"Only OZZY gets to touch me in my 'special place,' bitch!!!"

Go around my friends' blogs and you'll find any number of pics from the big game last Saturday, but this one's my favorite. It's got a little bit of school pride with arrogant asshole thrown in. :)

Recently found out that Art Spiegelman is the creator of the Garbage Pail Kids, which I loved as a kid. Apparently it was a “Medici”—a job he took because he needed the money.

And there’s a rape in America every four seconds.

Here’s an interesting article from The Onion AV Club, where they asked different celebrities the question “Is there a God?” It’s an eclectic selection too, including but not limited to Conan O’Brien, Jason Schwartzman, Chuck Palahniuk, Andy Richter, Stan Lee, Steven Wright, Elmore Leonard, Suzanne Vega, Alan Moore, Frank Miller, Michael Moore, Todd Solondz, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, Joss Whedon and William Shatner. As you can expect, the answers are just as eclectic, and even surprising. Who would’ve thought that Chuck Palahniuk, writer of Fight Club, Survivor, Invisible Monsters, Choke, and the new Lullaby, believed in God? And Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, matter-of-factly doesn’t?

Thanks also to The Onion AV Club, I found out about these 3 books, all of which I want (remember, Christmas is coming!): Chuck Palahniuk’s Lullaby, Michael Ondaatje’s The Conversations: Walter Murch and the Art of Editing Film, and Michael Chabon’s Summerland. I’m a big fan of Palahniuk’s work, and have been looking forward to Lullaby, which is about a song that kills. David Fincher, who directed the brilliant film adaptation of Palahniuk’s Fight Club, is interested in making a film out of Lullaby as well. Walter Murch is one of the legendary editors, having worked on The Conversation and The Godfather Trilogy among others. It’s interesting that Michael Ondaatje should write this book, because you don’t really associate him with film, being the writer of such books as The English Patient, Anil’s Ghost, etc. Finally, Michael Chabon, whose Pulitzer Prize-winning The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay is one of my favorite books of all time. It was a gift from Neva, and she’s been taking ice ages reading it. It’s been with her longer than it’s been with me.

Caught Johnnie To and Wai Ka-Fai's Fulltime Killer on Star Mandarin. KickASS!

"YES, I'M GAY AND PROUD OF IT! GO WESLEY! *SIGH* drool..."

It pleases me no end that pieces of Clint Mansell's score for Requiem for a Dream have popped up in trailers for The Two Towers and American Gun.

Saw Tesis today with Alexis, Quark, and Denise. So I've finally seen all the Alejandro Amenabar films. Though Tesis is my least favorite of his, it's still pretty damn good, and more than ever I'm convinced he's one of the most impressive filmmakers to debut in the last 10 years. Eggy probably wouldn't agree, because he was nodding off during the film.

Some good news for film buffs: besides Ayala Cinemas itself starting up a "coffee club" for its regular Art Film patrons soon, Flip's Movie Club will be kicking off this Oct. 29 with a special screening of Batang West Side, with Ring in November and Oro, Plata, Mata in December. They're trying to get Apocalypse Now Redux for January. Sweet.

I was going to see Happy Together at UP but the weather was really scary, and I didn't want to risk the traffic. So I ended up watching CQ with Neva and Quark, and thoroughly loved it. :) It's one of those films I've been waiting a looong time to see, and it was definitely worth it, even if it was unlike anything I expected. Still, it was great.

Hey, my DVD-ROM can play PAL DVDs pala! Woo-hoo!

Check it out: the first pic of Mike Myers as The Cat in the Hat, with the quintessence of cute, Dakota Fanning.

Well now the fucking problem is that there are TOO MANY BLOGS. It’s hard keeping track of who’s updated alone, but no, you’ve now got to consider who’s written a new comment. In our blog circle’s case, who’s insulted you recently. Forthwith, I present to you:

HOW TO GET COMMENTS

- Insult someone at random (usually, either Ernan, Alexis, Ozzy, Chris, or myself. When in doubt, default bitch is Ozzy [you know it and like it, bitch, so stop whining])
- Await retort
- Respond in kind
- When things are dying, insult someone else (can also be done “casually” by inserting it in retort to original insultee)
- Hijinks ensue
- Repeat

But in all honesty, I was finally able to catch up on some blog-reading last night (the ones worth my precious internet minutes, anyway), and I truly love my friends. They are an eclectic bunch. Aww… and that’s the last you’re getting for a while, bitches.

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Just wanted to point out my new links, Hannah and Goldie’s blogs. Goldie’s isn’t even functioning per se yet, but when it does I’m sure it’ll be interesting reading. I love the fact that her blog hurts my eyes. And I love that post about the “cunt-sucking gords.” And Hannah’s blog is hilarious! Like mommy Mich, she writes like she talks, so you can pretty much hear her voice (loud) while reading. And some of her lines are just side-splitting, from the Slipping Beauty crack to “It’s a small world for a small bird.”

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Both Mich and Maggie have commented on my story of Neva’s “Here, miming…” routine whenever there’s an animal nearby. One of the things I forgot to mention during my graduation from the AIMMAP was that during one pause in the Dean of the Institute’s speech, I heard a “Here, miming…” from the crowd, and I knew Neva was there. A cat was crossing the courtyard.

Just tonight she was telling me about this meerkat documentary on the National Geographic Channel, that reduced her to tears. It was a meerkat’s story where his tribe died out from a famine and he had to move to a different tribe that didn’t accept him until the last minute. She was recalling the scene where the “star” meerkat’s sister died while he was getting food for her, and it sounded really heart-breaking. National Geographic is the devil. Instead, we came up with the idea of Meerkat Magnolia. Just imagine PT Anderson’s Magnolia, but with meerkats. In costumes and wigs. Priceless.

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Goddamn I wish I could see this! A four-way comedy battle royale between Janeane Garofalo, Kids in the Hall, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, and Mr. Show?! FUUUUCCCCKKKKK!!!!!!

Thanks to Joey for the link! And just click on the pic for more info.

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Saw Chungking Express earlier tonight at UP Film Center. Kinda disappointing because the translation sucked, the aspect ratio was wrong, and the reels got mixed up, though only Alexis and myself noticed. Unlike what happened with Quark’s Gamitan, it didn’t fuck up the plot. Joey, Alia, and Tim, who were seeing it for the first time, seemed to get it fine. Plus, there was this really annoying noisy fuck who seemed to be hopped up on some fucking shit because he kept trying to make sure that people noticed he existed, by talking and shouting at the top of his voice and acting like a FUCKING JACKASS. The worst part is I know this motherfucker will be there tomorrow. Some people just don’t deserve Wong Kar-Wai. They deserve to get shot. So at least there’ll be a reason he’s shouting at the top of his lungs. You fucking retard!

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Ernan’s right: since I started blogging I’ve stopped writing (right, Meg? :)). Kinda scary, so I’ll have to rectify that. I was going to issue an ultimatum to Neva: that if she quits her blog I’ll shut this down too, but since she’s suddenly been posting like crazy and even started A WHOLE NEW BLOG to boot, it’s kinda useless now.

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Has anyone noticed that Jomi's blog is called "'Spit, Jomi!' said Jomi"?

Stories about ticket insanity, before I kick off what happened yesterday:

Tickets were already going for 5k and above. Chris had lined up at Ateneo on Monday and was 201 when they only had 200 stubs to give. So he lined up that night at 3 AM outside Araneta with Ernan, Carlo, and Joey, surrounded by scalpers. Quark and Mich followed later but weren't able to get tickets. On Thursday, Ateneo would sell tickets at 7 AM. Wednesday afternoon there was already a line. You had to contend with dormers, of course, who were prepared with sleeping bags, shorts, slippers, etc. There's a story that someone flew in from the US just to watch the game and was lined up there. Mark Lavin didn't go to the Wednesday Group because he went home from work, changed, and went to get in line. At 1 AM they announced there were no more upper box tickets. And I think Mark was alone. Hardcore!

