><(((;>

pbb's new dance

2006-02-10T17:11:00.000+08:00

...You know you love him...

2006-02-09T18:14:00.000+08:00

nakalibang si budoy...

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Thank Him Right Now

2004-07-13T14:03:00.000+08:00

This lifted my spirits considerably. Thanks Iris.

Dear Father God:

I want to thank you for what you have already done.

I am not going to wait until I see results or receive rewards, I am thanking You right now.

I am not going to wait until I feel better or things look better, I am thanking You right now.

I am not going to wait until people say they are sorry or until they stop talking about me, I am thanking You right now.

I am not going to wait until the pain in my body disappears, I am thanking You right now.

I am not going to wait until my financial situation improves, I am going to thank You right now.

I am not going to wait until my family is asleep and the house is safe, I am going to thank You right now.

I am not going to wait until I get promoted at work or until I get a job, I am going to thank You right now.

I am not going to wait until I understand every experience in my life that has caused me pain or grief, I am going thank you right now.

I am not going to wait until the journey gets easier or the challenges are removed. I am thanking You right now.

I am thanking You because I am alive.

I am thanking You because I made it through the day's difficulties.

I am thanking You because I have walked around the obstacles.

I am thanking you because I have the ability and the opportunity to do more and do better.

I am thanking You because You have not given up on me.

In Jesus' name, AMEN

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The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

2004-07-07T14:49:00.000+08:00

The Lord of the Rings

Honestly, LOTR has never really captured my fancy. I didn't plan on watching it in the moviehouses, didn't peruse my favorite pirated CD/VCD and now DVD vendors for it. Didn't even borrow the books. But then, faced with long boring Saturdays at home, and with Bernadette (my personal pirated DVD public library) having bought all three of the LOTR movies, I just have to borrow.

And then, two weeks ago, I was on the verge of starting the Trilogy, I realized that I didn't have a freaking idea as to which of the three came first. I have to text Bernadette, Iris and Christian, all devout LOTR fanatics for the correct sequence.

And last night, I have finished the Trilogy, amidst countless requests to switch to Marina (Faith's) and incessant phone rings (not mine, NEVER mine).

And all I could say was, awesome. The films are nicely made, VERY, to the point that you'd believe that there is a Middle Earth, and you'd want to travel there someday, maybe on your way to Hawaii (by the way, the whole lot was filmed in New Zealand). I honestly couldn't find anything in the production that is worth nitpicking about, nor anything flawed. Even Orlando Bloom, whom I first saw in Troy, wasn't as irritating when he did the stoic Legolas as he was as Paris.

I love my DVD player. I love my JVC mini-compo. The sound effects of the LOTR Trilogy is superb. The walls in the house was shaking :)

The battle scenes are satisfying, the visual effects are astounding. I mean where else could you have eagles biting heads off Nazguls (pteodactyl-looking creatures), and Nazguls stomping on humans, and orcs, mutated orcs, mutated elephants, and short short men, and old geezers, all of them fighting. They even have the dead, which uncannily looked like a very low hanging and green aurora borealis, fighting orcs. WOW.

The story was exceptional. I don't have plans of borrowing somebody's books soon, but I might.

The cast is ok. Except for Elijah Wood, who looked constipated for most of his close-ups. There are only three facial expressions that Elijah could muster for Frodo Baggins: Diarrhea, Clueless, and Blank.

I am Smeagol, by the way. We knows us. :)

And oooh, the four hobbits ARE gay, aren't they? I mean, the producers have to insert that wedding thing at the end of Return of the King, to pacify homophobics? It's so Bernardo Bernardo marrying Barbara Perez!

Beef: What's this thing about the Dead (Men of the Mountains) coming to the rescue of Aragorn and Gondor? It is soooo Regal Film's Shake Rattle and Roll, Episode III, where a cute and prepubescent and pre-genderbending, Aiza, trapped by all these kapres, enlists the help of her long-dead Lola (played invariably by Mona Lisa or Anita Linda) who appears in a flowing white, glowing and translucent night gown and banishes all the kapres with powers the film never explained she got in the first place (the Lola almost always dies while knitting or cross-stitching).

Beef II: Where does Legolas get his arrows? They never seem to run out, I mean, is it elven magic that his arrows go back to his uh, carrying case, when the enemy dies? Wouldn't that be dangerous for Legolas? I mean, what if he suddenly turns around? He'd get punctured by his own returning arrow.

Beef III: That Christopher Lee character, you know, the evil wizard? should have been given a lot more to do in the third film. It is soooo unfair that he has to be erased off the face of Middle Earth by a bunch of really stupid walking and talking trees. No. I think Christopher Lee is delightfully and interestingly evil. It must be because I was so traumatized by his portrayal of various Count Draculas when I was younger.

Beef IV: This is not original material, it was written by Schmaltz, a totally ruthless movie critic, but I couldn't have put it in a more exact manner:

I don't mind that the battles go on for so long, but when the good guys finally start to win, the CLIMACTIC MOMENT of triumph, it cuts away to Frodo and Pippin having this totally sappy, heartwarming conversation about heroism and flowers and what makes a good story and bullshit. Like, even if the conversation wasn't total schmaltz, it's still not a good idea to cut away from the FUCKING CLIMAX of the movie to a conversation, and then, like go back to the FUCKING CLIMAX with sappy, schmaltzy music and a voice over, as if the FUCKING CLIMAX were by this time a foregone conclusion. I mean, imagine if the death star were about to explode and it cut to Yoda looking romantically into Luke's eyes, and pan pipes were playing. What kind of bullshit is this??? ... I don't mind the implied homosexuality between the hobbits. But -really- if you wanted to cut back and forth between the FUCKING CLIMAX of the battle scenes and the hobbits, the only way to make it work is to have some ANAL ACTION going on so that the hobbits also have A FUCKING CLIMAX at the same time. THEN you'd have a worthwhile montage.

But then again, all that visuals and prolonged battle scenes and the chopped heads, impaled bodies, and gore more than makes up for all these. I mean the LOTR Trilogy is not perfect, but it's an imperfection worth watching. :) I give it 4.3.

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You are histrionic, narcissistic and avoidant!

2004-07-03T09:20:00.000+08:00

I took one of those online psychological tests, and surprisingly, I have few psychological disorders than most people perceive I do. Didn't lie on any question, I swear.

Disorder Rating
-------- ------
Paranoid: Low
Schizoid: Low
Schizotypal: Moderate
Antisocial: Moderate
Borderline: Low
Histrionic: High
Narcissistic: High
Avoidant: High
Dependent: Low
Obsessive-Compulsive: Low

See? You're crazier than I am.

For non-psycho majors out there, here's what I am:

People with histrionic personality disorder are constant attention seekers. They need to be the center of attention all the time, often interrupting others in order to dominate the conversation. They use grandiose language to discribe everyday events and seek constant praise. They may dress provacatively or exaggerate illnesses in order to gain attention. They also tend to exaggerate friendships and relationships, believing that everyone loves them. They are often manipulative.

Narcissistic personality disorder is characterized by self-centeredness. Like histrionic disorder, people with this disorder seek attention and praise. They exaggerate their achievements, expecting others to recongize them as being superior. They tend to be choosy about picking friends, since they believe that not just anyone is worthy of being their friend. They tend to make good first impressions, yet have difficulty maintaining long-lasting relationships. They are generally uninterested in the feelings of others and may take advantage of them.

Avoidant personality disorder is characterized by extreme social anxiety. People with this disorder often feel inadequate, avoid social situations, and seek out jobs with little contact with others. They are fearful of being rejected and worry about embarassing themselves in front of others. They exaggerate the potential difficulties of new situations to rationalize avoiding them. Often, they will create fantasy worlds to substitute for the real one. Unlike schizoid personality disorder, avoidant people yearn for social relations yet feel they are unable to obtain them. They are frequently depressed and have low self-confidence.

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Bodily functions in the office email

2004-07-02T09:16:00.000+08:00

I work in this place where apparently somebody needs to be potty trained.

----- Original Message -----
From: sharon
To:
Sent: Saturday, June 19, 2004 9:19 AM
Subject: Comfort Rooms

Helllllooooooooooooooooo,

When we came in this morning , we were greeted by urine spots scattered on the toilet seat and the back of the toilet cover in the ladies' CR. It's so frustrating that there are some of us here who are so irresponsible. I suspect that the culprit is a guy for the reason that I can't think of a way that a lady can urinate facing the water tank. Please, please, please if you can't clean the comfort room after every use, bring your yaya along with you. It's about time that you should learn how to exercise cleanliness and good sanitation. otherwise you should be ashamed of yourself.

And if you think that's the end of that, see what came into my email inbox this morning...

----- Original Message -----
From: Sharon
To:
Sent: Friday, July 02, 2004 9:08 AM
Subject: Disgusting

Hello ,

There's really no need for me to elaborate what happened inside the CR this morning cause almost everybody is talking about it. Whoever you are, you should be ashamed of yourself....why because you left your disgusting _ _ _ _ . Wala man gali ka kalimpyo sa imong hugaw, unsa na kaha ang gibati sa naglimpyo. A physically and mentally well person is not capable of doing such irresponsible act. Pardon my words but this is really too much.

A piece of advise just in case you will be doing a major transaction inside the CR and you're not successful in flushing your waste, please use the black plunger beside the ladies' toilet bowl, it's heavy duty and very effective.

From urine to uh, you know... This doesn't include the undocumented case of the sanitary napkin, used and wrappings found the men's CR. I mean what's next? A condom filled with uh, you know, or perhaps a bloody fetus?

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Victim

2004-06-30T08:43:00.000+08:00

It finally happened to me. My cousin, Luwell, and I were held up outside our village last night. Ironically, I go through the "scariest" and the most snatcher-filled places in Cebu -- Colon, Pasil, Carbon, Uptown, Fatima Duljo, Hi-way Mandaue -- and I had to become a victim in my own backyard.

It happened quickly enough. Luwell and I talking outside this sari-sari store each holding a bottle of Sparkle cola. They came towards us, and uttered the same word over and again, "Cellphone, cellphone, cellphone..." in rapid succession it sounded like a mantra. One guy held his gun trained on my stomach area, the other trained his gun on Luwell's stomach.

I went blank.

When Luwell's frantic admonitions for me to give my phone over to them came through the mist, I saw myself flinging my left hand (the one holding the phone) wildly in circles. The gun was still trained on my abdominal area, and the snatcher had a hard time following where I was going with my hand.

My other hand still held the Sparkle bottle, he had a gun, this is so unfair. I was prepared to conk him out with the bottle, but when I was about to raise it up, this image of me standing there with lots of blood on my shirt flashed. Then there was this voice telling me that it was a wrong move.

No bravado there. No heroics on my part. I just went blank, and instinct took over. Unfortunately, instinct made me look like I was fighting back. Instinct for me was to protect what's mine. Fortunately, instinct took a backseat to reason, at apparently the right time.

In a last ditch effort to get my phone away, I was able to fling my phone over the sari-sari store counter where I would hope it would drop to the other side, way out of reach of anybody.

But it didn't. The other snatcher saw my phone on the counter top and made a grab for it. The one I was struggling with stepped back and trained the gun still on my abdominal area. He stood there looking at me looking at the gun. At the back of my mind, I knew he could have fired anytime he wanted. I was hoping he wouldn't, even debated whether to beg him not to shoot. And then he took a step backwards, and then another, and then ran for this motorcycle waiting for them across the street.

It was the longest moment of my life.

I am thankful for a lot of things. I am thankful that I am here writing and talking and joking about the whole thing, and not lying on some operating table with a team of doctors working to take some bullet out of my body. Or worse, I could be lying on a morgue slab.

I am thankful that Luwell and I were not hurt. Except from extremely obvious nervousness, I was pretty calm about it. Although I would admit that the sound of a motorcycle would probably make me turn my head and check if there are three riders on it now.

I am thankful that they didn't frisk me, or else they would have found my wallet, complete with half of last month's paycheck in it. In cold hard cash.

I am thankful that I have had the presence of mind not to have hurt anybody. Imagine if I had in the process of defending myself, killed the snatcher. I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that, even if he deserved it.

Luwell got off with almost no damage. He left his cellphone at home, and had nothing on him but the money to buy Sparkle. But he was visibly shaken by the experience, I think more than I was.

Lesson: It is a humbling experience feeling that your life is in someone else's hand. And somebody evil at that. To be sure, the whole thing was scary. But the scariest part of it all was the look of that kid who had his gun pointed at me. His eyes were wide and wild, but I could see clarity in it. He was clearly debating with himself whether to shoot me, and this was after he got the phone. I just stood there, alternately making eye contact, and looking down at the gun and panting. Finally, I was just looking at the gun, and then thankfully, he ran away. I'd hate to be in that situation again. No criminal has the right to make you feel like you owe them your life, but it is a scary fact that they do have that power to end your breath.

Lesson: Do not fight back. Apparently, it is your instinct to protect your belongings, but when you get your bearings back, you'd find that what you did was scary. It would only put you in greater danger if you try to outsmart these people. These evil evil evil people have guns, you don't. And they probably snatch things away everyday, while you only get to be a victim when you're in the wrong place at the wrong time doing the wrong thing. So experience-wise they have the upper hand too. Just let them have it. You could probably buy another phone in 2 weeks, but recuperating from a major surgery could take months. That is if you get to recuperate at all. Also, those things you see on movies and TV features on how to protect yourself, or karate, or getting the gun and shooting your attacker? Well, they look nice and easy when it's done by Vin Diesel, or when you know the "attacker" wouldn't really pull that trigger. In real life, the scums wouldn't think twice. Don't prolong your agony, just give it and get it over with.

Lesson: Yes, it does happen to everyone. You are not immune to this kind of violence. Yes it will happen to you, or have happened to you. But then again, it will happen at some point, no matter how careful you are, or how paranoid. The thing is, after this kind of thing happens, get back to living normally as soon as possible. There is no sense being a victim all over again, only this time it's your mind which is slaving you. Take all the rudimentary precautions, but enjoy life as it is. It is not like mumps, there are no guarantees that it won't happen again. But you cannot go through life constantly looking behind your back.

Lesson: It feels gratifying, and it brings consolation to think bad bad bad bad thoughts happening to these evil evil evil evil people. Do not ever feel guilty about imagining them lying on some ditch somewhere, one of them holding YOUR phone between his larynx and pharynx, with bits and pieces of the LCD screen lodged in his lungs. Another has broken all the bones in his hands into a million pieces, while the other had his kneecap busted so much so that when he raises his legs, his feet become a pair of involuntary pendulums. And then shrug it off and place it in God's hands.

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Central Station

2004-06-28T15:26:00.000+08:00

Meet Dora. She writes letters for illiterate Brazilians in Rio de Janiero's busiest train stop. Think Quiapo. Think Divisoria. Think Carbon. Well, you have to be imaginative and include trains. Dora is not a stone-hearted woman, she has just seen it all that it's hard for her to feel anything anymore. She writes mails which she never sends out. Then she meets Anna and her son, Josue. Turns out that Josue is looking for his father, and that Anna wants him back. Then by some twist of fate, Anna dies, leaving Josue with nothing and no one. Dora feeling pity for the boy decides to help.

This is how Dora and Josue's friendship started. It's not a smooth start, and it turns rockier along the way, but it was inevitable. Both feels the emptiness and loneliness of being alone in the world. Both are vulnerable. An old, albeit a streetwise, woman, and a young, but headstrong boy.

Central Station is set apart from other films of its genre by it's neo-realist way of telling the story. No hysterics here, nothing melodramatic, no emotional blackmails disguised as plots. The people behind the film seems to be saying "This is what happens in the world out there, in case you haven't noticed." But then again, it is hard not to notice. These are the stories that are told over and again by us Filipinos. I can imagine Regal and Star Cinema doing Monumento Station with Gloria Romero and Jiro Manio in the leads.

It has tons of lessons, but ultimately it tells of how you should let go -- self-sacrificing and unselfishly. Even if the thing or person you're letting go of is the only thing or person you have.

Fernanda Montenegro is a great actress. I have yet to see her body of work, but believe me, she is as believe when she is nasty as when she is in despair. And that boy, Vinicius Oliviera or something, is quite good. He could easily wipe the floor with any of the Star Circle Quest kids with his natural acting and his subtlety. Like Montenegro, his range and flexibility enabled him to go from bratty to vulnerable to impish within a bat of an eyelash. And to think he used to be a shoeshine boy.

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Big ><(((;>

2004-06-28T14:55:00.000+08:00

Big Fish stars Ewan McGregor, Albert Finney, Jessica Lange, Helena Bonham Carter and Billy Crudup. Now, I don't follow Ally McBeal that much, but one of the things I like about Ally are those surreal comedic skits that comes out of the show once in a while to provide as a surrealist thought bubble. Big Fish is one big surreal experience. It tells of Edward Bloom (McGregor and Finney -- younger and senior) who is very fond of telling tall tales about his life. The recurring theme of the film is that, would you rather stick to the truth, and bore the hell out of your audience, or would you rather embellish it with details that would make it more memorable? I see this movie as a metaphor for achieving success in real life. To put it succintly, the movie also tells of how a goldfish, when put in a small aquarium stays small, but when left in a pond or river grows bigger. The stories of Bloom's life inevitably contains different truth nuggets about life and living and loving. The only thing is, Edward Bloom has told such tales all his life that his own son has trouble discerning which is true and which is not. As a result, William the son, feels that he doesn't know his father at all. And so, in typical American angst-y whine and pout, this creates tension between father and son, and the two doesn't talk until the father stops chemotherapy and starts dying. What follows is the full narrative, told in true Burton-esque style. Watch out for those nuggets of wisdom, it really hits the mark. Soundbites like "...most things you consider evil or wicked are simply lonely, and lacking in the social niceties." Or, "They say, when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that's true. What they don't tell you is that when it starts again, it moves extra fast to catch up." Or, "There comes a point when any reasonable man will swallow his pride and admit he made a mistake. The truth is... I was never a reasonable man." Or, "Sometimes, the only way to catch and uncatchable woman is to offer her a wedding ring." Or, "Dad, you're like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny combined... you're just as charming, and just as fake." Or, "You were a big fish in a small pond, but this here is the ocean and your drownin'. Take my advice, go back to puddleville, you'll be happy there."

"You become what you always were - a very big fish." I specially loved this one. It was told by Will on Ed's deathbed, after conjuring up a tall tale of his own as to how Ed would die. It just confirms that all those stories he told in his life immortalized him. In life, what we do, no matter how small it is, or how trivial, as long as it endears us to the people around us makes us what we are, big fishes. To top it all off, Will goes: "A man tells so many stories, that he becomes the stories. They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal."

Go watch it. If you're from the Creek, Bernadette has a copy, pirated DVD. Go Go GO!!!

Oh by the way, my favorite movie psycho -- Steve Buscemi -- is part of the cast. It's not really Con Air or Armaggedon material, but he's superb here. :)

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amgug, ogag jud. evil evol. actually.

2004-06-16T09:45:00.000+08:00

You should read B's account on how her Mr. B came into her life. It is touching, and heartfelt and she revises it daily. Talk about the fickle mind of a woman in the throes of hormonal imbalance. Anyway. B writes about people and things that she cherishes. People, places, things that make a difference in her life. And then she writes about what's now. How she feels now, how she thinks now, what she's doing now.

I on the other hand strives to be a pop guru. I tend to bore people with what I saw on DVD, or what I'm reading at the moment. I rarely write anything that concerns me or how I feel. All of my journal entries that contains my fears, happiness, loneliness, sadness, nostalgia is in my other journal, one that you need a pen to write in. I still believe in keeping some part of me private, and these are entries you'd never see here. Sometimes though, for lack of blog material, I give in and cannibalize my life and actually copy some entries from my journal. These entries that end up here are some of the most shallow things.

B on the other hand speaks to you in an echo. Her voice could be heard and it comes from her very gut. She minces no words, and writes what she wants when she feels like it. And then her recount of Mr. B. The stalking, the courtship, the gratitude, the persistence, the etc. It's like Pangako Sa 'Yo and Sana'y Wala Nang Wakas, the UP Cebu version.

At 26, I have long given up on the notion that somehow, somewhere there is somebody for me. That one of these days, there would be a familiar figure standing under an acacia tree. But who am I kidding? For one, I don't see any freaking acacia tree along my way even though a jeep ride from Mandaue to Inayawan takes an hour. And besides UP-Cebu is too far away, and it is the only place where I know there's a live acacia tree for sure. If an acacia tree would be difficult for me to find, what more the "somebody-out-there-for-me" part? Day by day, it is proven to me that this person will not, won't, did not, and will never exist. I have come to accept the fact that there will never be a stalker hanging outside any library waiting for me to come out, or a chaser down molave street, or somebody who would anonymously give me something and sign it with one's initial.

I am getting too old to believe in fairy tales, and sometime soon, I would decide that I am too old to believe in love.

Shucks! Bitter ko 'no?

Nah, it's just that love is something that never happens to me. It happens to other people -- I am a testament to other people's love, and it still warms my heart to no end to see people happy with whoever they are with, to see people committing themselves to somebody. But it ends there. I have long forgotten the time when I would pine for somebody to share myself with. I feel like a spectator, the audience, and love is the movie that I only see onscreen.

Bleak? Pessimistic? Negative? Yeah.

But I am happy. I bask in the warmth of friends and family, people who know me. I have a personal relationship with a higher being, and I am happy with myself. The smile you see on my face is fake (it would be hard to fake happiness for a whole day, it drains you)

I really don't see the need for somebody to share my dreams with, somebody to affirm that I am somebody. God knows they only bring more pain than you deserve. But then again, it would be nice, wouldn't it?

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arghnowevenmyspacebarisn'tworking

2004-06-15T15:03:00.000+08:00

I am listening to a couple of RnB remixes, reading other people's thoughts in their blogs, and generally pretending to work. My lungs are screaming at me for all those years of smoking, and my throat is itchy as hell. I go to the CR to cough out really really brown, black, and green phlegm out of my mouth. And when I go back to my seat, this freaking airconditioner is blasting foul wind onto my head. Which is good I guess, because even as it tries to freeze my brain, droplets of slimy sticky and clear mucus oozes down my nose, and sometimes trickles down to my lips. Which is why I have a tissue ready. If my brain wasn't frozen, it'd come out of my nostrils.

My eyes are ... uh... strained. Neozep no-drowse tablets do not prevent you from wanting to clear your table with one singular sweep of your arms and climb on top of it and sleep. My head is heavy, it's making the pretending to work thing a whole lot more unpleasant. Not even the witty anonymous-kuno narratives of Ms. B. can wake me. Jona hasn't been writing since the start of this month. Butch only has zodiac forecasts in his blog, and it's not even mine. Is Butch's birthday coming up? The Walrus Guy hasn't written anything to followup on the wonderfully written Kabaguis... not even the story of his bag and the heist. Nothing new for the tigress and the wife junkie also. Paulo hasn't created anything after eating the food of creation, whatever he meant by it. Freya has been unusually talkative, though.

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Somebody, anybody!, stage Miss Saigon in Cebu

2004-06-15T14:28:00.000+08:00

Martin brought his two-CD original cast recording of Miss Saigon, and I just have to listen to it. When it first opened in London in the late 80s, my dad bought the two tape version of the same cast recording, but I didn't really listen to it back then, opting only to listen to the more popular tunes like Sun and Moon and Last Night of the World and I Still Believe. I took notice of the Saigon musical when it was staged in Manila, but with the exorbitant ticket prices and the low salary I had then, I just had to miss it. The helicopter scene and the whole allure was not enough to make me shell out at least a thousand bucks to watch it at the back row of the CCP. Now that the internet has the full libretto online, I just had to find out what I missed.

And from what I've heard from the CD and from I've read in the libretto, I have indeed missed a lot. Unfortunately, there is no celluloid version of Miss Saigon, something that would take long to produce, and even longer to end up in the pirated DVD racks of Carbon Market. My only chance of seeing this musical is probably when a theatre company in Cebu would stage it (and even so, it would be sans the helicopter on stage) and that kind of wishful thinking could be just that -- wishful thinking.

