Yay! We're back. I went through withdrawal the first day. Unused to so much technology. Missed the sand beneath my feet, and the wind in my hair. The sound of the shore. But, I also missed certain things, which is why we went to see Troy immediately.
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If I had to sum up Troy in a word it would be bleagh. Thoroughly unengaging, it was the kind of summer film filled with "moments" instead of characters, where everything that wasn't a fight scene seemed in a hurry itself to get to a fight scene because it knew it was boring. You could invent a drinking game with the frequency of "one-liners" dropped by the various characters, most of which already came out in the trailer so there weren't any genuine surprises or keepers. I mean, "Immortality! Take it! It's YOURS!" just reminds me of Captain Planet, and anything that reminds me of Captain Planet can't be a good thing. I had to keep reminding myself that it was inspired by The Iliad and not a direct adaptation, because it was just that bad. Thankfully, this was not too difficult because, uh, THERE AREN'T ANY FUCKING GODS!!! What else sucked? Oh, the score was terrible, boring and unoriginal. Helen of Troy, possibly the most difficult character to cast, was some humdrum blonde who further reduced a cunning character (following up on the script's devaluation of her significance in all this) into a dumb blonde? That's the face that launched a thousand ships? More like a thousand yawns. One of my biggest peeves is that it's like they didn't even bother with the love angle past the opening 20 minutes. And even what was there was unconvincing and embarrassing. What, they fell in love because they'd been screwing for a week? Acting was pretty lukewarm, but I have to give props to Eric Bana for giving Hector a doomed nobility. Although in the beginning, his eyes were kind of freaky as he tried to convey panic silently. Brad Pitt got to display his two acting tricks: furrowing the brow and clenching the jaw. He cries over a fallen warrior's body but there are no tears. That's acting for ya. Sean Bean, one of the best actors we have, is wasted here; poor guy didn't even get a fucking frame in the trailer but he deserves a better salary than Orlando Bloom. Speaking of the fey one, I'm sorry but you're just too pretty. I almost thought he was Helen. Peter O'Toole got one decent scene; otherwise he was just bug-eyed. Brian Cox I enjoyed, actually; everytime he was onscreen there was a small gnashing sound in the background, I later realized it was the scenery being chewed. I'm disappointed to find out that the script was written by David Benioff, an actual novelist who was responsible for both the book and screenplay of The 25th Hour. Effects were unimpressive, but not bad; movement was stilted and crooked at times, so occasionally I'd find myself thinking, "Massive... Massive... Massive..." referring to the program invented during the production of the Lord of the Rings trilogy which specializes in armies and large groups of creatures interacting. The best scene was the duel between Achilles and Hector. Achilles had this annoying jump-in-the-air-and-strike-down move that really felt like some video game special move for his character, and I wish it wasn't TOO obvious that Hector was outclassed. Still, I liked its relative silence, and what score there was was fitting, but it was ruined by the singing at the end. There's a spoiler here, though this being one of the oldest stories in the history of the world it shouldn't be, but anyway: Hector dies. And after that point, the film just deflates, because there's no one to root for. You're just "Alright, just bring on the horse so we can get this over with." Then Achilles gets shot in the foot with an arrow, and keels over. At which point I realized they never even brought up his invulnerability, or his heel. So I felt bad for kids in the audience, who must've been confused as shit. I mean, here's the greatest warrior, and he got taken down by a stick in the foot? All in all, it was boring. The war scenes weren't very good, though I really enjoyed the choreography in the Hector/Achilles duel. I found myself thinking of various scenarios that would make it more interesting, like while Troy was being ransacked, wouldn't it be cool if suddenly you saw Jim Caviezel dragging a cross being whipped by Romans? Or if Eric Bana just turned into the Hulk on the beach and just started eating Greeks? Peter O'Toole should have called on Supergirl for aid. Orlando Bloom should have picked up a bow and arrow and started firing bolts and-- oh, yeah, that's right. Well.
I really wanted to like it. I'm in the mood for a good Big Summer Movie. And I liked some of Wolfgang Peterson's previous work like In the Line of Fire. Air Force One was okay, didn't see The Perfect Storm. Haven't seen Das Boot, though it's his claim to existence with the cineastes. But he did direct The Neverending Story, so I'm pretty forgiving for that alone.
