Just Forget That It Hurts

An answer to Can’t Drive 55
Last song that I heard is You, The Room, and The Devil on your Shoulder by As It Is via the Discover Weekly playlist on Spotify. The following is a total work of fiction.

I hate being high. Tried it once. Unicorns. Popsicles. Happy thoughts, hurrah! Then two minutes after, demons. Monsters. Darkness. Nothing. All on repeat. Took the whole night.

Tried it again. Same damn thing. Nope, never again.

Life must have enjoyed seeing me high. You know why? Because even if I don’t take the stuff anymore, it is like the effects always come back.

I hate it. It hurts my mind. I wish I could just sleep it off but then my dreams will be tarnished as well. It is dark and cold.

You know that feeling that you get hurt and you can’t do nothing about it? You can’t scream. You can’t cry. That is what happens when I am high. I can’t just tell people to help me get the demons away.

I don’t get high anymore but I experience the effects almost all the time.

Always her. Her. Her. Her. He talks about her. Her. Her. Her. Her.

How about me, huh? I am here. I always am. I doubt that he talks about me whenever he is with her. Her. Her. Her.

Can’t do a thing about it. All I could do is nod, smile, laugh. Basically, I can only sit down and look pretty. The thing is that I do not think that I look pretty to him.

She is my demon. She is my nightmare. Damn her. Lucky. How about me?

Him? He is my high. Two minutes of unicorns and butterflies before he starts talking about her again. Then the demons start.

Perhaps, I should stop talking to him. Maybe. Just like how I stopped being high.  Then, I could say goodbye to the nightmares and to the demons. Then, she won’t bother me as much.

I tried. I tried ignoring him. Then he would ask what was wrong. How could I possibly tell him? It is like being high all over again. I can’t tell him. I don’t need help. Especially his.

It was the routine. Two minutes of heaven then hours of hell. How lucky she must be. How about me?

Ignoring him was harder than I thought. It was a worse feeling than being on high. It hurts more. Like his absence was itching into my soul, scratching a hole into it. It hurt more.

Lesser than two evils. So, I would be the great gal that listens to him. That awesome one that always supports him. I just have to let it eat me away and just smile until my smile is frozen. Then, maybe. Just maybe. It won’t hurt so bad. Or if I’m lucky, I would forget that I am hurting at all.

Advertisements

Look How They Shine

This post is my reply to Daily Post’s Discovery Challenge which is for me to blog about a pique to one of the senses.

So, this is me, naturally, pushing myself to blog something related to one of the hardest senses to describe; hearing. Let me talk about my latest favorite song. Good luck to me…

Guitar strumming

Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.

The interlude is that simple. A four-tap pattern repeated four times in different tempos to make one cycle. Then, the cycle is repeated four times before the lyrics start.

Space. Love. Color.

Act. Love. Color.
Act. Love. Color.

Beauty. Love. Love.

Then the instrumental continues with four beats repeated four times in four cycles. And then the lyrics continue.

Act. Love. Color.
Act. Love. Color.

Beauty. Love. Sacrifice.

That beautiful ‘four’ piece again. Before the closing lyrics.

Space. Love. Space.
Space. Love. Space.

Space. Love.

I love this song as it is a mix of mellow rock sounds with simple romantic words. It is an oxymoron in itself as to how a hard and cold person is capable of expressing something so soft and warm.

The instrumental is simple. The lyrics are simpler as it is actually repetitive but the content is progressive. It shows the gradual intensity of an emotion that was already there. It exhibits the bounds of the emotion. It has none.

The song is an expression of how something can mean so much to a person to the point of making this great and unspeakable. Call it the epitome of cheesy but that is what you get when you look at the stars at night and all you see is the specks of yellow.

An Encounter With A Musician

image

I searched for Jack Kerouac Alley when I was in San Francisco. I wanted to see the quotes written on the concrete path. I found something else besides that. His name is Philip Jenkins. He was singing when I went into the alley. I took photos of the quotes on the path stones and the art on the walls. It was awkward because he was singing his heart out and we were the only two in that alley. It was awkward because I was purposely slowing down my picture-taking so that I could listen to him sing. Not to brag but I don’t get easily amazed by singing voices. That is because I grew up in a country wherein it is normal for a random streetwalker to lash out “I Will Always Love You” in perfect key. Even I can do it. Well, I used to. Your voice has to have a different flavor to make me stop and listen.

My lack of self-control kicked in by the second minute that he was singing. I just leaned against the wall on the other side of the street, listening to him sing and taking photos of him, hoping and begging that he does not turn around to see what I was doing. By the third minute, I got embarrassed at what I was doing and I walked away. He was still singing.

By the fourth minute of the song, I was standing by the end of Jack Kerouac Alley and was looking at the red lanterns of the crossing Chinatown. Who knew? I looked back at him as he sang. My feet was frozen. I wanted to talk to him but I was too chicken to. There is also this part of me that was pushing me to go back to hand him some money. Because if a street performer made you stop, you owe him a tip. I did more than just stop. I fished into my purse. Two dollars. Oh well.

By the fifth minute, I just thought. Ah, f*ck it. I walked back into the alley and towards him. Halfway there, his song ended. Sh*t. There was no turning back. He took out a cigarette and was lighting it. He has not looked my way yet. Thank God.

“Excuse me.” I started.
He finally looked at me.
I asked him if he was a street performer. I did not want to insult in case he wasn’t. He said ‘yes’. I handed him the two dollars, apologizing that it was all that I had and admitting that I was stalking his voice. It was better to admit your crime than to get caught doing it. He confirmed my assumption.

I could not help myself. I showered him with praise and asked in the end if he had a record or a playlist that I could listen to on the Internet or buy at a shop. ┬áHe said he had one song with his band on Soundcloud. It was called “Getaway Driver.” I took out a piece of paper and asked him to write the details for me. I even asked him to sign his name at the bottom so that I have his autograph in case he gets famous. He smiled sheepishly, unsure what to do and just drew a few scribbles like how common signatures would look like. I made a joke about hoping he did not have the same signature on his bank account. I got him to laugh a bit as he answered that musicians don’t have much money anyway. Oh, starving artists. How I knew that.

After that, I left the alley, silence ringing in my ears as I turned to Chinatown.

When I returned to the Philippines, I searched for the song. I have to be honest. It did not give him justice. The song had potential but it was a poor studio recording. I could hear the echos. The sound capture was weak. The instruments were overpowering each other. Mr. Jenkins’ voice is better to be heard live. I did like the simple beat. I also liked the harmonica. Always wanted to learn how to play one. I wish that they would make more songs. This is their only recording. In their defense, I don’t know how old the song it. So, maybe, they could make another recording. I am sure it will be better. Practice makes perfect anyway.

Blogtober Challenge 8: Battling the Modern Age with Must-Have Apps

Heyya! It appears that Blogtober is testing my limits. This time, I am going all tech with Blogtober Challenge 8 as it demands that I share my favorite apps.

I am no tech geek. I just know what I want and I do research on things that will benefit me the most.

Continue reading