Quick Update No. 1

Sorry for the lack of updates but I have a full slate this week and cannot be bothered with putting up a post made of a bajillion words. I’m feeling a lot better now that I’ve made amends with my ex-girlfriend (We’re friends on Facebook again!). Also: I look at our band schedule for December and things are really sweet. I’m shaking with excitement just thinking about the rest of the weekend because my life is pretty fly right now, yo.

By the way, tonight is the gala premiere of Shireen Seno’s entry for this year’s Cinema One Originals. Shireen was kind enough to include one of our tracks in her film and I cried bokeh tears of love and devotion when I saw our name listed in the film’s poster.

¹ It’s not so hard to make a double Slow Hello reference eh?

Sure, this year pretty much sucks in the love department, but hey, I’m awesome. Everything is minty fresh and I never even had to go cold turkey on life!¹ Oooooohhhh-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

I’ve Been Busy & Stuff: Parts 1 & 2 of the Week That Was

Much like any other week out there, it started off rather shitty and then progressed positively throughout its seven day voyage into the whatever the cosmos had aligned for me. It started with me getting pissed at Erwin Hilao (Boo!) for not being able to write the lyrics I asked him to write for this new song that we were working on. Since we’re heading towards a new direction for this full length shit, I thought it would be better if the songwriting duties would be split within the band rather than just me and Francis.

“I’d like them to have input,” is what I would say had this been a press interview which is just a way of saying, “Hey, I’m kind of sick of finding words to rhyme with ‘core’ other than ‘whore’ and ‘boar’ so yeah, you do the math.” But there’s no math in songwriting. Tough luck.

Anyway, the night went nowhere because that little bitch couldn’t stop keutsy giggling in front of his netbook. I kept tweeting how he should write lyrics and not have a conversation with this person who’s making him giggle like Zooey Deschanel in that annoying show. So yeah, I got pissed. This happens. It’s real life, moving on.

Our table littered with the most random things. Below is a picture of Bijan acting like the diva that he was born to be.

Yeah, sure, I like hanging out with my friends. But sometimes, I also like the idea of us doing something–like writing a song, because we’re in a band. And I just got real bored of looking at the television and listening to my friends do covers of horrible 90s songs so I decided to go home and get some sleep. Sure enough, I did not get any sleep because I kept thinking about how angry I was. because I really wanted to get down with that song, ya dig?

But I sucked it in because I knew I had a full week ahead of me but then all hell broke lose when I forgot which computer I used when I downloaded last week’s Gossip Girl episode. October’s been really crazy and I just wish it would stop. I mean, technically it’s November now so I hope the madness is over, but yeah, October was pretty much exhausting.

Last week was particularly fucked up because The Strangeness had four performances lined up. One night, we even had to perform the same set twice! Not complaining here. Sure, it’s fun. I get to hang out with my friends and we get to play and sell CDs but it gets to that point where you get tired and shit.

¹ An ample depiction of what is going down in my room right now. When I say going down I actually meant my flaccid penis. Boo-yah.

This is why I never bothered to leave the house to visit my lolo‘s grave. I needed to be home, in my bed, fully naked with a pillow nested on my lap to protect my precious jewels from the laptop’s deathly heat rays¹. Now that we have that wonderful mental of image of me brewing inside your head, let’s talk about my week because this is MY BLOG so you will read it and think that MY LIFE is more interesting that YOURS when in fact MY LIFE is pretty much shit.

PART 1: PROMOTING OUR SHIT.

After that shitty night with Erwin Hilao (Boo!), I realized that we still have that other band. The band that have physical copies of their CD released for the people to consume. The band that is slated to perform live in front of, oh I’d say about twenty, webcast viewers on that week. The band that is bigger than the other band because the other band is as pansy as a girl in a keut  tutu who is all like, “Daddy, I’m Natalie Portman as the Black Swan,” and you just can’t help but die of keutness. And that band has to sell CDs to pay for their recording. Which is why I made that band a poster to promote ourselves:

I’ve invested a lot for this band so I need for us to have a little success if possible. And the guys I’m with are all nice guys and they work real hard for this shit which is why I love them. Except for maybe Erwin Hilao. (Boo!)

I’d Like To Have A Career Or Something

I got drunk inside my favorite comic book store in the entire Philippines last Saturday. You know, I’ve always wanted to drink inside Sputnik but my friends would always rather sit on the pavement or someplace dirty yet totally safe like, say, in front of Janylyn. But yeah, never inside Sputnik which I find really really cool.

Still sad that Mogwai closed down but hey, I could drink inside Sputnik every night and it would always be a sweet experience for I am surrounded by all those awesome comics.

¹ This thumbnail is not enough. You have to watch the entire thing.

In other news, I got a job. Well, not really a job-job but more of a “Hey, I heard you’re unemployed and you have a camera so come help this shoot!” thing which is way more better than staying at home cooking and eating soggy hash browns while waiting for yet another birthday special at Walang Tulugan: Master Showman because Kuya Germs is so special that he allotted four full weeks of his cult late night show specifically for his birthday.

And it was fun.

But then again, after the guests became sadder and sadder at each week, it seemed more like a pity party for Kuya Germs. Like, the “special guests” had nothing better to do that day and they need gas money so hey, let’s drop by the studio and appear randomly in this show whose main source of revenue is an anti-lice shampoo commercial starring Gladys Reyes and the world’s most horrible fake hair lice ever¹.