Thank God we watched Shrek 2 next. It's everything you could hope for: funny and entertaining on all levels, from first minute to last. Antonio Banderas's Puss in Boots steals practically every scene he's in. There are even some geek nods to Alien and Godzilla fans.
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Well, we are still stranded. What sucks is that I injured my foot recently so I can't even swim because the cut keeps opening up. I also neglected to bring a book, something I haven't done in years, simply because I didn't think I'd need it what with the location and the company I was with. Boy do I wish I brought one anyway. And if I may sound like a teenager for a second, I really REALLY miss comics. :( And music, and my DVDs, and...
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
STRANDED IN PARADISE
We were supposed to be in Manila by now, but a typhoon has screwed those plans, and now we are stranded. Mich and Chris have a flight tomorrow. They're PAL, and the airport is far away, but Neva and I are taking SEAIR and are waitlisted for Wednesday and Thursday so we may actually get back to Manila on Friday pa(!). Kutob niyo I factored this into my budget? Shit. Still, there are worse places to be stranded in, and worse company to be in. :)
We were supposed to be in Manila by now, but a typhoon has screwed those plans, and now we are stranded. Mich and Chris have a flight tomorrow. They're PAL, and the airport is far away, but Neva and I are taking SEAIR and are waitlisted for Wednesday and Thursday so we may actually get back to Manila on Friday pa(!). Kutob niyo I factored this into my budget? Shit. Still, there are worse places to be stranded in, and worse company to be in. :)
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
I have a friend who told me about another friend of hers, who, when drunk out of his gourd, would cop feels and otherwise attempt to fondle his girl friends. But in the morning, he’d be totally apologetic and guilty and ashamed. But it would happen again the next time the guy was wasted.
I imagine it’s much more difficult for girls than it is for guys. Most guys would probably welcome the treatment (unless it was a gay guy), or at least, be less offended. But this friend says she understands the behavior. But if you’re this guy, and you know what you do when you’re drunk, shouldn’t you then go out of your way to make sure you don’t get wasted so often? Or does he remain unconcerned about the possible damage and, at the least, changing dynamic in his relationships with his girl friends? Or did he weigh the options: maintain relationships, or give up binge-drinking, and decide that he couldn’t give up the bottle?
I’m sure he’s not the only one who behaves that way when drunk. I’m sure because I saw it happen just the other night.
I imagine it’s much more difficult for girls than it is for guys. Most guys would probably welcome the treatment (unless it was a gay guy), or at least, be less offended. But this friend says she understands the behavior. But if you’re this guy, and you know what you do when you’re drunk, shouldn’t you then go out of your way to make sure you don’t get wasted so often? Or does he remain unconcerned about the possible damage and, at the least, changing dynamic in his relationships with his girl friends? Or did he weigh the options: maintain relationships, or give up binge-drinking, and decide that he couldn’t give up the bottle?
I’m sure he’s not the only one who behaves that way when drunk. I’m sure because I saw it happen just the other night.
MATABUNGKAY
Yes, this is late, and I know this blog has been a bit image-heavy recently, but that's tough, you crybabies. I'm still on a fucking dial-up so don't come whining to me. Anyway, on with the show...
Not much to say about Matabungkay. It was fun, I guess, but being trapped with your family and relatives can be tiring. It was a little disorienting to have neither a television, computer, or telephone anywhere near you. Thank Christ someone thought to bring a radio, and that I had a few discs in the car, or I'd have gone insane. For the 3 days and 2 nights we were there, I must've played around 400 games of Pusoy Dos. There was just nothing else to do after reading Chris's comics and JG Ballard's A User's Guide to the Millennium. The adults, instead of Pusoy Dos, had Mahjong.
Glowsticks do not float, but can be seen underwater. That's something I learned. And Tigerfish are really dangerous.
My cousins and brother all wanted me to take "Friendster userpics," wherein they would pose and I would try to take a flattering picture of them. Kids these days.