Yesterday, I parked at Mich's building around noon-ish, because we were all going to ride one car on the way to Araneta for the big game. I checked the workroom, and she happened to be there, having a fight with Miss. Mich was giving instructions on what to do with some fabric, and Miss said "What if we do this and this and this (insert unintelligible fashion jargon here)?" While the sentence was still being said, Mich looked at me with a helpless scrunched-up look on her face, and after the sentence was finished, Mich said in a loud booming voice "SINO BA ANG DESIGNER DITO??"

No self-esteem problems there, haha.

Miss looked like she'd had this fight before, so it wasn't really a big deal. Of course, since it was my first time to see such a thing, I noted it down as BW (blog-worthy).

So began a great day.

I went over to Chris's flat while Mich prepared to go. Chris was still in Megamall, even though he said "Be here at 12 noon, because we'll leave at 1215." Maggie was there, so I waited for Chris. Maggie was reading Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, and we had a discussion about the disadvantages of socio-political tracts being housed in narrative constructs/delivery devices (mainly that the narrative isn't too good because it plays a subservient role to the message the author wishes to communicate. Ooh... how Brechtian). This conversation serves to illustrate the difference between Chris and his siblings, because it's more intelligent than my conversations with him, which are usually derivations/variations on "Dude, that chick is SO hot." I suppose this is why he and Alexis get along so well. Or do they?

Suffice it to say, the plan went to hell (bummer, because I’d wanted to have lunch with Neva but didn’t want to be late). Alia arrived before Chris did, to give me her ticket. That's right, Alia gave me her ticket to the game, the ticket that Joeybrash lined up for at 3 AM to get, and gave to her on her birthday. It's a real shame that Alia had to give it up, but she had reasons of her own that may be personal, so maybe you should just go on over to her blog and find out why. Anyway, bless her heart, she kindly and generously gave it to me. We spoke with Chris's mom and her nephew, a doctor from Camiguin. Some embarrassing Chris stories naturally surfaced, and then finally he arrived. We all convinced him to change what he was wearing, because he had on a blue sweater over a black shirt. I say, "Aren't you roasting in that?" to which he says, "Yeah," and I say, "And isn't that going to be hotter when we're in Araneta?" to which he replies, "OK lang. I wore this in Game 2 also." Normally my reply here would be "Did you at least wash it?" but instead I said "But why do you have on two shirts?" And Chris says, "The collar's too low on the blue one."

So ensues me, Alia, and Chris's mom telling him to just wear a blue shirt. Jesus, it's not like Chris has any cleavage to be cautious about.

We meet Mich (whose car we're using) but apparently Quark and Lia's riding with us too, so we wait for them to arrive while the women (Mich and Maggie) get some lunch. I believe Carlo was supposed to ride with us too (according to Alia) but he didn't wake up until around the game began.

It is decided on the way to Araneta that the name of the t-shirt line will be Boiled Sprat. Yay! Because if Mich wasn't going to use that, I was. I also came up with a new shirt, that maybe only I will be willing to wear. It just jumped into my head while eating my double-chee, and I started cracking up to myself, possibly scarring Mich's driver for life since I was riding shotgun.

ANYWAY, to move things along, we were at Araneta Center pretty early for the big final match between Ateneo and La Salle, who were tied. Even though we were technically early for the game we were there to see, the stadium was pretty full already, so full we couldn't find seats and resorted to reserving space in the aisles. A lot of people were already there: JV, Jofab and Doranne, Julia with her family, J and Camille, etc. Ernan, Mark, and Pado caught up with us later. Sir Mark (whose birthday is today!) and his wife (who I finally saw and met) were there, too. Amazingly, Mark wasn't wearing his everyday uniform of white polo and black pants! I saw bald man Ruey on the court, and assorted high school and college teachers scattered throughout the bleachers. We had to sit through the first game of the day, a women's basketball match between Adamson and La Salle. Naturally, Ateneo cheered Adamson on, simply because they weren't La Salle. I kinda felt bad for the teams, because it was kinda obvious no one was there to watch them. Hell, Adamson's entire contingent (including their Babble band) was way up on the bleachers and to the side, and you'd only realize they were actually cheering when La Salle finished theirs. I will say, though, that they have some cool beats. I thought they were a kupow offshoot of our own Babble until someone told me it's Adamson's.

Haha La Salle lost that game too, so it was portentous. The place really got filled up, and it was standing room only, people packed like sardines, and when someone would weave between everyone else it was hell. Going to the bathroom and getting food was minimized as much as possible because it was such a hassle. Of all people, we saw Hajji from Mustang, with her parents, cheering for Ateneo. I wonder if her parents know what a good dancer she is, and that she does it on top of a bar in Makati. Heh.

So the game begins, everyone's anxious and antsy, pretty much the whole game everyone's standing. We lead pretty much through all the game, though whenever La Salle's score crept closer to ours we'd start freaking out and pulling our hair out by the roots and screaming louder and getting paranoid and wanting to shoot poor defenseless animals (cue Neva's response here).

A sampling of La Salle wit: banners saying "We Do Chicken Right", "If It's Blue Then It Must Be Toilet Duck", "One Big Five (a variation on Ateneo's "One Big Fight," since La Salle were looking at a five-year winning streak as UAAP champions)" and the classic "Taeneo." My favorite was "We're Behind You," to which I replied "You bet you're behind us. By about 12 points."

What I never get used to is how loud these games are. And it's just the people screaming, really. But with these circumstances it was insane. Here was Ateneo, who hadn't won since 1988, finally smelling blood in the water, really chomping at the bit to see a win after so long, and against LA SALLE! Here's La Salle, who're looking at a record 5-year winning streak (as it is they're tied with UST), but really just want to make sure that they don't lose because IT'S ATENEO. So it's an ages-old blood feud (that I don't particularly give a shit about; both schools are comprised mostly of idiots anyway. I'm Atenean, by the way). It's a cool situation for us because we're the underdog. If we lose, it's "Well, what did you expect? La Salle's got a great team, etc.," but if we win, HOLY FUCKING SHIT. So you've got a packed stadium with people very passionate and fervent and screaming their lungs out and waving their fists in the air. The drums are loud, booming, tribal. It's a magnificent display for someone who doesn't really attend these things (like me). I remember the last time I attended a game: junior year high school, against UST. I was shirtless, with my class, with white/blue face paint and some letters painted on my chest saying UST and then an arrow leading to my crotch. Even got on TV for that. Heh. Of course, when you're in high school and with your classmates you have the confidence and foolishness to go shirtless because you don't care about anyone seeing you so long as with you're a bunch of other people. But more on that later.

Here I will insert the fact that actually I don't have much school spirit. I don't follow the games, I didn't watch Game 1 OR 2, and knowing some of the players and their reputations, it's kinda hard to root for them when you know some of the sordid stories (they can park anywhere in school, get academic breaks, cuts, cheat on their girlfriends, get an allowance from certain alumni). So I felt kinda bad accepting the ticket from Alia, since she's been following everything and has a ton more school spirit than I do, even if she did spend her high school years sleeping with the enemy. But all the more, I have to thank her (and Joey) profusely for allowing me to go. Because what happened is I ended up SWIMMING in school spirit. How can you avoid it inside Araneta? It's in the air, it's infectious and contagious and viral. Mark "Le Sexy" Lavin and Chris looked like they were about to start baying for blood during some bad calls by the refs. Quark kept shouting even after fouls had been called. Mich, who had been cheerleader captain once, panned the performances of the cheerleaders for BOTH teams.