Amazingly, the story is simple enough. It's something that numerous kids in Olongapo could easily relate to. The whole thing is smack of Lukso ng Dugo, that insane TV series on ABS-CBN. The movie in my mind is not of the American dream, but the whole motherhood thing. The jacket has this photo of a mother giving up her little girl so the girl could go to the States. From a bleak life in Vietnam, she would have the world at her feet, and have her dreams come true. Nevermind if the mother doesn't see her again. Nevermind if she gets nothing out of the arrangement. She is happy nonetheless.

The libretto is available online, the CD though and the Miss Saigon songs would be harder to come by. If you want to at least partially experience Miss Saigon, you can open your browser to Google.Com and search for Miss Saigon Libretto. If you want to borrow the CD, you'd have to be very very nice to Martin. You can reach him at martin@cannoncreek.com. He accepts payment, in cash and in kind (flesh).

I see Cats on Bernadette's desk... :)

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can you believe that i actually missed cannoncreek?

2004-06-14T15:31:00.000+08:00

Engineered to be out of the office for three days. I am so proud of myself. God, Friday came and I was lazy enough to stay in bed, not to mention that my head was nearly splitting into two from lack of sleep. I am finding sleep more and more difficult to come by these days, it must be something I have taken or the coffee that keeps me awake in the office... or maybe because am reading a Grisham title and that usually keeps me up. So anyway. I called in sick and spent the day at home watching DVDs. You just gotta love neighbors who had DVD players some months ahead of you, they show you their collection and get embarassed to turn you down when you gush over a particular movie or tell them how uh, varied, their whole collection is. I finally got to watch Xmen 2, which I missed in its regular theatre run. I love it. The special effects, the powers, everything. It looked like something Regal Films would do, but only a Hollywood Studio could pull off. The film hints on a sequel, and I wish to God they'd have it soon. The story? Well, not bad. But nothing exceptional there either. I'd fast-rate it, 3.40.

And then another movie with Edward Norton, The Score. This one's good, it has Robert De Niro, Marlon Brando and Angela Bassett in it. There you have an entire cast who's either won or nominated for an Oscar. It's a nothing new heist movie, with Norton in a role that is so much like his own role in The Italian Job. But what sets this apart is the performances. These guys and girl didn't get nominated or win their Oscars because of some fluke. In their acting, you could really feel the complexities of each character, their dynamics, their motivations. The story is common enough for a heist film. It takes you inside organized crime, and it gives you a feel of people, actual human beings who pull them off. They are not really bad bad guys, they just steal for a living, just like you go inside an office for yours.

The rest of Friday afternoon found me debating whether to go to the gym or wade through Grisham's The King of Torts. I decided to stay in and read on Clay Carter's life, and that is pretty much how Friday went.

Saturday morning found me dressing up for Myra's wedding. Now Myra and I share 3 cousins, she being the paternal cousin, and me being the maternal cousin. Her family stayed with us in Manila for a month when we were kids, I think I was 9 at the time, and her dad was still alive. Anyway, 18 years later or so, her dad dying on her, me moving to Cebu, and us getting close, I found myself saying yes to becoming a groomsman in the Myra Mercadal - Eriberto Lariosa, Jr. Nuptials, something which I don't usually do. For two very good good reasons:

(1) I hate formal gatherings where I cannot sneak off anytime I want; and,

(2) I hate wearing formal clothes.

I was in a barong. Thank God for friends who lent me the black formal shoes, the black formal slacks and the rest of my attire. My entire wardrobe consists of jean, t-shirts and polos. Nothing there came close to being formal. My shoes, the only serviceable one is an Adidas rubber shoes. It's black, though.

It was nice seeing the rest of the Otadoys prancing around in one room, smiling at each other, maybe really feeling good at seeing each other again, and definitely knifing one another in the back. I just love weddings where you try to figure out if an unknown face belongs to the groom's family or the bride's or a friend of one of them.

The whole affair was simple. It was without fuss. And it ended after lunch, at around 1pm. We took a taxi home, and thank God to the fucked up planning/non-planning of the Cebu City government for the Independence Day celebrations, and a funeral march along V. Rama, arrived home at around 3pm.

I started with my laundry at 3:15, and finished at 6pm. By then it was raining really hard, which would continue until late last night. Balot, Johnjohn and some other kids were around for dinner. They cooked, Faith paid for everything, and cheated me into buying some food. I told her I had no money left, but then again, a cheat is a cheat is a cheat. I had to promise myself not to trust Faith, albeit a cousin, with money -- EVER.

I fell asleep on the sofa reading about Clay Carter's latest misfortunes.

Sunday morning, I had to haul off my hinayhay out to where the sun was fiercely shining. Finally got to watch Talk to Her. Now this is classy. I saw the poster from a Pelikula at Lipunan filmfest before, I just didn't watch it because my movie buddy and I opted to watch A Good Lawyer's Wife, which was kinda cool also. Now this movie is about loneliness, something that am sure all of us can relate to. The thing is, here are two men, with two love stories, meeting, and then creating a bond, and then poof, the story ends. The sense of irony is not lost on you, and you finish the film with this thugging in your guts that hey, that could happen to me too. This is a Spanish film, subtitled, and non-linear. Nonetheless, it's an Almodovar film. I didn't know any of the casts, but you find yourself caring for each of the characters. Now that's filmmaking. And that's storytelling. You should see it cause am giving it a 4.56.

Sunday afternoon the heavy rain was back, so I have to run and haul back my clothes to dry safety. When it was finished, I was surprised to hear (with the heavy beating the roof was getting from the rain) nobody else but that Britney Spears predecessor, Debbie Gibson. Gawd. The neighbor with crazy kids decided to take a break from their Lupig Sila programming to pay homage to Debbie Gibson, who sang Electric Youth and Lost in Your Eyes quite a couple of times. Now, I don't know anybody now who still has their Debbie Gibson tapes. Much less have I heard of anyone playing their Debbie Gibson tapes. Now this is what made these people weird, they actually played their tapes over and again. Maybe I should tell them that the room they're now renting is the site of a grisly murder, and that the spirit of the victim could sometimes be seen by neighbors. Then again, they'd probably know that by now.

I decided to counter Debbie Gibson with Maroon 5. Then got too bored I decided to watch Jet Lee's Hero again. And then off to bed with King of Torts. It's an ok book, it must have been Grisham's work after being told that John, you have lousy endings. Grisham did put a cap on Clay Carter's life, he filed bankruptcy, which is not surprising in any way with all the misfortune he's been going through. It's not a really good Grisham read, but it provided a walk-through, a very entertaining one on mass torts, or class actions. Weird thing is, I actually understood the book. It's not for everybody though. If you're not a Grisham fan, you might want to start reading his earlier works. My suspicion is, if you start out reading King of Torts, you'd have half a heart reading another Grisham book. Not to say that KoT is a disappointment, nope, far from it, this is one story that has Grisham stamped on all it's pages. But it is by far less entertaining than say, The Chamber or The Brethren. I guess, by now Grisham has lost new material, he can only write about the law and lawyers so much. I have also read his non-lawyer outing, A Painted House, and though that was fun, it was not Grisham-esque at all. Read this, though, it's a nice thing to read sipping your thermos mug filled with black coffee with the rain pouring outside, and with your neighbors probably dancing to EEELEKTRIIIIKCUTE!

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on a night that i couldn't sleep

2004-06-09T09:14:00.000+08:00

to be honest
i am getting tired of
all this running around

whatever happened
to the thinking adults
that we prided ourselves to be

why can't we stop the infighting
the petty oneupmanship
why can't we understand
the simple words for what they are

sometimes i face you
and find myself very much
wanting but at the same time
stopping myself

from asking who you are

where did this animosity come from
we raised a little brat
now running around our heads
and using our bodies

i don't know you anymore
sometimes i don't know myself either
there are times when it feels
like you're not there
yet am holding your hand

and there are times
when i see you smile
and then i remember why

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Weekender

2004-06-07T09:47:00.000+08:00

Saturday night was a downer for me. Fritzie and I were left to guard the house as Luwell and Faith had commitments that night. We ended up watching SCQ Kids Grand Questors night, and then dining at Litangs in Pardo, and then halo-halo at Melton's in Pardo, and then back home to watch SCQ Teens.

Now I haven't really been in tuned with this whole SCQ thing. I caught the tail-end of the SCQ fever waaay after the magic five were announced. I think, I only got to watch and know who Joross, Hero, Melissa, Roxanne and Sandara were about mid-May.

As you may now know, it's Hero. Now Fritzie and I were watching the whole thing on TV amidst banter about her wedding this coming December. So there was this portion where the Questors (sounds like they're hunting for spirits) romped around the stage while a pre-recorded speech played in the background. Now Hero milked Fritzie's tear glands dry when he revealed that their household got their electricity service disconnected several times, and that they had to share champorado (porridge) for noche buena. When Hero won, Fritzie was satisfied, saying that, feeling that Hero, if only because of his experience in temporary darkness, deserved the 2M grand prize. Luoy (pitiful) Fritzie kept saying.

Sigh. What's the world coming down to when you have to pity somebody with P2M. I was rooting for Joross and Roxanne, but I guess Hero winning wouldn't be as bad as Sandara winning. For the life of me, that girl has no facial expressions, and knows only Guapo, Guaping and Pogi, and Mahal ko kayo. It's sickening that she was kept on the final five because she was a consistent texter's choice awardee.

Sunday morning found me slaving over dirty laundry. Tisay, the neighborhood labandera, didn't accept my laundy because she was going to the beach the whole day. I had nothing to wear, so I had to scratch my badminton sessions with officepeople and commune with Ariel and Downy.

Lunch was served by 12:30, and I was like delirious due to lack of food from the night before and that day's breakfast. But at least the rice was hot, and the dried fish was not too salty, and the tuna was well, it was Century Tuna, so you know how that tastes like.

Afternoon, I was commuting back and forth on Zhou Yu's train. I kinda have second thoughts about the movie. I thought it was steamy and rancid with a lot of sex and bangs. But I forgot that this is Chinese cinema, under the censure of the Communist government that is still gripping Chinese media. Anyway it was an OK movie, but not exactly a good movie, most of the times I felt like I was watching a Seiko movie under Robbie Tan. It tells the story of Zhou Yu who has a lover in a far away city named Chen Ching, who is a spineless poet. Now Zhou Yu is a strong woman, definitely trouble if you pair it up with a spineless poet, right? Right. Plus the fact that Zhou Yu has to travel a day in order to get laid (so Cold Mountain, or remember, Walking Miles Just to Fuck Ada and die).

To its credit, the movie was nicely told. It is a romance, boy meets girl, girl initiates hot raunchy sex, boy fucks girl, girl gets a little too close for comfort, boy feels smothered, boy leaves, girl cannot cope and still travels to far away city and hope to find boy there and get laid, girl meets another boy, boy initiates hot raunchy sex, girl cannot get over first boy, girl die. But the director or the powers-that-be behind the film didn't present it like that. It was 21grams and Pulp Fiction for Chinese cinema. Only this time, the non-linear storytelling actually did the movie good.

Acting wise, Gong Li is Gong Li is Gong Li. I can still remember her in Raise the Red Lantern as the fifth wife, but I was more into sappy love stories then like Ghost. In Train, she has this nuance that endears her to me. She speaks with her eyes. No overly dramatic gestures, and she make subtlety her best friend. She was actually able to pull off being strong without really being butch. And here's the hardest part, how can you convey dependence and submission while at the same time convincing the audience that you're full of strength? Watch Gong Li do it.

The guys? Er, two straight men trying to get a woman into their cold beds. Where's the acting in that?

It is very difficult to brush off this film. For one it was marketed more of a sex flick, but if you're looking for sex in Zhou Yu's Train, you're in for a big derailment. Storywise, there is nothing new to this, really. It's a story of passions, unchecked, and running wild. It is a story of cowardice. And that poem? The one they used to tie together all those scenes, the one about Lake Celestial being filled? It sucked.

But then again, the shots were beautiful, the landscapes were awe-inspiring. The acting and the storytelling are exceptional. The surreal aspects of the film were telling and thought-provoking. I'd give it a 3.0.

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Why Ijuts Shouldn't Be Issued a Driving License

2004-06-03T10:35:00.000+08:00

I usually take the jeepney going from from Ayala. I wanna savor the night air, and the dust of the roads from Ayala to Colon, and then Colon to Inayawan. Sometimes when it rains, you get splashed with both rain and flood waters that gets breezed into the jeepney. Sometimes, I like the camaraderie of sleeping passengers. It seems that everybody has the same thing in mind, snore and snore away.

Last night was different. I went into Ayala fearing that rain would be pouring so I watched that Aga-Kristine starrer, All My Life (my brain was screaming, Ayala! Tagalog film! Doesn't Mix!). It was already 11:30 when we came out of the theatre and for sure there would be no suitable 21B or 14D jeepneys to take me to Colon. By suitable, I mean no passengers, or vacant front seats.

So I took a cab. The cabbie was a middle aged guy who obviously hasn't seen the insides of a shower room, much less turn the spigot and take a bath. Ok I exaggerate. But he did have around him a sort of tangy mild vinegar smell. Plus the car freshener he was using was one of those cheap imitation potpourri types that was kinda sooty from what I saw when we stopped under the light of a streetlamp on the way.

Now All My Life is an ok film. It had very good actors (see Aga Muhlach's eyes, and see the fear in it when he realizes he's dying). It had a lot of new elements (not too many Filipino flicks feature an intercountry cruise, lechon restaurants) and it had a lot of water in it. But the whole production was dragging. I mean I fell asleep through 10-20 minutes of the movie (at different times at that), and when I woke up to see what was happening onscreen, it felt like I didn't miss anything at all. And hooboy, that Kristine in a two-piece bathing suit.... gives a whole new meaning to innocent but deliciously seductive screen sex siren. Well, she has K, bold-face, italics, underscored, big font size, blinking K. Yeahoo! That woke my up, big time.

Anyway, I was kinda groggy from sleeping in the theatre right? So I just told him Inayawan, get it over with, I don't want to talk to smelly cabbies tonight. He goes, "Banawa?"

Hmmn. Confused. Thinking that he meant if I prefered to take the Banawa route I told him nope. I indicated that I wanted the shortest route, I told him, "V. Rama ta agi" which meant Ayala to Gorordo, Fuente, V. Rama and then South Road to Pardo, and then Inayawan.

He shrugs, and then mutters, "Sige." Ok.

So he drives off. Funny, but he seemed to be drunk, from the entertainment center, he proceeds to take me around Ayala, through some dark roads with shanties on both sides. For the life of me, he was not even taking me through the right roads. And then more than 5 minutes later we were outside Steve's Palace KTV, which was ok, he's going to turn right to Fuente. Nope, he turned left going to Cuenco which meant he's going to make me go through San Carlos and the whole of the South Road, which was effectively a much longer route than the V. Rama route. So I said, "V. Rama ta age bay? (I thought we were taking V. Rama route)"

"Balik ta ser? (Wanna go back?)"

What? This stupid sononabiz is playing with me. By this time the meter was reading P39, at least he didn't have a mysteriously fast meter.

So I said no, let's continue with this route. Then I told him (this after much deliberation with my peaceloving self) that I took a cab every night, and that the highest I ever paid was P97. If the fare was more than that, I'd still pay him P97. He was silent and unresponsive. I was thinking of telling him to drop me off at the nearest CITOM station, but then again, we were already in the South Road where an empty cab is next to impossible to come by.

So I sat in the passenger's side in silence. When I noticed that the things we were passing were literally ZOOMING pass us. As in. He was driving at something like 140-150 mph. It took all my energy to appear calm. I couldn't see his odometer (speedometer?) but we were going really really fast, not even Carlo, the Maniac Driver of Inayawan, go through that speed.

We almost collided with two cars, one exiting Ma. Gochan, and the other near McDonald's Labangon. It was a good thing there was nearly no pedestrians running across our paths that night, and there were only a handful of PUJs. I wanted to shout at the idiot driver, but all I did was to fasten my seatbelt and pray that I get home in one piece.

When we got to Kinasangan, going to Inayawan, he slowed down. The streets were narrower and Inayawaneros are known to be sidewalk drunkards. I was able to take a breather.

I got home in one piece, with a record time of less than 25 minutes (usually the ride home from Ayala is 35-40 minutes). I paid him, and got out of his cab, and slammed the door so hard that I was afraid I could've broken his windows. He didn't do anything when I did that, maybe because I made it a point to make him slow down when we passed by a group of ex-convict-looking men having their nightly session. For the first time in my life, I waved to Boyax and his gang as I passed through. They waved back. That might have scared him.

Still I secretly wished that he'd fall into the ditches while he was backing out of our village.

When I got into the house, Luwell was on the phone with some girl he was making pacute with. I just got so tired of the forced adrenaline rush that I was conked out the moment my head hit my pillows.

Oh, the fare? You wouldn't believe it, but the meter actually read, 97.00.

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Vagina Monologues

2004-06-01T14:44:00.000+08:00

Ok. I have been putting off writing about the Vagina Monologues because I don't really know what to make of it. Yes, I did watch it with three friends on a Saturday night. And yes I did have fun. Who wouldn't have fun having to sit through 4 women demonstrating to me different kinds of sexual moans. Or having Lyn Sherman shout out to me the word cunt in increasingly sensual overtones. I was laughing my head off with the rest of the well, to estimate it, around 1500 well-healed intellectuals and socialites in White Gold House.

We were in the P1000 ticket area. We were like 5-6 rows away from the front of the stage. Thanks to Martin, the nice walrus guy, who didn't see the show and just gave us 4 P1000 tickets. And there I was, getting ready to see the play looking behind a sea of backs and napes and heads.

White Gold house was a perfect choice. The sound system were satisfactory, and the ambience was intimate. Rightly so, if the guest of honor is the vagina.

So there it went. Cebuanas in all sizes, ages, costumes, hairdos were raving, ranting and recounting about the vagina. The monologues were actually ok. Witty, sarcastic, informative and upfront. Well, some were like trash really, not too great, and just had to be there to you know be comprehensive about it. Some dragged on and on. Some I had no interest in, or could related to.

Informative, right? Now I know why girls rarely name their "bestfriend". Butch has his Berto, Martin's Walrus, mine's Bogart. But Bernadette, Freya and Geda didn't have names for their... uh... you know. It hit me, how could you be on a first name basis with someone or something you don't get to see without the benefit of a mirror or a very flexible neck and back?

And uh guys? As much as you like girls in white capri pants and white t-backs, it seems that well, girls wear them for your benefit. Thongs apparently makes the vagina so angry that it eats the thong.

My peeve? Well, it was too long to sit through without an intermission. You can't haggard a sneak into the bathroom, because, to be honest, you don't want to miss out on what the next talk about the vagina is gonna be about. This was my first time to see the VM, and I didn't want to skip anything that I could learn from.

My peeve. Did anybody else catch that line... when I was 16 something, ...she called me to her car and made love to me and made me rediscover ... something something, then proceeded to tell me that it was only with a woman that she enjoyed sex. The lesbian angle is ok, but hello? 16??? Are these vaginas forgetting that there is such a thing as statutory rape? That rape is ok if it is done by a woman on a girl, and they both enjoy it? ORRRRR being the deaf guy I am, was that when I was 60? Because if it were 60, then the whole point of this rant would come to naught. But if it were 60, man, that is another wholely pitiful existence. I mean you wait until you're dried up and withered to get to know you're a lesbian?!

My peeve! Oh come on. Women's empowerment is not about the vagina. It is not about learning to accept their sexuality. It's not about turning into lesbians. I mean if you had the misfortune of having lousy sex with lousy guys, doesn't that say something about you, and your standards? And if in the strings of lovers you had, you only got to enjoy sex with another woman, my goodness, baby, reality check, you might be born a lesbian. Ergo, no matter how sweet and cuddly the man is, you are not interested.

And no, I refuse to subscribe to the fact that charting your own destiny as woman would come from loving your vagina and embracing your sexuality. Oh jeezusfreakingchrist. It's like saying that men with long dicks should hold positions of success and power. I know a lot of successful men with terribly short manhoods. That is about the most absurd, and DEMEANING aspect of this monologues. Woman, if you want freedom to be a woman, just be. No need to go out brandishing your vagina to the world, speaking with the word cunt in every sentence, and sleeping with everyone and anyone who shows interest. That is so... Man. To be honest, what the VM had succeeded in doing has been done by Bob Mendoza, my Abnormal Psychology professor in DLSU. He just made us repeat words like titi, kupal, smegma, anghit, burnik, etc. etc. etc. Being comfortable saying the dirty words doesn't empower you too much. It just makes you comfortable to say it. Duh.

You are a person. You are not your vagina. That should be. I mean am not against the be comfy with your body thing, but when you say I am a woman, hear me roar, I don't really expect you to roar with your vagina.

Sometimes violence against women are not perpetrated by men alone. Eve Ensler? What a cheesecake.

Do I hate the VM? No. It's just that they bring up particular issues that I don't agree with. But then again, feminists would brand me a chauvinist-pigopath. I don't care. I am a penis, hear me roar.

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Edward Norton, Again.

2004-05-31T10:52:00.000+08:00

I am beginning to love Ben Stiller films. This one had Edward Norton (gasp, this was before I watched the Italian Job), Ben Stiller and Jenna Elfman (of Dharma and Greg). The story is about the three, who were childhood friends, and they grew up. Jake becomes a Rabbi, Brian becomes a catholic priest, and Anna becomes a ball-breaking consultant/executive.

Anyway, there were some quite delicate issues in the movie, like interracial marriage, and a Catholic priest's vow of celibacy. But you don't really feel it. These themes were treated with just about the right dose of humor, and it was tackled intelligently. Even with the religious themes and characters, this movie was never preachy.

The whole movie had me in stitches, it is after all a Ben Stiller film. Norton was really good in this movie. Elfman could have done better, at times she looked like she was constipating, and there were moments when she looked like she needed too much makeup and fast. Stiller is still the best. Oh, the supporting cast included Anne Bancroft, and Eli Wallach.

Cool film, drags though at the time when Rabbi Jake was trying to make up his mind about Anna. I'd still give it a high rate, 4.2 for a relaxing watch on a Sunday afternoon

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Charlize Theron, again.

2004-05-31T10:23:00.000+08:00

I can't get over the coincidence that the DVDs I borrow or buy has Charlize Theron in it. It started with Monster, and then Sweet November. Italian Job makes it three.

If you like action flicks, this would surely satisfy you. It had all the niceties of a formula action film. Revenge, high speed chases involving cars to drool over, blast scenes, trains. No sex scenes though, too bad.

What you'd like most about this is the oneupmanship between Edward Norton and Mark Wahlberg and his gang. It's still a mindless film, but at least I was entertained. I don't want to go into each character, and how the actors performed. But all in all, you see that everybody -- onscreen and in real life -- enjoyed working with one another. One beef though was that Norton wasn't really chilling enough. I mean my kid neighbor was more villainy than he was.

Overall, the effects, camerawork, and the whole package taken into account, it is a nice watch on a Sunday evening. :) I'd give it 3.75.

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Sweet November

2004-05-31T10:19:00.000+08:00

I actually bought a VCD rip-off of Sweet November about mid-2003, but for some reason, I wasn't able to watch it and it's probably gathering dust being one of the VCDs that is slowly piling up on our Audio CD/DVD/VCD collection.

I woke up yesterday to the sound of Johnjohn going through the things on my drawer top for a stick of Marlboro. Then there was a ruckus outside near the kitchen. It seems that Balot and Johnjohn are cooking us breakfast. Oh yum. Anyway, after the breakfast fish of kinilaw (raw fish in vinegar and lots of spices), tinuwa (fish soup), grilled lapu-lapu and mais (ground corn), we all settled in front of the TV to watch Sweet November.

Anyway, Sweet November stars Charlize Theron who plays Sara Deever, a free spirit who takes in men for a monthly project. Nelson Moss (Keanu Reeves) eventually becomes Sara's flavor of the month for November. Sara sets out to make Nelson see what life is about, him being the hopeless and cold workaholic. And falls in love with him along the way.

It was a good watch really, a mindless movie for a rest Sunday. The story could've been better, mushy but believable. It's no Judy Ann-Dingdong Dantes standard fare, really. Keanu is good here, but you have this sinking feeling that he always uses that sick puppy look to cover for his lack of acting skills. There are no better actor out there than Keanu is when it comes to hey-look-at-me-am-sensitive-and-vulnerable characters. Keanu was a perfect choice. Nothing new in his acting though, but perfect nonetheless. Theron was, well, standard Charlize Theron.