The soundtrack of this getaway was: DJ Shadow (Endtroducing... & The Private Re-press), UNKLE (Do Androids Dream of Electronic Beats? 3 discs), Nirvana (Incesticide, Nevermind, & In Utero), Sonic Youth (Dirty Boots EP, Invito Al Cielo with Jim O'Rourke, & Kim Gordon side band Free Kitten's Unboxed), and The Best of Hanna-Barbera.
This is my cousin Raffy asleep on the hammock. He wraps it around himself to keep mosquitoes from desiccating him.
This is my cousin Pia. I waited and waited but she would not look up. She doesn't like to smile for pictures. But she does like her shells.
My turn on the hammock, with my magazine of choice, the Lapidary Journal. You can't trust your precious gems to just any hokey magazine, you know.
Here's what we did when we weren't in the water.
Here's our parents' version of Pusoy Dos (closer to Tong-its, actually).
These are the balsas at low tide. They just wash up on shore.
This was our balsa. My first time to use one of these things, actually.
2 consecutive artsy-fartsy pictures of the balsa, this one with the negative space on top...
... and this one below. With an anchor, if you look closely.
Our ambience.
That's my dad and my ninong floating. The adults don't really swim, they just float and lounge in the water like hippos. I had to wait a while for them to line up so I could take this shot but man was it worth it.
This is an ice cream vendor with his cooler on a flotation device. He'd swim from balsa to balsa, family to family.
I was walking around the compound our relatives rented and came across this stack of black wooden crosses with garlic hanging on them. In October they line the driveway with these crosses to ward off evil spirits. Creepy. Thank God we didn't come here in October.
And a hallmark to end our post. Low tide sunset, my cousins collecting shells on the beach. All is tranquil.
Now back to life.
Yes, this is late, and I know this blog has been a bit image-heavy recently, but that's tough, you crybabies. I'm still on a fucking dial-up so don't come whining to me. Anyway, on with the show...
Not much to say about Matabungkay. It was fun, I guess, but being trapped with your family and relatives can be tiring. It was a little disorienting to have neither a television, computer, or telephone anywhere near you. Thank Christ someone thought to bring a radio, and that I had a few discs in the car, or I'd have gone insane. For the 3 days and 2 nights we were there, I must've played around 400 games of Pusoy Dos. There was just nothing else to do after reading Chris's comics and JG Ballard's A User's Guide to the Millennium. The adults, instead of Pusoy Dos, had Mahjong.
Glowsticks do not float, but can be seen underwater. That's something I learned. And Tigerfish are really dangerous.
My cousins and brother all wanted me to take "Friendster userpics," wherein they would pose and I would try to take a flattering picture of them. Kids these days.
The soundtrack of this getaway was: DJ Shadow (Endtroducing... & The Private Re-press), UNKLE (Do Androids Dream of Electronic Beats? 3 discs), Nirvana (Incesticide, Nevermind, & In Utero), Sonic Youth (Dirty Boots EP, Invito Al Cielo with Jim O'Rourke, & Kim Gordon side band Free Kitten's Unboxed), and The Best of Hanna-Barbera.
This is my cousin Raffy asleep on the hammock. He wraps it around himself to keep mosquitoes from desiccating him.
This is my cousin Pia. I waited and waited but she would not look up. She doesn't like to smile for pictures. But she does like her shells.
My turn on the hammock, with my magazine of choice, the Lapidary Journal. You can't trust your precious gems to just any hokey magazine, you know.
Here's what we did when we weren't in the water.
Here's our parents' version of Pusoy Dos (closer to Tong-its, actually).
These are the balsas at low tide. They just wash up on shore.
This was our balsa. My first time to use one of these things, actually.
2 consecutive artsy-fartsy pictures of the balsa, this one with the negative space on top...
... and this one below. With an anchor, if you look closely.
Our ambience.
That's my dad and my ninong floating. The adults don't really swim, they just float and lounge in the water like hippos. I had to wait a while for them to line up so I could take this shot but man was it worth it.
This is an ice cream vendor with his cooler on a flotation device. He'd swim from balsa to balsa, family to family.
