Hello, Lovine.com

i was only scheduled for a late dinner and a few beers with some friends. we ended up in a random bar somewhere in hollywood called tiny's, which is supposedly known for their hamburgers, which weren't bad but i thought they were a tad pricey since i felt like we were in silver lake than it did hollywood.

so we were all walking back to the car along cahuenga when we pass this joint called hotel cafe, where there was some live music playing. it piqued my interest for a few moments, but held on all the way to the car and decided it was worth it to head back and check it out against a looming feeling that the tuesday night was ending.

and i was really glad i did. it was a trio on stage, fronted by a guy called chris stills. it felt like a spattering of jamie cullum and jeff buckley. amazing tone on the guy's voice, and the songs were melodic yet tight and held really well together. everyone else took off but i stayed on, since i really don't mind being alone, especially when it's good music.

i live off these spur of the moment random discoveries. it's one thing to know what you're looking for, but it's another when it's totally unexpected.

i need some milk, woman!!

two straight nights at the greek theater. it's my first time to see shows out there, and i'm very fond of the venue since it's not very big and somehow retains an intimate feel to it despite being an open air theater.

last night's ben harper was fantastic, as usual. he's a definite must-see on my list. i had the right words to describe it during several occasions that my coworkers didn't know who he was, but i'm too sleepy to elaborate.

i almost thought i wouldn't make it to tonight's death cab for cutie show (which was really good), since i spent a good portion of the morning roiling in bed over a sudden case of the stomach flu. i thought the tummy ache would go away when i hid under the covers last night, but i found myself very very sick at 5am and the hours thereafter. good thing i'm a bit better.

i have a meeting for work tomorrow to discuss my goals for the year. if they gave me a week off work, with no access to civilised amenities then i'll probably find the real answer for the coming year.

thank you ms. kat, for the emo moment. haha!

man, i really feel sapped out. i need an internal vacation.

while the morning parking shuttle puttered along downtown los angeles district, i would grab inside my work bag to find my badge when i'd mistakenly wrap my fingers around a little edible treat instead. and these, i knew, came from her when i visited over the weekend. it was a powdered milk delicacy, sweet concoctions by themselves but such a surprise broke my morning face into a daring smile beside unsuspecting passer-bys.

there were always these small nooks and crannies she was able to hide in. there are other places that you'd expect people to come out from, and it's cliche to say but the unexpected is pretty hard to ignore when everyone else is an expert at predictability. the irony sometimes, is that past decisions are peppered with moments when we knew the trouble we were getting into, but went ahead anyway.

the past lent me troubles of trying to find what i wanted when it wasn't there, of carrots on sticks and half-hearted catfish. i guess i gave too much of myself, without really understanding what it meant. but now it's enthralling to sit in the wet sandbox of what you know and what you don't know. good boys might finish last, but the finish is a beautiful journey carefully taken a step at a time.

i want to get a haircut. faux-hawk, but that was three years ago. or grow it out. maybe a 'fro? there's a void of energy over my head, waiting for something, anything, to give it character.

sometimes it's quite a shame that we look outside to find ourselves, but the burden lies in believing what we've chosen. and nobody can really say where the right places are, yet everyone seems to know all the wrong ones.

maybe what i really need to do is shut everything out and listen. to music. to the dancing pictures in my head. to the backpack of journalistic voyeur. to the buttons on my shirt. to the annoying voices in the back of my head. to the increasing comfort of silence that is starting to fill the void.

i'm sitting in a houston hotel room with the air conditioning shut off. it's not that bad outside, really. the air conditioning makes the room a lot more humid than it should be.

hello, world. it's now officially a lovine holiday! i'm accepting donations and kisses :)

i always have snippets of things to say, but have slowly lost the patience to draw it out into the normal monologues of incoherence i'm quite fond of. i like it a bit obscure, since it's a pretty accurate reflection of everything that's on my mind anyway. but lately it's been taking too much effort. kinda like styling your hair to look like you just got out of bed.

cube farms rarely have their fare share of excitement. so we live vicariously through everyone else's adventures. here's a text message from my montessori teacher girlfriend early in the morning:

"LOVE I GOT PEED ON! BLEK!"

is literal worse than figurative? either which way, life sure is grand..

simple lives where passion runs real, free from pretensions of needing an answer.

i really really really want to get a nixie clock. it would be ever cooler if i built it myself... rawr!

and while there's something foul abrew between israel and lebanon, everyone else is talking about what pissed zidane off.

i wonder if the world lives in abstract, while the limits of our reason try to embrace it like the cup of water overflowing in the ocean. we like to conjure the notion that everything can in fact be measurable by some metric - sound, weight, size, energy. that the world rotates in structured elegance, but allows the overflow of logic to come past over the heads of the smartest people as inexplicable beauty. but the funny part is that the world exhibits the best gifts through the simplest of means. sometimes there's no point in overcomplicating, overbearing, over analyzing, being over and above the other person. when we start to realize the implications of simply being, then most probably the questions won't need any answers.

some walk with chips on their shoulders, the weight of imaginary days bearing down like molten clouds of lead. and some walk with no lack of fancy, happy soles on their feet.

the danger is that i stopped writing like i did in between lines in college. even in the listless ramble of incoherent words that were never meant to be read lest understood. hello, world.. the senses are our canvas.