Visions of Noise

  He was rolling on his little patch of floor. He's never slept on a decent bed in years except when he was out of town; in a hotel somewhere or a friend's house. It took him quite some time to absorb the context of the message he received a few days earlier. “Damn, I'm seeing her? Am I really? Will she?” It was all he could think of. Theirs was a meeting that defied serendipity. Maybe the universe was playing a cruel trick. He knew he had not generated enough Good Karma to merit such a reward. She was the kind of person one never gets to meet in his line of work. Often, a pretty face or a gorgeous body never had the brains to back it up. He's met hundreds of those in his lifetime. To him, it was a fact of life that had to be dealt with. He lives a crazy life – one with no definite plan or purpose. To him, life is something that cannot be controlled. It has to play itself out regardless of outcome. He has done things that may be deemed despicable. Ghosts of a darker per...

  It was one of those days when you’d simply curl up in bed and pull the blanket over your head but it was a workday. As a professional, you simply ignore the day of the week or the time of year; you are desensitized and sometimes, unfeeling. The rain was beating down. The wind was blowing hard enough to ruin a cheap umbrella or lift a skirt had anyone made the mistake of wearing one. I had no wish of being up at such an ungodly hour but it was my duty. This is my world. This is my life. There are no holidays. I rose, as I normally did everyday. I never label a day or a morning as good or bad—just something to look forward to, to survive and to prevail. I felt nothing that morning except that I missed my kids and wanted to be with them more than anything. I wasn’t sad, wasn’t angry and I did not complain. Working is my expression of love for my children; it takes much of the pain away and it gives me a purpose to go on. I was under the weather but there was simply no time to rest. ...

  For  Johanna Kirsten Lagman :  (I wrote this as a comment to your thread but I feel strongly about it so maybe I'd just share it with all those who've ever loved a pet in their lifetime.) Pets have a way of validating our existence on this earth. They laugh, cry and celebrate moments of both joy and pain with us. Sometimes, they're better friends than those we can call or talk to. When they go, they take a part of us with them but they always leave with a lesson only we, to whom they've been loyal to can understand. I've spent countless hours mourning the loss of the many cats, dogs, birds, rabbits, guinea pigs and hamsters in my lifetime. After the grief can strength and fortitude come. We are better people after that because we realize that only when we love those who cannot fully express their feelings--those we call "lesser creatures"--can we say we have truly been HUMAN. 

  This is the first time I've ever watched a Pacman fight intentionally and in its entirety. I'm sure many would not agree with what I have to say so again, reader discretion is advised. To begin with, I am not a boxing fan. As a child, I never quite appreciated the gladiator-like nature of the sport. To me, boxing is probably the most violent sport (not even counting UFC and other martial arts). I am also irked by the fact that those who sing praises for boxing are the same kinds of people who say Practical Shooting—because it involves guns—has no place in the world of “civilized men”. Having been involved in shooting myself may have taught me some of the most important lessons in life including; common sense, safety, respect for human beings and refusing to take unnecessary risks. As a shooter, we all had to learn the 4-rules of Safe Gun Handling. This served us well not only in the range but in making major decisions in our lives as well. A good shooter will not carelessly h...

  Life is a combination of mixed blessings and missed opportunities. Having had the time to worship in my  rappel temple  today, I reflected on the last few weeks; the emptiness that seemed to fill me, the longing and aching to be with her, finally getting my PDW, the long holiday with the kids and many other interesting events. I’m getting accustomed to the quiet life; being an employee in a reputable media company, having a “coffee solitaire”, contemplative moments on the train from La Salle to Muñoz and nights in the editing suite hunched over a laptop writing for the next day’s episode. Being alone on the tower has been a regular occurrence lately. I choose to go when it’s empty and I can have all 12-lanes to myself. Today, I did 8-rope transfers, 1-invert, 2-free rappel jumps, 3-swan dives, 1-mission impossible, 2-Australian jumps and 2-ascents to make up for the last time I was on-rope a few months back. (I can’t remember the last time I jumped!) It was about the sa...

  Life is just the illusion we create. There are no good times or bad--only Perception and Perspective. This is how I like to see life--from "out-of-body" as I would like to call it. Although school has ended for me decades ago, I will forever be a student of this thing we call, "life". I love taking the train to and from places. It only gets to be a bitch when I have all my gear with me and I'm off to cover an assignment. Once, there was a passenger who complained at the inspection checkpoint: "Tanginanaman!"  He exclaimed out of exasperation as the guard had to inspect 3-pieces of luggage: My Domke, a bag with the strobes and my tripod case.  Since then, I would only take the train if I had just the Domke or the notebook with me as these bags are hefty by themselves. I would rather take a much slower mode of transport than subject myself to such humiliation although it didn't really bother me as much as the guy behind me. But I do love to commute...