I was walking around the compound our relatives rented and came across this stack of black wooden crosses with garlic hanging on them. In October they line the driveway with these crosses to ward off evil spirits. Creepy. Thank God we didn't come here in October.
And a hallmark to end our post. Low tide sunset, my cousins collecting shells on the beach. All is tranquil.
Now back to life.
ODDS & ENDS
I have always wanted to see The Exorcist compressed into 30 seconds, and enacted by cartoon bunnies with high-pitched voices. Voila! I got my wish.
I wouldn't mind having a devil duck sitting beside my computer, especially when its eyes light up when reading/transferring data, but I would very much like a Godzilla with 4 USB ports on its back, especially when both its eyes AND its mouth lights up!
Here is a somewhat creepy animated short.
A while back some of you may have read this post on Neva's blog, where she talks about this music video she came across on TV and it made her cry. Well, I found it, and it is indeed quite good and tear-jerking. Neva was watching it again over my shoulder as I watched it for the first time and when I looked up, she was crying again.
For you Sims fans, here's the essay Neil Gaiman wrote for the previous one's manual/booklet.
Here's a nice little strip about the literary life, courtesy of Posy Simmonds.
See my little friend over on the left with the raging boner? That's James Kochalka's Fancy Froglin. He has a book out called Sexy Forest. Anyway, there are 2 sick and twisted fan films you should see: here and here. The first is kinda graphic, so parental guidance is advised. The second has a cool rap. You can't beat a frog rapping.
TRAILER PARK
I've seen the trailer for Before Sunset, and I don't hate it. In fact, I think I'm looking forward to it, even though it slams shut, with finality, that somewhat open ending on Before Sunrise. Garden State looks really interesting; I LOVE the images in this trailer. And I love Peter Sarsgaard. He was good in Center of the World and he's amazing in Shattered Glass. He's the best young actor to come along since Ed Norton, I think. Collateral looks really intriguing, too, and it looks like there's a mix of film and DV like Mann did with Ali, but I'm just glad to have a new Michael Mann film coming out! And I am excited for The Bourne Supremacy, even if it isn't being helmed by Doug Liman anymore. If you need a laugh, check out an over-the-top Christopher Walken in Undertaking Betty. Hilarious.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Monday, May 10, 2004
I FEEL DISCONNECTED
Yesterday everyone was talking about the fight and I could probably care less but won't make the effort. I caught the first 3 rounds before falling asleep. We were at my lola's for Mother's Day (which very few people seem to have remembered) and I was tired from tearing down political posters some motherless fucks posted around my lola's property. My dad and brother didn't really help-- they were watching the fight before Pacquiao's.
Now, everyone's talking about the elections, and some of the opinions genuinely surprise me. It was like a zoo without cages when I voted yesterday. Saw some neighborhood friends I haven't seen in years.
The past few days I've felt dreadful before going to sleep. And this is not one of those attempts at colorful language-- I really felt full of dread. I feel like something bad is going to happen, and that I should prepare. But I don't know what, and I don't know how.
I hope I'm wrong.
--
This is the review I was talking about, Mikey. It's Stephen Thompson's review of Death Cab for Cutie's Transatlanticism. Well-written, in the way that I think deftly encapsulates what the album is about, reveals something new for those who've already heard it, and sells the reader on getting it. I wish I could write as well as The Onion AV Club crew.
This is a nice ad from Ate Cyn. She mentioned this a while back, I forgot to link to it. I first heard it at Quark's; it's Francis Ford Coppola interviewing his daughter, writer/director Sofia, when she was 6 years old. He was working on Apocalypse Now, which shot here, and she sings "Lupang Hinirang" pretty well.
This is from Ylai, and I laughed out loud. And since Mikey isn't updating as frequently as he was, and because of recent entries, Ylai is now my favorite blog.
--
Mich's birthday party was a blast, even if I missed Ciudad, dammit. Saw a lot of people, took a lot of pictures. Almost everyone got drunk from P's secret Iced Tea of Doom. Probably the best thing, besides the company, of course, was getting to see 2 bands I haven't seen before: Enemy of the Enemy (excellent name), and Giniling Festival. Both kicked ass. And Lacson Jackson did very well, for their first-ever gig in front of more than 2 people not in the band itself. Goldie will be a rock star one day, and I hope her guitar will still be yellow.
