Cloud Catalog #167.

Do I need a reason for posting this? Another day. Another day with these guys trying to save it.

Cloud Catalog #166.

So this happened yesterday:

Guise inform niyo naman si Rocco Nacino na ako ang soulmate niya

— Richard Bolisay (@richardbolisay) May 13, 2013

And then someone crazy picked it up:

@richardbolisay meet @nacinorocco

— jade francis castro (@castrojade) May 13, 2013

And voilà!

@castrojade @richardbolisay hello.. haha

— Rocco Nacino (@nacinorocco) May 13, 2013

Life can be sweet sometimes.

Cloud Catalog #165.

I wish I could tell you everything, but since I have stopped writing here I feel that putting feelings into words is no longer important, no longer relevant to anyone or to anything even to myself.

But yesterday was something I'd like to recall, or at least look back on because I remember doing the same thing when High Violet was released.

Trouble Will Find Me was leaked two days ago and since my laptop kept crashing I only managed to listen to it yesterday. The first thing I did when I arrived at the office was download it, and fortunately, since doing that was forbidden, I was able to do so without getting reprimanded. So download I did, and funny how the simple act of transferring the tracks to iTunes made me weak, so feeble, frailed by the easiness of the task.

I had work to do that day, a bit heavy in fact, but from time to time I switched to this window. How calming it was, how liberating. I was happy it turned out to be good upon first listen.

And as you can see in that photo, I browsed through some old posts I wrote on The National. I even came across an entry I wrote after I first listened to High Violet. April 2010, a time when Iya and Nanay were still alive. They saw me playing the album in the living room so many times. Mostly on the weekend. They listened to that album, unconsciously, I played it and I knew they heard it. They knew how much I loved it. Now both of them have departed.

That same morning Petra and I were texting each other, gushing, obviously sharing the same feeling. Then she said: 

And it's weird being told this because sometimes, out of vanity and self-centeredness, I feel that it's true.

I listened, listened, and listened. A number of phrases made me tremble:

I have only two emotions Careful fear and dead devotion. I can’t get the balance right. Throw all my marbles in the fire. I see all the ones I wept for All the things I had it in for I won’t cry until I hear 'Cause I was not supposed to be here.

Oh, when I lift you up you feel Like a hundred times yourself I wish everybody knew What's so great about you 

Let’s go wait out in the fields with the ones we love. 

I'm in the city you hated My eyes are falling Counting the clicks with the living dead My eyes are red 

There's a science to walking through windows without you 

Am I the one you think about When you're sitting in your faintin' chair drinking pink rabbits? 

Tunnel vision lights my way Leave a little life today

I listened to it more intently after work. I walked around two bookstores in Alabang Town Center, and I guess I felt so happy that I bought books and realized how I'd poor I'd be in the coming days.

Life is short. Make the most out of it. Embrace its sadness and joy. Its pain and pleasure. Look forward, look back, it doesn't matter. Just live.

Cloud Catalog #164.

Here's a game. Name a movie director whose entire filmography you like. Also, your crush. 

Mine is Alexander Payne! (obviously, based on the pics above) Look at that gray hair and those sad eyes. What a turn-on. He's a very talented writer, too.  

And can I just say I love Neil Gaiman but Payne's the handsomer version. 

Cloud Catalog #163.

Dear life,

For many months I've resisted the urge to complain about you, thinking that by accepting what you are giving me I am being regarded as someone very patient, that by not succumbing to my constant bouts of depression and writing about them I am showing signs of improvement, hence a little part of me is expecting some sort of reward or at least a semblance of it, because I still happen to be a human being, needy and wanting, but as days go by and as I reach my wits' end I realize how useless it is to hope for something better, that the futility of everything is making me scared and weary at the same time, that whatever I do is pointless, that whatever I am is hopeless.

I feel sorry for myself, and I feel sorry for my misfortunes.

Miserably yours,

Cipher in the dumpster

Cloud Catalog #162.

Today is March 7, exactly a year after Nanay died. It's 8 a.m. and I haven't slept since last night but for some reason I don't feel sleepy at all. Must be the coffee or the need to wake my sister up at seven so we could visit Nanay's grave before she goes to work. At this hour she still hasn't taken a bath yet, so I decide to write this entry instead. At around 3:30 earlier I went out to buy a sandwich and soda and on my way home I was crying because I remembered Nanay in her last days at the hospital, unconscious, barely breathing, and there were instances when I was asked to watch over her from past midnight till early morning and it was OK it's just that I'd panic if she died on me but she didn't and she still died, early morning, and a part of me died as well, a huge part, a very huge part. I am looking forward to the day when I can finally have the guts to write about her, everything I wanted to say to her and about her, everything, because she deserves it, and I am the only person who can do it and who can cherish the short and unambitious and sometimes terrible life she led, in words. I have always felt insufficient so I don't want to try and ruin her memory. I love you, Nay. I always carry you in my heart. Always.

Cloud Catalog #161.

Hey, Rulfo, how about spending some time with me asap?