The film reminds me of Vilma Santos' Pahiram ng Isang Umaga. If you saw that film, you'd know this story. For a while there you would have thought that Sara had AIDS (heck with all the men she's "helping").

I give it a 2.3. Mush factor was ok. The supporting cast was left with nothing much to do since each frame had to involve Reeves, or Theron, or both of them. Actually, to be hip about it, this was mindless, weak, but nicely told.

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HB, B.

2004-05-29T09:12:00.000+08:00

Exactly 33 years ago, that's how old she is really, a little baby girl came into this world and screamed her heart out. This baby, grew up into a beauteous young woman, sprouted lots of salon-cared-for hair -- straight long seductive hair, developed a hearty and heart-felt laugh, and a pair of eyes that conveys childlike wonder, a humor untainted with phony sophistication, and a heart that stayed pure even as her assertiveness pushed through the limits.

I guess that's how she is today. Happy, with the childlike awe that only she can pull off, opening her a wrapped birthday gift, and holding flowers from "a secret admirer" whom we all know is not only an admirer, but a friend, a lover, and someone who adores her (I was tempted to write adorer, but, naaaaah).

HB, B. :)

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The Day After Tomorrow

2004-05-28T16:23:00.000+08:00

Nice film really, but coming from Ron Emmerich, I was expecting something as grand or grander than Independe Day. This film was a smaller scale ID4 clone. Only instead of aliens, it's our own weather systems that are causing us trouble.

The story is quite believable. Quite in the sense that I personally do not believe that such a cataclysmic change in the weather would be that fast. That aside, the special effects are nice. The thing with this film is that well, living in the Philippines, you know that it could happen. Like flood in New York, or tsunamis, or whatever.

Also, what kept this whole film floating was its story. Well, being the cynic, I could summarize it as "I chose a pretty dramatic time to keep my promise to my son, that is after I've failed him like a gazillion times." I have this father-son issues with my Dad, and well, I could relate to this theme. Also, the themes on friendship, humanity and dedication comes shining through. But other than that, all the other characters were not given any development at all. I was like expecting that each one of them would die in some horrific way as the movie progresses. But then, they were alive by the time the movie ended, and I was like, what for? I mean, they didn't really do anything, never went anywhere, they could have been done away and saved the production some precious dollars in talent fees. Or better yet, the production could have, well, you know, drowned them in a whirlpool. Or have them awashed by flood, then impaled on some protruding steel bars. You know, make us care for them, then kill them.

But I digress.

I also loved the fact that I was able to watch it 2 days before it opened in the States. :) (It opens today...)

Too bad though, the body count and the destruction scenes were kept at a minimum. I left the theatre wanting more than what I actually got. And there were no sex scenes. What the fuck did the directors think this is? A Disney film? It was so wholesome I half-expected Ernie Baron to come out anytime and explain the weather changes.

BUT, you dirty-minded freaks, I have a little word play for you. Dennis Quaid, the actor who plays the Dad and professor is named... JACK HALL. Now read that again, say it aloud, over and again. JACK HALL, JACK HALL...

I'd give it a 3.2. Nice effects, nice story. Nice ID4 clone that never came close. Cheesy characters.

Starring Dennis Quaid, Jake Gyllenhaal, Emmy Rossum, Sela Ward, Ian Holm, Dash Mihok, Jay O. Sanders. Running Time: 124 minutes.

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Washingtonienne Blog

2004-05-27T15:55:00.000+08:00

Oh wait, found the blog archive address for this woman. It's a fun read, really. Honest and unedited. It's here.

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Goodbye you sick fuck.

2004-05-27T13:46:00.000+08:00

Out the door

Glory be!

I've got the best news today from Janice, the horse has been put to sleep. No more clickclackety of her cheap Marikina imitations which she passes for what she hopes to be Bally originals.

She is out of THIS stable and back to where she came from.

HELL.

GOOD RIDDANCE!

Too bad, I was hoping to see what her next fashion (victim) statement would have been, after that very bad and very laughable ribbon thing.

Convicted

Sef Gonzales is guilty? Makes me kinda proud that it's now official that the Aussie's worst murderer grew up in Baguio. Wow, thankfully, the 1991 killer earthquake that shook Luzon took the Gonzaleses out of Baguio and into Australia. Can you imagine the local PNP actually handling the murders? Sef would be scot free today.

And so by now you know the details. If you don't, then get out from under that rock and Googlesearch "Sef Gonzales." Sit back and read.

I just love the utter cold-bloodedness he carried out the crime. The sheer kapalmuks of the things he did afterwards like singing One Sweet Day at the funeral, and carrying the coffins out as one of the pallbearers. The lies that he told, and the additional lies to cover them up.

Too bad this kid's as ugly as he is dumb. At least the Menendez brothers had the faces to become poster boys for the Family Murderers Association. And they acted way too good, and shed too many tears. It's easy to imagine them starring in a local telenovela. Sef? He is as ugly as he is dumb. Wait, I already said that.

Still can't get over horse put to sleep thingy. Enjoy the peace :)

Fired

Okay. What do you get when you have a well-educated woman working for the U.S. government, and prostituting herself on the side to her colleagues, and then writes about it in her Blog? Hello, it's like -- prevalently normal. But one of them is Jessica Cutler (the one in black), who was fired from her staff assistant position in Capitol Hill, because she got paid to fuck during lunch break. Uh, well, of course they had to find a more media-friendly reason like inappropriate use of Senate computers...

Anyway, her blog is nowhere to be found. But then some blog owners have retained her posts. Then civil liberties freaks have created quite a stir mailing their representatives and senators about free speech.

Cutler for her part has gotten over it. Her friends are much worse, she says. Yeah, only they don't write about it for all the world to see.

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Digital Fortress

2004-05-26T13:41:00.000+08:00

Have just finished Bernadette's copy of Digital Fortress. Nice read, however the chief crytographers are quite dumb. I was like 3 pages ahead of solving the killcode they all needed to stop that freaking worm. If you haven't read it, you should. If you did, wasn't it such a freaking simple thing.

Digital Fortress is no The Da Vinci Code. That is by far the most entertaining and most well-crafted book that I have ever read. That is of course, Anne Rice not being part of the whole scenario. I still love Anne Rice and John Grisham, but Dan Brown is getting there.

As with The Da Vinci Code, Digital Fortress betrays the amount (A LOT!) of research Brown had put into it. And Brown weaves a masterful narrative.

And oh, I just broke the code at the end of the book, you know the one that goes 128-10-93-85... If you wanna try to crack the code, then you need the book with you. Clue? Sure. You need the book with you. And it's a perfect square (to wit perfect squares are those which can be square-rooted, or a number multiplied by itself gets you a perfect square, examples are 4, 9, 16, 25, 36, 49, 64, 81...) And perfect squares lend conveniently to Ceasar's Code. So there's your clue. If you don't know what the hell am talking about, then do not even try to crack the code. Jeepers. If you wanna try to crack the code, stop reading now, because in the next few lines I am going to give the answer.

By the way, do not even attempt to go to the author's official website, Dan Brown doesn't give you the answer :) But he does have some nifty stuff in there :) Check it out.

Still reading? Lazy you eh? Always wanting to know the answers without slaving for it. Simply chilling it's We Are Watching You.

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Shrek 2: The most fun I've had in recent weeks

2004-05-25T10:21:00.000+08:00

This movie is F-U-N. To be honest, I found the first Shrek to be a very funny movie with all its satires and wit. I was excited to see this installment, if only to see if it could equal the first or perhaps top it. I was not disappointed.

The "original cast" members are back, well except for John Lithgow's character, Lord Farquaad. This time however, they are joined by a host of others that make the story more fun.

I found myself laughing every other minute. The magic of the movie is in the little details really. Like when one of the three blind mice falls into the dungeon where Donkey (Eddie Murphy), Shrek (Mike Myers) and Puss-in-boots (Antonio Banderas) were imprisoned. A little later, the three of them are rescued by Pinocchio and the Gingerbread Man (boy) and they fall to the ground, where true to his character Puss eats the mice. Shrek reprimands him and all he could blurt out was sorry then spitted the mice out. Actually, to enjoy it full-time, make sure that you catch what the other characters are doing in the background, be it their facial expressions, or bumping into walls. Other scenes that had me in stitches was the one where the messenger of King Harold (John Cleese) and Queen Lillian (Julie Andrews), Fiona's parents, came and there were quite a few who blew their trumpets to announce her arrival. The last one trumpeted out Hawaii-Five-O. The scene where Puss-in-boots makes those pity-me eyes. Swashbuckling and naughty, he resorts to emotional blackmail and appeal to pity to corner his opponents. And oh, make sure to stay in the theatres until the credits roll in, or you're going to miss the Donkey/Dragon half-breeds that comes out at the end of the film. That was cute too.

I loved Puss-in-Boots. If you'd see his pity me look, you'd feel the same. I also loved the "gender-confused" big bad wolf. Although he wasn't given anything much to do. I love the Three Blind Mice, although they provided the slapstick entertainment.

I wouldn't tell you the story. Suffice it to say that this is one well-made and well-thought animated feature. Lots of satire and spoofs, which is -- well -- the trademark of a Shrek feature. But you'd be amazed that there is a story here too.

By the way, Cameron Diaz comes back as Fiona's voice, while Rupert Everett lends his to Prince Charming. And there is talk of a third one, this one spoofing King Arthur.

I'd give it a 4.95, since I really can't find anything bad about the film. Plus it was the best laugh I've had since watching Monsters, Inc. on DVD.

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Noneh (Friendster Testimonial Series No. 10)

2004-05-25T01:37:00.000+08:00

Si Noneh ay isang babaeng baliw. Yup, babaeng baliw. For more than like 3 years, we've known each other first as officemates at some defunct dotcom... and then as friends. We, together with emang (who is in limbo right now) comprise the kilikilipower of three, hehehe... Noneh is a perky person, with a very perky body, este... para siyang nagshashabu all the times na nasa labas siya ng hawla niya. hyperactive, ms. energy, grabe... but there are times when you see the other side of Nina too, matampuhin, mareklamo, whiny... in short, babae. Yup, si Nina ay isang BABAE. hirap mang paniwalaan, kidding. Pero wag ka, masarap magmahal at thoughtful itong babaeng to. I have seen her fall in love with countless guys... argh... imagine, binuo niya ang cast ng ghostfighter? and I have seen her get hurt. Pero she keeps on loving like nothing happened to her and will always keep on loving. Impulsive din siya, mabait, matalino, giggly. hahahaha... she's the type of person that can talk about anything, everything and nothing for hours. gusto mo gumanda? magnuskin ka, she also has her own franchise of nuskin hehehe... ayun... there are a lot of things i could tell you about this girl, but like most surprises, it is better experienced first hand than be told about it... talaga... you should get to know her, there should be at least one noneh in every person's life. mwah!

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Jona (Friendster Testimonial Series No. 7)

2004-05-24T13:33:00.000+08:00

For all the differences that we have, it is a wonder how Jona became one of my best friends in the whole world. She's as everybody else describes her to be, assertive, kikay, no-nonsense, matapang, matalino, and opinionated. While I am meek, shy, gwapo... este...

Jona is one who would discuss the latest art film (shown free! in megamall! or in shangrila! or in Instituto Cervantes!) and (1) not mind having to read through the subtitles, (2) hook you into watching the next FREE! film and (3) while munching on some street food like fish ball or squidball. That's how she is.

She abhors sheep mentality and always - ALWAYS - insist on carrying her own style. Not just in clothes, but in everything.

Jona is my sounding board. When I had my biggest worries, she's the voice on the other end of the line. When I started getting curious about sex, she's the voice on the other line (yup, we go back to pre-pubescent high school days). When I had my highest highs, she's the voice on the other line. Mind you, she's about the only person next to my mom and sisters that I talk to on the cell for like hours.

Jona has a lot of dreams. She wants to be a writer. She wants to be a model. And for some reason, I've always seen Jona as the next CheChe Lazaro sans her probe team. You know, I've always seen her as a top broadcast personality whose credibility is untarnished by bribery and scandal -- except of course I get her to air my political ads....

She is one of those people who you can be candid and smart with. She has an open mind and an honest mouth... too honest sometimes, but well, I appreciate that. Love you bisprind. Did you ever get that abortion? JOKE!

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Cherry Joven (Friendster Testimonial Series No. 8)

2004-05-23T13:29:00.000+08:00

I met this girl when I was lucky enough to be included in AdAsia '97. We were the team responsible for the conference materials, the less glamorous team in the whole CCP that time. We were the epitome of toxicity, and in that four days, I am proud to say that the 7 of us forged a friendship that would last us our lifetimes. I am very happy to have met Cherry, even with the circumstances. I think it was what brought all of us together, the stress, the shitty transcriptions, the "ano daw" struggle with some of the funniest accents on tape. The imminent sterility brought about by the photocopier machine. Talagang wala na kaming maitatago sa isa't isa, at pati amoy ng utot namin alam na namin kung kanino galing. kulang na lang maghubad kami. eheheh... we shared a bed... all 7 of us, 4 days of coffee-powered lucidity did it for all of us, we were packed in that bed like sardines in an anorexic can, pero tulog talaga kaming lahat. hehehe... cut to the present, cherry, kahit na nasa singapore eh parang kapitbahay mo lang pag nakipagtelebabad. grabe. madaldal sobra... the thing with cherry and the others is that your conversations run the gamut of the absurd to the profound. you can be talking about dick size and breast-exposures in one minute and then expound on the meaning of life the next. there is never a dull moment with Cherry around. The thing is, that she turned out to be a real person and a true friend is a plus. I love you Joven!

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Wala lang. :)

2004-05-22T09:24:00.000+08:00

Met up with Noneh last night. She was with her friend, Dynah, flambuoyant host-extraordinaire and writer for Sun.Star, a local daily here in Cebu. Noneh still hasn't changed. She still has her boisterous laughter and flirty ways. We spent the night talking about nothing, which was good. Sometimes, it nice to take a vacation from Cerebral Conversations. She works for PeopleSupport now, after being my officemate, she went on to become Luwell's officemate. And then a brief stint at TalentFolio gave her so much stress that she opted for the brain-numbing work in a call center.

By the way, Dynah, beauteous and sociable, is looking for a boyfriend. She prefers Europeans, but moneyed Filipinos are also welcome. For more information, drop me a line.

On the other end of the text line is Freya who was out with her other friends celebrating belatedly J's birthday. She promised a late evening romp in Ayala wearing what I thought would be a skimpy bathing suit. No such luck.

Watching Vagina Monologues tonight. :)

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Luwell (Friendster Testimonial Series No. 3)

2004-05-22T08:18:00.000+08:00

Luwell is fun. He knows how to party, he tells you stories to keep your mood up, he is basically the funny clown that becomes the life of every party.

However, if you look closely, you'd see a very fine young man who like everybody else has his own dreams and ambitions, simple yet grand. Beneath the flashy clothes lies a content heart. Oh sure, there are things that are still beyond his reach, a comfortable life, somebody to love, a nice car... but then again, he doesn't let those affect the way he lives his life. He keeps it apace. Luwell is the one who taught me to be happy with what you have, but never forgetting that good things are coming your way still. He is the one who taught me to be street smart, and to bluff your way around life, while not denying the sad truths that make those bluffs necessary.

He values his friends. He values his family. He appreciates and values the people who has helped shape who he is now.

He is a good man, with the purest of intents of making himself a better man. He could be cranky, and would snap at the littlest things, but most of the time he keeps a stable temperament, specially when he's watching glitzy and ritzy action movies, or listening to his current trance/industrial music flavor at the moment.

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Bernadette (Friendster Testimonial Series No. 1)

2004-05-21T08:19:00.000+08:00

Bernadette can be likened to a storm. Her eye is calm, complacent, and peaceful. Yet, all around her, her aura if you will, speaks of a tumultuous temperament, background and tendencies.

Her hearty laugh, sincere and deep from the heart, could fill the room as well as your very being. She hides nothing. If she feels happy, you know it. If she feels sad, you know it. If she's angry at you, you'd pay for it.

She can be a bitch. Part of her personality subscribes to a twisted sense of assertiveness, and another part takes charge of speaking her mind right there and then, no matter who or what gets slighted and burned in the process. If you take that as bitchiness, then she is the prima bitch, the finest in that mold. However, that same quality is the one that endears her to her friends.

Conversely, get on her good side, she's sure to make you feel glad to be alive. She cares deeply and passionately for the people she loves. Make that VERY deeply and VERY passionately. She can be your best of friends once you get her trust. She laughs at your most insane jokes, but puts you in your place if your are out of line. She listens to your most mundane dreams, and fantasies, and make you feel that you can achieve it. She believes in you even when you, yourself, are in doubt.

Her intuitiveness also makes it hard for you not to open up to her. She's know what you're feeling. Call it maternal. Call it women's gut feel. But she has a strong sense of empathy, and understanding that you won't regret opening up to her.

I've always maintained that Bernadette is a classic beauty. Ethereal, simple and eternal. No amount of make up could cover that, not that she wears any in the first place. In fact, everything about her is effortlessly beautiful, an extension of her frank and upfront personality. She is beautiful, inside out.

She is one of those people that makes living a little bit bearable.

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Freya (Friendster Testimonial Series No. 5)

2004-05-20T13:20:00.000+08:00

Wabieayerf is a voracious movie goer. I have been witness to the way she watches movies, she watches even when I am asleep. She sometimes have weird tastes too, imagine sitting through 21grams, and actually liking it so much. I hated that movie, she wrote about it in her blog. But we generally click in our post-movie mini-review, we both like the film, or hate it, more times than not. She is a sucker for horror movies. I mean, I think it's the inexperience, but she actually screams when a dismembered head pops up at the most expected times. A real screamer too, at that. As in top of the lungs, AIEEE! and then a soft whimpering, "Vin..." She cries a lot too... by the way. She readies her hanky just in case there's a scene where at least one of the characters cry. Even if it's like Benicio del Toro and his ugly scruffy face. She'd cry with Benicio. When she's not watching movies, Freya is busy NOT eating. Gawd, it is a pain to feed her. She doesn't eat veggies, doesn't eat anything she doesn't recognize, and doesn't eat anything that moves, is green, or looks yucky. You have to order something extra to fatten her up. and you have to force her to eat too. She feels fat, when she's not, she just looks like it, I'd like to chide her. She packs a very powerful pinch, a very stinging bite and oh, she can pinch with her toes too. There was not a night in our movie trippings that I didn't go home without a new set (yup, SET meaning more than 1) of pasa, lagom and pinaakan. She's also sometimes get pikon, and that's when her well-manicured kilay goes into orbit and she doesn't talk and walks a pace too fast. But why do I love this woman? Because she's thoughtful. She's understanding, she tries and succeeds to understand every little aspect of a person or situation before processing anything. She gives everybody and everyone and everything the benefit of the doubt. She tries to act tough, but deep inside she's a mushy romantic who has a soft big heart. She cries in the movies because she is a great one at empathy and sympathy. Just don't call her fat, because her sympathy simply goes away and starts pinching you to death. She says she feels violated when I take pictures of her with my phone, but then again, she always come out cute or pacute in all the pictures, one of which is what she's using in her friendster account. pakipot ka pa. in some way, you know you're blessed to have her as a friend because she gives everything there is to give when you're with her. sometimes nga tanga na sha, she doesn't know it. In fact, she writes like that as well, she's like whoa an open book (pun intended) when it comes to her writings... sometimes when you read her, it's like coming into her bedroom where she's on the bed with somebody. you get glimpses of the private person. yet, she's a captive audience, be it your own blog, or your testimonials, crazy snippets of unfinished writings, absurd chika, rumors... i love yew moose.

and, oh, she's about the first person for whom i'd admit going down from my lofty pedestal.

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Ang Tinderang Galit Sa Mga Lalaki

2004-05-20T09:26:00.000+08:00

(...or the lady vendor just squished my balls)

I bought flowers for a friend. Nothing sweet in that, I made a huge mistake and well, felt it appropriate to embarass myself walking around Ayala with... GASP! ... a long-stemmed rose.

Anyway, I was in Holland Tulips at the Lower Ground level, and I was looking at all these blooms in different shapes, sizes and colors. I approached the vendor who was busy with her nails.

Me: You have white rose?

She (smiling): Sorry, wala na baya, nahurot na, mao pa jud paghurot. (We've just run out.)

So I go looking at all the flowers on display. I could make up my mind, so I approached her again.

Me: Excuse me...

She (smiling sweetly): Sir?

Me: Unsa'y maayo na flowers for apology? (Which flowers would you recommend for an apology?)

At this point, her smile actually melted. She straightened up and smirked at me, curtly she said: Unsaon kadako ang sala? (How big is your mistake?)

Me: Dako. (Big mistake.)

She, curtly again, with an edge on her voice: Pwes! Kani, pwede ni tanan. (Well, these will all do!)

She then proceeded to go inside her booth and ignore me. I had to call her attention thrice for me to be able to buy the long-stemmed rose she suggested. I asked for a card, she flatly said they charge for it.

Me: How much?

She: Kinse pisos! Ipawrap pa ni nimo??? (P15.00, you want me to wrap this?)

Then she proceeded to wrap it in this shiny violet paper, not waiting for my answer. I finished writing on the card, and had her tape the card on the shiny wrapping. I gave her back her pen, and handed me my change.

At this point, she was plain hostile towards me. I don't know what her problem was, there was no time.

Because at this point, I could see that she was clutching the ballpen in her left hand, pointed tip out.

Clutching it tightly.

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How Well Do You Know Alvin Dy?

2004-05-19T15:09:00.000+08:00

(Ganja Note: Actually 27 people were suckered into taking the quiz. Just a note, what I actually seem and what I actually am are not the same. Also, I like a lot of things, but I like only a few intensely. :) Most of you argued for your answers, yes they were correct, but not the degree of intensity differs for each choice. The top choice got 10, and second got 8, third got five, fourth got 2 and for those that are not true, the score is 0. For example, I don't have a journal, or a computer. I don't go into internet chatroom for sex! SHAME ON THE TWO OF YOU WHO REPLIED THAT! I like making fun of nukus (only 2 points), it's guiltless backstabbing, but I don't care enough for it to hate it. And yes, I do masturbate when am bored, but I actually prefer doing something productive, so you get two points. Besides, I masturbate when I get the chance hahaahah not just when am bored hahahaha... And yes, my real name is not Alvin John Dy.)
Quiz results
These are the results for your quiz "How well do you know alvin dy?" which you recently ended:

Score: Name:

69 - riza Congratulations!!! You win a new CARtolina!

68 - burn.me

66 - MM

64 - jimvic

63 - iris

61 - freya

60 - pauwiks

58 - Joe

55 - tapotpot

55 - J. Crewz

54 - alona Dy

54 - luwell

54 - edem

54 - jon

52 - rizands

51 - weeeej

49 - beeyotch

47 - jeno

47 - doraemon

44 - :P

Happiness, Adjustments, Donna!

2004-05-19T09:59:00.000+08:00

----- Original Message -----
From: donna cuizon salcedo
To: aileen@cannoncreek.com ; emi@cannoncreek.com ; bernadette@cannoncreek.com ; alvin@cannoncreek.com ; wendymejares@yahoo.com ; ronald@asia.bigfoot.com
Sent: Monday, May 17, 2004 10:09 AM
Subject: hi!

Hi Guys,

I know I have been delinquent in sending you emails but kabalo man mo na tapulan man jud ko concerning writing emails (right, Ayin? ). So how are you guys? I'm doing fine. Yep, fine and just about ready to pull my hair out from its roots from boredom, kana lang. Echel, and I thought that a month-long vacation would be heaven. Didn't know channel surfing through 300+ channels can be a skill but i can do it all in under 5 minutes. Batong bato na ako, hehehehe! I gained 7 pounds my first week and now fighting like crazy to shed it off. The wedding is on the 22nd and I can't have Ronald's masterpice of an obi belt not fiiting me. Pagka layshu sa dress. I feared I would look overdressed for the civil ceremony pero Andy arranged for us to be wed in the Court's garden. It will be a very simple wedding with only Andy's family and the closest friends present.

