My Blog

teenage infauation catches me as i least expect it. what frustrates me is not the naive inexplcable space that separates our bodies but the inability to communicate . i cannot speak this language and no matter what sign language can explain, at this age i would really rather not and get straight to the point. i wish to speak more and share more, laugh at things understandable only through the rhythm and meaningless of words. but to no avail. here i pour out out of the frustration seeking lonesome, unaffected heart. i only wish to feel in this city of a million senses. what`s lost is the feeling. riding the metro and watching the people, i wonder how they make out of their life for i know what i am feeling is not unique as i would always wish it were. i may be amazed at how much they make a life out of the limitation of the last train or the atrociously expensive taxi ride, you wish you were not drunk, alcohol quickly fades away feeling. we have too much freedom in manila, believe it or not tokyo will bore our punk attitude to life. i miss QC and the cheap taxi rides , the friends who will drive you home or tricycle drivers who will ply any route you wish to take at the ungodly hour of 3am. in tokyo at 3am you only have three options: 1, miss the train and wait for the train in the morning, alone. 2, miss the train, talking and drinking with someone, maybe spending the night together somewhere or 3, dont miss the train, go home sober or drunk alone in your hotel room watching incomprehensible TV or retreating to a book you think will make your life less lonely than you think it is. i think of joaquin and this very first night i sleep with him wrapped in my arms. so what now of my teenage infatuation, i move to and fro…

after having consumed my last pack of cigarettes from manila, i am now rolling tobacco. maybe i am smoking less now as it takes a long time before i can get my tobacco fix, which is better for my dancing. my body is beginning to feel the weariness of travel but i am not complaining this project has taught me a great deal about myself and tendencies as an artist. a good time to understand yourself especially as we pass through the “shall i kill myself before 27″ stage. its been awfully frustrating and strangely fulfilling at the same time. frustrated and lost, somehow we find how to re-affirm center and understand what moves this body. as of late i have been asking myself about the basic unit of dance and when dance is not moving or just speaking and talking, movement ceases to be the basic unit of dance. myra says dance is always about imagination. i am realizing that this is true, where to get the energy to move and do the work when the body just wants to rest…how to overcome our humanity and realize it at the same time…
…yesterday, i was tripping in shimokitazawa. i dont know why i feel so hyped about this area in tokyo. i guess because it feels unlike most of tokyo. narrow, winding streets. intimate cafes, no english menu. its good to somehow blend in the crowd, mistaken as a japanese, apologetic that i cannot speak japanese. i hope i can. i dont mind that people talk japanese around me. why not learn it anyway… slighting on a trippy mood after smoking in daikanyama with jacob, the breeze hitting my face. the mild but dry spring weather is good but where is the humidity. i am filipino i need some moisture. i miss the putrid, sea urchin smell of my jungle home. one more week, i hope not to slouch into the im done i want to move on mode and instead enjoy the last bits of what i have left in this city of 35 million people. meeting someone two weeks ago, i have come to accept the fact that bumping into him in throngs of milliion people crossing shibuya is quite an impossibility. today, is a build up of the performances to come. we are still not sure where we are going. i have learned to let go and instead live in the moment of dance. tomorrow you may never have it anyway…

i long to remember my dreams. this afternoon i had a short nap and dreamed that i was a leopard sitting on a chair inside tokyo wondersite. imagination weary, i summon all that i have if only to begin to feel. to recreate what was once there that brought me to make this dance, that brought me to move. what is the basic unit of dance? this morning i learned it’s imagination. after drunken night, lucky not to miss the train, i know i drop into a long needed slumber and fast into dreamland. maybe, going thru the events from the past day or two that just passed or images of home. a boy sitting beside me on a jeepney, a boy who is not mine, lying on my lap. longing to be embraced. i embrace him…