Yesterday everyone was talking about the fight and I could probably care less but won't make the effort. I caught the first 3 rounds before falling asleep. We were at my lola's for Mother's Day (which very few people seem to have remembered) and I was tired from tearing down political posters some motherless fucks posted around my lola's property. My dad and brother didn't really help-- they were watching the fight before Pacquiao's.
Now, everyone's talking about the elections, and some of the opinions genuinely surprise me. It was like a zoo without cages when I voted yesterday. Saw some neighborhood friends I haven't seen in years.
The past few days I've felt dreadful before going to sleep. And this is not one of those attempts at colorful language-- I really felt full of dread. I feel like something bad is going to happen, and that I should prepare. But I don't know what, and I don't know how.
I hope I'm wrong.
--
This is the review I was talking about, Mikey. It's Stephen Thompson's review of Death Cab for Cutie's Transatlanticism. Well-written, in the way that I think deftly encapsulates what the album is about, reveals something new for those who've already heard it, and sells the reader on getting it. I wish I could write as well as The Onion AV Club crew.
This is a nice ad from Ate Cyn. She mentioned this a while back, I forgot to link to it. I first heard it at Quark's; it's Francis Ford Coppola interviewing his daughter, writer/director Sofia, when she was 6 years old. He was working on Apocalypse Now, which shot here, and she sings "Lupang Hinirang" pretty well.
This is from Ylai, and I laughed out loud. And since Mikey isn't updating as frequently as he was, and because of recent entries, Ylai is now my favorite blog.
--
Mich's birthday party was a blast, even if I missed Ciudad, dammit. Saw a lot of people, took a lot of pictures. Almost everyone got drunk from P's secret Iced Tea of Doom. Probably the best thing, besides the company, of course, was getting to see 2 bands I haven't seen before: Enemy of the Enemy (excellent name), and Giniling Festival. Both kicked ass. And Lacson Jackson did very well, for their first-ever gig in front of more than 2 people not in the band itself. Goldie will be a rock star one day, and I hope her guitar will still be yellow.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
I’m having some friends over this Saturday afternoon at my house. If you have nothing to do then, and don’t mind a trip down South, feel free to come. It’s an informal meeting of the comics discussion list I moderate, so there’ll be some comics being shown, but we’ll also basically be hanging out, watching stuff, etc. You can bring food, comics, drinks, DVDs, a PS2, whatever. If you’re interested, email me privately and I’ll send you my complete address and directions. I live near Bicutan, and it’s near impossible to get lost because from C5 it’s only 3 left turns and a right.
If you don’t know my email address, send me a message on Friendster. Or leave your email ad in the comments. :)
If you don’t know my email address, send me a message on Friendster. Or leave your email ad in the comments. :)
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
I caught the lunar eclipse! Man, was it cool. Made me feel like a kid again. Every boy goes through 2 phases of utter fascination: astronomy and dinosaurs. Hadn't thought about this in a while.
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Saw Man on Fire the other day. I liked it for what it was worth: a pure revenge movie. What I expected to dislike, I disliked: the overabundance of style at certain points, particularly Creasy's "drinking" montage. Still, with such a simple plot, it's nice to see a Hollywood film take the time to infuse character; the movie's over 2 and a half hours. And if there must be an overabundance of style, you could do much worse than have it be Tony Scott style. I really disliked his use of Carlos Varela's "Una Palabra," though. I feel that it's so effective and unforgettable in Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's BMW Film Powder Keg that he should've used something else. And he used it twice in the last 15 minutes of the film. The photography, especially the colour, is sumptuous; kudos to DP Paul Cameron. I also liked Christopher Walken. There's a particularly Hollywood "twist" towards the end that I disliked too; it robbed the main character of his purpose, and this wasn't reflected as much as I wanted it to be. Still, it was fun watching the single-minded drive of Denzel's Creasy mowing down everything in his path. The irony that it's written by Brian Helgeland (and that it's a second adaptation) isn't lost on me; as Nathan Rabin said in his review in The Onion AV Club, Helgeland "owns the peculiar distinction of having, in two consecutive years, adapted a contemplative critique of the futility of revenge (Mystic River) and a simplistic celebration of vigilante justice."