Virginia is really pretty, the vegetation is different and it's not as bustling as New York. I will send you all pictures when we've downloaded them all in the computer. Every day, I ask myself the supremely important question of where to go -- the park or the strip mall. Yep, only two choices and both of them involve walking for about a mile in separate directions (diba pagka unheard of before na si donnabel maglakaw but la choice ang gwapa kay la man wheels). And since hadlukan man me to take public transport, basin mamemorize na nako ang kasuluksulukan sa park and the mall. Avoiding the mall these days kay the chinese guy working there seemed suspicious of me, he saw me a number of times already and probably thinks na mag shoplift ko or whatever. Echel, he's always around when I wander in the shoes section! Pwede managpa og salesman?

I've been here three weeks already and la pa jud ko ka meet og neighbor. Our apartment is considered the basement kay sloping man ang ground. The builing is always quiet pero nice ang patio especially since the weather has grown considerably warmer. When I got here it was very cold, at least for me it was. Bisan nag t-shirt ang madlang people nag jacket jud ko wherever I go. Pirme pa jud ko gipanuhot, ahak. Made me wish I was one of those people na magdalag efficascent oil wherever I go . Unsa na lang kaha akong kalaki during fall and winter. Spring and summer temperatures here are just like sa Pinas but with less humidity.

I hope I get a job soon. I still have to wait for my social security number though. It will probably come this week. Two nights ago nag hostess with the mostess ko in Andy's resto. Absent ila hostess so he asked if I would like to help. Lingaw cya, dakilang hi-hello-how-are-you-doing and how-many-are-in-your-party job. Pero makabuang ang food. Good for three people ang serving. Sakto jud ka, Em. The problem is not supply, it's distribution. I don't think there was ever a time na nakatunga ko og kaon sa ilang servings. Kanyahay ra na popular feeds ang mga people here. Emi and Aileen, maglisod jud mog shop for clothes here. Wala kaayo petite section. At least Berna is tall enough. Pero lisod japon mangita for the small sizes. And pagkalahm sa prices. A "cheap" t-shirt is 10 dollars, ang quality ka-level ra sa mga tag 99.95 diha. Pero the shoes and the bags are beautiful. Mga signature knock-offs only for 10 to 15 dollars.

Hmmmmm, time again for the walking exercise. Echel panington na sad ko. Kung di lang ko afraid na mababoy mo puyo ra jud ko and magpabiling couch potato. Bye for now. Say hi to the rest of the second-room people for me.

Donna

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Lessons of the Week

2004-05-19T09:45:00.000+08:00

I can be wrong too. I knew it before, it just escaped me. The thing is, I always think highly of the opinions I form that I don’t usually change them, unless there is reason too. But well, I am human after all. And I can be wrong.

I can swallow my pride. Goodness, it’s probably the most humanizing thing I have experienced since those absurd reality TV shows. It’s a good feeling.

Yuck can be a fashion statement, too. Let’s see, it’s ok to express one’s individuality, be it by the way you speak, move, or dress. But come on, at least have the decency not to shout out that you’re a fool. Expressing individuality and going against conformity is a nice statement, but it’s another thing to want to become the laughing stock.

Imagination IS a better storyteller. And it is wicked too.

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Aileen (Friendster Testimonial Series No. 2)

2004-05-19T08:16:00.000+08:00

(Ganja Note: These Friendster Testimonial Series are deliberately not in order. Wala lang, Trip.)

Aileen has got to be the most free spirited person I know. She has this zest for life that is tempered only by her prudence in everything she does. Yet, she looks out the window and not see the smog and traffic, but the skies that beckon to her.

She is one of the bohemian personalities that helped enriched my life, and taught me to be contented. You don't need lots of money to live comfortably, you only need lots of happiness. And that happiness could come from living, loving and being content.

Aileen, in the many months I've been with her, has never been heard to complain big time. Oh sure, she has her share of little things over which to gripe, but she lets it go.

She also has the purest of hearts. She sees the best in every person, and while seeing the flaws in that person's heart, she chooses to accept it. She can understand, she can even cover up for the person's flaw. And she doesn't crystallize impressions. But that doesn't mean that she can't be headstrong. She can be if she wills to.

These, coupled by her inbred, and inborn intelligence and wit makes it easy for you to see her successful. On a beach, selling hotdogs under a canopy of blue skies and warm beach sand.

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Halika

2004-05-17T23:59:00.000+08:00

halika.
tsupain mo ko.
namnamin mo ang sarap
na ako lang magbibigay sayo.

palibutan mo ng mainit
na laway ang kabuuan ko
akitin mo ko ng iyong mga mata
baliwin mo ko sa sarap

halika.
pasadahan mo ng dila
habang ako'y nakapikit
dinggin mo ang aking halinghing

halika.
hawakan mo ako ng mahigpit
yapusin mo ako sa init mo

dalhin mo ako sa rurok,
at magpakasawa kang inumin
ang lahat sa akin.

at iwan mo ko
sa lalim ng malamig na gabi.

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Joe's Slayerisms

2004-05-17T14:39:00.000+08:00

The resident wife-junkie strikes again. Joseph is an out-and-out romantic, you should read his blog (see the Joseph Raganas link below the smokemyganja logo, yup the one with the cute cute pic of myself). If you are in love, you'd appreciate his witty open to the public love notes to his wife. If you're courting, you might wanna try to copy his Joe-isms into your own love letters and get that coveted, "sige na nga let's fuck." Este, that's my coveted response anyway. If you're heartbroken, stay away! You'd feel so unloved that you might want to (1) jump off the highest building in your city, or (2) stalk Joe, and propose marriage.

If you decide to do #2, Joe is under my talent management outfit. You'd have to go through me. Joe also offers computer graphics and animation lessons on Saturdays.

Joseph Raganas can be reached through smokemyganja@yahoo.com bwahahaha!

On to the Slayer-isms. Or Joe-isms.

When you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

No one has ever loved anyone the way everyone wants to be loved.

True love cannot be found where it truly does not exist, Nor can it be hidden where it truly does.

I love you with more of my heart, that none is left to protest.

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Charcoal Grill

2004-05-17T10:42:00.000+08:00

So Saturday night came, and with the promise of Butch pouring in P1,000 of his first salary at BigFoot, Creekers braved a light drizzle (sorry, couldn't make it more dramatic than that) and descended on Charcoal Grill.

Butch, Joyce, her friend, Berna, Martin, Paulo, Freya, Julie, Christian, myself.

It was typical Monday Lunch really. But then again, that's when you really appreciate the people here at the Creek, or used to be here at the Creek. You can't help but be awed by the intelligence and the varied backgrounds of people lurking behind, beside and near you.

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HERO: Color-coded memories (Asian DVD FilmFest, continues)

2004-05-17T10:35:00.000+08:00

After watching Troy, any movie would have been better... well, am sorry, but watching Hero, with Jet Li and Zhang Zi Yi, I can't help but seeing Godzilla trample American buildings. This is by far the best-made, best-told, best-everything movie I've seen in recent months. Oh wait, I think I just made it seem that Hero is good only in contrast to Troy, but nope, Hero is a marvelous film.

The story is simple enough. It is set in the period of China's warring states. Li is cast as Nameless, an assassin who yields a very fast sword, Chinese shorthand for I could kill you in less than a second, and all your miserable guards and servants too. He pays the king of Qin a visit. The king of Qin by the way is the first emperor, having conquered and quelled all the other six states, and established the Chinese empire.

Ganja Note: I still remember our Po-Chiong (Chinese History) teacher making us memorize the names of the seven states, the countless dynasties, and for the life of me, all the kings, and eventually, emperors of China. But Po-Chiong was never this much fun.

Anyway, Nameless pays the king a visit, and presents him with a broken spear and two swords, which belong to Sky, Broken Sword and Flying Snow, three of the king's most wanted enemies, and the most ruthless assassins. The king is impressed, and asks Nameless to tell the story.

He did. And we are treated to flashbacks full of vivid color, or lack of it. Amazing narrative, dreamlike presentation, and of course, amazing swordsplay, martial arts and scenes worth capturing on stills, framed, and admired. It seemed like watching an art exhibit in torrents of film frames, each one worthy of frame and gallery space.

Anyway, as Nameless tells his story, the details become muddled. It turns out that Nameless has an agenda to kill the king, and that Sky et. al., had been cohorts. The plan was to play a charade in front of the king's men, kill them to get a reward. The rewards by the way included gold, lands and getting closer to the king, who was very wary of attempts on his life. Apparently, Nameless' specialty was not only a fast sword, but he could kill anyone within 10 paces. So he needed to kill at least two assassins to get with 10 paces of the king. The king figured it all out, and the story becomes clear. The truth has been told.

I really like the fight sequences. This is Jet Li. This is Fong Sai Yuk of Once Upon a Time in China, Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. This is Wushu's god. Again, this is THE Jet Li. No need to elaborate on his skills -- martial arts, fights, and acting-wise.

The other stars were equally good too. Maggie Cheung held her sword and grace, and danced with every movement. It helped that she had that classic, and seemingly eternal, Chinese beauty. Her eyes told torrents of emotion that no amount of dialogue could satisfyingly replace.

Zhang Zi Yi, she of the Crouching Tiger fame, continues her bad girl-good girl streak. I have always found her a good actress, and Hero crystallized my impression of her acting. She fights well too, although in this movie, it is her acting that gets the spotlight.

Tony Leung is by far the best asset this movie has. His restrained acting and effortless delivery of lines (think wisdom from an old man flowing forth) was precious. Even in his supposed death scenes, or in pain, he doesn't over act. As with Cheung, it is his eyes and non-verbal movements that makes his performance great. Leung and Cheung make a great pair, they speak well with their eyes, and they make you feel the love that they have for each other. In the end, when they do a Romeo+Juliet like scene, you can feel the heartbreak reaching at you from the screen.

The special effects are awesome. You get surrealism without compromise. The effects are better than Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. The fight scenes, in which most of the effects happen, turn out better -- enhanced -- by the flawless effects.

Cinematography-wise, Hero doesn't disappoint as well. It takes the viewer into plush lakes, the Chinese autumn, the Imperial Palace. It aims to awe, to appeal to the aesthetic values that we have, and succeeds grandly.

Costume design was well-thought. Indeed, each narrative had its own color. Grey, red, green, white, black... the colors are vivid. There is only one word to describe the visuals, SPECTACULAR.

The movie's best moments for me:

Zhang Ziyi and Maggie Cheung's fight scene. They were wearing red, contrasting magnificently with the golden autumn leaves that falls all around them.

Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung's real death scene. When Cheung asks Leung why he didn't defend himself, and Leung says "So you'd believe me," you'd feel the emptiness, and grief in Cheung's heart, and see it in her eyes.

The Imperial Palace exterior is superb.

Everytime Maggie Cheung "dies." She looks awesome when she's "dying."

Everytime Maggie Cheung is onscreen.

I rarely do this, I rarely gush and rant for movies, period martial arts movies at that, but I give HERO, and everybody behind it a perfect 5.0.

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Asian DVD Filmfest

2004-05-17T09:49:00.000+08:00

Had an Asian DVD Filmfest yesterday.

The weather sucked big time, and truth be told, I found myself asleep till 10AM, then had gone through my laundry, finished at around 1PM (lunch was served at 12NN by a surprisingly diligent, up-and-running, I'd-do-all-the-work-today Max Luwell). Cleaned the room which was covered in millimeters of white dust (from the anapog that covered the fields outside) and clutters of clothing, empty bottles (Luwell's), empty cigarette packs (mine) and receipts from different stores for different items (ours.)

I found myself alone by 3:30PM with nothing to do. Luwell went out to go to church. The weather told every living cell in my body to stay put and sleep. It's just that I couldn't. So I fired up the TV, JVC and the DVD and watched...

Inner Senses

I mean like wow. I bought this movie because of two things:

(1) It's a ghost movie, which I -- with my penchant for the macabre -- really, really favor and prefer over love stories anytime, anyday.

(2) The lead star, Leslie Cheung, is dead. He committed suicide shortly after completing this film. And I -- with my penchant for the macabre -- heehhe, I already said that, has this morbid curiosity as to how he was alive. Oh, did I mention that Cheung was openly bisexual? He leapt off a hotel, left a note to his "long-time companion" and Hong Kong went berserk. Apparently, in the movie, he almost leapt off a building. Shades of Julie Vega there huh? (Am thinking of Halina Perez, only that I didn't get to, and have no plans to, watch whatever her last movie was.)

And so, the verdict?

I actually liked the movie. It reminds me of the Sixth Sense. The scare factor though was a little below par, but then again this is not your scream-a-minute film. It's not a pure ghost story after all, not mindless drivel, but a psycho-thriller. The story centers around two characters, Jim Law and Yan Cheung. Jim is a psychologist who doesn't believe in ghosts, Yan sees them.

Yan's problems run the gamut of GenX psychic angst. She was abandoned by her parents, virtually no familial support aside from a cousin, leaky faucets, a crazy landlord, a failed relationship, and oh, did I mention she sees dead people?

So doctor-patient goes through the whole therapy and actually falls in love. All is well right? Until Jim himself sees ghosts.

It turns out, and it was wonderfully built-up throughout the earlier part of the film, that he has a past. Now conscience is catching up with him. No giveaway there, really.

The nice thing about the movie is that everything that happens, and this idea is explicitly expoused in the movie, could be explained by science. The mind, and the universe, being infinitely powerful and infinitely difficult to understand can play tricks on you and makes you perceive something that is not there.

Are there ghosts? Could be. But it could also be your mind and defense mechanisms doing it for you.

I specially love the way the movie treats the whole science of psychology. If you are a student, or practitioner of psychology, this movie would be a fun watch. It's not Japan's Ringu, but it's still a good scare. And it tells you to control your inner demons, which may turn out to be the scariest movie of your life.

I'd give it a 3.95.

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Kita Panty, or Troy

2004-05-15T10:00:00.000+08:00

Heads up: The link for the Daniel Pearl and Nick Berg videos have changed:
http://www.fobiopatel.com/dongles/archives/000748.php

Troy

Watched Troy with three girls and about a theatre-full of Cebuanos.

Ho-hum. You get to see Pitt and Bloom half-naked. Yawn. I mean, so sorry Pitt fans, and Bloom fans, but it was nothing special. Bana for his part didn't show more than his chest hair, and he came out sexiest. There were lots of kita panty (panties showing) scenes here too.

Really, I was like conked out at some point of the movie, the only thing that kept me awake was my seatmate nudging me and telling me not to fall asleep.

Still, it was inspired by Homer's Iliad, not an easy task to push really. But there were times in the movie that you know which ships were computer generated, and which part of the armies are not real. And at times, the color was so bad that some scenes looked like it came from the digitally remastered version of Ben Hur.

The dialogue TRIED to be profound, memorable and poignant. It failed. At times, the cheesiness was so pimiento that you think Carlo J. Caparas ghostwrote the lines.

And what's with this you fuck me and kill my cousin and I cry for you thing? The movie skewed sense of honor and made it seem stupid to uphold your honor. More than that, it put a premium on a twisted sense of familial loyalty.

The movie went for realism. Gore, blood, emotions. Funny, the Iliad was supposed to be romantic and poetic. But hell, it wouldn't have been THAT bad had the people behind the movie actually came close to succeeding in depicting the "epic" realistically. What's more this is a no-brainer film. If it were a bit more entertaining, I would have forgiven it. But no, the director and the screenplay writer didn't put in any degree of intelligence into the film. At one point, I was trying to convince myself that it wasn't a Disney/Pixar production.

The acting? Pitt was ok. Well, some scenes made me think of Se7en, and his too deep murmuring voice was a nuisance to listen to, but generally Pitt was good in the film.

Bana was revealing. He was subtle and passionate. No overdoing it. Just pure and simple non-OA brilliance. He was... uh, almost motherly. Yeah, motherly in a warrior's role. And I think this is the only thing that saved the movie from being written off as pure trash in my book.

Bloom should have stuck with LOTR, a movie I didn't care to watch. Bloom had tics, and half the time he acted like he was a blubbering idiot. He had this nervous twitch which he passed for acting, for no reason at all. I mean, if you guys wanna make a really good movie out of Troy and don't want to reshoot any scene, minimize Bloom's appearances, maybe retain only the part where he killed Achilles.

The three girls were great as well. Too bad they were made into background characters in this obviously testosterone driven movie.

Oh wait, more than Pitt, Bloom and Bana, the best actor in this film would have to be the one who played Priam. Masterful, noble and again (in sharp contrast to the rest of the film) -- subtle. He should have given acting lessons to all the other three, specially Bloom (Orlando Nervous Tic Bloom).

I hated the movie. Save your money. I rate it 1.54, 5 being the highest.

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False Alarm

2004-05-15T09:26:00.000+08:00

A cousin had his first taste of adulthood these past few weeks. SC (not his real name) thought he got a girl pregnant. He met with me the other night for dinner, and over it he recounted how he found himself in a waiting room outside a gynecologist office. He was waiting, beads of sweat and wild thumping heart for test results that could change his life in ways he didn't even want to comtemplate.

The girl, his friend's girlfriend, was more relaxed.

They did it four times, according to him. I didn't dare ask if it were condom failure. But it seems SC subscribes to the Filipino notion of machismo: it's not as pleasurable with condoms. Besides, being the sexually naive person that he is, I didn't think he would have thought it would happen to him. Him, with his stories of his conquests that reeked of cow manure.

Anyway, at 5:36PM, he had started calling out to all the saints to thank for his relief. The test was negative. The girl was not pregnant. I launched into the usual lecture. No, I wanted to. All I could say was: remember the feeling that Saturday afternoon, Bro, and if you ever get the urge to stick your thing into some girl again without protection, think of the agony you went through.

I didn't want to tell him of the embarassment of going through buying penicillin for whatever he might catch with unprotected sex. I think he's intelligent enough to know that. But then again...

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The Viridian Room

2004-05-14T13:48:00.000+08:00

Remember the Crimson Room, that nifty flash game wherein you navigate through a room to try to get out of it? Remember how much fun it was wracking your brain and spilling up all rationale for you to get out? Remember how good it felt for you to be able to get out, finally -- after like 7 hours -- and then listing your name among the escapees list? And then finding out that you're like the one millionth escapee? Heheheh, don't sweat. The fun room has an adjacent room.

Toshimitsu Takagi has done it again, baffle puzzle game enthusiasts that is. The Viridian Room is now out, and again you have to escape from the room. However, there are no hidden safes this time. All you need is your wit and brains, and you'd be able to get out of the room.

And this kinda clears up the story a bit. It turns out that you're dead. :) You just have to play both rooms for you to understand what am saying.

The Crimson room is here.

The Viridian Room is here.

Good luck! If you need help getting out, leave me a comment!

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Blog Snob

2004-05-14T09:35:00.000+08:00

I am hooked on blogging. Not necessarily on writing entries, which I do almost once every other day, but on getting lotsa gizmos and what-have-yous for my blog.

I have just recently reformatted my blog. It has a blue on blue color scheme with some pastels and brights scattered around.

You all see the tag-board, the stat counter, the buzznet account, the... hey that's about it.

Well, I am adding Blogsnob, which is a random linker. Become a blogsnob by going http://blogsnob.simpleads.net/, and sign up, add the snippet of code and then, well, you get a link to a different random blogsnob member everytime you access your blog... and your own blog gets linked to other blogsnob members too, by random.

It's one way to get people into your blog, hopefully one of them likes your entries so much they'd offer you a book deal.

Yeah.

Right.

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God is the Greatest?

2004-05-13T13:14:00.000+08:00

Just saw the Nick Berg execution video. As an added bonus(?!) I found the Daniel Pearl video too. Leave me a comment if you want to have one emailed, it's a big file though, the Berg file is around 4MB, and the Pearl file is like 5MB plus. So if you're gonna give me a yahoo.com or hotmail.com email address, no dice, it won't hold the files even if you clean out everything. You can go and find it on the net, it's just floating around anyway. Or you can follow the link at the end of this entry.

Be forewarned though that as gruesome and perversely graphic as the videos are, the thing to watch out for is yourself. I mean if you're not queasy, you wouldn't even think of even trying to find the videos online. A human life snuffed, and his body desecrated -- mutilated -- well, that's what gets to you. You see utter lack of respect for life, innocent or otherwise. It incites hate and disgust in you. It reinforces your view that man is evil. You hate all fools who think that Islam is their license to killing people.

By now, you may know that Nick Berg is a 26 year old American telecommunications expert. He was captured and beheaded on video. The most chilling aspect of the beheading was that it was done with Berg ALIVE. He was sitting, hands hogtied at the back, while five men stood behind him. The man in the middle was reading a petition for their demands, when he finished, he pulled out a knife, screamed "GOD IS THE GREATEST!" or something like that and proceeded to cut Berg's throat. The rest of them held him down. It took, what, 9 repetitions (cuts from the front of the neck, circularly threading to the back of the neck). Berg was alive for like 30 seconds, screaming in agony and pain, this amidst the cacophony of background noise. And like less than a minute later, the man with the knife proceeds to hold up the severed head.

Gruesome ain't it? Grisly. The thing is, Berg was ALIVE. Pearl was uhhhh, luckier. His captors had him dead before beheading him. To wit, Pearl was a journalist. His captors lured him by promising an exclusive interview. That got him beheaded. If you have time, you can visit the Daniel Pearl Foundation here.

Posterboys for the anti-war crusaders. It's really just a fucked up thing that makes me want to puke at the leaders who stay behind at home, in the comfort and warm company of their families, telling another's son, brother, father, sister, mother to hie off to Iraq and do some reconstructing.

To be honest, I am not outraged at the video. You want war, you should expect this. US Senators who got the priviledge to view these abuses, killings and sexual, are expressing horror and indignation and anger at the incidents. The same ones who could probably stop the whole mess if they want to. Yup, am not outraged at the video. I am craving for more. How about a video with Bush in it? Let's see it.
Links to the videos:
Nick Berg (requires Windows Media Player) ::::: Daniel Pearl (requires RealPlayer)

Aside:

From the source of the videos:

I am unsure of why I am hosting these video clips. It just seems right, and necessary. Nick Berg and Daniel Pearl are heroes for forging progress in struggling regions through their martyrdom from the very people they sought to help.

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The Reason - Hoobastank

2004-05-12T10:47:00.000+08:00

(ganja note: I really really really love this song. great guitars, great vocals, great message. magnifico!)

i'm not a perfect person. there are many things i wish i didnt do
but i continue learning. i never meant to do those things to you.
and so i have to say before i go, that i just want you to know

i've found a reason for me, to change who i used to be
a reason to start over anew, and the reason is you

i'm sorry that i hurt you, its something i must live with everyday
and all the pain i put you through, i wish that i could take it all away
and be the one who catches all your tears, thats why i need you to hear

i've found a reason for me, to change who i used to be
a reason to start over anew, and the reason is you

i'm not a perfect person, i never meant to do those things to you
and so i have to say before i go that i just want you to know

i've found a reason for me, to change who i used to be
a reason to start over new, and the reason is you
i've found a reason to show a side of me you didnt know
a reason for all that i do, and the reason is you

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Minglanilla Politics

2004-05-11T15:00:00.000+08:00

I spent Saturday night standing among a crowd of Minglanilla (south of Cebu) residents who trooped to the town plaza to watch the miting de advance of Kausaban Alang sa Kauswagan (roughly: Change for Progress).

Cool. Specially the vice mayoralty candidate, Jerry Cañares. It was easy to see that he was the darling of the crowd, which his supporters played up a bit. He was humorous, and he was with it. He was passionate, it was almost impossible to imagine him losing.

And the good thing was, they tackled the issues. True, there were slingshots of mud and shit thrown against the other side, but as they said, it was all in retaliation to the mud and shit thrown first at them. Anyway, they tackled the issues, but they didn't rely on their own hot breaths. They presented documents, photos, each one as interesting as the stories behind them (dutifully recounted by each speaker.) And they let the people draw their own conclusions, albeit it was very obvious to where they were leading. Nevertheless, these small town politicians concentrated on the issues and answering the issues raised.