Long story short (ha ha), WE WON. Once Quimpo (or was it Chua?) sank that 3-pointer around 2 and a half minutes to go in the last quarter, it was all over. Ateneo knew it and La Salle knew it. Which is why they clammed up and started sitting down, preparing to absorb the shock of a crushing blow to their collective inflated ego. Which is why Ateneo started screaming like madmen, not even words, just screaming for screaming's sake, for adding another hoarse voice to the din filling up the arena, for making it as loud and uncomfortable as possible for the Archers.

I have to admit though that because of La Salle, it was a great game to watch. They fought well, and I think it was graceful in the end how both sides clapped during the other's alma mater song.

We grabbed a quick bite at Mickey D's, caught up with Carlo (who'd arrived in time for the last 5 or so minutes), and headed back to Chris's building. After decompressing and crashing from our victorious high, we visited Mich's new digs on the 4th floor, then left for Rockwell to meet up with Joey, Alia, Alexis, and Lara. At Rockwell we checked out the improving comics and screenplays sections, but I forgot to look for Neil Gaiman's Coraline, which is available there already. Then saw Sir Mark again, back in his uniform.

The plan was to go to the Smallville launch at Enterprise, then go to the victory bonfire at Ateneo. While we were at KryptonNite, though, we'd learned that the bonfire was over (but there's another one next Saturday). I was wearing a Tom Strong shirt, the closest thing to a costume I had. Mich and her Interns Formerly Known as Freaky were in full gear, Mich with a Chibi Moon outfit complete with pink wig and heart-shaped thingamajig, and Goldie in a school outfit with machine gun (a la Battle Royale).

This is very much not my thing. I don't think it actually qualifies as a rave, though. It's not that I have a particular thing against these kinds of events, it's that I tend to hate the kind of people it attracts more often than not: the freaks and geeks and posers and pretentious and nouveau riche and annoying. People with too much money, too much time on their hands, and too little common sense, or shame.

But it's different when you're there with friends, and with friends who don't normally go to these things either (excepting Mich and the popettes), and when your school just won the championship, and when you don't care about anyone seeing you dance. So I danced, horribly, awfully, gracelessly. While it was obvious to my friends and most anyone else looking that I didn't know how to dance, maybe they didn't know that I'd never danced like that AT ALL. And definitely not in public. So I danced, to the best of my ability, and it felt great, and I didn't care that I looked like a boob. It helped that, since it was a costume party, a lot of others looked far, far worse. Chiko and Mikey showed up, both of whom I hadn't seen in a while. Both looked great, and danced, too. Your life is not complete until you see Mikey Amistoso dance. Not to be outdone, Chris was actually waving his arms around, eyes closed. Joey was dancing up and down, drink in hand. Alexis followed girls with his camera. Goldie and Hannah screamed obscenities.

I had to take a leave for a while and get Neva some medicine, because the poor dear was sick at home with fever. She had class that morning, got sick, and then had to pick her brother up at the airport. She didn't even get to watch the game at National Sports Grill, where Alia, Alexis, and the Brash siblings were.

Quark was there when I got back, and all of us walked around and talked and drank some more, until it looked like Goldie was sick. She could barely stand up and seemed wasted. It freaked Mich and Hannah out for a good while. Some guy had offered Goldie a blue drink, and then boom, her body turns to rubber. When things came to a head, we decided to bring her to Quark's house since it was closest.

On the way out, Mich gets offered a blue drink from a friend who got it from some guy she didn't know, and Mich actually goes and drinks half of it. Why do people drink stuff given by unknown strange men? Anyway, in the car on the way to Quark's, down goes Mich too.

At Quark's, I'm helping Goldie out the car to get to the house when Mich just collapses on the sidewalk, like a Sailor Moon who'd just lost a fight with an archenemy (a description that had Neva in stitches), or at least been hit with a giant fly swatter.

We carry our casualties into the house, where we try to get them to puke, drink, eat a granola bar (very tasty, thanks), etc. It's amusing because no one expected this to happen to them tonight. Certainly not Chiko or Mikey (who had to catch Mich a few times, too) or Carlo or Joey or me or Alexis (who had to give them rides home).

Finally, we all watch The Chukk Mabaya Project, our gift to Chiko. Then go home groggy and sleepy.

P.S. Maggie, The Fountainhead tops the list of Mensa’s favorite books. Or was it Atlas Shrugged? Hmm… Watchmen’s on the list, too. :)

P.P.S. Carlo, that Doisneau photograph? Well, he kind of resented that while everyone celebrated that particular picture, the rest of his oeuvre wasn’t getting any attention. Anyway, shortly before he died, he revealed that the photo wasn’t candid but staged. Astig.

Ahh... how I love massages. I didn't get one until recently, because being very ticklish, I thought it would be useless. But Neva was able to convince me to get one at Oxygen Bar in Makati, where she and her mother go. That was a month or two back. I got one again tonight because I thought I needed one after the seminar (even if it has been already a week). There was a knot around my left shoulder that was a bitch to remove.

Big announcement of today is that Harvey's updated his blog. Finally!

But on another, sadder note, Neva, who started this whole blog craze/nonsense, is seriously considering deleting her blog. Raise a ruckus and convince her otherwise! She won't listen to me.

And poor Alia got food poisoning the day after her birthday and had to be confined at the hospital overnight for observation. Hey, at least Gameplan couldn't force you to go to work, diba? :) Not like on your birthday...

I got to see George Washington tonight with Neva. Alexis lent me the copy and prior to his lending it to me, I’d never heard of this film. Which is a damn shame because it’s beautiful. It’s the debut film of a director named David Gordon Green, and he was only 25 when he came out with this. Pisses me off. I feel old and useless. Anyway, the film’s terrific. Beautiful cinematography, score, and performances. Doesn’t really have a narrative thrust to it, it’s character-driven. You can see the Terence Malick influences everywhere, even if The Thin Red Line is the only Malick you’ve seen. I’m thinking of getting the DVD but it’s kinda expensive. Over 30 US dollars for one disc? Sheez… But it’s got some damn good extras. Hmm… not a priority, I guess. But if you get the chance to see this movie, please do so. Then explain the title to me.
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Most of Thursday I spent in front of the computer reading. It’s a comfortable lazy day, but I’m itching to write something and will have the opportunity because I promised Harvey some scripts by next week. Most of today will probably be spent in front of the computer too. I’m still trying to whittle down my reading list. And there are some comics I have to return soon.
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Mich needs a name for her proposed t-shirt line. My suggestions below. I’ll leave it to you to guess which ones I’m serious about.

* T-Shit
* Manang Neva’s Espesyal
* Unwashed
* Now That’s What I Call Chic!
* Fuck You, Fashion
* Fuck Me
* Up Your Dad
* Boiled Sprat
* ¡Scoliosis ist Rad!
* Pretentious Clever Name
* Sell-out!
* Print Whore
* Blame Canada
* Where Ozzy Fears to Tread
* Beer-Guzzlin’ for Jesus

Had a fantastic day yesterday, because I was finally able to attend the Wednesday Group (a la That’s Entertainment!) drinking session at Pearl, emphasized in particular because it was Alia’s birthday. I thought I’d be late but I actually wasn’t; I was early so I decided to crash first in Mich’s workroom, since I parked in her building anyway. She was cramming some work (as usual) for her shoot today. Read some comics while waiting for her to finish. I think she was trying to have a conversation with me but I was reading. I did scream “Yeah!” and the occasional polite laugh every once in a while. Loko lang Mich.

I love Mich’s workroom. Before yesterday I’d never been there before nighttime and seeing the view with the late afternoon sun, smog and all, was breathtaking. When it started to rain I was fascinated by this one window because you could open it and poke your head out, looking down 16 floors. And if you look down when it’s raining, it’s like you’ve got the POV of the rain. Cool. So me and Mich started spitting on people and cars because hey, it’s raining anyway (and really strongly, at that) so if you get hit, just stand still a few more seconds and it’ll be washed right out.

