Waiting for a serve...

my currently favorite drink,
Russian Standard Vodka

I drink just enough to get me drowsy. Not enough to make me stupid, or to make my heart palpitate like it did the last time.

Just enough. Not much.

So here we were. It seemed like a long enough time to let half the world pass us by. But no. No time is ever enough until someone lets go. But when forgiveness is the only option left, everything becomes one-sided. Right now, it feels sort of like playing ping pong (i would have said tennis, but i never played tennis, so it might seem too pretentious), and the difference is that i’m left on the other side just waiting for the serve.

And when i’m lucky enough for the serve to come, i lose because the wind blew the ball. Then i wait for the serve again.

So here i am swinging my racket at the air...

‘catch you later.

Very rare reflective moment...

There is a razor-thin line between being perceived as kind beyond reproach, and being considered gullible to the point of stupid. Story of my life.

But no more. At least not as often as before, anyways.

I’ve also learned to admit to myself that i’m a fucking coward. There, i’ve said it. For someone who’s supposed superpower is his mouth, i haven’t been very good at opening it to tell people if i’m not happy. I’m a coward for engraving on my brain that because i have admittedly been living a rather blessed life, i have a supposed responsibility to share my supposed blessings through kindness and generosity.

But the blanket’s been pulled, so has the pillow, and i’m sniffing a lot of coffee in the air. Good morning, me. Yeah.

Responsibility, my ass.

At this point in my life, I keep wondering to myself why on earth human beings seem to consider it their God-given duty to exploit the kindness of the ones who give it. As the world gets older, optimism even among our youth seems to dissipate that much more quickly. And optimists like me have been branded by too many as little more than quixotic fools.

The past year saw yours truly going unnaturally nuclear on a handful of situations. Totally uncharacteristic of the “me” i’ve known for the past two and a half decades, but not too unlike the much younger me, nor the father side’s supposed genetic temper.

As i lose my temper more and more often in recent memory, my self-written reputation for being jolly, excitable, but occasionally humorously nonchalant is slowly becoming little more than a legend i cultivate in my sad, fertile imagination. The character i want Jasper Lao Golangco to be. I have even fabricated enough about my own persona by throwing in the word “Greek” as part of my name on non-official situations.

Which begs the question: Who’s the “real” me?

‘catch you later.

Maverick Musings... (After Halloween)

So even before all the Halloween squashes and pumpkins decompose enough to be considered compost, i sit here thinking of things i’ve learned and gathered over the course of a rather eventful 2010 regarding Maverick...

Maverick is totally gaining steam. Whoopee. Seriously. You know how big companies and bigger egos often like being addressed as acronyms? Well, this year saw Maverick working with at least a couple of HUGE acronyms. There are at least two easily recognizable three-letter acronyms that spell “B.I.G.” who got the “Maverick Experience.” One is BDO, and the other is LBC. More to come. And hopefully, even more to come back.

In business, staying alive long enough to get your stride back is priceless. But you need to love your business and what you do to make you want to keep it alive even in zombie mode.

So yes, i'm getting that off my chest: Maverick was a zombie for quite some time. But no more. We're alive and kicking ass like we haven't done in a long time.

'nuff said.

'catch you later.

Sunday (102410):

October 24, 2010 – i feel tired but excited, bored and worn out but eager, lonely but almost peaceful, content but not quite, passably happy but not really “completely” happy. But definitely can’t complain.


Thursday before the break of dawn,
at a cold, lonely bus terminal

All in a day’s work of being alive, isn’t it?

In and out of sleep since six in the a.m. But for a good reason i can’t discuss out here. And no, it sadly isn't about sex. Slightly groggy, but alert at the counter (sort of). Riding back to the big city tonight. Short stint in the store will have consequences, i think. Or maybe not... but a comfortable level of reasonable affluence always has a price. Especially when it’s connected to a family business. But i’m looking ahead, without forgetting to look back.

Maverick will get more Maverick.