Too bad am not a Minglanilla resident. They would have gotten my vote if only for the respect they showed for the people's intelligence. I enjoyed standing for more than three hours in the humid Minglanilla plaza to witness that at least, even politicos are maturing.

write a ganjamessage! i'd appreciate your comments!
write a ganjamessage! i'd appreciate your comments!

Welcome to the Jungle

2004-05-10T09:47:00.000+08:00

Today is May 10, and Filipinos all over the country are going to get out of their homes (it's a holiday!) and brave their respective crazy, cramped and crowded voting precints to make their voices heard. They are going to write onto a sheet of paper which people they want to have to screw them in the butt. And it's a very big commitment, it's going to be -- barring any EDSA uprisings -- a six-year whore-client relationship. Guess who the whore would be?

So much had been said about who the right man or woman is for the presidency, vice presidency, mayoralty, governorship, etc etc etc... I just wish those who took time out from their jobs, or school work, would not waste the time they have to endure standing in those long hot lines outside the COMELEC offices. I just hope that God looks kindly on Filipinos, and for once in recent years give us the leader we not only deserve, but need.

I will not be voting today. I chose to forego my right and turn my back on my duty to become a dispassionate observer. I will not have my voice heard. I shall stand back and listen to what the people would be saying. And when the precints close at three, I shall watch TV and see who's winning. Is it Gloria, Ping, Poe? Gil? Villanueva? Or the Filipino people?

I am happy to live in this democracy where people can choose their leaders. He maybe another Marcos, another Erap, a clown, a fool, stupid, godsend, but at least Filipinos only have themselves to blame. Or praise. Truly, this is the day of judgment for our people. This is the day they show that they have wised up and matured politically and socially, and how. Or this could be the day they show their continued stupidity. And how.

Google Philosophy

Do No Evil.

Make the world a better place.

These are two of Larry Page's and Sergey Brin's stated goals for Google. You see, after lording it out in the search engine technology industry Brin and Page are taking Google public in an IPO that is guaranteed to make each of them multimillionaires.

Even if I have no interest in the IPO, I am deeply enlightened by their philosophy. Go on. Make it yours too.

Aside...

Happy birthday to the best cousin in the world, who would be celebrating her last birthday in Inayawan. This time next year, she'd be a certified Mandaue resident.

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Happy

2004-05-09T15:02:00.000+08:00

Skipped capoeira lessons last Saturday and bought myself a DVD, and an audio CD. Finally got Jet Li's "Hero" (with Zhang Zi Yi and Maggie Cheung, and Tony Leung...). The CD is kickazz. Am currently listening to it, and it has all these new cool songs (Naughty Girl, Beyonce; This Love, Maroon 5; Rainbow, South Border; The Reason, Hoobastank; I Melt With You, Jason Mraz, AMONG OTHERS)

Also bought the complete Superman series on DVD for Fritzie's birthday. She loves the movies so much, and has been unable to find them on VCDs when it was still the craze. I think she's now having a Superman marathon at home, that is if she's finished voting.

Epitaph

This is for posterity. When I die, I'd like people to remember me as a happy person more than cute, intelligent, witty, charming, or anything else.

On my gravestone, or crematorial urn, I'd have this etched: "If you do not have what you want, want what you have. That is the secret to being happy."

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Free Classics, online!

2004-05-07T13:08:00.000+08:00

Found a treasure trove of online classics. From Moby Dick to Hamlet, it's all here...

READPRINT.COM

Thanks TARA!

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I Will Survive

2004-05-07T02:21:00.000+08:00

I hate to think that I went inside a theatre in Ayala showing a Tagalog film. Oh geez, how bourgeoisie! This when everybody else where killing each other to get seats in Hellboy and VanHel.. uh, Van-something.

But really now.

I Will Survive is a film with Maricel Soriano, Dina Bonnevie, Eric Quizon and Judy Ann Santos as the leads. Joel Lamangan directs.

Think, uh, Sex in the City set in the Philippines.

Maricel was underutilized in this film. She plays a neglected wife who has to go through several gimmicks just to get laid by her husband (Jay Manalo). As usual, Maricel is superb, subtle yet splendid, as only Maricel could be. Anyway, she finds out that his husband has been frequenting nightclubs and fooling around with GROs. So the very Kris Aquino-esque scenario of contracting STDs from a philandering husband ensues.

Dina wants time off from her husband so she'd be able to become passionate again. But her main dilemma is with her daughter (Serena Dalrymple) who feels ugly compared to her.

Judy Ann's travails comes from both offspring and spouse. Her husband, having too many lonely nights in Australia, has a long-term affair with another woman. They have a love child. The woman died, the husband pays for all the expenses, and Judy Ann finds out about it. Her daughter, having grown up without them doesn't want to have anything to do with Mother and Father. So Judy Ann has to win her over.

Eric Quizon is gay (HO-HUM...). He has two sons, and he has a policeman lover (Reggie Curly). Anyway, his older son finds his policeman lover trying to kiss Eric's character outside the latter's gate. Older son confronts Eric, who then tells him he's adopted. Son goes and finds mom, and himself. Blah blah blah blah...

This being a Tagalog movie, you'd really have to expect that everything is forgiven 2 minutes before the credits roll in. Yeah, you won't be disappointed. The ending was not really that satisfying. It was like Joel Lamangan lost steam, and just hurried up and tied everything up with nary a sense of good storytelling or trying to be believable. However, the movie is honest in its depiction of what really happens in real life, and it's entertaining too. Nope, albeit Judy Ann is part of the cast, there is no scene here that involved over-the-top melodrama. In fact, if you'd disregard the burol (wake) scene, I don't think you'd see 5 consecutive streams of tears shed here.

I'd give it a 3.12.

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expectations.

2004-05-06T14:00:00.000+08:00

you dragged me here, with me thinking that you had something to say, only to sit across me -- no wait, not really across me, but to my left, yet on the other side of the table -- and stare at the seafood pasta i am eating. you look intently as i wipe the oil off my lips, as if you'd die if you don't get to enjoy the, uh, spectacle. you thank me for coming. i ask you what the invitation was for. we had ended it, hadn't we? we're not together anymore, isn't that what you wanted, so you could continue with whatever you were having with "louie" sans the guilt and the enormous effort of keeping everything from me? what is this for, then? my overzealous friend is texting me, asking me what i am doing here. truly, i am here for the free food, isn't that what you dangled and offered when you wanted to meet me here? and yes, it is the free food that i am enjoying, not your gibbering -- almost silent -- company.

and the thought that you wanted to say something.

my pasta is now half-gone. and you still haven't said anything of substance. oh, cut the crap about pavarotti, and sarah brightman already. i really don't care if they can literally sing their tonsils out into jupiter's orbit. screw the pleasantries, i do not appreciate having my work, life, friends and family scrutinized by people like you. cut down to the chase.

the waiter is refilling, like, my 6th glass of watery coke. and the oil from the pasta has now settled into the corners of this dingy white plate. still nothing. now you're talking about the moon, eclipses, meteor showers and comets. do you not see my eyes rolling into the back of my head each time you say ikleps, meet your showirs?

i thought you were going to say you love me, and apologize for everything that you did. and how you realized how stupid you really are for letting me go, and not being honest with me. no such luck tonight huh?

are you miserably confused as to why i am cold? what used to be flowing conversation is now only snippets of factoids that we both could do without. what used to be genuine boisterous laughter is now measured fake smiles.

did i just hear you apologize? nope, must have been the wind. yet here you are asking me if i had moved on, and what i am doing with my life without you.

anyway just to answer your question, i just like to make it clear that i have moved on. nothing really concrete, really. none of that mindblowing sex we enjoyed, or the numbing conversations afterwards, or the text messages we exchanged. but then again, looking back now, i am not even sure we had something concrete going between us then.

and no, you cannot hold my hand, that priviledge is not yours to enjoy anymore. enjoy my smile, it's free, but then again, i give that to anybody.

you are an idiot, only you don't know it.

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The Butterfly Effect

2004-05-06T08:25:00.000+08:00

Ashton Kutcher is best known for his countless rendezvous with Demi Moore. Their May-December gawd-fuck-the-age gap relationship has made entertainment column writers abuzz with doomsday predictions as to when they'd go bust. He's good at comedy, with a handful of laugh-a-minute flicks under his belt. She is a has-been with a flop for a comeback film.

Anyway. Kutcher stars and produces The Butterfly Effect. The movie is about this guy who discovers that he could go back in time and change his "blackout episodes." You see, Kutcher's character grew up with blackout episodes, wherein he doesn't remember anything that goes on. And these are almost always bad incidences that could alter his whole life.

And so he does. With each change in any of the blackout episodes, he changes his life, and those around him. The permutations and combinations are dizzying. And there would always be one of them who would turn up rotten (there were like 5 characters to think of.)

You were happy with me once. He says to the girl, who because of one change in the past had become a down and out prostitute and drug user. That caught my attention.

The thing is, the message of the film comes across poignantly, think of your actions and what their consequences will be. Your cowardice, pride, honesty, the ability to stand for what you believe in would always make a difference, and would determine if you'd fuck up later in life or be better for it.

Bernadette said that one of the flaws of the film was that it failed to established that Kutcher actually loved the girl. This is true. It would have been a whole lot more believable if the production had established that. However, the film remains innovatively fresh in its plot.

The ending? Nope, they don't end up together. It is not a Tagalog saccharine movie after all. I loved it. I give it a 4.7.

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Marina, the feeling is mutual!

2004-05-05T13:11:00.000+08:00

I really liked this. This was one of the 1,506 emails I received today. From an officemate. The original Cebuano is hilarious, but for the benefit of those who are unfortunate enough not to understand Cebuano, I have prepared a very rough translation, I just hope nothing is lost in translation.

Legend:
Original

Translation

(gikan sa usa ka konsernd nga lalake) kini akong gisuwat kauban sa akong mga amigang mga babaye...tanan mga tubag sa babae man o lalake, miagi kini sa masusi nga agtapok-tapok ug debati...

(from a concerned male)I wrote this together with my lady friends, all of the responses here whether from girls or guys went through a thorough discussion and debate.

1. Kung ang babaye magsakit ang dughan kay naa ka kuyog2...igat2 nga lain...da peling is mutual.

1. If girls get hurt if they see you with somebody, flirting with somebody, the feeling is mutual.

2. Kung naglisod mo mga babaye kay kulit kaayo mi mga lalaki sa pagpamisita...Dili baya lalim manguyab, mugasto, ug magpabaga sa dagway...so da peling is mutual.

2. If you find it difficult and annoying that we are so persistent in visiting you, remember that it's not easy to court, spend and not be embarassed (magpakapal ng mukha), so the feeling is mutual.

3. Kung gisamokan na mo nga mag sige mi ug opir nga kami dala sa inyo mga butang, hatod inyo balay... Ayaw sad mo lagot2 oi...di sad baya lalim sa amo parte...unsa na lang kaha kung gadala mo ug reprigereytor? Kami baya jud mualsa... so da peling sab is mutual...

3. If you're annoyed by our constant offers to carry your things, walk you home, don't show it. Remember it's not easy for us, what if you were actually carrying a refrigerator? It is us who would carry your things after all, so the feeling is mutual

4. Kapoyan mo sige mu kadawat ug text namo halos kada minuto... Amo baya na piso ug wa baya mi nangayo ug load...Di pa mo ana? pirmi mo mag ilis-ilis ug tone? So da peling is mutual...

4. If you're annoyed that we text you, almost every minute, remember that it is our peso and that we do not ask you for load. Wouldn't you like that as well? You could change your ringtone every so often. So the feeling is mutual

5. Kung mu sagyest pud mi nga pagsul-ob mo ug sayal, yaw sad mo kalagot oi...ganahan ra mi makakita ninyo nga nindot kaayo mu tan-awn ana kay puti man mo ug legs...kung pwede pa lang mi magsayal di kami na lang unta di ba? ... d sad bitaw mi mureklamo kung kamo mamili sa amo t- shirt... so da peling is mutual.

5. If we suggest that you wear skirts, don't get irritated. We just want to see you looking good, because you have very white legs. If guys could only wear skirts, we would, right? Besides, we don't really complain if you pick out our shirts for us. So the feeling is mutual

6. Ayaw sad mo dayon ka turn-off kung maka otot mi ug kusog...kalit ra to... mura sad mu ug dili mangotot da...It so hapen lang na poised kaayo mo kung mangotot...so ayaw mo turn-off dayn... kung kamo kaha ingon ana-on sad kung maka-otot mu ug kalit beh?..so da peling is mutual.

6. Don't get easily turned off in the off chance that we fart loudly. It was not intentional. It is as if you don't fart. It so happens that you are so poised when you fart. Don't get easily turned off. What if its you who gets to unintentionally break wind, and we do that to you? So the feeling is mutual

7. Ayaw mo ug uwaw-uwaw kung mangaon ta sa gawas...kung ganahan mu ug upat ka ekstra nga rice...padayon! Mas ganahan mi ana at lest we know ur apetayt...kami sad bitaw dili magduha2...mutual gihapon...

7. Don't be shy when we eat out. If you want to order 4 extra rice, go ahead! We like that better, at least we know your appetite. We wouldn't really hesitate. Still mutual.

8. Ayaw lagi mo ug kuhit namo kung makakita mo ug gwapo...wa mi maibog ana...unsa man, ganahan sad mo kuhiton kung makakita mi ug gwapa?...op cors not coconut! so da peling is mutual...

8. Do not call our attention if you find some guy cute. We don't find him cute. Would you like it if we do that everytime find a cute babe? Of course not, coconut! So the feeling is mutual

9. Ayaw sad mo ug kalain kung dukaon mi mag tan-aw mo ug MARINA...wa man jud mo moral leson ana...At lest kung mu tan-aw mi ug basketbol, we lirn sportsmanship... besayds, magduwa baya jud mi ana...Mag-swimming diay mo kahuman tan-aw MARINA?

9. Don't get slighted if we yawn while you watch MARINA. There is no moral lesson in that. At least if we watch basketball, we learn sportsmanship. Besides, we play basketball. Do you swim after watching Marina?

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My officemate, the kalesa.

2004-05-03T14:54:00.000+08:00

I am basically a very peaceful person. I love to laugh. I abhor discord... but then again...

If you watched Chicago starring Catherine Zeta Jones and Renee Zellweger, I am sure you are familiar with the CellBlock Tango. I am so shekay, relate ako to the first story in that song, the "Pop" story.

For those of you who isn't familiar with the CellBock Tango, it's a song sung by six women, each detailing how they got jailed. Pop, six, squish, uh-uh, Cicero, Lipschitz. Anyway, Pop (spoken and sung by the character named Liz) goes like this:

You know how people have these little habits that get you down. Like Bernie. Bernie likes to chew gum. No, not chew. POP!

Well, I came home this one day and I am really irritated, and looking for a little sympathy and there’s Bernie layin’ on the couch, drinkin’ a beer and chewin’. No, not chewin’, POPPIN'!

So, I said to him, I said, "Bernie, you pop that gum one more time..."

And he did.

So I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots...

...into his head...

At this point, the chorus pipes up, "He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame..."

Anyway.

I have this officemate who walks like she has hooves for feet. As it it's not clickety-clackety of high heels, it's so much like ... uh... hooves. This and that fact that she looks like a horse reminds me of a calesa running through the downtown market.

I tell you, it is not similar to the "normal" clicking of heels. This is deliberate forceful pounding of the marble tiles using shoes with incredibly high heels.

It is irritating, and it is annoying. It's like running your fingernails, all ten of them across a dry blackboard. Nay, this is running a nail clipper and pusher across the same blackboard.

Being the peace-loving person that I am, I just grit my teeth and exchange rueful looks with my officemate Au, who I think is wishing that I'd bite Calesa's head off.

The first time this Calesa thing happened, I was like amused by it. I found it funny. Berna found it funny.

But then, it wasn't funny a few days after. I complained to Janice and Edem and Berna, who contributed cruel stories about Calesa.

I wrote her an email which I never had the nerve to send, it went: "Dear Bitch, if you don't stop tapping your shoes loudly, I reserve the right to either cut your feet off or cut your head off..."

Nice, though, made a sign "politely" asking her to lift her feet gently. Then proceeded to post it on my computer, where everybody could plainly see it.

I took it down. But for a while there, the peace and quiet of the second room (where I belong) was not broken by annoying taps. It was shortlived though. Just this morning, she sashayed into and out of the room over and again, the taps louder than the hammers banging from the second floor (which is currently being renovated.)

The horse continues to make her chalkboard noise.

Nice and Edem once asked, "We tap our heels too, you know? What's the difference?"

I snorted, "Well, hers is way louder. Way annoying....

"And she's butt ugly."

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Monster

2004-05-01T08:50:00.000+08:00

Take two lesbian lovers (a very ugly Charlize Theron, and the always ugly Christina Ricci), mix with murder and emotions, and humanity, and guns, and a very beautiful story. What you get is this film.

My god.

Theron is superb here, it's no wonder she won the Best Actress trophy for this movie. She would have you believe that she's really the cocky, rage-filled serial killer that she portrays. Her character, Lee, or Aileen, believed that humankind is good, and all you need is a break, some of that kindness, and to believe in yourself. Oh well, this is the real world after all, and she soon finds herself actually eating up all her words, and well, murdering some of her clients (she's a prostitute.)

The best scene is where he killed that "good" man. The one who had a wife, who really offered to help her. You could see Theron's dilemma. She didn't want to kill him, he was the only person who showed her that mankind really was good, and he had been kind to her. Yet, she didn't want to end up in the slaughterhouse. So she killed him. One blast, one blank screen. Next we see Theron consumed by guilt.

Ricci? Never mind her. Though her character was pivotal (without Selby, Aileen would have not gone through a murdering spree. Selby was the one who pushed her to it by being the whiny "I am hungry" brat) the movie could've done better with a more experienced actress.

You should watch it. Aileen is not the bigger monster here. Selby is. I'd give it 4.2 stars out of 5.

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Last Song Syndrome

2004-04-30T10:38:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, I woke up to Faith's singing. She was wailing espagiti pababa bababa ng bababa (lyrics corruption hers). It was all I could do not to actually get up, get this really big knife we keep in the kitchen and slam it into her head, pointed end first.

While I laid there, blissfully resolved not to come to work, I couldn't get the damn song off my head. I was singing espagiti pababa bababa ng bababa (lyrics corruption mine now) in my head over and over and over, interrupted only by Luwell coming in and out of the room with only a piece of towel on, to which my mind would yell, AAAWWW! a-la Sex Bomb.

I took time off to watch DVD movies. I couldn't really enjoy them when I get home from work, since it'd be really late to start a one-and-a-half hour movie. Anyway, I was finally finishing up on Charlize Theron's Monster, when that damned song popped into my head again. I was singing it, espagiti pababa... while Charlize Theron was looking ugly on screen. I just couldn't concentrate. I stopped the film, went to the kitchen, found the rice bin empty, took my keys, went out and bought 2 kilos of ganador, a small bottle of gel, and went back into the house, washed last night's used glasses, rice cooker, pots and pans (slobs, I tell you), cooked the rice, heated the left-over pochero and crispy pata, and swept the floor. All this while my mind was singing that crazy snippet.

I nearly burst out of the house laughing. I mean I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop singing it, and at some point, I was dancing to it while washing those damned dishes.

There was only one thing to do. I took out the Sex Bomb Dancers back to back with Sarah Geronimo and the Masculados CD that Faith bought, and played the Spaghetti Song twice, at the loudest my JVC compo could dish out.

That stopped that.

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goodbye.

2004-04-27T13:24:00.000+08:00

anyway, i woke up this morning actually happy. i mean there was no filmy matter that blurs my vision the way that it has been these past few days, nay weeks. like gazillions of "muta", i was actually kinda clear-headed, instead of the hangover like wakings to which i was getting used.

thank you for showing me the real you. i admit it was one that i've expected. i just didn't expect that it would take such a short time for me to uncover it. i thought you'd make me an idiot enough and keep on playing your games, thinking am not wise to it.

and guess what, painful as it is, i have accepted it, and i have willed myself to move on. am stubborn that way you know. i can be the most forgiving, understanding and forgetting and idiotic person in the whole wide world, but there are times when my mother theresa personality takes a vacation to calcutta, and i turn into a stubborn bitch. that's just how i am. it just so happened that all those realization came in when i was in that stubborn bitch mode, worse, is that it was coupled with my don't bullshit-me-am-not-stupid mode. so there. you actually got a dressing down through text messages. i bet you didn't expect i could conjure such freakish language. me, the angel in your eyes. but i bet you didn't expect such anger too. i have kept it all well-hidden. i am an actor, ain't i?

and oh please, if you ever want to get back together, now is not the time to attempt it. to be honest, i find your belated adulation and profession of undying love laughable -- at the very least. and disgusting and pathetic, at its worst.

i never watched that vcd you gave me. oh thank you for the thought, it wasn't lost on me. but when you couldn't even give me a gist of what the movie was about, i had some serious doubts that you've actually seen it. then again, it was listed as one of your favorite movies on your friendster.com account.

you could goad and gloat all you want. laugh. do what you will. do now what you have kept hidden from me. just don't lie to me anymore, no, don't talk to me anymore.

do i sound bitter? i hope so. at least it would give you some consolation to think that i have been negatively affected by our break-up. shortlived and ill-fated as it was, i had put a premium on our relationship. funny huh? i, who had never cared for another human being in such a way as i cared for you. worthless creep.

do i sound bitter? think what you want. i think am being feisty. i think i am moving on. besides, i'd never tell you that i have never felt a feeling so liberating as i had the other day. i'd never tell you that i have always wanted to do the things i did, and that i have always wanted to say the things i said to you the other day. i just wish that there was some way to open you up and spill your guts on the cement floor.

i guess there's only two words left for me to say to you now:

goodbye.

forever.

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Chicago

2004-04-26T11:04:00.000+08:00

Hooboy. This one was a fun watch. There is no doubt, this is the best musical-based film that I watched, not that I watch musicals a lot. The good thing is that the DVD has subtitles, so you can actually sing along to the songs.

And the songs are very very very very good. From the very upbeat and catchy opening (All that Jazz) to the finale where you have both Catherine Zeta-Jones and Renee Zellweger tapping it out on stage.

My favorite is the Cell Block Tango, you know "Pop. Six. Squish. Uh-uh. Cicero. Lipschitz." It was one song of the you-go-girl and men-are-scum genre. Think Christina Aguilera, Pink, Britney in one song number. Kick ass.

The production is superb. I could only imagine how painstaking it is to adapt the film to the small screen.

The story is good too. It is so real life.

They could have replaced Richard Gere though, he stuck out like a sore thumb, and Oscar-nominated or not, I found his performance wanting -- specially in contrast to Zellweger who I think is the better actress (compared to Zeta-Jones, who came off as a drag-queen wannabe).

I have Kill Bill Vol. 2, Monster, Patch Adams and The Butterfly Effect lined up. Whew!

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Cameras

2004-04-25T14:36:00.000+08:00

If you check on your friendster.com account, you'd find that the CannonCreek Friendster (available through my own friendster.com account) has a new pic. Yeah, it shows almost all the kewl people (friends of mine) in the office looking up at the surveillance camera. Yeah, we had no digital camera around so we used the surveillance camera. The result was a very different picture, and one that am sure would have attested to the Creekers' resourcefulness. It's cool, I tell you.

My 3650 has a very bad resolution when it comes to low light, and group shot conditions. We did what few people had done, take the picture with a surveillance camera.

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Edible Ants

2004-04-25T14:03:00.000+08:00

ANTS.

Martin brought fried ants today. Ants eggs actually, with ants sauteed in garlic.

It tasted like fried peas, adobo flavor.

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The Celluloid World

2004-04-24T14:05:00.000+08:00

DVD

Bought myself a DVD player. Dunno, the emergence of DVDs in the office -- movies that haven't even shown in theatres -- and the clear quality of sound and video made me decide I wanted one. So I got one, yesterday. A pirated player for what would undoubtedly be similarly pirated DVDs.

I tell you if you're gonna buy a pirated DVD player, just ask which ones are the cheapest. The tindera told me that they are all the same, except that they change the brands. Go for the cheapest. The store where I bought my DVD player offered a one month warranty for parts and labor, and a lifetime warranty for labor. You can negotiate for a lower price too. No bullshit from the tindera, just get the cheapest models, and then get the most kickass looking one. Also bargain for freebies -- I got a free mp3 disc.