Around 4-ish (and after the downpour) we went to Pearl and found Joey, Alia, Chris, and Alexis. If you know Chris, then you know the drinking was already underway, and Alexis was nursing one too. More and more people started coming: Goldie, Quark, Ernan, Carlo, Ozzy, and people I met only then like Kris Sevilla, EJ, and Sarah. Neva and Lia came from work. All in all we fluctuated between 9-13 people (all but two having blogs), and were at that spot for around 7 hours! Whew. But you don’t get tired when the company’s good, and good’s what it was. Everyone was noisy, spilling food and beer, Quark got me the latest SPX anthology while he was in Noo Yawk (wooh!)

while showing off his pictures with Daniel Clowes, Ira from Yo La Tengo, Juliana Hatfield, etc. Bastard.

Off the top of my head, memorable scenes from last night:

- the unfurling/undulating Ozzy Arcilla (still in denial and sporting a spiffy new haircut)
- Mich: “I love therapy! I love rehab!”
- Goldie’s uniform collar having the word DYKE written/sewn on it by Hannah.
- Everyone making fun of, alternately, Mich’s herpes, Chris’s Irish roots, Alexis’s Canadian roots, Ozzy’s sexuality, Joey’s hairless legs, Alexis’s Tagalog accent, Ozzy’s wardrobe, and on and on and on… there’s tons more but most of you reading this blog were there anyway. Now I’m waiting for you guys to post pics so I can steal ‘em.

A lot of funny stories were told and heard, too. Lots of laughs, aching stomach muscles, and second-hand smoke.

This is how fucked-up I've been: I wrote a post last Sep. 30, asking Steph to go to a signing on Sep. 28.

It's Alia's birthday today. Greet her. It was Criselle's last Monday.

Chris's Spider review is now up at Indiefilipino.

In the Mood for Love is still playing at Greenbelt 1, for those who haven't seen it. I don't know if it's still playing Megamall, however. Storytelling is also now showing at Greenbelt 1.

NO ONE IS SAFE

The two freaky interns now have blogs: Goldie’s here and Hannah’s here. Though now we are pretty much used to them, so they are not as freaky as before. That makes them either marginally freaky or lukewarm freaky. Or the Interns Formerly Known as Freaky (IFKF for short). Hannah, for example, is already betrothed to Chris. And everyone wants to adopt Goldie.

And holy shit: Jomi’s got one too. That he shares with Krissy, his girlfriend. I expect it will devolve into tete-a-tete online pornography, with occasional random legal mumbo-jumbo thrown in, and just a pinch of Catholic guilt. So it’ll be quite interesting, actually. :) I keed, Jomee, I keed!

We’re just spawning more and more blogs, aren’t we? We’re all just reading and reacting to what we read. It’s a vicious cycle! Prison!

GODDAMN

Somehow my file of things to read actually rose to about 230 pages over the weekend!

DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL

I must confess to certain things: A) I have a lot of stuff to submit to Cecile. Yes, even though I wrote them I didn’t submit some of the papers because I wasn’t happy with what I’d written. I’ll be working on them now that the seminar’s over and done with, with more time and care and attention and focus. I’d rather submit something I’m proud of late than something I don’t like and will regret. B) Still have a lot of stuff I have yet to blog about, C) really late on some articles for Flip.

I need money. Saving up for a PDA.

WHAT THE FU--?!

This is a picture I found recently of Grant Morrison. One of my favorite writers. In a wig. Wearing lipstick. And what looks like a bra. Note that Grant is a man’s name. This man currently writes the most popular comic book in the world. And he’s wearing a wig. I actually don’t want to know the circumstances behind this picture. Really I don’t. And to think, his girlfriend’s pretty hot, too.

KARMIC

I forgot to blog about why I hate Quark. It’s very simple. Not only has he met Michael Stipe, Ang Lee, and quite possibly Daniel Clowes (at an event I told him about, goddammit), he’s seen Evan Dando perform, sat beside actor Robert Wuhl, seen Julianne Moore in the flesh, and directed his first feature film at the age of 21. Which hasn’t been done in this country since Lino Brocka.

But that’s not even the clincher. The clincher is he saw Juliana Hatfield perform live, and she spoke to him, asking him to go upstairs where they could talk some more. That’s just… wrong. Please, God. There must be some way of balancing the scales. One man cannot have such luck in one year! And I don’t want anything bad to happen to Quark, mind you. I want lots of good things to happen to the rest of us too.

Another of my favorite writers, Haruki Murakami, is going to be signing books in NY on Sep. 28. Thank God Quark won’t be there for that (he’s not a fan anyway), because then I just may have to kill him when he gets back. Not that there won’t be a phalanx of “friends” with pitchforks awaiting his arrival, anyway. Lia will be all alone, keeping the murderous crowd at bay…

Steph, go to the Murakami signing ha! Give him a pat on the back for me.

LIQUID CONSCIOUSNESS

Now let me give a shout-out to Carlo Eustaquio, whose blog I love.

I gladly despise anyone who tells him his blog is “useless,” “complicated,” and other trite words. Carlo, don’t listen to any of that shit! You already have a blog that is wonderfully unique, that makes other blogs look like dog-puke on the face of Lolit Solis.

It’s fascinating to read about the things he’s been through, the thing’s he’s seen, the people he’s known and loved and met and bumped into and ridden on motorcycles with. How his mind works, the stream-of-consciousness outpouring that his blog has become is what sets it apart, and yet it is not part of a conscious effort to stand out. It’s just natural. Which is terrific and refreshing. It’s hard to remember that he’s around my age, but seems to have gone through so much already, it makes me feel like a nubian pipsqueak. Go read about his (mis)adventures about living in the Taft area, and the characters he met, and his friends from Sanctum. I thought I knew him, but I have barely scratched the surface. There seems to exist an entirely other world that he occupies, that sounds like it would fit in as a third story in Wong Kar-Wai’s Fallen Angels. We sometimes forget that people exist apart from when we’re with them, and I feel that most strongly while reading blogs like Carlo’s. To an extent it’s something I also feel in regards to Neva, because I tend to worry about her (she slipped on the sidewalk yesterday :().

Ahh, sorry. I wish I could write better. Just go to his blog, it’s worth your time more than 80% of all the blogs you read, believe me. He’s a good photographer and fantastic artist, to boot.

"Kill Bill -- a movie so gory that a single scene required 100 gallons of blood and so elaborate that the same sequence took nearly as long to shoot as all of Pulp Fiction"

I cannot WAIT for this!

DONE

Wooh! I've graduated! Today I was able to sleep all the way to 9:48! Yeah! At which point the fucking ruckus out my window woke me up. Some kind of renovation being done at the neighbors. Damn it. They had to do it on a Saturday.

So let me tell you about

FRIDAY

As I said, the other days of the past week weren't as memorable as last week's. This was because we basically took up a lot of cases in class, which meant a lot more readings. So I couldn't post practically the whole week.

Anyway, the last day, there was a bit of a boo-boo because the Program Assistant (Cecile's assistant, basically) forgot to photocopy one of the readings we needed. None of the students had a copy, but Cecile and Prof. Morato did. When Morato found out, we could see that he was quietly pissed, but didn't really want to show it since we're not exactly "regular" students, this being only a 2-week course and all. Apparently, he can be pretty vicious to his regular graduate students. Anyway, HE WALKED OUT. So that was the first kind of "serious" moment of the seminar. To help fix things, Cecile juggled the schedule.

