go figure why. (leave me where I am/I’m only sleeping).

And the song to be played over and over during the ceremony and as the coffin is being lowered into the grave: Radiohead’s No Surprises. Marx’s Alienation made to music. The saddest sounds, most depressing lyrics, no refuge, no salvation. It offers no let-up, no respite. Sheer sadness from a voice crying out for his ‘final fit, final bellyache’. This is pure sadness.

Do fulfill my wishes. Have these songs played and extend your condolences on the day i die.

drums pounded. the trumpets are being blown.
everywhere there is a call for the brave to rally around the standard. orders are being handed down. I hurriedly put my uniform on. I take a passing glance at the mirror.
My insignia shines. Polished to perfection, fit only for the consummate strategist.

My haircut betrays me. But no wonder, I treasure my youth.
My youth has never been synonymous with inexperience.

I have dodged bullets, I have received the fragments of shells. I have nearly lost an eye or both, and I have taken part in mad dashes and charges that have almost cost me my life and limb.

Now, another campaign is to be carried. The politicians, they, in their overzealousness to achieve peace, has brought as again another war.

Hordes are to be unleashed, and once more I shall take part as fodder.

I am a viscount.

_______________________________

My past has been colourful because of the events. And of course it is also ripe with the reflections; lessons i’ve learned after I have failed the test. I am a master of hindsight.

Your past is rich. Or does it have anything to do with nicotine? Or countless other snails who cry ‘eeeeeeeee’ at the first signs of frustration.

Mine has been surprisingly devoid of emotions. My words have a false sense of vulnerability. I am not always moved though I may proclaim that I shed tears.

But my words, too, have a deep sense of belief. I could no better describe my victories, however few, but I can vividly recall and drill in your head the tragic smiles involved in my follies.

sometimes I wonder why I am so sure. and why I worry if this surety may leave me yet again another folly.

__________________________________

It was Tuesday and I felt so lonely. Not sad, not depressed, but utterly alone. There were no comforting thoughts. There was only the maddening sense of work left undone, and work left to be done. There is always the dread of what was left behind, and how it might knock me out tomorrow. There can never be any sense of perpetual relief. Generations of evolving apes have shown us why we can never live without the coping mechanism provided by the sigh.

____________________________________

The last platoon has left and the last remnants of the Army have gone. I was left in my chambers, a single servant sweeping my office. He seems terribly worried of the future. I have not joined the formation and I requested that I be left behind.

I take off the uniform. I remove the sidearms from the holsters. I burn the mission orders. I put the insignia away, back to the chest where the decorations of my forefathers are. There lies the implements of an Earl, a Marquis, and 2 Counts.

I light a cigarette as I open the windows. The air is calm and the sun is radiant. I dream of faraway lands, where perhaps in a few moments cannonballs will erase whatever semblance of peace there was. The armies will clash and thousands will fall. It occured to me, my nation loves to spill blood from time to time.

I will not take part in this war.

I will lock the chest and throw in into the sea, just as they do in swashbuckling sword and sandal epics. Then the memory of our heroism will be forgotten. After all, heroes always die young. That is why I asked that I be left behind. So that I may live. It may perhaps seem cowardly. But value judgments are always overtly complicated.

Having put aside the boots, I will now put on the slippers. I shall walk towards the home of my beloved. Together we shall listen to some old records where the singers sing of love and its wonders in order to drown the sounds of a far-away war.

i guess id have sleepless nights. smiling.
when sleep comes for certain id be dreaming
of holding your hand. slowly walking
enjoying the breeze. with leaves falling
with leaves falling. I am falling.

i look at you and i delight in what i see.
this is how it is to be so lucky
i found you. they call this destiny?
but it is as if you were given to me
entrusted by Him to me.

i believe in you. your eyes convey happiness.
i know sometimes you dont want to hear about your loveliness
but estoppel does not lie against her royal highness
oh, you have taken away all my sadness
i guess there is just no room for sadness.

regardless of titles, here comes the time for loving
regardless of past sorrows, here comes the time for trusting
and in spite of bad days, i could not help but keep smiling
it is as if when the world started falling
you came and everyday for you im falling.

i’ve got to be honest.

this is one of my favorite days ever during my brief stay in up law.

you told me the night before that sometimes i should be a little of a tease. I can’t undo anything anymore and I don’t see the point in starting all over again. As far as I can see, the past 21 years of my life were all just stepping stones that led me to that ice-cream walk with you.

and just seeing myself beside you, ice-creams green and red under skies of blue.

you are beautiful. every single moment.

not even all the sweetest kisses in the world would compare to the beauty that is you.

you’re beautiful.

During the height of Frank’s wrath, I was busy imagining myself finding lasting happiness at last.

The weekend gave rise to the bizarre situation where I was in love in the middle of the storm and left in misery just as soon as the storm has passed.

I mean, it should have been the other way around.

Maybe Frank gave me the frank-ness that I needed in order to say the things I had to say. He was in the pacific ocean when I began wading through the waves of infatuation. He was ravaging the philippine sea and i was being consumed by the desire to confess. He was sinking ships in the sibuyan sea and I was offering myself up completely. Alas, he was near manila bay as I thought of her the entire sunday.

Suddenly negotiations broke down. I was left by myself once more and Frank, internationally known as Fengshen, was well on his way towards the south china sea.

The storm is so far away.
drown me. I wish to drown myself. But i must keep on living. Man, too many storms have come and gone.
Heartbreaks are not anomalies anymore. But me being cool about it is definitely anomalous.

You should consider me again. I might have been good.

I paid my old school a visit.

I walked around the corridors that gave me my childhood. i stared at the windows were years before i stared at my crushes. I peed in the urinals where i contemplated the reality of being an early teenager.

I saw the desks were i carved my name and my 1st girlfriend’s. I watched the orbit of the ceiling fans were not too long ago i stared at the very sight while dumbfounded for the answers to the trigonometry exam. I roamed the fields where when i was three inches shorter we used to dance like maniacs around a grand bonfire. I checked the hidden spots where i first took my fling for a stolen french kiss.

I sat on the stage of the room where i used to wait for my bandmates while they were tuning the guitars. I wrote on the blackboards where 6 years ago I was so pressured to complete the solution for a problem regarding trajectory. I rested my head momentarily in the tree where the bully slammed my head when i was still wearing shorts for school.

I greeted the guards who remained, and the teachers who were still as gracious as they were. I inserted my hands into the openings in the glass pane of the registar’s window where i used to steal excuse slips and permits. I ran up and down the steps where my old barkada used to hang out whenever we were waiting for the bus to take us away.

I thought i found myself again.

I ain’t gonna lose it anymore.