Goodbye Hello Goodbye

Nothing in this world is meant to last. Not silence; nor pain; nor the rush of a drug that smoothes all kinks in the fabric of life.

It's Friday today. Interesting. A hot muggy day. Not much different from Manila. Except I am in San Francisco with a computer in an office overlooking the bay. It's 10:13 am and cloudy as hell outside and empty inside with exception to the painting students that randomly go in and out of the studio across the hall and Ted Roberts, online coordinator for the Advertising Department, whom I beat this morning to be the first in.

It's been 2 and a half months now since I left a beautiful one-bedroom on Polk St.--a long road that runs the length of San Francisco's social spectrum. Things haven't changed much from me. Still quietly haunting the streets of the city by the bay with my long hair unshaven face and eyes hidden behind sunglasses even when the sun don't shine.

Well, I have moved into a new apartment. Much smaller. A little more expensive. Cozier but lonelier in the midst of crackdealers, whores, and lunatics. A little piece of hell that is kept at bay by two steel gates.

Still, I am as isolated today as I ever was. Without the internet or television or radio, I am left to my own devices, playing the guitar, recording music, writing songs about my melancholy waiting for the day that I can write about how good my life is and how happy I would be to share this with someone or someones.

Ah, bullshit. Nothing ever changes. I've never been in a relationship more than 6 months except for once, and that was interrupted by a flight to America, where my destiny was written in making commercials. Selling things, ideas, and motivations to people is hard, but very rewarding when done well. It doesn't have to be a soulless job. After all, you can get people to act positively, support causes, even support corporations that have causes so that you can act through them if you are too busy or too self-consumed.