We later ended up in this really high-tech room. Every seat had a computer, and there were microphones beside the seats so that everyone in the class could hear what you had to say. The "blackboard" was a projection screen that was touch-sensitive. Astig. So Prof. Morato would "write" on the screen, and it would be seen on our screens, I guess, except that most of them weren't turned on. He'd press a button on the screen to clear it, but the previous filled-up screen would be saved somewhere in case students wanted to photocopy it. Or he could go back to any of the previous screens if he wished. He could change colors pa, and use clip art, etc. He could move elements just by using his hands.

Naturally, after the class when everyone left, I played with it. I went online by using the touch-screen, saw some porn at huge sizes, and pretended to be John Anderton from Minority Report scrubbing some images. Yes, I am shallow.

Text from Quark: haha i'm sitting beside alex knox.
Me: Who's alex knox?
Quark: si robert wuhl.

So I check it out online and Quark's sitting beside actor Robert Wuhl, who played Alex Knox in the first Batman. Later:

Me: haha astig! where are you ba?
Quark: watching the gotham awards

Again, later:

Quark: pare i'm 5 feet away from julianne moore
Me: oh you fucking bastard

Another text, this time from Criselle: "Hi ramon, i'm reading your blog-- primarily bec i found out i was in it."

The very last class was called Serendipity Walk, which was really just sharing. The idea behind the Serendipity Walk is, you take a problem that's been bugging you, put it in the back of your mind, and slowly, the universe will provide the answer. It's all very spiritual and hunky-dory, but you can't say this hasn't happened to you before. Something or someone in your environment, not necessarily related to you or your problem, will present the solution, or lead you to thinking about the solution, a kind of "eureka" moment.

But what it became was the purgation of emotions. Like in retreats, where people go to the center of the room and pour their hearts out. Quite emotional. Someone confessed to how drug use nearly derailed the early years of his career. One confessed how she'd been raised to do things a certain way, and was only now exploring the possibilities of doing things the way she wants them to. One woman came to the full conclusion that she wanted to be a writer. Another talked about how she felt so bad about choosing a career in the arts, because the arts don't pay well, and she needed to support her parents. I'm sure a lot of people I know can relate to this. Many were in tears, and so were we, the classmates.

After, we had our graduation. It was just a small ceremony in the Zen Garden (next time I'm with any of you near AIM, remind me to take you there). We had a surprise for everyone, though. We got each of the teachers two gifts: a laser pointer for their left brain, and a potted plant for their right.

Then each of us gave Cecile a rose, so she had a bouquet at the end of it. Then cocktails and some food, during which we announced the mailing list for the class, which I made, and our contribution to the MAP fund, around 35,000 bucks. The MAP fund is for scholars, those who normally can't afford to take the program, but really want to, or need to, or should.

Neva attended the graduation, as did my mom and sister. So she got to meet some of the people I've been talking about these past two weeks. Then I went home, and slept the fitful sleep of the tired and weary.

Today is

SATURDAY

I woke up and my butt cheeks were aching. Maybe you didn't need to know that. I have no idea why. Maybe I was exercising in my dream. Doing butt squeezes and clenches. My lower back kind of aches too. Neva was making fun of how Stephen Hawking speaks. That's bad karma, but she wouldn't listen.

Hope I can watch In the Mood later, despite no one wanting to watch it with us. I'll blog more later.

I've got lots of notes of things to blog about, just never had the time to write them down.

Wanna hear something sad? This is my first free night so far this week, and I wanted to catch up on everyone’s blogs, make an entry of my own, and catch up on my internet reading. But no. I gathered some articles (my to-read file is now 210 pages), caught up on people’s blogs, and it’s already 12:15 PM. Shit. And I was planning on getting some sleep. This isn’t even a decent post. I’m really only posting to tell you some vital information.

First: In the Mood for Love is showing at Greenbelt. Probably Megamall too. Go and see it. Please. This is for you, really it is.

Second: Mark your calendars!

UP Film Center's forthcoming screenings
Monday, 7 October 2002 - Chungking Express
Tuesday, 8 October 2002 - Happy Together

Let’s all go on a Wong Kar-Wai trip. :)

Other notable screenings include Amores perros on Friday, 4 October 2002, and Y tu mama tambien on Thursday, 26 September 2002, at 4 and 7 p.m.

This week’s classes aren’t particularly blog-worthy, even if they’re still exciting and useful. They’ve mostly been cases, examples of the principles we were taught last week at work.

I did learn how to do yoga today, though.

Good night.

I’m in love.

---

I use prepaid internet cards, and what I do most of the time is I just visit my usual haunts, copy and then paste the articles I wish to read onto a Word file. So you don’t waste time reading the things while your time’s dripping away. But since I haven’t had much time for leisure reading this week because of class, the Word file is now 128 pages long.

Shit.

---

Today was a pretty relaxed, easygoing day, which I desperately needed. Passed by the Chanco household to pick up something PJ graciously sent me (rubber shoes). I sure miss that guy. The Chancos are practically a second family, and it was nice seeing his younger sister Rachel again, who I’ve basically watched grow up since she was in grade school. It’s eerie seeing her so, well… grown up (she’s a sophomore in college now), because then I feel grown-up. Which of course I hate. Went to a meeting with my Hey, Comics mailing list, got to borrow a bunch of books and meet some new members, then met up with Genie, Joey, Trinka, Sib, Bars, David, Garon, Tebs, Carla (sp?), and Don over at Dencio’s to celebrate Genie’s first paycheck. We were supposed to bowl at Xybr Bowl (gotta love that vowel-less name!) but it had been invaded by damn dirty Koreans! (this is not a racial slur, just a description of the particular Koreans who were there) Neva arrived and we went to her dad’s house in Marikina, visiting her dog Mittens who was sick with an ear infection. She didn’t need to be brought to the vet, but Neva put some ointment in her ear and got her some good dog food.

Neva, as you might know, is very much an animal person. And it’s really cute watching her with animals. If she sees a cat or dog she will AUTOMATICALLY call out to it WHATEVER the circumstances (walking down the street? “Here, miming…” Rape-slay ongoing over in the corner? “Here, miming…” EDSA 2? “Here, miming…”). Whenever Mittens sees her she goes nuts, doing backflips and rolls. You can see actual glee on that dog’s face. Neva’s face lights up too and she starts doing her animal cooing voice which is adorable, and I think came built-in upon purchase. Neva went across the street to buy the dog food, and between the time she left to the time she opened the door again, Mittens sat staring at the door whining.

Finally, finally caught Signs. Which I liked. It’s pretty good, though coulda been great. Probably my favorite of M. Night Shyamalan’s films (which I’m sure will elicit a violent reaction from Quark). He took a lot from Hitchcock this time around, but put it to good use. What’s up with casting yourself in an important supporting role, though? I hope he’s not one of those directors who’s just aching to be a celebrity himself. Though he is a pretty arrogant bastard. Talented, though. Hope he gets on with the next part of the Unbreakable trilogy. It’s nice to see some comedy creeping into his films, though sad to see that Mel Gibson’s acting range is unfortunately limited. You could just see him hammering away at this wall of emotion but he couldn’t bring it down. Whereas for Joaquin Phoenix and Rory Culkin it’s a walk in the park. Other comments contain spoilers, so I’ve put them in inviso-text (highlight the portion below this, but only those of you who don’t want certain important parts of the movie spoiled):

I really didn’t like that montage that happened when the alien was carrying his son. I mean, cutting to the wife’s dying words was fine, but then that couch scene (“There are two types of people in this world…”)? Come on! And how “convenient” that the girl’s nervous tic about water meant that the glasses of water were strewn about the house? And why was there only one alien? And if their weakness is water, are we to assume that for almost 72-plus hours it didn’t rain once all over the world?