Anyway, it's a bulky package to haul through public transport. So I got home in a cab, took a bath, installed the whole thing, and called up Dan who has a 400-title DVD collection, all of which are pirated.
The first movie? Chicago.

I am happy. It is a good find.

Desiree.

Desiree del Valle went on nationwide TV to proclaim that she married a girl. I didn't see the buzz interview because I was out hunting for a DVD player, but I guess it would have been an interesting interview to catch.

Anyway, 2 friends of mine admitted to being bisexual. Kewl with me. My first question was, have you like done it with both sexes? One was a virgin. And the other was, well, tried and tested. After Asia Agcaoili and this other model came out on controversial to attest to the beauty of bisexuality, it seems to be the catch phrase in Manila. I am bi. I am bi. I fuck both guys and girls. Kewl.

Jona, who I talked to about this, remarked that she has a crush on Aiza Seguerra. What do you think of that?

Girls wanna be bisexual. Guys wanna be metrosexual. I am happy.

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Some piece of crock...

2004-04-18T13:33:00.000+08:00

From Laedeevee Gonzales, erstwhile officemate, current discussion groupie, future president of the Philippines:

When you are together with that special someone, you pretend to ignore that person. But when that special someone is not around, you might look around to find them. At that moment, you are in love.

Although there is someone else who always makes you laugh, your eyes and attention might go only to that special someone. Then, you are in love.

Although that special someone was supposed to have called you long back, to let you know of their safe arrival, your phone is quiet. You are desperately waiting for the call! At that moment, you are in love.

If you are much more excited for one short e-mail from that special someone than other many long e-mails, you are in love.

When you find yourself as one who cannot erase all the messages in your answering machine because of one message from that special someone, you are in love.

When you get a couple of free movie tickets, you would not hesitate to think of that special someone. Then, you are in love.

You keep telling yourself, "that special someone is just a friend", but you realize that you can not avoid that person's special attraction. At that moment, you are in love.

While you are reading this page, if someone appears in your mind, then u are in love with that person.

(Ganja Note: Shallow. But what the heck. It's ok to be high school-y sometimes.)

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Soundbites... Maroon 5

2004-04-17T10:51:00.000+08:00

...Clutching your pillow and writhing in a naked sweat Hoping somebody someday will do you like I did...

I just bought Maroon 5 from my favorite pirated CD vendor. I am telling you, it's the best thing that came out of the pirated CD racks since Evanescence. Maroon 5 has their own distinct sound, which they improve with each succeeding tracks. It has the hits This Love, She Will Be Loved and Harder to Breathe. It is basically a whole album on unrequited love and stupidity. The music ranges from deep jazz, to mild reggae, to pop to acoustic rock. Kewl vocals too, reminds me of a male Annie Lennox. :)

And oh, by distinctive I didn't mean the John Mayer type of song (you'd know a new John Mayer song because it sounds like Your Body is a Wonderland, think Tina Arena's Burn and If I Didn't Love You)

I rate it 4.83. For a comparison, I rate Britney Spear's Toxic a 3.5, and I dance to Toxic.

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50 First Dates

2004-04-17T10:49:00.000+08:00

This movie is fun. The premise is simple, Drew Barrymore is Lucy, who suffers short-term memory loss each time she wakes up. In other words, she can't remember everything she did before she slept. And Adam Sandler plays the commitment-fearing ... oh gee I forgot his character's name. Anyway, Sandler falls in love with Drew that he pursues her, and proceeds to make her fall in love every single day. This is a Sandler film, which means that there would always be ugly sidekicks, and singing.

Anyway, I enjoyed the movie for all its comedy, slapstick and otherwise. I loved the scene with Adam Sandler singing to the Beach Boys. I liked the Walrus and the Penguin.

I loved the way I didn't recognize Sean Astin. Having recognized him would make me think LOTR, which I absolutely cannot understand.

Drew and Adam has a good chemistry. I mean if they were in Pinoy movies, they would probably rival a Piolo Pascual-Rico Yan, este Piolo-Judy Ann and Rico-Claudine love team.

And oh, I loved the ending. Not some sappy Pinoy movie type of ending wherein Lucy would have fallen from some high ground, conked her head and got cured in the process.

I rate it 4.55 stars.

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Halang na Efficascent Oil

2004-04-16T22:52:00.000+08:00

Efficascent Oil

Aw Gawd.

Played hookey yesterday. Stayed home and actually watched Amelie on VCD, at a time when I should be in Colon waiting for a Mandaue-bound jeepney. Anyway, I went to the gym at 2PM after a very yummy lunch (FREE!) with friends.

And so.

My joints ached hehehe, I actually rode the bike for like 20 minutes (10 mins each time). Did my regular routine (exercise 2, which takes care of my shoulders, triceps and back).

Anyway, since it has been so long since I last pampered myself, I went for a whole body massage in Colonnade. Kewl cheap place. Blind masseurs. Efficascent Oil. I love that. The smell of it being rubbed against my already peeling sunburnt skin. The slight tingle of "halang" (minty? see discussion of halang after this) all over your body as gentle hands knead your tired muscles.

You know how efficascent oil moisturizes your skin afterwards? It does. And it's not the slimy and then dry feeling you get from lotion and other moisturizers. I wouldn't recommend it though if you have a very hot date.

Halang

I finally got the CannonCreek editors stuck and stumped. I asked a few handful of certified CannonCreek editors what the English equivalent of halang was (you know the feeling of liniments, not the food kind of thing).

Suggestions that were offered were: Salvy. Spicy. Hot. Minty. Blank stares. Confused looks. Sly smiles. Is this for your blog?

Martin said he felt hot. This while looking at me. Shivers. Dread. Argh. Yech.

If you know what halang is in English, do drop me a line. Heck, if you know what it is in Tagalog drop me a line. Basta it's the feeling you have when you put Omega or Efficascent oil. And no, it's not horny.

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Musings

2004-04-16T17:48:00.000+08:00

Musings

I wonder what it would be like to have to find a box filled with your childhood things. My favorite G.I. Joe (for the life of me, I forgot his name, basta he's the one with the beret, and has a vest open at the chest, and a knife on the outer side of the left leg of his pants), these little connectible crab claws which you can make into kewl belts and necklaces, uh, my old robot (a Daitutsu collected of a jet plane which becomes the head, a heli which becomes the upper torso and a cool car which becomes the lower torso and the feet), uh my journals, my rubber bands which I used to collect. I didn't collect much of anything when I was a kid, it was my oddball kuya's hobby to collect just about anything. He has stamps, rocks, coins, books, etc. It's what he does day in and day out. That is if he's not soldering anything on something.

I wonder just how many Cebu-based couples out there are having an orgasm right now. I mean, it's 10:16AM in Cebu. I guess half the population is at work, but I'd like to know. My guess?

28.

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Amelie

2004-04-16T14:09:00.001+08:00

It was like watching Ally McBeal's healthier counterpart. Funnier too. And less hung up.

Ok. Amelie is a story of a girl who had such a very different childhood and a very different life. She grew up with no playmates aside from her imagination. This stemmed from a comedy of errors which had her parents thinking she has a bad heart. Her dad reminded me my own dad, who doesn't show emotion, at all. She was schooled at home by a mother who later got killed by a suicide, and it was not even her own.

She "caught" a woman who jumped from the church tower.

Amelie grew up, moved out and worked as a waitress. The movie progresses to show Amelie trying to better the world through not-so-random acts of kindness. She admits she has schemes to make everyone's life better. But she neglects to uplift her own.

This is a not-so-ordinary movie. I loved a lot of scenes, and a lot of weird ideas. One scene shows Amelie on the rooftop pondering how many couples were having an orgasm at that time (fifteen, she counted after flashes of different couples in the throes of passion). I loved the uh, atmosphere. The color was off, but it was clearly intended. I loved the hypochondriac girl and the paranoid guy. Other characters abound here, each worth their own movie.

The ending? It's really quite obvious. Amelie finds love in the person of Niño. And finally, she gets to enjoy sex. :)

This is a must-see film. Even if you hate Ally McBeal-esque movies (you know surrealist type films), you'd love the characters, ideas. Even if the story is simple, it's not naive.

I rate it 4.99 stars.

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Random thoughts... after a long weekend.

2004-04-12T14:25:00.000+08:00

What a long weekend. I am burnt beyond recognition. This is what I get for traipsing, frolicking in the pristine (!) waters of Marigondon. It was actually an hour, at the most (well, 5 hours, but I spent most of that time off the water) but I think each epithelial cell I have is burnt to a crisp. My complexion is a lovely ... er, uh... pink. It's not bronze, it's not tan, it's not even rosy. It's pink. And the slightest touch hurts like hell.

I was in the office for Wednesday and Thursday, trying desperately to pile to overtime hours to get rich (mental note, at what they pay here, you'd never get rich getting a month's worth of overtime credits; mental note 2: my officemates are laughing at what I just wrote, sorry, it's an inside joke amongst us underpaid slaves). And then, Friday, Saturday it was a bachelor's rest dream come true.

I had all my white hairs, all 48 of them, pulled out. Had canned tuna and cheese for food for most of these two days. Had a friend over to watch one half of Chicago. Took up pastel painting lessons with Freya. Had a gluttonous session eating balut and iced binignit (Ginataang Halo-halo you snotty Manileño!). Actually, neighbors did in fact give us several platesful of binignit, lots of biko, and suman, and some other stuff you give out to neighbors when it's the Holy Weekend.

Actually watched a handful of VCDs. The Rock, 1/2 of Chicago, Gigi, The Exorcist. And continued on reading Violin, by Anne Rice.

It was just Luwell and I at home, so we pretty much invited all the village barkadas over. It was like having a bachelors' party, without the strippers (appropriately so!)

And then came Sunday. Easter Sunday saw me in Marigondon with Johnjohn, his wife DK, Richie, Carlo and Dan(ica). Whoa. There, I got burned. We had a feast. Lechon manok, barbecue, pork chops, tons of poso, Coke and what-have-yous. We got there by 11am, I think. We left by 4pm. I was in the water, and under the sun, for like an hour, at the most. But I am sunburnt. PAINFUL sunburn.

There was an abundance of pictures. Any outing where people have camera phones (my 3650 and Dk's 3660), digicams (Dan's), and instamatics (Johnjohn's) would be sure to have lots of clicking involved. My photos, pending Dan's and Dk's, can be seen at photos.yahoo.com/smokemyganja just click on the Marigondon Easter 2004 folder.

* * *

Woke up at 6:45 today to be informed by Luwell that a dead snake was lying in our gate (Photo in Marigondon folder too. :)) Hookay. In Inayawan, where there are fields and outcrops that outgrow a person, it is not unusual to see snakes slithering around. The brown thin snake (can somebody tell me if it is poisonous?) that was found dead on our walkway was actually the second that got into our gates. The first one was a green thin one, which our neighbor -- Rene before he was paralyzed by a stroke -- shot in the head and effectively killed. This brown one, longer than the green first one, well was uh, dead.

I don't know, but I have a feeling it didn't slither out of the fields to die on our walkway. I have a feeling that our underfed and underloved dog, Orry, was responsible for killing it. I mean, that bitch is a heroine. I am so proud of her.

And then the thoughts of actually finding it, not dead, crossed my mind. Horrors.

Fritzie my cousin, who found the dead snake was in near hysteria. She woke up Luwell, who then proceeded to poke the snake with a ten foot pole (literally) to ascertain it was dead. In Fritzie's words (in Visayan): "Imagina gud na mudagan ko para lang unta makagawas nako sa gate, niya manimbawot ang akong balahibo mudagan na pud kog balik? Kapila ko nagdagandagan! Si Luwell jud kay kanang dili niya matarog kau ang bitin kay gilainan siya. Naggunit na nag kawayan ha."

Translation: "Can you imagine me running back and forth? I was thinking of sprinting past it, but then the shivers and the disgust would come, I could actually feel it crawling under my skin, and then from sprinting towards the gate, I'd spin around and run back towards the house? This would happen a lot of times. Luwell was very funny, even with the pole, he was disgusted, that he couldn't touch the snake and move it."

My cousins are crazy. Just like me.

* * *

When I got to the office, I opened my Microsoft Outlook and proceeded to download 3333 spam messages, and 11 work-related mail. Until now, I cannot get over the number of penile enlargement, great sex and boobs enhancer emails I scanned through. My Delete Items folder is in bold, with the number 3333 beside it. Sheesh. The office mail system should have spam filters in place, but then again, am not surprised.

Friendster check. Kewl. 7 new testimonials, for my own personal account. It's good to pester your friendsters for testimonials at a time when most of them would be bored at home. Hehehe...

Also, I find out that Hulk and his Teddy Bear (a miniature Incredible Hulk and a plastic dinosaur rests on my table, together with a large dice and a Superman earth-digger. These toys keep me sane) had a little tryst over the long weekend. Tsk, bad Hulk.

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Fallujah Fangs

2004-04-08T14:21:00.001+08:00

Hooboy. Just saw the pictures and a video from the brutal Fallujah body dragging spectacle that has been hogging the headlines of almost all major dailies and fronting news broadcasts anywhere.

Gruesome. I cannot believe that this kind of hatred could come from a human heart. What the Fallujah mob did was animalistic and primal.

The area has been witness to escalating unrest and violence. Iraqi citizens have transferred their hatred from Saddam, to the Americans or anything associated with them. Even those working for the Iraqi reconstruction. Figure that one out.

Anyway, for you ninnies out there who have been hiding under the sandtrap in Boracay or Bantayan Island over the Holy Weekend, the story goes that four contractors were killed in their SUV in a rebel attack. The SUV caught fire, and RESIDENTS, yup people like you and me, not soldiers, not fanatics, not zealots... RESIDENTS went out into the streets, opened the SUV and DRAGGED the bodies out.

Hooboy. They were trying to save the four right? That's why they risked life and limb to get near to the inferno...

WRONG. These residents DRAGGED the bodies out, into the streets, decapitating the charred remains, and DRAGGED the bodies some more, and hanged two of these corpses from a bridge over the Euphrates river.

Still there?

It doesn't end there. These idiots saw a good photo op, they actually posed for posterity beside the hanged bodies, flashing smiles and victory signs. They were caught of film and tape stomping on severed heads. One shows a mob actually picking through an upper torso with shovels and sticks -- much like picking through dirty garbage.

I am for showing emotion. Psychology graduate that I am. I am for being true to what you feel. These people had/have relatives who were shot, killed or what by American troops. They have a right to be angry. They have a right to be evil. But there is this thing we all should adhere to, DECENCY. But for that you have to be human. These people at that moment were the farthest thing to being human.

They forgot that these corpses were actually people. Sons. Brothers. Husbands. Fathers. Lover. Friend. Not garbage. Yet, for all their pain and anger, they forgot the simple fact that they'd feel like hell if someone did it to one of their brothers. Their husband, father, lover, friend, son.

They were civilians. They were working for the reconstruction of their killer's land.

Ungrateful Animals.

Photos and news article here.

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I

2004-04-07T14:45:00.000+08:00

I am 27 year old biological male. I have two sisters who are, in their own way, as crazy as I am. I have parents for all their flaws and humanity is the best pair one could grow up with. I have three lovable nephews who seem to love tearing each other apart, and who have grown up in the last four years that I couldn't watch them grow up. I have two homes. One in Manila, which I never want to see. Another is in Davao, which I saw only once.

I have a home here in Cebu. With my cousins, we run a crazy household where food is almost always a supply exhausted in less than half it's budgeted duration. Where money is the constant worry, aside from hair implements and toothpaste.

I have a very challenging, if underpaying, job. My only pleasure is the loud RnB/Alternative/Rock/Pop music that gets piped directly into my brain through these little headphones Ronald left me when he left the company to work for Bigfoot. My only intoxication is having insane friends who talk about insane topics trying to be serious about it. I cherish the laughter and the giggles. I appreciate the tears and the emotions. Most of all, I am blessed by the love.

Days alone would find me in bed, nose buried in a book listening to the radio playing the latest top 20 hits. I have the fan on at number two, aimed directly to my face, that is if I am not puffing on my Marlboros which is about to kill me

I have my 3650 that keeps me in touch with the people I haven't seen in like years, and some who just passed by my office table.

I love the books that enriched my life... the movies that entertained me... the things we take for granted and the people who for some reason or another have come into and gone from our lives.

I have Albert, Merelina, Alona, Almira, Jead, Daniel, Jeno, Fritzie, Faith, Luwell, Lucresia, Maximo, April, Akho, Jona, Olive, Jed, Berna, Freya, Julie, Iris, Donna, Martin, Emi, Tara, Riza, Geda, Butch, Ronald, Edem, Janice, Cherry, Czacza, Migs, Myk, Carlo, Richie, Danica, Tisay, Gingging, Rimar, Ulyses, Jeffrey, Herzon, Dave, Allan, Abby, Grace, Paolo, Ningning, Christian, Niño, Mavy, Hayzle, Eileen, Jonjon, Jane, Tracy... A whole lot more whose paths crossed mine and made this life even more meaningful than it should have been, as it could have been.

I have God who loves me. I have love. I have loved. Have a blessed lent Universe.

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3.1415926.....

2004-04-05T14:56:00.000+08:00

e kung hindi ka ba naman talaga pinanganak sa isang putang ina eh hindi ka mabobo ng ganyan ano ka ba kulang sa putang inang iodine at putang inang vitamin c o naubos na ang putang inang protina sa utak mo sa sobrang dalas mong magjakol sinabi nang tama na yang putang inang kalibugan mo at lumalabas na ang putang inang utak mo sa putang inang titi mo o bakit iiyak iyak ka dyan e putang inang bakla ka pala eh putang inang babae lang gaganyanan mo atsaka putang inang akala mo ba napakaputang inang maganda na siya ha ulol titi mo lang nagandahan sa kanya ni mo nga napansin na kirat yung isang putang inang mata niya tsaka as if ka namang mahal ka niya putang inang mahal yan may asawa na yung tao putang inang apat pa ang anak di pa ba maluwang ang putang inang puke non eh gago ka palang putang inang ka eh anong hindi mo alam wag mong sabihing hindi mo pa kinakantot ang putang inang putang yun eh kung huthutan ka ng pera akala mo eh hindi ka sa putang inang cannoncreek nagtratrabaho ano ba akala niya mataas magpasahod ang putang inang kumpanya niyo eh ang yumayaman dun eh yung mga wag na nga nating pagusapan to putang inang nakakainis lang talaga pag pinaguusapan natin yang mga putang inang problema mo putang inang painom ka na lang putang ina isang case lang naman ano ba pinagdadamot mo putang inang ka

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Asides...

2004-04-04T15:03:00.000+08:00

I think my friend Freya stopped blogging because of the comments I made.

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Postscripts

2004-03-23T11:04:00.000+08:00

P.S. Martin had a great idea to walk after the badminton game, from AA's to Foodland. My mind was screaming, you idiot, you should have jumped into the backset of Bongkie's car!

P.P.S. I am sooo in need of a haircut. I hate my hair. It now falls flat when I comb it, it falls flat so much that I have to go for the mussed-up looked just so it won't seem like I'm trying to plaster my hair to my head.

P.P.P.S. I am considering moving out of the communal cousin home and living on my own, or at least with a roomie. I will tell you more about this when I get more juicy stories.

P.P.P.P.S. Watched the Pelikula at Lipunan. Well, one movie. Ho-hum. If it were any reflection of our society, all I could say is ...what a boring world we live in after all

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My life so far, these past few days...

2004-03-22T09:33:00.000+08:00

I have been neglecting blogging lately. It's not that I don't have enough material to go through, it's just that am often into something else in the office. Plus I don't have the time and energy to process everything when am at home. I'd just give you a run-down of what happened to me the whole time I was out of blogging commission.

Badminton.

Gawd. At P160 per hour, the badminton court in AA's A.S. Fortuna is an expensive way to be masochistic. Berna, Bongkie, Martin and I went to the court on a Sunday evening for three hours of undulating sweat. The court itself was spacious, private and well-maintained. It was not too warm, but it did lack air. Nothing wrong with airconditioning it, but I guess it beats the purpose of going there to sweat, doesn't it? Anyway, after like five doubles games and a singles game, my lungs (thanks to chain-smoking) was ready to give out on me. My head was screaming all the Cebuano, Tagalog, English and Chinese expletive that it knew, interspersed with a lot of TIRED (kapoy). So much so that in the middle of a doubles game, while I was volleying a barrage of shots from Bongkie and Berna, I involuntarily shouted "KAPOY!" Thank God I was able to return the shuttlecock into Berna's box, where -- in a fit of laughter -- it dropped to the ground. Score for us. At the end of three hours, we've played a lot of doubles, and a lot of singles, and I won a single set. Now after you sweat it out, you put it back all in. We ate. Rather, they ate, I practised Gluttony. Feasted on ngohiong, a BBQ chicken, some soup, one rice. That is what I could imbibe without risking looking like a pig. Needless to say, everybody was silent. We were all busy eating.

Gym.

Since March 02, 2004, I have been... errr, gymming? ...going to the gym regularly. Martin is my gymbuddy. So now you know, if I die out of exhaustion, who to blame... It's Martin. I am proud to say that although my fats and my fatty frame is intact, I have been sweating a lot in those one-hour/one-and-a-half-hour sessions. And I have been steadily increasing the weights... in increments of five. I am also taking this pill, Xenadrin, which helps burn fat. I don't want to dream, but I am hoping that by Christmas, I'd be able to go home to my Dad and look buffed. Hehehe... or at least fit.

Erich Segal.

Nights after my masochistic episodes at the testosterone club would find me at home, showered and poring over a book. I have just finished Erich Segal's "Love Story" and "Oliver's Story" Now I have read Segal before, with "Acts of Faith" and "Doctors." I liked both. But reading "Love" and "Oliver", I was rediscovering Segal all over again. I mean I don't usually read romance novels (the mere mention of Mills and Boons still nauseates me) but Segal leaves out the mush, and packs in the reality. Both stories are hip, if not Gen-Xey. I am looking for other Segal books.

Like Water for Chocolate.

The blurb touts it as a recipe book, home remedy guide, mexican telenovela, and fiction all in one. I call it delightful reading. The chapters are segregated by the months of the year, I have just started reading March. I can't wait till I get to November, which is my birth month. The thing is, Laura Esquivel weaves a nice story, fiction, yet surreal. You get to care for her characters, especially Tita. The narrator isn't even important, except that she is a niece of Tita, the main character. I have yet to finish this.

Something's Gotta Give.

I could live through life not watching old people making love. Well, maybe, not watching other old people make love, if ever in the off-chance I get older than 35 (what with my smoking? asa ka you!) This is romantic. Like Sleepless in Seattle for Senior Citizens. It's just that the supporting casts in this movie, Keanu and the daugther (who was she?!) do not know how to fight for their love. It's just that they easily let their respective partners go, just because... Stupid idiots. Anyway, Diane Keaton had a brief nude scene in this movie. It was awful. Jack Nicholson showed his butt, and boy, did I wish I hadn't seen that scene. Both maybe terrific actors, but after watching all that tight and firm butts on the Cold Mountain: Don't Let Me Die Till I Screw Ada screen... I had no appetite for soggy wrinkled raisins, este, butts. The story was good though. Nothing extraordinary, except that my seatmate, a quintessential female, kept on gushing over Keanu, and that funny (arthritic) way he tilts his head while trying to look cute. No wonder Keanu was able to snag Leo diCaprio.

Or is it the other way around?

Wishing Stairs.

The legend has it that if you're heart really into what you desire, you go up 28 steps of a cement stairway outside a dormitory, and a 29th step comes up, and you make your wish to the fox. Anyway, as Korean horror movies go, this was a screamer. Better than Memento Mori, which was also set in an all girls school, and also had lesbian lovers. I am beginning to think that Korean school girls have lesbian lovers and ghosts going after them. Actually, the story is quite believable, if you presume the legend is true. I love the gore. I love this film more than Memento. And I love the fact that one of the stars, the one who died, actually looked like My Sassy Girl's Jun Ji-hyun. This is one Korean horror film that is so good, it could pass for Japanese.

Lost in Translation.

