Friday, September 19, 2014

Sunny side up


It’s been raining since last night. Took a look at social media and saw cars submerged in flood water. Compared to that, my problems with my broadband and mobile providers seem small. (Been trying to post this entry since an hour ago.)


Good thing we can look back to sunny days (these pictures were taken yesterday morning). Hope for the rain to stop and the waters to recede.


On days when I feel relatively depressed (don’t think I can really sink), I take after Annie and sing “Tomorrow” in the shower. (Am not kidding.)


As I said, it started raining last night. Though the typhoon didn’t really hit Manila, the pressure sucked in the usual tropical depression.


What’s more significant is my reading through interviews of poets who have just published new books yesterday afternoon.


Them talking about the process, swimming through the waters.


Drowning and resurfacing. Sometimes gasping for air even when, from afar, strokes appear easy. Even elegant.


I can’t hope for pure air in the metropolis, as much as I don’t have the luxury to spend continuous hours and days and years to go through material. But last night I think I plunged momentarily into an ocean. Saw the deep blue. And my heart pounded. And my lungs breathed light when I broke the surface.

Jacket, Generra, vintage (from my dad)
Shirt, Crocodile
Skinny chinos, CottonOn
Belt, Structure, thrifted
Slip-ons, G.H. Bass Weejuns, thrifted

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Fading in, before fading out


So it was the boyfie’s special day yesterday. Woke up early to have breakfast with him. Though I did promise I would post these pictures before his birthday ended, our home broadband (and mobile hotspot) service failed to cooperate. In any case, it’s still dark right? So it’s still his night.


In the past I would grit my teeth in frustration whenever things do not align as I see fit. Now I don’t mind as much. A sure sign of growing older and wiser?


I know this entry’s title sounds morbid, but doesn’t that make celebration all the more poignant?


Anyway, thought I’d wear my current favorite brogues to meet my beaming boyfie.


Would have spent the entire morning with him (he works nights) if only it wan’t a busy day – and what a day it was!


A colleague, who celebrated his birthday just this Monday had to go on leave, another was still in Hong Kong, and my only late-afternoon companion had to leave early. So I guess it was my turn to get stuck under an avalanche.


Looking back, of course, I appreciated the morning more than the rest of the day. Wasn’t it cool that my shoes matched the boyfie’s skinny tie? (No, I think he gets more sleep than I do – his own workmates just thought it cool to apply eyeliner to the birthday boy. Early Halloween, maybe?)


My above cameos were intentionally blurry because that’s how I savour the morning. Our couple photos were not focussed because I think I harassed the waiter too much at the diner. In any case, I think we see each other better than how others may perceive us.


(A bit agitated here. Notice that I was about to reach out for my DSLR and give more directions? JV is more patient – most times, that is.)


He was the one who took this picture. Funny, thinking now, that I was seated at a Claw Daddy table and he on one of the al fresco chairs at Italianni’s. Need I say more about how our personalities differ?


I owe you an entire weekend soon. Maybe in October when I can try to excuse myself from Sunday work.


Guess who between us is more mischievous.


This could have been his best picture this morning, but then again it turned out out of focus. The best moments, anyway, have always been off-blog. Between us. No matter how many pictures we take of each other and publish publicly.


It always feels like morning when I’m with you.

Polo shirt, Michael Bastian x Uniqlo
Trousers, Workshop
Belt from an Italian market
Pullover, Gap
Brogues, Bruno Magli, thrifted

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Ben Sherman: button up, it's the law

Buttoning up the top button of your shirt is something that’s been done to Ben Sherman shirts since 1963. It is a deliberate style choice that exudes ‘Britishness’ and personal pride. It’s the final touch that finishes the look.

We #buttonup, do you?

Here's something to watch while I spend the day editing pictures from my shoot last Saturday. And yes, it does include a Ben Sherman shirt (black, with black-on-black micro checks), but not exactly buttoned up since I wouldn't be able to breathe. Though the video above does remind me that I haven't visited their Manila stores for a while now. (My wallet cries argh!)

Check out their selection of shirts here.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Morning drift


Almost forgot I had this picture in my drive, taken on August 30, when I had to leave the beach in Davao early to catch my flight back to Manila right after lunch. (More pictures here on my visual diary.)

Now I'm up early and back at work. So excited to start showing you, my dear readers, what my friend and I spent all afternoon doing yesterday: a new photo series in the tradition of my Gray areas set. But before that there's still half of the weekend ahead. Good morning!

Bags: Beams Plus, thrifted; Fred Perry

Friday, September 12, 2014

Breaking in, breaking through


Remember our backyard? Well this is the only strip of space remaining beside the tamarind tree. Am standing on a bed of dirt, ashes, dried and decaying leaves, and stinky cat turd. Am not sure why the carpenters and masons decided to wrap the perimeter’s barbed wire around the tree’s trunk.


Do I still hang on to my rusted ways? Let’s just say that the wounds have healed and the tetanus cured.


Here is the third pair from my thrifting trip early this week. Comfortable enough to ditch the socks (cleaned the pair already and it has passed a breaking in). Also: you know how much I love woven leather.


Fortunately, morning light still slants past the roof of the extended house, offering an otherworldly glare. Covered by the piles of gravel and discarded wood, trapped in the refuse made sticky by absorbed rain are half-masticated dreams.


Am sure the tamarind tree is happily soaking up the rich mass of decay.