Just wanted to plug RES, one of the finest magazines currently being published. In fact, I think it’s my favorite magazine now, because a lot of the cool ones have already died off (Raygun, Bikini, etc.) Spin and Rolling Stone still plod along, but really they’re just husks of their former glory. RES is of particular interest to filmmakers or anyone interested in film. It started out as film-centric, but they now have articles on music videos, websites, graphic design, and ad agencies, extending its umbrella of coverage to most “new media” outlets. The latest issue, for example, has the future has its theme, and the cover piece is an interview with director Chris Cunningham (their feature interviews are almost always excellent, and end with a bibliography of the subject’s work; really useful). Other articles include a Sonic Youth interview, an update on music video director Jonas Akerlund’s debut film Spun (starring Jason Schwartzman!), Naqoyqatsi director Godfrey Reggio, and an interesting piece on how to make a movie with digital stills. Check out the website, too, which just got a design overhaul. Other favorite magazines of mine are Filmmaker and The Comics Journal, which are excellent in their own right; very scholarly and wise and in-depth and interesting. Why RES stands out, though, is its graphic design, which I enjoy very much; it’s alive and kinetic and makes it look like being a film buff, or being involved in anything digital, is sexy. Which Filmmaker and The Comics Journal do not. Ah well…

They even offer a downloadable mix tape every once in a while. Ain’t that nice of them?

---

Oh yes: for those interested, Brian Tenorio’s website is http://www.tenorium.com.

Funny thought: wouldn’t it be great if our pets could have blogs? Mittens with her picture in the corner and daily entries all being a variation of woofs and barks. It would probably be boring after a while, though: “Chewed bone. Missed Neva. Ass sniffed by rottweiler. Hungry.”

Just got my birthday gifts to myself: Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs.

It’s such a joy going through them, Pulp in particular, since I haven’t seen it in years. Pulp Fiction is my default answer whenever anyone asks me, “What’s your favorite film?” I don’t know anymore if it’s my absolute favorite film of all time, but then again I’m starting to regard these kinds of questions in a different light. Certainly different from my high school days, anyway. But still, I am certain it’s in the top area.

Pulp Fiction is part of a group of films I saw in 1994 (which includes Reservoir Dogs, even if it did come out in ’92) that cursed my life. I say cursed because these films are what made me want to be a director. Which is not a career choice your parents particularly jump for joy over. It involves a lot of toil, struggle, hard work, very little money, constant headaches, most likely ulcers, migraines, high blood pressure, etc. But 1994 changed my life, set me on a path that is very difficult yet there is nothing that can get me off it.

As such, it was so nice getting home and popping in the Pulp Fiction DVD. I was re-watching scenes, since I didn’t have time to watch the whole thing, and the line “Would you give a man a foot massage?” actually took me by surprise and I found myself laughing out loud at 3 AM. That’s how long it’s been. My favorite movie, that I’ve seen at least 50 times, caught me by surprise. But I still remember so many things: the yellow-red flash burn during Brett’s execution, Tony Rocky Horror, the pilot discussion, etc. I could still recite Ezekiel 25:17 by heart.

Also, in all the different formats that Pulp Fiction came out on on home video, I’ve never seen the famed deleted scenes. So this’ll be a first for me. I can’t wait. :)

---

Just got home from Mustang Bar in Pasong Tamo, which is much smaller than I expected. There was a P200 entrance fee, and I ended up thinking, “Holy shit. There’s another thing I haven’t done in years. Pay entrance.” Inside, Joey, Chris, Alexis, and Ernan were already nursing beers. Before I arrived, Chris and Joey had already danced on the bar. Joey even took off his shirt, though Chris didn’t dare. There was only one really beautiful girl dancing, and it was her first night, her audition. We think she got the job. The other girls (disappointingly, only around 3) weren’t too pretty, just a smidgen above what you’d find on a good night somewhere along P. Burgos. They danced okay, but seemed to overcompensate at every turn because they knew they didn’t hold a candle to the Nubian 18-year-old who’d just come from America (according to Chris; how he got all this information from dancing with her on top of the bar I don’t know). Of course, wearing a bright yellow shirt wasn’t too helpful; there was more than one time where I had to do a full-body spin to keep from getting pushed and/or pulled to dance on the bar. If you know me, then you know there is no grace in this body. The funniest part of the evening was when a couple of socialites climbed on top and started dancing, and they were actually better than the Mustang dancers, putting them to shame. Of course, they weren’t much in the looks department, but they could move, at least.

There was also an actual fight in the street outside that we watched for a minute or two. Very Fight Club. Earlier I’d seen two guys threatening each other, one already taking off his shirt and the other, a security guard, giving his partner his shotgun.

---

Before Mustang I had dinner with Joey Tolosa, Trinka, Criselle, Tina, Sexy Man Mark, and Neva at Super Bowl. Some chismis, some laughs, I had to defend Reign of Fire, lots of screaming because we couldn’t hear one another even though we were all on one table. PatMal joined us later, where there was more tsismisan and more than one story I’d relate from the MAP. Pat had on a turtleneck, which I promised I’d blog about, Joey must’ve been doing SOMETHING strenuous because her belt buckle somehow managed to move all the way to her right hip, and Criselle got a flashback to her high school plan to get elected President care of Tina, a plan that involved “putting all the squatters on one island and blowing it up.” HAHAHA! Criselle didn’t deny it, though, just turned red while laughing at her former self. Arlyn, of course, was now a corporate whore, Trinka begat yet another discussion of her cup size, and I lectured about why Whisper with Wings is now the market leader.

Criselle’s ingenious plan reminded me of a short story Mo wrote in freshman year college. Many people forget that he was originally an English Lit major. Anyway, in this short story, what happened was it started snowing in the Philippines. But instead of what you’d think: maybe a happy, poignant story about the country’s first winter? Of course not, this is Mo we’re talking about. Maybe a Philip K. Dick-style tale about the ramifications of sudden climate change and what that would do to our relationships with one another and comment on our dynamic human nature? Uh… no. What Mo’s story was about was ALL THE SQUATTERS DYING, having frozen to death with no shelter and clothing. And the country suddenly experiencing economic prosperity.

---

I’ve got a LOT to blog about what I learned in school today. I took down more notes in the morning than in any other day of the program. But I’m tired, so it’ll have to wait a while. Should really get to sleep. Have a meeting tomorrow. Maybe after that, I can write about it, though we’ll probably catch some films at Cine Europa, which is ongoing now at Shangri-La, completely free. The Israel Film Festival is also taking place at Greenbelt right now, but I don’t think it’s free. There’s also American Rhapsody playing if you’re interested. And David Cronenberg’s Spider is out.

And Pat’s got a blog: http://www.geocities.com/triciamalay. Now off to sleep.

Well, after yesterday’s classes on intuition, we spent the whole day on finance and accounting: learning how to make a financial statement, understanding it, balance sheets, etc. It was very simple and clear and I’m glad they treated us like idiots because we were. Now I know all sorts of new terms like equity and accrued expenses and accounts receivable. Prof. Morato said at the beginning, “Finance is simply like this: you begin with cash. You should end with more cash. If you understand that, then you can understand finance.” They also taught us all the usual tricks accountants use to trick and cheat their clients. We also had a short lecture on tax breaks (“Why do you think the Lopezes and Ayalas and Cojuangcos all have foundations? Because they support the arts? Ha! Because they get tax breaks, and they have a place to dump all their useless children!”) Towards the end I was starting to get a little lost, though, because the teacher was going so fast. However, I wasn’t alone, which gave me comfort.

And now I have to write a paper about the contract between the artist and society before I sleep.

Thank God tomorrow’s Friday. Sweet sleep… how I’ve missed you so.