HATED it. They could have retitled it "A Boring Day in the Life of Some Lonely Schrump"

Soundbites.

I know it's a bit too late, but you should hear Mandy Moore's rehash of "Can We Still Be Friends". Great piano, and considering that it's Mandy Moore, great voice. If you're the dancing type, hear out Beyonce's "Fighting Temptation". Typical Beyonce, but, really good beat... and good message too. Am so pakipot, I wanna do it with you, but not until I get over my pakipot thingy.

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The Crimson Room

2004-03-14T11:07:00.000+08:00

Just finished a puzzle called the Crimson Room. It's a cool flash-based puzzle where you have to escape using your wits, patience and ability to turn the room around eheheh... it's a nice game really for a boring Saturday morning. What's more you get into a list with other escapees. The puzzle is ingenious, but you need to think and click a lot before you could get through. You pick items up, unlock drawers find the secret safe, and for a moment watch a dancing man.

http://www.momchill.com/crimson_room.swf

If you need help going out, you can add your comments here, and i'd think about it.

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Cold Mountain: Walking Miles Just to Fuck Ada

2004-03-13T10:11:00.002+08:00

Saw Cold Mountain last night. Stupid stupid movie. There were only two redeeming values in the movie, Renee Zellweger and the gratuitious sex scene between Nicole Kidman and Jude Law.

For all intents and brutality, the story could be summed up by a statement. "Please God, don't let me die without screwing Ada." Cold Mountain is a disguised sappy romantic movie. You could add a subtitle to it. Cold Mountain: Walking Miles to Get Laid (even with those damn hot chicks offering up their pussies to me).

Renee is a revelation in this movie. I haven't seen Chicago and can't compare, but Renee's performance here shows you why she was named Best Supporting Actress. The acting from the rest of the cast were good too, except for anorexic Nicole who turned out a stiff one. So Up and Away.

Butts galore near the end of the movie. But it was justified. Besides, Fucking Ada is the be-all and end-all of this story.

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Channel Surfing

2004-03-06T12:01:00.000+08:00

Haven't really been channel surfing lately. I don't have the stamina... hehehe... the good news is that Charmed has all new episodes, as it finally came out of its penchant for reruns. I don't watch Marina. I was able to catch two episodes of Star Circle Quest though. This show had promise, although it needs a new set of hosts. I admit, Jodi is a fine actress, but she has a long way to finally get the pizzazz and wit of a good host. Watching another show with Lucky in it makes me sick to the gut. The contestants, and the mechanics though are good. But it feels like watching an expanded version of Star in a Million, which from the episodes I saw last January and February is rapidly losing steam (read: Karma sa ginawa nila kay Sheryn) Whatever happened to GKNB? Is it off the air? As I've said I haven't been watching TV lately.

I don't like to start watching Marina. It seems the people at home like it very much. Now with my gym schedule, I could catch Marina's tailend (pun intended) if I don't take a bath at night, which I don't wanna do because am all sweaty and hot after the commute home from the gym.

And oh yes, I have started "gymming". I am so new at it. Like it hasn't been a week. Hehehe, why am I telling you this? So that when I get tired and start feeling lazy and opting to go straight home, I'd be shamed into not going. Besides, with a monthly fee of P510, I'd better be buff by the year's end :)

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I feel sleepy...

2004-03-05T11:13:00.000+08:00

I have been pestering friends to read this blog.

I have been pestering friends to write me a Friendster testimonial.

I have been pestering my friends through text about myriads of things.

It's good to have "pester-able" friends. I love you all ;p

* * *

Just watched "Runaway Jury".

Better than the book. Superb dialogue between Dustin Hoffman and Gene Hackman in the Men's Room in one scene. Typical stoic acting from John Cusack. Sheesh. It would have been better if they got Jim Claviezel instead, or even that has-been Matthew McConnaughey.

* * *

I am now reading Critical Mass. It's not that great but it has promise, which is why it's taking me so long to wade through it. But then again, any book that comes after an Anne Rice literary extravaganza is doomed to pale in comparison.

Anne Rice continues to show her excellent descriptive prowess in Blackwood Farm. Again, she mixes her Vampire Chronicles, and her Mayfair Sagas, and came up with a superb book. Her two brats, Lestat and Mona didn't have much of an interaction here though. Am waiting for Blood Canticles to actually reach the local National shelves. It was not there the last time I checked.

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Soundbites: Beyonce's Baby Boy

2004-02-29T11:22:00.000+08:00

You should hear the Remix version of Baby Boy, with the heavy bass beat introing Beyonce with Sean Paul duttying dutty ya in the background... the best groove inducer.

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Dear Jona:

2004-02-28T10:42:00.000+08:00

You are so not blogging.

You are so not blogging.

But it's nice to hear that you're bored out of your skull. It's symptomatic that your body is not used to resting, with all the pressure and trauma and sex you've been inflicting on yourself these past few weeks, I wouldn't be surprised. That's what they call post gestative depression if you had been pregnant at the time.

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A Judge And a Hero

2004-02-28T10:37:00.000+08:00

There are only a handful of movies that make me sit up and watch quietly. One of which is another subtitled film, but with snippets of dialogue I could understand.

Judge Mom. Kewl one. I mean it.

The title is a little off-putting, two authority figures in the title, yawn. But the story and the film itself is a good deviation from the norm. It's no art film, or at least it didn't pretend to be.

Judge Mom opened the Chinese Film Festival at SM-Cebu last night. After a discriminatory line-up outside Cinema 1 where there were separate lines for ticketholders (suspiciously 90% of that line looked Tsekwa) and another for non-ticketholders, we were treated to a singing of the Philippine and the Chinese National Anthems.

12 years in a freaking Chinese school, and that was the first time I actually heard the Chinese national anthem played. Jeez.

Anyway, Judge Mom is a story of hatred, revenge and kindness. How a person's kindness towards even the most vile children in society could turn lives around. It's nicely crafted, with a different story.

My beef: It was all too much, with the Judge being too kind for comfort. Think Judy Ann Santos' Mara of Mara Clara, too mabait and too forgiving. You push her into the deep end of the swimming pool, she serves you hot coffee, with sugar. In effect the movie makes her a Goddess of Mercy (Kuan Yin Ma) with a very tolerant attitude. But this fact is established throughout the movie that it doesn't leave you wondering how she could have the same kids she sentenced in her own home. It's all too surreal.

My beef 2: The ending, while being heart-wrenching and nonetheless superb, was kinda hastened. I mean everything fell into place in an instant that it was better to have the denoument stretched. But then it's a drama, not Matrix 4.

Kewl movie. Oh I've said that already.

On a scale of 5 stars being the highest, I give it a 7.

Rizal the Man

If Judge Mom An Hui was "divinized" in the film, one contrast is Ambeth Ocampo's Rizal Without the Overcoat. It makes the national hero human in more ways than one. If only for the tidbits that you could pick up from this book, everything from Rizal's love life, assets, relationships, and glimpses into the everyday Rizal whose many flaws included patronizing prostitutes in Europe. Even Rizal's manhood (the size of which) was speculated on (that his talents and greatness were his conscious effort to compensate for his.. uh, ...shortcomings.)

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Shut Me Up

2004-02-26T14:54:00.000+08:00

(This is a reply to an article posted at Peyups.Com. I couldn't reply there, so I will post the same article here. Original article follows.)

Hokay. You dumb stupid shit of a girl. You who wrote your article on your lovelife in a way that would put Pulp Fiction and Quentin Tarantino to mind. How could you name yourself Vera, your loved one Ron, the other girl as Bea, and your ex Ryan? What kind of cockamanie naming system exists in your universe you uncreative little freak? Why not go for Star Wars names? Or singers? Enya, Yani, Groban and Charlotte?

You slut kissed somebody else's boyfriend. And you write your deepest longings and sexual fantasies like a romance writer in heat. In very unproductive and unhealthy heat. Good thing your little Safeguard conscience came on, albeit a little too late.

You immature and indecisive freak should:

(1) tell your sister how much of an asshole her ex really is;

(2) stop whining and get it in your sweet stupid head that he's not worth the trouble anyway. Romantic dreams of first kisses, and juvenile high school concepts of love doesn't carry you over in the real world, Honey. Wake up. And,

(3) for God's sakes, don't you realize that if you go through with it with Ron, he'd probably hump your other sister, or your mom, or your maid's ugly twin? If he wasn't even discreet enough to carry on with you while he was with your sister, do you think he'd be faithful to you, especially with other girls you don't know? Your own sister goddamnit! He knew you too much to know that you wouldn't rat on him, just because you have the itchy and scratchy hots for him. And you actually fell for it enough to cry over it? DUH?!

Would you like to go through life wondering if he's doing it with countless bimbos such as yourself?

Yours is not a story of love and sacrifice. It is one of stupidity and immaturity. This is why fairy tales are bad for kids, because they teach them never to grow up and stay illusioned. Like what you did. Like how you are.

The Article

Original writing could be found here:

Love Stories : Bittersweet Symphony
Contributed by mYstic_chIc (Edited by amplifier)
Tuesday, February 24, 2004 @ 01:36:44 PM (read 1086 times)
Print | Send

August 23, Saturday, 11:30 pm, at a party
“Come on, I know you still love him. I can actually see it in your eyes.”

“Hindi ah. Friends lang kami. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Hah, yeah, right. We’ll see,” she then took off towards the punch bowl leaving me in the corner.

Seeing me alone, he grabbed the opportunity. He walked towards me, maybe to have a little chat. Hopefully, little chat only.

“So, friend of the host or relative?”

“Actually, friend of the friend of the host. And you?”

“Friend,” he said then gulped his beer in a cup empty. “You never replied to my messages.”

“I was busy,” I answered. “I never really thought I’d see you here.”

“So did I.” Then a long pause.

I never was speechless around guys. But this time, I was speechless. Whenever I tried to speak, no words came out.

“Wanna dance?” he said, breaking the silence.

“Actually, I’m waiting for my…” then I looked for my friend and saw her grinding with a guy I know she just met. “Sure,” I said.

He was a great dancer. He was graceful. Then a slow song was played. Before I could leave the dance floor, he grabbed my waist and held me close to his muscular chest. I can actually feel his heart beating, slowly breathing, as if he had been anticipating for this moment. From the corner of my eye, I saw my friend smiling, winking and giving me the thumbs up. I just smiled an awkwardly. I’m not sure what was I feeling. Sure, I like the guy but this is wrong. This is so wrong. But it feels so right.

“How’s Bea?” I asked.

“We broke up. Just this morning.”

I was stunned. Shocked. I tried to push away from him but he still held my waist tight. What have I done?

************************

August 8, Friday, 7:00 pm, Libis

After watching a movie, Cate and I decided to drop by at Libis, watch the crowd and maybe chill out. Then I saw him with Bea.

“Let’s get out of here. I just saw Bea with Ron.” I hid my face with my bag then rushed toward the exit.

“So, Bea and Ron’s a couple now?” Yvonne asked.

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? I think nearly a year now. Just found out three months ago, before she moved in with him.” I said casually.

“The hell you allowed her to do that?!! He was your ultimate crush for – what? – 5 years now? You practically built a shrine because of your obsession with him! Didn’t she know that?” Cate shouted.

“Yeah, but it’s ok.”

“Yeah, it’s ok but are you?”

*************************

August 9, 2:00 pm, in my room

I liked Hana's Eyes by Maksim Mrvsca. It never fails to move me. Now, I hear my cell phone beeping, I have to move and get my phone on the table.

“i saw u lst nte. i was abt 2 cal u bt u lft. hw r u? bn a lng tme nw.” It was Ron.

Why is he texting me? That’s weird.

“Hv 2 go smwr. M fyn, tnx.Ü hw r u & bea? Adjstng well lving wd hr?” I replied.

“wr ok I ges. hrd 2 gt usd 2 hr. she hv 2 hv music b4 goin 2 slp and m nt usd 2 dt. Asyd frm dt wr ok. hws ryan?”

“Hahaha.Ü Ryan & i brke up lng tym ago.Ü hes past nw. M nw on d luk out. Knw any1?Ü”

“hw abt me?Ü”

What the…?

Now I can’t stop moving.

***************************

August 20, Wednesday, 9:00 pm, Greenbelt 3 park

“Makulit ka noh?” I said, while sipping my hot chocolate at Starbucks. For the rest of the week, he kept on texting me, asking me out, just for a cup of coffee, or hot chocolate for that matter. He just wanted to see me. Wanted to talk to me. “O bakit? Bakit gusto mo ako makita?” I asked.

“Wala lang. Miss lang kita. Musta ka na?”

I found it very comfortable talking to him. We talked about anything under the sun. I was sharing my views, my opinions and so was he. We talked about past relationships, his present and my blurred future.

The moon was full and it was very romantic. It was romantic to stroll around the park with Ron. If only he wasn’t attached with Bea.

“Vera, I was serious,” he said, pertaining about his text. He looked at me straight in the eyes. There must be something with the full moon that he pulled me closer to him, and our lips touched. I was surprised, tried to fight but I can’t. His lips were soft, wet and tender. The kiss was mild. It was a kiss I’ve been waiting for. I couldn’t resist his taste. I felt I was in heaven. Pure bliss. Back then, I only imagined being kissed by Ron and now, it’s happening and it was better than I have imagined. I felt his tongue moving in my mouth, softly caressing my teeth, massaging my tongue and simply exchanging energy through the kiss – that wonderful kiss.

But then I saw Bea in my mind. I pushed away from him.

“I’m sorry but this is wrong. I have to go home. Thanks for the night,” I said then turned my back on him and ran away as fast as I could, with tears running down on my face.

************************

So while slow-dancing on the dance floor, telling me that he just broke up with Bea, my head was spinning. I can’t think straight. I pulled away from him.

“I have to go. Sorry,” I said. I ran before he could grab my arm.

“Vera, you’re not leaving me again, are you?” But I did.

I texted Cate, said that I had to leave earlier than expected.

I arrived at home at 2 in the morning. I needed time to relax and think alone. I slowly crept inside the house, not making a noise. Ah, my sanctuary. But it isn’t my sanctuary anymore. Everywhere I go, I still remember him, his grip, his kiss. I love him. I really love him. But I can’t hurt Bea. I just can’t.

I went inside my room hearing Maksim’s Hana's Eyes. I cried silently trying not to wake my sister, Bea.

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Musing...

2004-02-20T10:42:00.000+08:00

I am beginning to suspect that my discussion lists partners in the office are not only CREATIVE, they are all CRAZY.

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Three Movies

2004-02-19T10:27:00.000+08:00

Let's talk movies. Three very disparate movies. One is a juvenile yet lovable animated Bear story. Another is a lesbian love story coupled with, uh, poltergeist activities. The last is a sappy (not mushy) love story of Filipino domestic helpers in Italy.

I spy, and i love yew.

Probably one of the greatest characterizations in Disney movies, the two moose provided great comic relief that was not as ridiculous as Abu, or lacking in Finding Nemo. These moose were not essential to the story, and if cut out of the story, the progression would still be there. Only it wouldn't be half as fun. Brother Bear is based on old native American (Indian) beliefs on the afterlife and the powers of their ancestors. It speaks of destiny, as to why a man is destined to be a bear is beyond me. But then this is a Disney movie. All-in-all, aside from the dark colors in the first few scenes, the movie is superb. I saw it twice, hehehe. Specially funny was the "outtakes" at the end of the movie, specifically the funhouse reflections of the three bears. I have no beef about this movie, except for the badly drawn mouth on that baby bear. I rate it 4.5 stars.

Memento Mori on the other had speaks of death on another level. It is a high school/lesbian/suicide/ghost story kind of flick. Those elements alone scream "B-movie" But it's not. I actually liked this film even though it was subtitled. It is by far the 2nd Korean I liked in the recent months. Ok, so there are two girls, they are together, one is a weird nerd and the other is an athlete who's going deaf. Throughout the first part of the film, before the first ominous scream is heard, the movie establishes how in love the suicide girl is with the athlete. Okay. They decide to come out and make their relationship public. They did so by kissing in public and challenging authority. Athlete realizes that she is not ready for that kind of show, so she avoids suicide girl. Okay. Yada yada yada. Suicide girl is pregnant, not by the athlete girl (OBVIOUSLY!) but by a teacher. Teachers here by the way are corporal, they slap their students, they humiliate them, they make them cry, and most specially, they go to bed with them. Anyway, Lesbian Lovers go up the roof, where suicide girl proposes another try at their disrupted relationship (athlete girl avoided suicide girl for a month). Athlete girl didn't concede. Athlete girl tells suicide girl that she is worthless and leaves her on the roof. Wrong move. In a high school film, just as in high school, never leave someone angry or sad enough on a roof, they jump off. Suicide girl jumped off. That's when you hear the scream.

Don't believe the spiel that the movie is like The Ring, with the cursed tape being replaced by a diary. Gawd far from it. The diary served only to progress the story. If there is a movie of which it reminds me, it's Prom Night, or Carrie. Suicide girl has been ridiculed, used, tormented by everybody in this movie so much that when she dies, it is only poetic justice that she doesn't torch the school. She did the next best thing, which was to show her ethereal self in an auditorium stage crowded with students. Panic ensues, and then she locks all the doors in the school.

It is based on a true story. Wow.

My beef: I was really, really, really expecting gore and utmost shock value. Now except for the death scene when the suicidal girl was found on the campus courtyard, there was no other scene with sufficient gore value. The shock value wasn't that up to par. Also, given that this is a lesbian movie, it plays on the stereotype that gays and lesbians always have this penchant into shocking society into acceptance. They want to make their love public, suicidal girl kisses athlete girl. It is so much like those people who run naked in a Malate parade, thinking that showing off unsightly body parts would make society embrace them. When all it does is to further disgust society into thinking that gay people have some chromosome missing in their gene pool, one that relates directly to their heads. Sorry people, an exhibitionist man shouting that he's gay while wearing nothing is just that. It is not a press release.

Okay, so neither film would probably merit a screening in Cannes. Fine. Memento Mori merits a 4 stars rating from me.

Now we go local. Milan. Watch it, even if it means you have to see Claudine Barretto onscreen for like an hour. Piolo shines here. You could see why he won awards for his past films. Claudine on the other hand turns in good acting, but if you watch all her insane telenovelas, there is nothing new here except for her snoring.

Ok. I will not tell you the story. Bwahahaha. Just watch it.

I give it 4.75 stars.

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Panawagan

2004-02-18T13:39:00.000+08:00

----- Original Message -----
From: alvin
To: julie@cannoncreek.com ; freya@cannoncreek.com ; riza ; Iris Sasing ; tara@cannoncreek.com ; Emi Rose Parcon ; tope@cannoncreek.com ; martin ; bernadette ; Donna Salcedo ; butch@cannoncreek.com ; joe ; geda@HQ.CEVOR.com ; aton_imal@hotmail.com ; rimbaud30v@yahoo.com ; edem@cannoncreek.com ; oona@cannoncreek.com ; danilo@cannoncreek.com
Sent: Wednesday, February 18, 2004 2:15 AM
Subject: hmn.

para sa mga gimingaw sa yahoo im:
BUZZ!!!!

Announcing the free slots for the SMOKING TRAINING.

World-class smokers would be training you the finest techniques in smoking a cigarette. The training is free, but the graduates, well, we'd accommodate only two, to replace two veteran smokers who have since left the Creek on to greener and richer pastures.

Qualifications:

You must be from the Creek, and would like to smoke Marlboro Reds. Other brands are welcome, but mostly the free ciggies are MarlReds. Mao ra! It's so easy to join!

BENEFITS:

(1) You will be receiving training from Mr. Boobs Reyes, world-class smoker and insidious manyak.

(2) You will be receiving a diploma and a certificate of completion when you finish your first stick without coughing even once.

(3) A chance to use your healthcard for smoking-related injuries like burns on your hands and face, and diseases like asbestos fibrionasis and lung cancer.

(4) Frequent breaks from working, with the convenient excuse, SMOKE SA KO. SMOKE TA NA.

So WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!

For more information text SMOKE (space) and send to 2299
For more information on BOOBS REYES text MANYAK (space) INFO and send to 2299
For more information on BOOBS REYES'S SEX RELATED CRIMES text DOSSIER (space) NBI and send to 2299
For more information on BOOBS REYES'S SEX RELATED CRIMES IN OTHER COUNTRIES text DOSSIER (space) FBI and send to 2299
For more information on BOOBS REYES'S SEX RELATED CRIMES DONE OUTSIDE EARTH text DOSSIER (space) INTERGALACTIC POLICE RECORDS and send to 2299

Pokpok

2004-02-17T13:22:00.000+08:00

Iisa lang naman ang totoo sa mundo, lahat tayo pokpok. Bakit, kailangan bang kantutin ka at bigyan ka ng pera para maging pokpok ka? Hindi. Pokpok yung mga pumapasok ng opisina para magtrabaho. Ibinebenta nila yung mga sarili nila, yung mga kakayahan, yung mga pwede nilang gawin. Lahat para maswelduhan sila. Pokpok siya, pokpok ka, pokpok ako.

Pokpok ako. Pero ako na siguro ang pinakaobvious na pokpok sa ating lahat. Ako yung tsumutsupa sa halagang isang daang piso sa loob ng sinehan, sa mga madidilim na eskinita. Pero tingnan mo sarili mo, di ba pokpok ka rin? Wag ka na kasing magmalinis. Bakit, walang masama dun. Una, pokpok sa pokpok. Walang ni isa sa atin ang lamang. Pangalawa, kung si Kristo nga nagmahal ng pokpok, ikaw pa kaya. Ang linis mo naman kasi.

Tsaka ano bang masama sa kantutan? Di ba ang sarap nga nun. Di ka naniniwala? Halika kantutin mo ako. Walang bayad. Tangina kung di lumurat ang mga mata mo at magkikikisay ka sa sarap. Walang masama dun. Ang masama lang kasi eh masyado kang nagpapadala sa lipunang ginagalawan mo. E anong masama dun kung pareho tayong babae? Mas masarap yun lukaret, mas alam ko kung saan kita kikilitiin!

Tsaka ano pa ba magagawa ko. Kung papasok ako sa isang upisina, pinagtatawanan ako na hindi ako marunong mag-Ingles, o di naman kaya eh wala akong alam gawin. Ang alam ko lang magtimpla ng kape, minsan napapagalitan pa ako kasi kesyo matabang, o maraming asukal o walang cream. Eto lang kaya ko. Di ako nakatapos, walang pera ang Itay na pangtustos sa pagaaral naming magkakapatid, at kung anumang pera ang kitain niya, nauubos sa sabong. Wag mokong tingnan na parang naaawa ka sa akin. Aba, gusto ko yatang maging pokpok. Kesa naman magtinda ako ng sigarilyo sa daan, maiitim na singit ko di pa rin ako yayaman. Di rin naman ako pwedeng magRTW at walang puhunan. Ok na to, pagnakatiyempo ka ng customer, bukaka ka lang, arte ka ng kaunti. Tapos titigan mo siya sa mga mata niya, tapos magsisisigaw ka: "AAAAA!!! AAA!!! AAANG SARAPPPP!!! AAAAH!!! PUTANG INA MO! ANG SARRRRRRRRAP!!!" pagkatapos nun pera na.

Minsan may mga ulol pang naiinlove sa iyo. Mas maganda yun, at least pag kangkangan na, feeling mo talaga inaalagaan ka nila. Tsaka mas mabuti na to. Yung iba nga diyan eh nagpapakantot lang wala pang bayad. Pero mas masaklap yung sila na nga nakakantot, sila pa nagbabayad. Bakit ka ba natatawa pag sinasabi kong "kantot?" Diosmio, masanay ka na no. Kantot, kantot, kantot. Hay nako, humagik-ik ba? Alam mo hija, hindi ka pwedeng magputa tulad ng ginagawa ko. Kung di mo masabi ang kantot, di mo ito magagawa ng mahusay. Pero alam mo maganda ka, kung magpuputa ka, matindi kang kakumpetensya. Tsaka tiyak ako magugustuhan ka ni meyor. Sus! Nagulat ka pa, eh alam naman ng buong mundo kung gaano kalibog yang si meyor no! Tangina. Ang liit-liit ng titi eh -- o bakit natatawa ka na naman? -- ang liit-liit ng titi eh ang libog-libog. Ano? Tinatanong pa ba yun? Oo naman kinantot na ako ni meyor. Ako pa? Halos mabaliw nga yon nung ginawa kong toothpick yung toothpick niya. Di ka masisiyahan, hija, halos parang di mo mafeel yung titi nun, pero galante eh. Pero dati pa yun. Ayun, nabaliw kay ------- (pangalan ng isang sexy star). Mas maganda naman ako dun, di ba?

