A little something called Update

I don’t like rainy Sunday nights as much as I don’t like wet Monday mornings. It’s depressing. The rain makes the hours leading to another workweek more difficult to bear. But like death and taxes and Air Supply music, rain on a Sunday night is something one can’t avoid. It’s going to happen, like it or not, and it’s happening now, right this very moment, as I type this in the empty living room, trying to keep the melancholy at bay with music and Internet and some writing.

a quiet afternoon

A quiet afternoon at home

Yeah. Writing. Can’t believe it’s been weeks since I last wrote something here. I remember one or two attempts that were aborted because, shit, inspiration just won’t hit me. Also, the last few weeks had been rough. My mountain bike got stolen, which put me in the blackest of moods for days. I also suffered two weeks of intense on-and-off migraine that started from an ugly shower episode that I suspect was some kind of mild stroke (although no doctor has confirmed it). And Raven, after a good three-week start, had suddenly become fearful of school. If you’re a parent, you know how heartbreaking it is to leave your bawling kid in the hands of strangers. You’d wish you’re one of those lucky rich parents who can stay with their kids 24/7.

Indeed, a terrible period for any writing done. But things have greatly improved since then. I still don’t have a mountain bike, but the migraine is at least history, and Raven is slowly regaining her confidence in school. At least, I don’t have to drag her kicking and screaming to the classroom anymore.

In between all these were the usual: books (started with the Gaiman-Pratchett collab Good Omens today), music (Owen’s new album is good, Work Drugs not so), TV series/sitcoms  (Hannibal and, just recently, Modern Family). I’ve also become extra mindful of my health. I now jog on Saturday mornings and have been yosi-free for three weeks as of writing. If my health card permits I intend to undergo full executive checkup within the year.

So, to conclude this late-night tryst with my Muse, life has been bittersweet as always. I’ve yet to hit the lotto jackpot, but at least there’s family and friends and nice little happy scenes and sceneries to enjoy and treasure. I couldn’t ask for more.


Of birthdays & partying

Bang Blog turns one today, and red wine and drunk girls are everywhere.

Not true, of course. All the wild-ass, orgiastic partying only happens in my head these days, courtesy of the books and magazine articles I read, and movies and TV series I watch and religiously follow. I agree, I’ve become a boring fella in the party department. Case in point: Fete de la Musique raged in Makati last night, but despite invitations from friends I chose to stay home and be with my family instead, and just opted to monitor the event on Twitter. I figured I’m too old for something like that. And for the night life, in general.

But even that is only half-true: I was in a gentleman’s club the other night for a friend’s stag party, and had a terrific time.  The beer was overflowing, the videoke unlimited, but most of all I was with my college buddies, my favorite people in drunkenness and sobriety. There’s never a dull moment with those dudes. With them the night is always young, and nobody’s too old for anything. I was shitfaced and reeking of cheap thrills when I arrived home the next morning, but feeling wonderfully fine, like I was 18 again and very much the master of my domain.

And so much for a beer-y update. Here’s to another year of WordPress blogging. Seventy-five entries down, hopefully a billion more to go. And when I die may it be said that I had an interesting life, at least on my blog. My gratitude to those who left comments, liked, and followed this shit.

New blog, old shit

Well yes, the Prodigal Son returns to WordPress. No big story here. I was bloghopping the other day, saw one that has this nice little layout that grabbed me, and thought, Hey, I want that! No surprise: I’ve always been an insecure little bastard. And fuck if I used the word “little” twice already in this paragraph. Like what the title of this blog says, I can’t write. Yeah.

Also, starting a new blog, for me, is about as close as I can get to starting a new life. It’s a way to escape the dullness of my days, like a new hobby minus the requisite expenses. Or a new affair minus the risk of heartbreak. Something like that. Days on end of gloomy rains have put my mind in no mood to rake up the right words and metaphors for it.

Ah yes, the rain. Canceled a very important appointment today because of it. It didn’t make me feel good. It made me feel like a fucking prima donna or something. But the trip to the city hall, bank and laundromat this morning under this godforsaken weather was all the action I could take. It was a sin getting out of bed in the first place.

And so much for that. New blog, old rants. Hey, I didn’t say I was a changed man…