Whew, I’m still tired but really want to discuss today and yesterday so my memory doesn’t get overloaded and there won’t be a reallly long post come Thursday. Though there probably will be. I was trying, for a while, to write in a journal besides this blog, a journal that I would submit to Ma’am Cecile at the end of the seminar, but I realize I don’t have the time. Aside from class, driving, sleeping, reading, eating, and weeping, there’s not enough time to journal and blog, so I figure I’ll just blog, collect the week’s entries, edit the sensitive portions that may offend my classmates, and submit that instead.

Anyway, onward, management fans!

Tuesday (yesterday)

had a specific focus: the VMOKRAPI/SPATRES. What it is and how to make one for yourself and/or your organization. It’s too long to get into here, but I’ll just give you what the letters stand for and you can ask me next time we meet for a more detailed lecture :). Vision, Mission, Objective, Key Result Area, Performance Indicator/Strategy, Program, Activity, Task, RESources. These can (and probably should) be in plural.

It’s basically a plan for your future. Cecile used a really simple and easy-to-remember example: she gave a VMOKRAPI… for a group of animals that wanted to get back into Eden. One of the strengths of the seminar has been that they treat us like idiots, which we mostly are in terms of management, hence our presence here… after all, if we were doing so well, why would we need to take it? The important thing to remember is to begin with the end goal in mind. That way you know where you’re going. You should also be really sure, and clear, about your end goal. It should be an ideal you aspire to, yet realistic enough to be met.

We then tackled things like External/Internal Analysis, and SWOT (Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, Threats). The most interesting part of the day was when we were presented with example VMOKRAPIs: Brian Tenorio and Joey Ayala’s. Brian I knew from Heights, he was one of our better designers, and apparently had taken the Management in the Arts Program last April (Batch 2). Anyway, he was turning 25, about to go to the US to study, and his vision for himself was very worldly. Global. He wanted outlets in Paris, Milan, New York, Tokyo, and Marikina. He wanted his style, Tenorium, to become reputable, distinct, and well-known. Etc., etc. He seemed really determined and I thought his advantage was that he knew exactly what he wanted. Very clear about that. Which is fascinating for someone so young. It kind of took some of the oldies by surprise. He had a very detailed plan about what to do with himself. Some of the key result areas had already been met since he’d taken the MAP. Some of the amusingly specific ones, though, were being asked to judge the Miss Universe, and being spotted while attending a Wimbledon match.

Joey Ayala’s was also really interesting, and highly personal. He talked about why he needed the MAP, the emotional and physical turmoil he’d gone through in the past 3 years. He’d lost his creative passion. He wanted to break free of his “neo-ethnic” image, which, he says, while remains part of him, does not encapsulate him. Outlined was his plan in getting back to performing more often, being selective about the venues, releasing a new album and setting up a website. He was also very frank with us about how horny he was (he kept making jokes like “I want to be able to perform for 2-3 hours… on stage, ha.”), how SEX (all caps) was part of his list of things that made him happy. It took him months to complete his VMOKRAPI. Then he sang a song for us, a cappella since we couldn’t find a guitar in the entire school.

Then had to meet with my group for a presentation the next day. We discussed the report, then the way to present it, since it had to be “artistic.” Me and Tomo, the Japanese cellist I mentioned, had to stay a little while longer and make the PowerPoint presentation.

I realize I’ve never really used PowerPoint or Excel. Through all of high school and college, I never had to use it, or was never the person who had to make the presentation. Weird.

Anyway, me and Tomo are fast friends now. I think he is floored because I seem to be the first person with an actual interest in Japan. We’re both big fans of Takeshi Kitano, Haruki Murakami (who Quark may see while in New York, the bastard), Junichiro Tanizaki, Yasunari Kawabata, Shonen Knife, Akira Kurosawa, the Ring trilogy and Hideo Nakata and the US remake, and Pink Eiga (Japanese XXX), Grave of the Fireflies, Perfect Blue, Metropolis, and manga like Astroboy, Lone Wolf & Cub, Blade of the Immortal, Akira, Domu, etc. Since he’s a cellist, we also talked about Jacqueline du Pre, who I only know because of the terrific film Hilary & Jackie, which he’s a fan of as well. We also both like Wong Kar-Wai (though he’s Chinese). He was at Cinemanila almost every day, and loves that movies are so cheap here. We may bitch and complain, but a movie’s 800 pesos in Japan. In New York it’s around 500 bucks already.

Saw the trailers for Adaptation and Punch-Drunk Love, two eagerly-awaited films. Woo-hoo!

Wednesday (Today)

began with a talk about 10 Universal Principles of Great Art, presented with slides of photographs taken by our professor, Eduardo Morato. He’s a really good photographer, apparently, having won several competitions and the like. The photos were excellent. Later I would find out that he also paints, and is a spiritualist, very much into dream interpretation and meditation. I wonder why these facets of him aren’t mentioned in his resume. All the professors we’ll have during the seminar have their write-ups included in the case folder. And none of these “artistic” accomplishments bear mentioning. Kind of sad, if you think of it. I’ll bet he’s prouder of some of these things than a lot of his “business” accomplishments. Not that I’m belittling them. The man’s a legend, always voted terror teacher of the year by the students, but also always voted best teacher. He’s psychic, can spot immediately who hasn’t prepared for class, etc. though he’s been pretty nice to us.

Forgot to mention that we have stretching exercises every 250 PM. Cecile surprised us by being so flexible and limber, she could stretch waaaayy back without falling and could reach the floor with her hands while standing upright easily. It’s not in her write-up either that she used to be a ballerina before becoming Executive Director of Ballet Philippines.

After the 10 Principles came the group presentations we all prepared the night before. I daresay we kicked all their asses, and my mom came to watch, which unnerved me but wasn’t wholly a surprise. We even had props and costumes and shit, but the masterstroke was having Tomo play his cello and Raul his classical guitar, which he does professionally for some 30-odd years now.

After lunch came the really interesting part of the day: intuition. They first explained the differences between instinct, intellect, and intuition. Then we had our first experience: astral travel, or remote viewing. I was paired with a woman named Becky, and we had to stare at one another for something like a minute, trying very hard not to laugh while trying to “intuit” what the other’s house looked like, and then write down the images we saw. She got a 75%, which was pretty good. I got a 95%, which was downright startling and spooky. Becky got some colors wrong, but she was able to correctly “guess” that my fence was a combination of wrought-iron and concrete, that despite my having a fence I didn’t have a gate for my garage, that the sole computer in the house was in a room without a bed, and the spookiest of all, she was able to guess that I have an indoor pond. I was able to correctly “intuit” the color and height of her gate, the color scheme of her walls, the wallpaper in the upstairs rooms, the design and layout of the dining room, etc. I also accurately described some of her furniture, paintings, and vases. The most telling detail was seeing a bookshelf of encyclopedias on the second floor, but in an open hallway, not a room. And I got that right too. I had an astral projection exercise with Fr. Bulatao once in college, but it was about flying, not visiting someone else’s home. One person in the class got 100%. Everything she said about her partner’s house was right. Downright eerie.

We were then taught how to meditate, and to open our different energy sources (I now get that line in Fight Club about opening your heart chakra. No caves, though. Or penguins.).

Next: telepathy. Cecile would show our partners an image while we faced the wall, and we would try to get it right. Most of us had the basics down: color, number of elements, etc. And then change places. One really terrific and scary exercise was Cecile would choose someone who scored high in the remote viewing, get an object from them, give it to someone in the class while he/she wasn’t looking, and then ask them to find their object simply by “following the energy” of his/her possession and reading subliminally the class’s body language. In EVERY CASE, the person found their item. Two got it right on THE FIRST PERSON they approached. Others were in the right vicinity but had difficulty pinpointing exactly where. But instead of going far away, they were pretty near.