That can be interpreted in at least three different ways. It can mean that i, the Maverick (as many refer to me), will get more time with Maverick the office. It can also mean that Maverick the office will get more of me sooner than usual. And it can also mean that i, the supposed Maverick will get more “maverick.” But wait, the above sentence/paragraph does not have the second “maverick” capitalized. So the third interpretation does not apply.

little corner of the living room Malou
and i use as our internet cafe. Empty.



And yes, i am bored.

First time in a year i’m up here without the wifey, Marge and the doggies. Feels a bit colder. Due to both the weather, as well as the lack of warm bodies (human or canine) running amok in the empty living room. And cold inside, too, you know...?

Sad, but not really. Am waiting for a few things i need to bring to the country club. Lunch time soon. Not excited, but not objecting. Just... nothing.

‘catch you later.

cold, foggy morning up in the mountains

20 Days Late...

WARNING: THIS ENTRY IS 20 DAYS LATE.

So while the wifey isn't looking, i spin the giant tent-card style standee of "Due Date" in the cinema lobby of Robinson's Galleria to make sure the side with Robert Downey, Jr.'s face gets the most immediate exposure.

Bob, i want you to know i did it for you.

* * * * * * * *

I just found out yesterday that the Facebook account of my current favorite comic book store, Comic Odyssey is the work, not of one of the owners/shareholders, but by a totally devoted fan/loyal customer by the name of Norby Ela.

Actually, i know the name since i "liked" it on FB, which means i get updates and stuff. All of which Mr. Ela apparently just religiously culls out of the Comic Odyssey website.

Man... Totally cool.

According to Miss Ning, who i believe is among the proprietors of Comic Odyssey, Filemon Barbasa the eponymous "FilBar's" himself endorsed the shop to some of his loyal customers when he started to focus more on magazines than comics.

Now how much totally cooler is THAT?

* * * * * * * *

Now following Booster Gold, Justice League Generation Lost, Doom Patrol, X-Factor collected edition hardcovers, aaaaaaand i just picked the first issue of an all-new Doctor Solar, Man of the Atom by... Wait for it... JIM FUCKING SHOOTER!!! The man is back! Yeah...

And yes, that IS cooler...

* * * * * * * *

Caught Julia Roberts in EAT, PRAY, LOVE. More on that soon...

'catch you later.

Sunday (101710)

There's something about Sunday lunches with my father that can fill me with some Imeldific Marcostalgia.

Since my old man still lives in the old compound in San Miguel, near Malacanang, we usually end up choosing eating places within the perimeter of Downtown Manila. Today, as suggested by Pops, we went to the Gloria Maris in the CCP Complex. There was supposedly a promo-price on sea mantis and clams. We had exactly those plus noodles.

Margaret happily cam-ho's for me while Malou and Pops go in ahead to order.

Today's lunch conversation was highlighted by Pops telling us that the restaurant we were in used to be a seafood restaurant that was quite the pride of Imelda Marcos. It supposedly offered up to twenty mouth-watering ways to cook crabs. A look around the fine wood-based interiors certainly suggests that the Imeldific one had her say and her way in putting the place together. Too bad, i was too embarrassed and hungry to take photographs. On the way to driving Pops back home, a spin around the CCP Complex, followed by a drive down the once-picturesque Roxas Boulevard, and i was awashed with a wave of nostalgia for simpler times as a child growing up in Manila, and the memory that Manila used to be a first-class city, albeit under a dictatorship.

It's almost deliciously ironic for Imelda that when the Marcoses were scurried out of Malacanang, new Manila postcards probably stopped being produced. At least the good ones.

* * * * * * * *

And while i was getting a haircut from Jojo at Gruppo later that afternoon, there was a really fat dike with a chubby girlfriend in the chair next to mine who was leafing through an iPad while being pampered.

Before seeing her/him, i was half-considering to whip out my mega-sized laptop to write this piece. Now all of a sudden, the thought of typing or surfing on a notebook besides Her Dike-ness on an iPad seems embarrassingly prehistoric.

So i tap away on my humble, non-flashy Nokia e71 for this. Except for the iPod, I still do not see myself submitting to Steve Jobs and his array of technological Apples that i still consider lemons.

'catch you later.