2006
The White Elephant Show at Orange County
Haiku
Peanut butter boys
We have not a difference
Spread into the bread
Frank and Survival
Frank was an obnoxious looking man. His eyes glare like iron balls burning on furnace and speak in tongues of wisdom that was never present to him, perhaps he was always smashed, a worn-down manner that infuriates even the most dead hearted who seldom bother. One thing’s for sure, everybody hates crazy old man Frank. He used to be the man I looked up to when I was a cub, I saw him as a man of power despite the fact that he never was any except for the many instances I catch him yell at his imaginary adversaries during noontime shows of his own. It has always been a world of make believe, his life that is. As I grow out of age I started learning more on life and gain reasons for certain things. I happen to ran into Frank the other day, oh how I envy him, his life has always been something. Never was he a slave of any toxic ideologies, he had friends and foes appearing and departing consistently on a sense of duty of which he was in command. Magical indeed was the life of Frank, at times he would spread his arms wide, flap these wings that seemed to have mutated into it and soar at his will. He never felt sadness not even happiness for he was never cultured to these kinds of sentiments, they would by no means be of any substance to his being, for he lived a life with no technicalities and no boundaries. Frank mirrored every person’s early days, fantasies and imaginings, no loads to burden, was never consumed by media and merchandise for he never had the wealth to even care. Perfect! His life is perfect! I can’t believe after all those years I still am his greatest fan. I would switch my life with his at any cost, surrendering sanity and security, affection and devotion, acceptance and social status. Otherwise I’ll go on with my lesser goals. SURVIVAL!
After Happily Ever After
A case of recurring daydreams flickers across the pale ultramarine sky. I lay my back flat on the green grass of what used to be this school’s football field, this place have always been a witness to the silly frolics I’ve had during those years. I smiled serenely at no one but my reminiscence of my youth’s acquaintances. I should have stayed that way, we should have all stayed that way. Playful and silly yet smart and witty, I was always the bouncy natured chubby cheeked boy running around in circles and didn’t mind the world which was oppositely evolving around my fashioned axis. It still could have been me, less smart, more aggressive and a lot more stupid. I came home at 6, still having these thoughts of myself thinking of me, recollecting tiny fragments of my torn-edged and scribble-doodled slate. The lights are in deep cadmium hue, reminds me of her, we shared each other’s sentiments. I spoke of my fairy tales and their tragic endings and she was always there fabricating an act of listening, there would be times when she would talk of crystal clear lies and I would be there pretending to believe in every word that comes out of her forced pouted lips. We would end up in arguments that were never resolved but was always gotten over and done. Darn my tragic fairy tales, I ended up living in one of them, from frantic to great then startling and tragic, to practical and realistic. My life started after happily ever after.
Mornings and Sleeps
Today I woke up a high school sophomore…. crush, peers and good times, but it wasn’t like me when I was back there, I should have slept on the other side of my bed last night, I might have waken up on which was most wrong. I’ve been observing these altering experiences as always and it slowly deteriorates my recall of me. A dawdling life-changing relationship with myself… alone with no one there to remind me of who I am, who I should be, who I was, who I could be and who I could have been if I chose to walk my life on different paths and opted for alternative faiths for my fate. Both pleasurable and miserable, a mixture of contrasting emotions is how it felt, the sunlight and the way it touches my freshly shaved head…. I am free but I was always for sale, maybe tonight I’ll sleep a baby. I should have started painting again, I could have but I chose not to and am still choosing to subsist on a routine of passing days. Living the life that I have disdained ever since the beginning and playing the role of the corporate slave, making money to consume and be consumed. Each one day not even worth remembering, never tragic yet so drastic. Still I would say I’ll be having the usual day tomorrow, like dropping by the only restaurant that you frequent and ordering the same meal every time you feel like giving yourself a treat but the only thing you’re getting is indigestion. So I wave my morning greetings to my soap, shampoo, towel, toothbrush and toothpaste…. Have my idea of a cardiovascular exercise by walking blocks to get to my ride to work while I play clips of happy and sad thoughts in my head. I steal naps in the middle of trips to and from work and more than twice everyday make sure I visit the Mayor’s office to give my share of fecal deposit into the toxic waste bank, might have been the effect of having too much tea. I am dreaming of waking up. Maybe on different days, perhaps as another person everyday, taste a loaf of everybody’s life, toast a glass of people’s cheap anticipation …. Maybe afterwards I could quit this blind act and start painting something.
Pictures from our previous group shows...
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