The final, longest session was about dream interpretation. Both Cecile and Prof. Morato handled the class. There were no real exercises, they were just asking for lots of dreams and giving interpretations. Lecture by example. Lots of spooky dreams/images came up, and I was taking notes. :) Cool things learned: dreams can affect you physically. One classmate told of a friend’s dream where he was making love with his recently-deceased wife and when he woke up he had a hickie. Another woman told of a recurring dream where her father was speechless. After Morato’s interpretation, she confessed she asked her father to die (he’d been severely ill on and off, but she didn’t ask in a cruel manner, she kind of just let him know that they were going to be okay). Still, being visited after your father like that would spook me.

Recurring dreams almost always mean some kind of unresolved issue or issues. There are prophetic dreams (hence déjà vu), recurring dreams, and sequential dreams.

A lot of stories of Morato being able to tell when people are pregnant before even they know. Also our Indian classmate being told by a Sufi on a train that she was going to have a son, and when she got to her destination she checked and was indeed pregnant.

Monsters in our dreams almost always represent our parents.

After the whole thing, I was resolved to keep a dream journal, since I hardly remember my dreams. I would’ve said I don’t dream but we almost always dream, we just don’t remember. We dream an average of four times a night. Neva, on the other hand, remembers a lot of her dreams with incredible detail (incredible detail and vividness, by the way, are indicators of a prophetic dream). I’d also like to read up more on lucid dreaming, willfully entering a dream knowing that you’re dreaming, so that you can confront figures in your dream to effect change. First heard about it in Waking Life (in a different version, Vanilla Sky, too), but forgot about it after a while.

One dream of a man’s balls having fallen off and rolling away from him on a bridge was successfully interpreted as, well, obviously, emasculation. In this case, his parents (mom especially) told him what course to take in college. When he rebelled against his mom and withdrew from college in third year, the recurring dream stopped.

You can induce hallucinations by fasting around 3 days. Of course, there are other ways: drink, drugs, meditation, chant, etc.

I have some more things to say about dreams and how they’ve really intrigued me recently, but I think I’ll save it for later. This is long enough as it is!

So there may be something in all this spirituality hullabaloo. :)

By the way, got my first offer of employment already, today. This networking thing works!

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By the way, I am now REALLY interested in seeing Joey Javier Reyes’s Live Show. Anybody have a decent copy I can borrow? I’ll take care of it, I promise.

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No time or strength left for links. Sorry.

Wish I could write something long about today's classes, but I'm so fucking tired! Just came from a late meeting with my group about a presentation tomorrow and I still have shit to read for the first class in a few hours' time...

I hope I don't burn out before Friday, when I'll finally have some time to sleep. I haven't had a schedule like this since high school, since classes go from 830 to 530. Even college had long breaks.

Thanks for reading everything, though. I love you bitches.

I severely underestimated the amount of readings I had, and ended up reading cases until about 3, then woke up 4 hours later. Ugh.

It’s kind of weird, but today marks the first day I have ever entered and exited AIM’s doors as a student. Which is funny because my mom’s worked there my whole life, the guards and other employees have seen me grow up. But I’ve never had an interest in management, nor even took a management class at Arneow.

The first day of the seminar was pretty cool. Met my discussion group, learned a lot about the world of modern dance, the life cycle of art, a lively discussion on Live Show that ended up in heated debate, raised voices, and people rising out of their seats (most of the time when we speak we remain seated). Certainly an eclectic bunch. In my discussion group alone there’s the Japanese cellist, the gay guy from Bacolod, the Program Director’s husband, a classical guitarist (it’s kind of funny that he’s taking the class, Cecile keeps needling him in front of us and it makes for comic relief), a teacher from AIM who taught Psychology at Arneow (Mila Lagrosa, if anyone knows her), and a sound teacher from Benilde.

Cecile reminds me of the teacher in Hogwarts who taught them how to fly. I don’t really give a crap about Harry Potter so I don’t know her name. Nor am I interested. She looks like a lesbian, though (the teacher, not Cecile).

Cool things I learned today: took the enneagram, which I’ve taken before, and realized that I have moved from being a withdrawn person to an aggressive one. Must’ve been all those fight clubs. Also, not only is there IQ (intelligence) and EQ (emotional intelligence), which is more or less accepted now, there is also IQ2 (cognitive and learning capabilities), AQ (adversity quotient; how we adapt to critical situations) and SQ, a spiritual quotient that has higher significance since it integrates everything else, and primarily involves intuition.

I took a test to see if I’m right-brained (artists) or left-brained (logical; accountants) and was surprised to find that I was left. Kind of disappointed and surprised, since I thought I was an artiste. Then took another test, which revealed I was right-brained. Confused, I asked Cecile, “What if the results contradict? Each test tells me I use a different hemisphere.” To which she replied, “Well, that means you’re double-dominant.” WOO-HOO! I mean... shit, yeah.

Saw the video of the conference where EQ was first introduced to the world. Cool.

Occupations with the most number of mental disorders: 1. Writers (expected this) 2. Artists (ditto) 3. Professors (hello!)

Found out my personality test through the enneagram, which I thought was really interesting and is the kind of test I find useful (long uncomfortable stare at Ozzy). I’ve kept it in case any of you want to give it a try. Some of it’s pretty accurate, some of it’s off the mark (or maybe I just don’t want to believe it, hehe…). For example, I am aggressive and assertive, according to my profile. I can see that sometimes, but not as dominant. However, when provoked, I will attack. My defense mechanism when under duress is to completely and utterly shut down all emotion, and try to get away from the source of duress, whether person or place or event. The worst thing you could possibly do to me (and I suppose this is putting me at risk) is cheat me. Not only will it be a blow, I will remember it forever and it would taint whatever relationship we have. For a while, if you asked me what my scariest movie was, I’d say Malice, simply because of the infidelity. Now it’s either Ring, Ring 2, or Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, so I guess I’m over it.

Cool stuff to know about yourself, eh?

More: Emotional energy is highly potent and can be transferred: two complete strangers answer a test detailing their mood, enter a room and meet, sitting opposite one another in silence for two minutes. Then they exit the room, fill out the same test, and get the same results. The dominant person’s emotional energy transferred to the other person, or was “picked up” in as little as two minutes, and after they felt almost exactly the same. A highly effective example of empathy.

The video was mostly about the importance of emotion. The speaker gave a talk about the amygdala, a part of the brain responsible for your emotional memory. If someone holds up a pen, for example, in 2/100ths of a millisecond, before it even registers in your brain that “Ah, he’s holding up a pen,” your amygdala will go through your ENTIRE LIFE experiences with pens, and your emotional responses to them, and will emerge with a pattern saying whether or not you like pens. It moves much faster than the other structures in “brain time.” O diba? I’m learning! One serial killer, who’d killed 8 people, including family members and strangers and classmates before being caught, was asked “How could you do it? Didn’t you feel any pity for your victims?” He replied, “Oh, I couldn’t do it if I felt anything for them.” It was later found out that the link between his amygdala and frontal cortex (thought, logic, rationality) was severed.

Seizures can either lead to genius when you experience a positive reinforcement, because brain connections are “shook up” but reattached in new and “exciting” ways, or to schizophrenia when the attachments are awkward, resulting in a negative reinforcement.

I remember reading a book on corporate negotiation one summer, out of sheer boredom and nothing else to read, and recall one passage about tone of voice being very important. That was reiterated today in another example, wherein a drunken man boarded a train, challenged everyone, just aching for a fight, but when greeted politely and warmly by an older man, started bawling and confessing that he missed his wife who’d left him, he had no home, no job, etc.

Well, I better go. Have another shitload of stuff to read for tomorrow, and have to start making a journal (I wonder if Cecile would accept this blog? :) Except I’ve nailed some of my classmates already).

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What is it with hot chicks and yellow jumpsuits these days? I barely gave that Uma Thurman picture and then come across this dazzling piece from the So Close website, which looks like a kick-ass pic from Corey Yuen. Click on the picture to go to the website.