Pamilya? Wala. Asa ka pa? Kung yun ngang nagmamalinis na mga babae dyan eh niloloko pa ng mga lalake eh, ako pa kaya. Hindi na oy. Mahirap magpalamon, at mahirap maloko. Sasabihan ka lang naman na mahal ka niya pag kinakantot ka o pag humihingi ng pera. Lecheng mga lalake yan. Pero, ok na yung dati kong kalive-in, yun ang true love ko hija. Yun ang nagturo sakin lahat lahat kung paano maging isip-lalake. Gamitan tayo, pre. Tangina mo. Pasarapan kita, pasarapan mo ko, pera lang lahat yan.

Tsaka yung mga kapatid ko, di ko na inaalala. Pakialam ko sa kanila, kung naghihirap sila, naghihirap din ako, e di magpokpok na din sila para makakain sila.

Ano ba ito? Isusulat mo? Hay naku, isa lang naman ang storya naming lahat eh. Mahirap kami, lumuwas ng Maynila, di makahanap ng trabaho, kaya eto napipilitan daw kaming magpokpok. Bakit, tataas ba marka mo kung isusulat mo na eto ako, isang babaeng malibog at praktikal, nagpapakantot para sa pera at sarap. Ginusto ko to. Shocked ka no? Sigurado ako, pag yan ang sinulat mo di ka paniniwalaan ng teacher mo. Pero ok lang, pag di ka nya pinaniwalaan, sabihin mo sa kanya pwede sya pumunta sa akin, dito sa boarding house, papatulan ko siya, discounted pa, kasi close tayo eh. Hahaha!!! Bakla naman pala teacher mo eh, mas ok yun, gagawin ko syang lalake. Libre pa.

O pano, alas nuwebe na, kelangan ko ng magbihis. Mahirap nang maunahan sa pwesto. At alam mo ba, mas mahal ang singil pag mas maaga pa... hahaha... oo naman, palagi naman akong sariwa no. O siya, ihahatid na kita sa labasan at baka mapagtripan ka pa ng tambay sa labas.

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Herman's Head

2004-02-16T12:23:00.000+08:00

Does anybody remember Herman's Head? It's a sitcom wayyyy before wherein the lead, Herman, talks to the voices in his head. I found it enjoyable before, but for the life of me, I cannot remember anything out of it.

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Two Books

2004-02-15T12:22:00.000+08:00

Blackwood Farm

I am currently reading Anne Rice's Blackwood Farm. This is the latest installment of her Vampire Chronicles.

A curious thing about Rice's work is her ability to suck you into the worlds she create. And an extra is the merging of the Mayfair saga with the Vampire Chronicles. Cool witch/vampire lore set in the modern milieu.

Contact

This is going to be a bookish blog entry. Also finished Contact (which I read over the Holidays) and The Day After Tomorrow. Contact has a movie out, I haven't seen it, it stars Jodie Foster. It has a very interesting premise, which I doubt the movie captured. Read it, it's science fiction for beginners -- not too weird, but fantastical.

The Day After Tomorrow is NOT the movie. This one goes about theorizing that a neo-Nazi group is going around Europe killing people to find a suitable body for ... Hitler's head. Ain't that fun?

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The DaVinci Code

2004-02-14T12:19:00.000+08:00

Currently listening to a CD full of RnB remixes. Kickass Officially Missing You and Baby Boy remixed! :)

The DaVinci Code

Finished The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. Kewl kewl kewl book. Ultrakewl to the max. It brings out the agnocist in me. Not that it has shaken my faith. My stand has always been to believe in God, but not in religion.

Anyway. Dan Brown theorizes (among other things) that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were not only lovers, they were married to one another. To support this, he wrote that Mary Magdalene was recasted into a whore, when in fact the Bible mentions that she is from the Tribe of Benjamin, a royal Hebrew tribe. This, and other things were rewritten by the Catholic church in the Council of Nicea where they debated upon which tenets would define the Catholic faith, and thereby "masculinizing" the church. They sought to kill off the pagan religions, and the worship for the sacred feminine. It's really a big topic to discuss in a blog, so I suggest you get the book and read it for yourself, it's well worth the money.

It is fiction by the way, but the theses put forth by Brown is well-researched and accurate. A more fun way than going through a docu-book.

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Names

2004-02-13T12:18:00.000+08:00

Butch and Geda has just provided me with a very provocative insight on how NOT to name your kids.

Imagine Geda having offsprings nicknamed Gospel, Pentateuch and Beatles. Gospel's full name is Matthew Mark Luke John. Pentateuch is Genesis Exodus Deuteronomy Leviticus (and there's another book eheheh, sorry) and Beatles would be John Peter George Ringo. They would be playing with her inaanaks, Butch's sons, Armageddon and Revelation. On Saturdays, they would all visit me in my resort villa, where the children would play with my offsprings, Sam Miguel, Bach Ardee and Margarita.

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To Jona:

2004-02-12T12:26:00.000+08:00

Hello Bisprind. It has been a while. I have switched to Globe Flexiplan, that is why I no longer am pressured to use up my free minutes, so much so that I haven't been able to call you in the last month. Even once. Besides, I haven't been doing anything interesting and nobody has been bugging me big time. So there's not much to talk about anyway.

I have been neglecting my blog. It's ok since at a cursory look at your blog, you have been neglecting yours too. But the thing is there is not much blog material. Not in real life, not in politics, not on TV. I can only rave about the new Coke commercial with the handsplay for so longs. Besides, with their 670th commercial with that stupid handsplay, it's hard to get all worked up with it,

FPJ is boring material. I mean everything about FPJ have been written about before. In 1998. Only you substitute FPJ with ERAP. I am so glad I didn't succumb to the urge of masochistically lining up outside the COMELEC office to register. I know it is a twisted duty to somehow elect the people who's going to screw up the country into office. But I was using papaya soap at the time (still am), and I didn't dare risk depigmentation under that scorching sun.

Funny thing this suffrage right that we have. Choose the clown who'd screw you in the ass. It's still screwing your backside, but at least you had a say as to who would do it to you.

So how is Arlie? Are you guys ever getting married? Don't you think that all the depression you've been going through is your biological clock's way of nagging you to settle down and sprout babies... wait... not sprout... SPEW FORTH babies?

For the life of me, I couldn't really imagine you having babies. I wonder how motherhood would change you. Of course you'd probably lose that svelte figure you have now, but I think you'd come off cute in an earth tone leather mini-dress with a toddler in your arms and your tummy bulging out. Think Winona Ryder in Alien 4: The Resurrection (I think i got the wrong movie, basta one of those alien movies with Winona Ryder playing Sigourney Weaver's daughter.)

Anyway, I hope you gon't get that much strain for all the depressive episodes you've been having. How is Joyce? Had she succeeded in killing Larry? Did she get the car? Bwahahahah...

Anyway.

Alvin

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Click

2004-02-11T14:14:00.000+08:00

Daryl woke up with a start. His entire body ached all over, and his head was teaching him a lesson for all the alcohol he imbibed the night before. It took him a while to get himself oriented. He was in his room, wearing nothing but the black Jockey boxers that his best friend Genesis gave to him. The red digital numbers of his nightstand clock registered 6:30. Time to get up.

He stretched, not really rising from his warm bed, like a prostrate cat. Then he felt his body slump back into the cushions, and he felt the tiredness in his very bones. The alcohol made him dizzy. Damned hangovers.

He groped under his pillows where he always put his cellular phone, and finding it, scanned his messages. Two were from his mom, saying hi. One from an unknown number. And one from Justine asking if he were alright, and if he made it home in one piece. He had driven her home, he was lucid and sober enough to drive himself home. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that the message didn't include the one line he had gotten used to.

For the first time in he-doesn't-know-how-many months, Justine's message didn't say "I love you, Barok."

He remembered now. That was why they had agreed to meet in that restobar. He had come early, ebullient and enthusiastic. Funny thing to feel: the night before he just got wind that his friend, Igo, got the part in the play for which they both auditioned. Meaning that he was yet again, an understudy.

He had sulked all night, but got over it enough in the morning to go to church and hear mass. Then he got the text message from Justine asking him to meet her here.

They broke up.

Justine confessed that her love for him was not there. That she might have been mistaken.

He swallowed it. Hook, line and sinker. If anything, Justine is honest. He drove her home, and went back to that restobar. That is how he got drunk, that is why he has this hangover now. And that is why he didn't have those all-too-familiar lines in the message he's repeatedly reading now, even if he could her Justine's high-pitched coo in his mind.

I WAB UUUU, BAROK.... I WAB UUUU, BAROK.... I WAB UUUU, BAROK....

6:45. He stood and got the towel from its hanger, and tucked "The Da Vinci Code" under his arms, and got two sticks of Marlboro and his lighter.

He got to the table and got two sliced bread, seeing none of his favorite grape jelly, opened a jar of oily peanut butter instead.

7:00. He had finished bathing, and was choosing between a red pinstriped shirt or a skyblue plain one. He went for the red shirt, and got an old rose tie to match it. He did his short clipped hair, in the same style which he had been wearing it: parted from the left, with little spikes around the front. He checked his appearance in the full length mirror outside his bathroom, and found everything satisfactory. There was no trace of the hangover that had awakened him. There was no puffiness of his eyes that might have clued people of all the crying he did before falling asleep both from the pain and exhaustion.

He retrieved his pack of Marlboros before going down to make a pot of brewed coffee.

The whole house was silent. Consing must be in the market buying whatever she may have needed and what the househould needed. His mom was in Batangas, and Mark, his younger brother, had a 7:00am class everyday.

The coffee was ready when he the newsboy arrived with today's news. He set it down on the dining table, and poured himself a cup of the Batangas brew. He went back up to his room to get his cellphone, which by now displayed a new message.

It was not from Justine.

He didn't read it, instead he picked up the paper and read the sports page. Nothing interested him. The headlines were yesterday's news, all of which recycled from last year's events. Nothing changes.

Nothing.

He finished his coffee, and picked up his cellphone and put it into his pocket. He went back upstairs, stopping outside the bathroom to preen at himself at the mirror. A little vanity doesn't hurt, he thought to himself. He adjusted his tie, and aligned his belt buckle with the tip. Red suited him fine.

There was nothing in the whole house. No people, no family, no noise. Silence. He went back into his room, shutting out the silence behind his door.

7:15.

The office was a 30-minute drive. He was never late. Never. He had always prided himself in the fact that he almost always arrived 30 minutes earlier than the 8:30 punch-in. He had always played by the rules. Yes. That was who he was.

He got up and straightened his bedcover. He looked around his room, it was darkened, with the only light coming in from the slats of his closed blinds.

His keys. His keys were in his drawer. He opened the drawer, and looked for his keys.

Nothing in this drawer.

Nothing in this drawer.

Nothing in this drawer.

He opened the last drawer, and his keys were still not there. But one thing caught his eye. A black metal thing.

He remembered Justine with him in Danao where he bought that revolver. The boy who showed it up to him assured him that whoever gets a bullet from that revolver wouldn't even feel the pain. Justine had encouraged him to buy it. It was... uh, sexy... she said.

And he had bought it, but didn't bother with it, and kept it in this drawer. He picked it up, and look at it from all points. He opened the chamber, no bullets.

So he got the beltbag where he kept the bullets from the same drawer. He had inserted two into the chamber. He then realized that he didn't know how to fire a gun.

I have always played by the rules. He thought.

I wanna play a game.

He took out one of the bullets, and spun the chamber around and closed it. He looked at the gun, loaded with only one bullet. He raised it, and he saw that his hand was shaking.

He could feel the beads of sweat all over his body as he felt the cold hollow of the black metal against his temples.

As he imagine what course the bullet would take. Where would his exit wounds be. Would he feel pain, or would he not know what would happen, as what the boy vendor told him.

He wondered if he would have the courage to pull the trigger. And with a thich swallow of saliva, some of which he realized has dribbled out of his mouth, he decided that he did.

He listened again to the silence in the house as he closed his eyes.

*Click*

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Butch, my one one fan.

2004-02-07T12:33:00.000+08:00

Butch and I have a mutual admiration blog club. We write about each other's blogs in our own blogs. It's sort of a sick marketing strategy. We pester you to visit the other's blog.

Anyway, he wrote a very nice -- and voluntary (READ: I didn't stick any pointed objects at his side, nor train a gun on him to write it) piece about me... am quoting it here. Caveat though, Butch is a sex-deprived sex maniac disguised as raving lunatic. He likes girls with fluffy eyes, and flirty stares, wearing really skimpy black miniskirts and t-back.

There is something fascinating about Alvin’s essays and fiction. The words flow so smoothly that the reader is not conscious that he is being swept up in the moment, in the telling of the tale.

Alvin, despite his adamant, and rather pointless, denial, is a writer. He lives in the ‘moment’: of the event, of the imagery, of the experience. And like a photographer, Alvin has this uncanny ability to capture that moment onto paper. Immortalizing the moment in such detail; be it a Sinulog dancer swaying back and forth in rhythm or two dogs fucking on driveway, by the side of the street. Alvin asserts that he writes for no one but himself (and perhaps idle readers and graveyard shift junkies who stumble upon his blog).

Hey, that could be the trick... Maybe... you see, I’ve always thought of myself as a writer. Well.... not a writer, in the purest sense, maybe an aspiring writer. When I was in kindergarten, I wanted to be a businessman. But Mama wouldn’t give me money for capital --- Who would want to give a five-year old chubby-faced chocolate addict, asking for fifty pesos to start an “ice candy for sale” business, di ba? I mean, come on, really, and this was in 1982, when the damned peso currency was higher. Would you? I know I wouldn’t.

So, instead of money, Mama laid down a piece of blank short bond paper and a Mongol 2 pencil in front of me, and said, “Why do you want to be a businessman? Let’s try writing your reasons down.” That did it for me. I began writing and never looked back. My handwriting hasn’t really developed since, but nevertheless, a writer was all I wanted to be.

I fancied myself a writer, or a novelist, even. I fancied myself having a column in a local magazine where I can harangue other people with just about anything, and say what I wanted to say about... er, anything. The only thing I hated about myself was that I was insecure and awfully unsure of myself(of my special mutant ability to.... write. Hehehe! Psyched!). I mean, who wouldn’t flip out: I have an older brother who used alternate from protective hero (Heeee-Man!) to stark raving lunatic, in two seconds flat(He’s more responsible --- read: I’m using his computer right now.), a sister who could turn from bitchy spoiled brat to spoiled bitchy brat in no time at all, and my youngest bro who grew taller than me and makes more sense that I do (Did you know, that he won, I don’t know, maybe several awards, in high school for student writing or journalism something.... that lucky @$&#$*%&&***! I’m such a bad kuya. Syet.).

So I became self-conscious easily. Whenever I sat down to begin writing anything it was like: What if nobody likes what I’m writing? What if they hate it, and tell the next twenty people they meet how much I suck at writing? What if they came to my house and threw molotov cocktails in (Ayaw intawon...)? What if my mama realizes that, in truth, I’m following in her footsteps to gain control over the lucrative education industry and become a dean in a certain local university and take payments from college students to excuse them for not wearing their uniforms. Even worse, what if they don’t read any of my stuff? That would be the death of me.

... and then, there’s Alvin. It was Alvin who got me introduced to Blogger. We were on a cigarette break when I asked him if there are any websites where we can publish anything readable for free. He asked me to check out a site that published written literature for free. It was called Blogspot, or Blogger --- I forgot. So, I did and I became interested. And the interest was as natural as it was a need: I desperately wanted to see my own work out on print --- or anywhere that would have me, I really didn’t care. What I didn’t like in the writing process are snotty editors who are not beyond cutting and slashing your piece (short of rewriting it themselves). I mean, what writer does? But then again, it could just be me.

I’ve always dreaded the feeling of passing my work to an editor, whether it’s the editor of the section of the local daily that I write for, or the news editor of the school publication, or worse, my mama. I dread that very moment when they begin scrutinizing my work right in front of me. And although all my past editors have contributed greatly to sharpening my craft, the experience can never be washed away by countless nights of drinking and masturbation (whoops!).

In one of my majors classes in Mass Communications, we were taught that once your story reaches the editor, it is no longer yours. Rather, it is now a product. A thing that is processed and refined, given a certain sheen so that when it gets to the reader, it’s good and orderly. I guess that got drilled into my head. Pretty soon, I became numb, and so did my writing.

I used to hate it when editors cut up my work, leaving nothing that looks or sounds like me. My worst and, quite naturally, favorite critic is my mama. I could not understand why my “perfect” piece prose returned to me, bloodied and slashed red. I got so frustrated that the mere thought of writing was laborious. Then she’d say something that would get me going again. Mothers... You can never beat them in anything. And that’s what’s great about them... I guess. I love my mama.

... and then, there’s Alvin. When I began working with Alvin, and to an extent, some of the finest young writers that in the office such as Ronald, Freya, Julie, Joe, Louie and Geda, to name a few, I began to feel more confident about writing again. The inspiration to write returned. It was like I was seeing color for the first time: It was bewildering, yet, ecstatic. I never allowed myself that much liberty. I criticized myself to quickly, and thus, ending the life of a half-poem, or a nearly-made-it idea. But now, my “Muse” was back, and she was in a tight, black, micro miniskirt.

Before I started working with these young writers, I was a features writer for the three different local papers (at different points in time) and then, a hack writer. I wrote material anything I was familiar with: I wrote for brochures; for private individuals and groups; I also did writing and editing work for company profiles, for portfolios. I wrote whatever they wanted me to write. Just give me the material, tell me in what format would you want it written, and I’ll do it. Heck, I even wrote the occasional school thesis for a friend or two. I was writing for the money. It was always for the money. I never wrote anything for myself.

And it had to be that way, or else, I wouldn’t have been able to help my mama with my tuition. I left the seminary six years ago, came home and found myself down on my luck, and no money for tuition and personal expenses. Luckily, the editor of Sun.Star Weekend Magazine took me under her wing and taught me to write. More importantly, she helped me rediscover writing, and how not to let it slip through my fingers. Parallel to professional writing, she nurtured the lost love I had for writing. Soon, the old murmurs came back. I was seduced again into writing. And then, I had to pay for my tuition.

Writing for my bread wasn’t easy, but it was my way of life for the five years. There were times when I didn’t want to write anymore. That I wanted to give in, get another job doing something else.

... and then, came Alvin. I had forgotten what it felt writing for one’s own pleasure (It feels almost blatant --- me creating this blog for myself --- and the occasional drifter who happens along and reads this...). And he’s good. Even if Alvin does say that he writes for his own pleasure, it’s fun and enjoyable to read his pieces. Forget what that selfish creative idiot says, go read his pieces! It’s at smokemyganja.blogspot.com. When I first read some of his pieces, I thought, ‘This guy’s good. How come I haven’t seen any of his work in the local papers?’ Why? Well, two things: The creative idiot doesn’t like to write for the papers, and Mama subscribes to one local daily only. Pfft! Hooooo-boy! Now, I’ve learned two new excuses. It can’t hurt to learn a new thing everyday.

I love writing. Heck, I even took up MA Lit, just so I could listen in on people talk about literature. I love it when people do that. It inspires me. It urges me to write. Writng is all that’s on my mind. I know I have a pretty long way to go before I become a writer. Especially in terms of honing my craft, perfecting my grammar, writing my first novel, finally figuring the difference between a gerund and a phrase, and writing the sequel to Titanic, but hey --- if there’s hope in the fact that the Filipino people would wake up and smell FPJ’s cologne and not vote for him, if suddenly Kenny G would change music genres and switch to disco, then, there’s hope for me! By the way, what does FPJ’s forefinger-pointed-upward stand for? Don’t tell me he’s planning to change the Boy Scout’s handsign?! Aaaaargh!

Although, there is one hitch I realized when I began writing for my own pure and unadulterated pleasure: I take myself too seriously. Oh well, like it says: “Roses are red/Violets are blue/Sugar is sweet/But only God can make a tree.” --- thanks for this idiom, Diko. I owe you one. You too, Alvin.

Let’s face it, Alvin: We are charter members of the Mutual Admiration Society – Cannon Creek Asia, Inc. Chapter. Toink!

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Body and Sole and my new shoes

2004-02-05T12:37:00.000+08:00

(Ganja Note: Jona Honey, I just love your blogpost on Joyce and Larry. Do take pictures if they decide to kill each other. Of course, Joyce is being a bitch. And I love her for that. And to Larry? Tant pis por toi!)

Pampered. To the bone. You hear? Spent some time in a massage parlor (legit! no extra service!) in Mabolo, Cebu City.

Tell you what, the place had a lot going for it. The ambience is nice. Yellow lighting, could be dimmed to perfection. The whole place was clean, without the antiseptic hospital smell. The masseurs were good, at least mine was. Ronald, who was in the next cubicle, raved about his masseur having tender hands.

Chocolate-smelling oil. Professional service. Temperature that was not too warm, and not too cold. Did I already mention clean? Hooboy.

Total wallet damage: P250.00 for the massage, P100.00 for the tip, P50.00 for the cab going there. If you really scrimp on it, lower the tip to P20.00, and P4.00 if you take a jeepney.

Adidas Adventure

Still can't get over my new Adidas Adventure. My first shoe that costs P4000.00. Heck my first shoe that costs more than P1000.00. It's sooo comfortable, it's like am not wearing anything at all. And it doesn't splash mud on your jeans.

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1.618

2004-02-03T12:29:00.000+08:00

1.618

one
number.
divine proportion.
mysterious yet natural.
it's common yet still startling.
confirm it using parts of your own body.
hips to knees, head to belly button, your hand, your face, all over

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Shit, Ayerf. Shit.

2004-02-02T14:48:00.000+08:00

I've read a friend's blog today. It's about her own personal battle with a feeling of aloneness and being lost in all the changes that came into her life. My thoughts was that, wow. These are dimensions of the woman people here rarely see. My take on the matter:

There would always be somebody out there who would try to hurt you, put you down. There would always be some things that would hinder you and block your path. These things are called, quite appropriately, shit. It happens. You experience it, you smell it, you see it, sometimes you accidentally step on it and carry it with you everywhere you go.

But never forget that when you find shit under your shoes, sticking defiantly to the soles of your Nikes, you can easily get a brush, a pail of water, soap and dutifully get rid of it.

You don't stop walking around just because you're afraid shit would stick to your shoes again. You just learn to be careful, look where you step on, and sidestep shit the next time it presents itself to you.

Nobody gets used to shit, but somehow people gets used to stepping on it. They just continue walking -- stink and all -- till they get to a water source to wash it all away.

Jadedness is dangerous in that it makes you cautious of everything and everyone that comes into your life. It comes to a point when you stop living and instead takes life for what it seems to you, worthless. You become a robot -- mechanical, rusted and useless. Unless you can recognize that whatever made you jaded in the first place IS NOT worth being automatic, you'd never get over it.

***

Love everything that you do. It is your duty to find enjoyment in the things you undertake, even if you have no choice but to do it.

With growing up comes responsibility, and sometimes we find that we are trapped in a box that, well, encloses us and changes us in ways we never understand. It is your decision whether you'd stick to what you believe in an come out of the box a better person, or conform to the box and become pulp.

Happiness, more than an emotion, is a choice. A person can never be happy if he didn't choose to be in the first place. It's like love. You can search high and wide, but love will only come if you know how to love. Otherwise the search is futile.

***

You should read my friend's blog. Well, it's one outlet which she used to spring out of her melancholy. The result was one of the most honest written introspection I have ever read. I will post the blogspot address once she agrees. She is by far a very private person who resents stolen shots of her being posted in my smokemyganja yahoo photos site.

Then again, they are my photos. I took them. Photographs become the right and property of the photographer, not the model. Her writing, which presents a deeper part of her personality, and keys to understanding what makes her tick is her domain. Thus, the address shall remain secret...

For now.

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