Saw Hellboy last week. I enjoyed it enough. Of course, having read the comics before I saw the movie, I was somewhat expecting to be a little disappointed. I loved the BPRD, and Ron Perlman as Hellboy. There were some lines of dialogue that were really true to the character, like when Abe discovered 3 eggs in HB's right hand and he just quips, "Didn't even buy me a drink." I enjoyed the fanboy things like seeing the stacks of pancakes and the lines "I'm gonna be sore in the morning," "That's all for you," etc. I loved the scene where Hellboy's following Agent Myers and Liz. He really seemed like a teenager when he was pacing back and forth going "She took his picture. She took his picture!" Things I didn't like included Abe Sapien, who is the coolest character in the comics but here seemed a little too fey. David Hyde Pierce was the (uncredited) voice, but a different actor was the body, and he must've come from mime school or something because he was overacting like crazy. What I disliked the most was that the villains just DID NOT translate well. Beyond simple things like "Why are all these Russians and Germans speaking in English when they're amongst themselves?" they were hammy actors burdened with pompous dialogue that may be alright when read, but said aloud just sound ridiculous.
I've finally seen The Passion, too, but that's its own post.
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You know how people who've had a string of bad luck take comfort in the karmic notion that there is something great waiting down the line? I wonder if it works the other way around. Do people who've had an amazing life and all the easy breaks worry that something terrible is bound to happen to them? Does this worry paralyze them? Or are they comfortable in thinking that so long as they fully appreciate and respect what they've been given things will be alright?
I don't think I believe in karma. But there is the law of averages.
-
Good news for geeks: Millennium Season 1 and Batman: The Animated Series Season 1 Box Sets have been announced.
-
I love Adrian Tomine:
-
There's a whole mess of new links in my links box. Especially since everyone and their ghost (or pet) now has a blog. Please notify me if there's a broken (or stale) link, or if you don't want your URL out in the open like that. There'll be no offense taken, believe me; I understand some of you want your privacy and want only friends to visit. Some people have more than one link; if you would prefer it be reduced to just one, please tell me. Or if I haven't linked you yet at all. Or if your link disappeared from template updates. It's cute to see that there are now complete sibling sets online: the Costello Sharp-Tongues, for example, and The Martinez Sorority.
-
Saw Man on Fire the other day. I liked it for what it was worth: a pure revenge movie. What I expected to dislike, I disliked: the overabundance of style at certain points, particularly Creasy's "drinking" montage. Still, with such a simple plot, it's nice to see a Hollywood film take the time to infuse character; the movie's over 2 and a half hours. And if there must be an overabundance of style, you could do much worse than have it be Tony Scott style. I really disliked his use of Carlos Varela's "Una Palabra," though. I feel that it's so effective and unforgettable in Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's BMW Film Powder Keg that he should've used something else. And he used it twice in the last 15 minutes of the film. The photography, especially the colour, is sumptuous; kudos to DP Paul Cameron. I also liked Christopher Walken. There's a particularly Hollywood "twist" towards the end that I disliked too; it robbed the main character of his purpose, and this wasn't reflected as much as I wanted it to be. Still, it was fun watching the single-minded drive of Denzel's Creasy mowing down everything in his path. The irony that it's written by Brian Helgeland (and that it's a second adaptation) isn't lost on me; as Nathan Rabin said in his review in The Onion AV Club, Helgeland "owns the peculiar distinction of having, in two consecutive years, adapted a contemplative critique of the futility of revenge (Mystic River) and a simplistic celebration of vigilante justice."
