Still hung over from that compound-exclusive mini-gig Jigs and his friends had last night. And so, I’m getting my quick early morning fix of The Used on my cellphone for the meantime. I know, I know: science implies that a pregnant woman shouldn’t be listening to too much rock because it’s too stressful for the baby, but I’m kind of getting too full with Mozart and Sigur Ros. Baka pati baby nauumay na. 


Jigs’ banda rito banda roon hehe


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Six years and that song still hasn’t gotten old. I don’t think songs from the 90s up to the 2005-ish years ever do. Those were the days when rock span its wide wings and flourished like a fiery phoenix. Those were the years of of rock’s creme de la creme: Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Incubus, Toad the Wet Sprocket,  Silverchair, NFG, Bush, The Ataris, APC ,Tori Amos,  BNL, Fiona Apple, Thursday, Gin Blossoms, Ben Folds, No Doubt, Blink 182, Jimmy Eat World, Cibo Matto, Letters to Cleo, Beastie Boys, Filter, The Lemonheads, Garbage, Placebo, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Our Lady of Peace, Juliana Hatfield, Radiohead, Jill Sobule, Save Ferris, My Vitriol, Blur, Chris Cornell, Collective Soul, Massive Attack, Cynthia Alexander,  Heather Nova, (the original) Rivermaya, The Innocence Mission, Hey Mercedes, Smashing Pumpkins, Hole, Eraserheads, Jeff Buckley, 311, The Used, Dishwalla, Goo Goo Dolls, Dave Matthews, Deftones, Radiohead, Snow Patrol, Eels, The Rentals, Weezer. Oh I could go on and on  for hours here.

I remember being 16, 18, 20, 23 and listening to these incredible artists in my room till 4am and popping their albums on the cassette player when I don’t fancy the ones being played in NU107. Those were the days. Those were the golden days of music. I don’t think any period in time could compare to the greatness of that decade.

Today it just sounds like there’s too much Lady Gaga out there.Whatever happened to real, non-sellout music?

On the cheesy side of things, despite my husband’s extremely obvious beer belly and classic belches, there are those rare instances (haha) when I still get smitten by him, and I find him incredibly handsome. Like last night, for instance, while he was playing Buried Myself Alive on the drums. Super swabe ng tugtugan na ‘yon, kind of like ice cold beer on a windy December night (and I terribly missed that, with all the men and women around me getting drunk on liquor and sisig last night while I munched on dalandan and water! The things you miss when you are soooo pregnant.)


When my kid grows up, I’ll let her listen to my MP3s and cassette tapes (“Kid, this is the grandfather of CDs and MP3s. Huge, eh? Wait till you see my uncle’s records.”). Maybe she could sing a Matthew Sweet or The Sundays song for me when her daddy won’t. Now that would be cute.


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