Cloud Catalog #160.

Book #2 in March: DONE!

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In case you're wondering what I've been up to apart from reading and getting depressed and oh my god eating I'm actually catching up on Enlightened and jeez I hate how it's so goddamn good each episode is making my face twitch and twitch and twitch and I hope there's a third season please

Cloud Catalog #159.

"We became Cortázar followers. We read the stories in End Game, The Secret Weapons, Bestiary. We understood exactly what it meant when he spoke of the dangers of keeping a live tiger inside a bourgeois apartment, of being the only two passengers on a bus not carrying a bunch of flowers, of being transported from an innocent operating table to the sacrificial altar of an ancient Aztec priest. These nightmares made sense to us; we didn't know then that they were also describing something like the soul of the times." - Alberto Manguel in the afterword of Unreasonable Hours

Done with my first book this March. Whew. That was intense. And beautiful. And exhilarating. And unparalleled. 

Cloud Catalog #158.

Proof that I'm poor and depressed: I've been drinking Lipton and not Twinings huhuhu

Cloud Catalog #157.

 ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ Oooooh something to dance about ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬

Cloud Catalog #156.

Touch his dick and he's dead!

And in today's episode of "Ridiculously Sexy Beasts That I Will Never Get Tired Of And Geez Please Be Mine All Of You," let these screenshots speak of my love for (the young) Kevin Kline!

Obviously I just finished watching A Fish Called Wanda and I was laughing my ass off most of the time, thanks to the brilliant script and the cast that made it delicious: Jamie Lee Curtis, John Cleese, Michael Palin, and Kevin himself who won a Best Supporting Oscar for his role as the armpit-sniffing, pseudo-intellectual Anglophobe thief, Otto.

It's a performance worthy of drool, and boy was I catching my breath and wiping my mouth at the same time. Not loving him is impossible. Now I really have to see In & Out!

Cloud Catalog #155.

What the hell, Alfred Birnbaum?

Having read the bulk of Murakami's novels (in college and after college) I am probably in the right position to say that no, he doesn't deserve the most prestigious literary prize yet. His lightweight writing has never been an issue, but there is just a whole lot of writers around that are so much better than him, if one just cares to seek them. And as with non-English authors, I wonder, whose fault are those dry and dreary turns of phrase?

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I finished six books in February. That's not a bad record, and I want to keep it that way in the coming months, but damn I need a fucking job.

Cloud Catalog #154.

Coffee doesn't work any more. I don't get to sleep well, and when I am awake, headaches occur too often. Like right now.

Anyway, before I pass out, my favorite show at the moment, with just four episodes in, is The Americans. Keri Russell is wonderful and Matthew Rhys kicks so much ass. He scares me to the point of loving him despite his cold stare and stone-hearted demeanor. It's been renewed for another season, so that's great news.

Cloud Catalog #153.

Oh shush, you prick. I love Anthony Perkins, hence the stills. 

I just finished watching The Trial by Orson Welles, and though I have some minor issues regarding its many and major differences from the novel (from the narrative details to the flow and to the rearranged chapters and to the overall tone), I must admit that I'm overwhelmed by the liberty that Welles had in the adaptation, exercising what seems to me his greatest talent, and that is, allowing the language of cinema to be emphasized and maximized despite making use of an enormous piece of literary material.

His touch of genius is very much present here: the elaborate set designs, the striking cinematography, the bizarre camera angles, and the use of incongruous non-diegetic sound. 

What endears me to it the most, however, is the lovely (and at times crazy) performance of Anthony Perkins as Josef K. OK, I knew he'd had relationships with guys before he married his wife, so the attraction is quite understandable. But there are numerous moments in The Trial when I feel that Andrew Garfield seems to have taken acting cues from him, from the softness of his voice and the hushed way he delivers it to the almost effeminate movement and naturally creepy smile, not to mention the manner in which he exudes that boyish charm and gangliness. But honest! He's really good. It flushed that image of Norman Bates from my mind, at least.

Hello, dream boy!

Cloud Catalog #152.

"You're insufferable!" - my best friends at the moment

Cloud Catalog #151.

I returned from Los Baños last night with nothing but heart (Low, 2011) and these four books, all of them worth 80 pesos!

Cloud Catalog #150.

Take me take me to the riot

Take me take me to the riot

And let me staaaaaaaaaaaay

Cloud Catalog #149.

Well, thing is, I haven't read any of Clarice Lispector's books but I'm obsessed with her and her body of work. She's not available in local bookstores so my only hope is either order from BookDepo or look for friend who has a copy of her novels. HEY, ANYONE??

Cloud Catalog #148.

Listening to the new Local Natives record for the first time and so far it's hauntingly good. I live for albums like this. Can't gush enough over the fact that it's co-produced by Aaron Dessner.

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Life is bad enough as it is, really. I can feel myself sinking into an abyss. It's depressing, but hey what am I gonna do.

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I miss blogging here. I miss talking about nonsensical, emotional things.