Suffice it to say, yeah I ended up helping my friend shoot a bunch of plugs for this awesome Pinoy business. Also, it did not seem like work at all because I knew the people involved so it was like a really chill shooting day.

LET’S GET SAD #1: American Football LP or: Honestly, I Can’t Remember All My Teenage Feelings And Their Meanings.

LET’S GET SAD is a series of posts where I talk about one sad album that I sometimes would listen to on lonely sexless nights.

When I came up with the idea to start a recurring post about sad music my mind initially went to Owen, also known as Mike Kinsella, that one sad guy who keeps churning wonderful sad music for my sad heart. Owen’s new album Ghost Town was the soundtrack of my trip to Sagada last August and I harvested a lot of tears as I kept the album on loop for the entire 12-hour bus ride.

However, I gave up on this idea because when I talk about sad music, there’s only one album that comes to mind: American Football’s self-titled release. Their first and last album. Back when Mike Kinsella was still Mike Kinsella and not Owen.

This 9-track album had been nursing me and my sadness for more than half a decade. If asked what my favorite album in the entire world was, I have a hunch that you’ll hear the words American Football roll out of my mouth followed by a series of quiet sobs. While it’s not as grand as the other albums on my ~*~All-time Favorite List,~*~ it remains on top¹.

¹ This is a lie. Sometimes I would say that my favorite album is this one:
² Another lie. I am particularly fond of Sigur Ros and Shugo Tokumaru

Sure it’s not made by The Beatles or it isn’t as meticulously crafted like a Brian Wilson album; what American Football LP lacks in awesomeoness, it makes up with simple songwriting and teeming raw emotions. Being a person submerged in a deep well of emotions 24/7, I’d rather listen to something relatable than a bunch of clashing instruments muddled with gibberish². I believe that the key to sad music are the lyrics.

Look, I like Explosions in the Sky but I sometimes feel that it would be better if they sang a few lines or something³. I prefer hearing about how your girlfriend had sex with another guy, and you know this because there’s pubic hair on your bed and it’s not yours, so now you’re sad, rather than the crescendo of a hipster drum circle. I think the reason why I don’t hear people talk about Explosions in the Sky that much during parties is because of the lack of lyrics.

A Hypothetical Conversation About Explosions in the Sky:

Dude:You know that part in “Welcome, Ghosts” that goes BAM! DUG-DUG-TASHH TUG-TUG-BANG TUG-TUG-TAGSH! DUM-DUM DAGGG!?

Girl: Totally. My favorite part is in the beginning where it goes TEN-TEN-TEN-TEN-TEN. DUM-DUM-DUM-DUM DURURUM-TEN! TEN! TEN! TEN! TEN! TAGA-DUM! TEN TEN.

(INSERT “COLLECTIVE SCOFF FROM PARTYGOERS” CLIP)

³ This is why God invented Youth Pictures of Florence Henderson 

I’m babbling. Anyway, part of what makes American Football work was the clash of beautiful twinkly guitars and Mike Kinsella’s soft and heartbreaking voice singing out those lyrics that seemed to be shot straight right out of my heart–except that notion is impossible because this album was made in 1999, a time when you never had even the slightest idea that your loneliness would end up becoming a daily struggle.

And now a comic that made rounds on the Internet. Also known as: The story of when I first heard this album. After the jump, we will explore the depths of my sadness through the songs on this album and a bunch of my old Myspace photos.

All flights lead to Laneway.

¹ Japan is where my father worked for 10 years. This is why they named me Shinji.

I have never been outside the country. Hell, I've never even been inside a plane. As far as I could remember, the only time my family decided that we should leave the country was when my mom tried her luck in Japan¹. Suffice it to say, nothing happened.

Over the years, both my parents would leave the Philippines in search of greener pastures, leaving me and my brothers in this wonderful third-world country of ours. Since my parents are okay with money now, they decided that my chances of following them in New York would increase if I had a bunch of stamps on my passport.

For my 23rd birthday, they're sending me to Singapore which is perfect because the most amazing thing is happening there in February. It's called the St. Jerome's Laneway Festival and I creamed my pants when I saw the line-up.

INTRODUCTION or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love Writing Long-ish Blogs That No One Would Read Again

Annoying as it may seem, it is true that I started a new blog. A couple of days ago, this anon dude left me a message on Tumblr telling me that he used to read the stuff that I used to write when I had a serious blog and before Tumblr turned me into a, uhm, microblogger. Anyway, thanks to that guy, I had a brilliant idea to start a new WordPress because WordPress is too hip.

Not that I hated writing, it's just that people on Tumblr do not condone long posts. They would scroll past that shit if it exceeded the maximum number of words that the fragile mind of a hipster could comprehend. Now, why am I blaming my followers? The truth is that, I got tired of writing. I guess this weariness for writing stemmed after I wrote my thesis. Before, I used to write a shit-ton of reviews for Pelikula, but then I had to stop because I had to review and analyze a bunch of movies for my thesis--and they were horrible movies. Alas, I bullshitted my way through that which made me think that everything I write from this point onwards, is utter bullshit.