Saw Hellboy last week. I enjoyed it enough. Of course, having read the comics before I saw the movie, I was somewhat expecting to be a little disappointed. I loved the BPRD, and Ron Perlman as Hellboy. There were some lines of dialogue that were really true to the character, like when Abe discovered 3 eggs in HB's right hand and he just quips, "Didn't even buy me a drink." I enjoyed the fanboy things like seeing the stacks of pancakes and the lines "I'm gonna be sore in the morning," "That's all for you," etc. I loved the scene where Hellboy's following Agent Myers and Liz. He really seemed like a teenager when he was pacing back and forth going "She took his picture. She took his picture!" Things I didn't like included Abe Sapien, who is the coolest character in the comics but here seemed a little too fey. David Hyde Pierce was the (uncredited) voice, but a different actor was the body, and he must've come from mime school or something because he was overacting like crazy. What I disliked the most was that the villains just DID NOT translate well. Beyond simple things like "Why are all these Russians and Germans speaking in English when they're amongst themselves?" they were hammy actors burdened with pompous dialogue that may be alright when read, but said aloud just sound ridiculous.
I've finally seen The Passion, too, but that's its own post.
-
You know how people who've had a string of bad luck take comfort in the karmic notion that there is something great waiting down the line? I wonder if it works the other way around. Do people who've had an amazing life and all the easy breaks worry that something terrible is bound to happen to them? Does this worry paralyze them? Or are they comfortable in thinking that so long as they fully appreciate and respect what they've been given things will be alright?
I don't think I believe in karma. But there is the law of averages.
-
Good news for geeks: Millennium Season 1 and Batman: The Animated Series Season 1 Box Sets have been announced.
-
I love Adrian Tomine:
-
There's a whole mess of new links in my links box. Especially since everyone and their ghost (or pet) now has a blog. Please notify me if there's a broken (or stale) link, or if you don't want your URL out in the open like that. There'll be no offense taken, believe me; I understand some of you want your privacy and want only friends to visit. Some people have more than one link; if you would prefer it be reduced to just one, please tell me. Or if I haven't linked you yet at all. Or if your link disappeared from template updates. It's cute to see that there are now complete sibling sets online: the Costello Sharp-Tongues, for example, and The Martinez Sorority.
Monday, May 03, 2004
SUCH IS LIFE
as Kelvin Yu replied when I sent my condolences about his grandmother's death some weeks ago. Last Friday, we buried my tita in the morning, celebrated Neva's birthday in the evening, and the next afternoon, Saturday, I watched my cousin get married to his highschool sweetheart.
It was a small, intimate event: close friends and family only. What I will remember most about the ceremony was BB, my cousin Ray's yaya, who's been with them since before he was born, bawling her eyes out into a handkerchief. This is the woman who bathed him as a baby, wiped his ass when he took shits and took care of him when he was sick, made his beds and cooked his dinner. Kind of his second mom. I have my own BB: Ate Susan, who's also been with my family since before I was born. In fact, she was with my family when my dad was still young and they all still lived in Leyte. She's the only other person in the house who speaks Waray besides my dad. I'm godfather to her firstborn. I was wondering how she'd be when my time came. This has become common in recent generations: with mothers working fulltime, we're raised by our helpers, and these helpers stay with us their whole lives sometimes, and effectively become part of the family. There were times when Ate would have rows with my mother, and she'd leave for a few months to work somewhere else, and her presence would be missed, not only because we had all these chores to suddenly handle, but simply because she's the person who's always at home, who answers the phone, whose cooking we know best.
So my cousin Ray married Yoya, his girlfriend of what, 7 years? When I first heard they became a couple (senior year high school), and got more information about Yoya, the connections were almost uncanny: her best friend was my batchmate in grade school. She lived in MY village, and was dating MY first cousin, who lived far away in North Fairview. But they make an excellent couple.
Things are set up in such a way that I should hate my cousin. Because he is blessed: good looks, great family, good grades, and more. Growing up, I often heard various paraphrased versions of "Why can't you be like your cousin Ray?" He was valedictorian of his batch in grade school. Graduated high school and college with honors. Plays guitar and cello. Did I mention the good looks? Crush ng bayan yan. Even straight guys would have a crush on him. He was one of the glee club's stars in grade school, and hosted some show with Gary V. that was a big thing for my relatives then. In high school, he was an actor in Dulaang Sibol, and went on to be the definitive lead in their play Sinta. See what I mean? He had everything going for him, at least from the standpoint of the shy, insecure bookworm with average grades. Probably the closest he came to disappointing his parents was choosing to take Management Engineering (reputedly Ateneo's hardest course) instead of Biology (his parents were hoping he'd become a doctor). And of course, he had Yoya, who was the crush of 2 other people I know, and was always being compared to Liv Tyler before I finally met her.
