Ice Carvings

You called me after midnight Must have been three years since we last spoke I slowly tried to bring back The image of your face from the memories so old I tried so hard to follow But didn't catch the half of what had gone wrong Said "I don't know what I can save you from" I don't know what I can save you from I asked you to come over, and within half an hour You were at my door I had never really known you But I realized that the one you were before Had changed into somebody for whom I wouldn't mind to put the kettle on Still I don't know what I can save you from I don't know what I can save you from I don't know what I can save you from - Kings of Convenience, "I Don't Know What I Can save You From" ------ this is my 100th post, counting the entries where i just pasted some cockamamie lyrics from artists i have admired. i know, i'm getting obsessed with numerology, but i can't help it if the thousandth hit coincided with the

i don't get it. with all the things happening around me, events that catch me in a virtual maelstrom and lifting me to a writer's wet dream of existentialist experiences, i choose to devote this entry discussing a subject that is neither urgent nor uhm...er...original. nel is pretty much caught up on grey's anatomy. i keep finding holes in the plots and comparing it to my newest boob tube bonanza. House MD. Or House. Going back, it was fun to realize, thanks to wikipedia (here's a tip: surfing the web isn't all porn, yahoo, espn, and where to download mp3s, there's a whole world of information out there and there's weboggle!) that House is a TV version of the adventures of my other favorite literary character: Sherlock Holmes. System to get the right diagnosis - eliminate all the other symptoms. The one remaining, however improbable, has to be the right one. Interpersonal relations? Both suck at socials, unless there is a pressing need to get something from

i wanted to write a couple of entries, but somehow the spirit is willing but the fingers are fat and tired. must be from doing all that weboggle. it's seriously addicting, and trying to reach the top 10 is somewhat of an unending challenge. try it yourself by visiting here . anyway, the celebration of the 1000th hit to my blog is too good to pass up so here i am at 1 in the morning writing an entry. I know it's not much compared to hits from google or yahoo, but having my blog viewed a thousand times is more than an achievement for me. it's been a crazy week at work with all the activities going on that i surprise myself for not being burned out yet. i do admit i'm having too much fun to derive some sense of fatigue out of it. Muziklaban is over finally, and it was a blast for yours truly to have attended his first concert with a special all-access ID around his neck. That means i can eat all the food i want and go to all the restricted areas without some bouncer handl

i must be dreaming. somebody shake me awake. somebody shake me loose. i saw my name on francis magalona's blog. i saw my face in francis magalona's blog. i read in francis magalona's blog that he's signing the shirt i've been lusting for and giving it to me. Out of his natural goodness. read it yourself. I don't deserve this. i am not worthy. i'm a lesser mortal, much a lesser fan. i'm a fiend who's more into the dark arts of guitar-driven alternative music, a confessed drinker, and one who watches Eat Bulaga! because my wife holds the remote control hostage during lunch on weekends. I honestly thought that by this time, all has been forgotten. I am humbled. I am grateful. I have transformed from being a fan of the artist to being a fan of the person. Can i scream with joy now?

(with help from Kevin Roy, Jake Yrastoza, Camille Portugal, Affie Carpio, and Reg Rubio) 1. You can sing songs with lyrics like "shit" and "fuck" and nobody gives a damn. 2. Nobody joins Muziklaban to escape poverty. No tearjerking interviews as well. 3. Original material is a must. Unlike pop shows where creativity is optional. 4. You don't have to look good, but you have to sound good. Plus, grooming is optional, whether the band or the audience. 5. No parents present. As managers or as members of the audience. Except those who left their kids at home. 6. Judges don't steal the show by making inane commentataries. 7. It's rock and roll. What else do you want? 8. Definitely and absolutely, no Barry Manilow. Whether as a cover or as a guest. 9. My ears are ringing throughout the show. But im happy. 10. Drinking beer is actually encouraged during the show. Why be the next idol when you can rock on?

Yesterday was supposed to be another ho-hum day where you alternately think about working, seriously think about working, and attending meetings to get off working. The afternoon proved much more interesting as I got to sit down with two of the country’s exciting and durable musical artists. First off was The Dawn, minus Carlos Balcells and plus legend in his own right new bassist Buddy Zabala. Imagine sitting in the same table and trying hard to fawn but to get some hard sound bites. After overcoming the shock and awe when faced with the legendary supergroup, I was able to chat amicably with each member, and despite my boxed questions, discovered that their most requested song was Build Me Up Buttercup and that given the permission to rework the lyrics, Francis Reyes would lead the group in a rendition of Dancing Kings. Also realized via Francis that Saturday Night Fever was a dark tale and not the glitzy all-white disco film we all take it for granted. Next stop was the iconic Franci