The phrase,  “I'm busy.”  is probably my greatest pet peeve of all! It's an excuse—at best—to shy away from actually working or getting things done. I would define the word as; being engaged in mindless and purposeless preoccupations. One can say ants are busy; bees are busy; vultures are busy devouring a carcass of a dead animal. The act of being busy does not necessarily entail a favorable outcome. Ants, bees and other animals keep themselves busy because they are programmed to do so. In human terms; yakking on the phone or sending out senseless text messages, listening to an iPod, walking aimlessly, people-watching, scratching an itch or doing most anything regardless of common good is indeed, “being busy.” We've seem to have forgotten how a “busy tone” on the telephone sounds like—an endless buzzing noise. Telling someone, “I'm busy” can be the most impolite thing if not, downright insulting! Unless you're caught up in a life-and-death situation which demands ut...

Life's been going great the last few weeks. Little did I realize that it would now be 20-years to the day when I first met my greatest influence and the reason why I am what I am and where I am now. His name is “Jim”. It was in a photo shop in Makati where we first met. This was a time when ashtrays were made available to clients despite the fact that the place was fully air-conditioned. He was a fellow customer and like me, he was getting some prints done. I casually admired the mint-condition Nikon FM he was carrying at the time. He had a distinct smoker's voice and he carried himself in a manner that was hard to miss. A store clerk introduced me to him and we almost instantly hit it off. He was just about as old as my dad and I was pleasantly surprised that the subject in his blow-ups were something I, too was interested in—guns! After talking about the weather and all that jazz; Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Sarah Vaughn et al, he invited me to go see him at his office which ...

  Taking a cigarette break on the  roofdeck helps to clear my head and lets the thoughts come flowing through. I've seen many nights like this. I'm looking over the same skyline but every time, it looks different. I've been under the stars, weathered several storms, seen many a sunrise and bade farewell to many fiery sunsets. I've endured the cold and the searing heat; anguished over mucked up cuts; endured many lonely nights. I love my job! Under immense pressure is where I thrive. I am a nobody trying to be someone; a soldier obeying orders, an artisan perfecting his craft, a father missing his children, a man longing for a woman's warmth, a stranger in very familiar territory and a human being trying to survive. I will miss the feel of my nuts freezing at the edit suite, mindless chats during ciggy breaks, tolerating cafeteria food and many other mundane adventures in a place reminiscent of a James Taylor song. I will surely miss the long train ride on my way to ...

  It was a busy day at the office when she walked in. He was on his way out when a tall figure appeared at the doorway. “I'm looking for the boss?” , she coyly asked. -- ”Oh, she's currently out. You are?” “______.”, she replied. -- ”So pleased to meet you! Won't you sit down and let me make you a cup of coffee.” They were almost inseparable after that first meeting. They would take ciggy breaks together. They would talk and have breakfast or lunch together. She was quite interesting, he thought but he would never make a pass though he found her sexually appealing. He would watch her work, awed by her very presence in the same room. She was efficient to a point where it was almost cold and ruthless. Seeing her at work inspired him. As time passed, he felt she was the reason he got up in the morning but still, he would never dare ask her out. One day, they actually did. She had the day off and he was just coming back from a shoot out of town. He was just banking on the offha...

  She got up from bed as if it were any other morning. He was on the kitchen counter whipping up pancakes and bacon. She walks over and takes a whiff of freshly done slapjacks and stumbles as she lost her footing. “I feel drunk!” she blurted. He just looked at her. There was the temptation to confess but he thought better. The night was a mystery to him. With neither one saying a word, it was as though it never happened. He too, was beginning to doubt whether they were in the same corner of the universe or the same timeline. Her face showed nothing to confirm his deeds or misdeeds. He could still taste her in his mouth. He can still feel the silkiness of her skin on his fingertips. He could still hear her muffled moans and feel her body shiver as she climaxed. No matter how he rationalized, he was still perplexed. “Impossible!” he thought as he flipped another pancake. It was unthinkable how anyone could endure such torture and not react! But there she was, seemingly oblivious to h...