I should hate the guy. But I don't. I love him.
Ray is my closest cousin, one of my best friends. Beyond that, he's one of those people I admire, whose sheer niceness and generosity of self have been an example, and a sign of hope for this sad, doomed world. He is one of those people I can claim to know before I am turned away from the pearly gates at the final judgment, and hope maybe that'll buy me some time before being cast into the fiery pits. With all his blessings, there's another, more important one: he's just a nice guy. He never made me feel any less of a person. He appreciated black humor. We would have vacations at one another's house during summer vacations. He taught me to shoot pool. We watched VHS tapes (or was it Betamax?) of recorded Simpsons episodes I borrowed from Gab. I can still say to him "Lemonade?" and he'd still know to reply with "Pleeze." and I would conclude with "You're my best friend." We would sing along to "Beat It." We biked around his village in the rain, and I crashed my bike into an open manhole hidden by a small flood. We both had crushes on Alyssa Milano in "Who's the Boss?" (who didn't?) I lived in his house for six months, half of my first year in high school, because we thought it would be easier than my staying at home in Paranaque, and he would get mad at me because I burned through his Michael Crichton and John Grisham books before he'd get to finish them. For the past 2 years he's stayed over with us on weekdays and went home on weekends, because he used to work for Ford over at Laguna but now is at Unilever, still a far drive from Fairview. I can't say I won't miss him, but of course, being now married, he'll be with Yoya.
Did I envy him at certain points in our lives? Hell yes. But I never, EVER wished anything bad for him.
In another world, maybe I hate him. In this one, I am one of the people who brag about him first and fastest. You'd think he was my son or something.
Anyway, I just wanted to share that. I'm really happy for him. And yes I cried during the wedding.
as Kelvin Yu replied when I sent my condolences about his grandmother's death some weeks ago. Last Friday, we buried my tita in the morning, celebrated Neva's birthday in the evening, and the next afternoon, Saturday, I watched my cousin get married to his highschool sweetheart.
It was a small, intimate event: close friends and family only. What I will remember most about the ceremony was BB, my cousin Ray's yaya, who's been with them since before he was born, bawling her eyes out into a handkerchief. This is the woman who bathed him as a baby, wiped his ass when he took shits and took care of him when he was sick, made his beds and cooked his dinner. Kind of his second mom. I have my own BB: Ate Susan, who's also been with my family since before I was born. In fact, she was with my family when my dad was still young and they all still lived in Leyte. She's the only other person in the house who speaks Waray besides my dad. I'm godfather to her firstborn. I was wondering how she'd be when my time came. This has become common in recent generations: with mothers working fulltime, we're raised by our helpers, and these helpers stay with us their whole lives sometimes, and effectively become part of the family. There were times when Ate would have rows with my mother, and she'd leave for a few months to work somewhere else, and her presence would be missed, not only because we had all these chores to suddenly handle, but simply because she's the person who's always at home, who answers the phone, whose cooking we know best.
So my cousin Ray married Yoya, his girlfriend of what, 7 years? When I first heard they became a couple (senior year high school), and got more information about Yoya, the connections were almost uncanny: her best friend was my batchmate in grade school. She lived in MY village, and was dating MY first cousin, who lived far away in North Fairview. But they make an excellent couple.
Things are set up in such a way that I should hate my cousin. Because he is blessed: good looks, great family, good grades, and more. Growing up, I often heard various paraphrased versions of "Why can't you be like your cousin Ray?" He was valedictorian of his batch in grade school. Graduated high school and college with honors. Plays guitar and cello. Did I mention the good looks? Crush ng bayan yan. Even straight guys would have a crush on him. He was one of the glee club's stars in grade school, and hosted some show with Gary V. that was a big thing for my relatives then. In high school, he was an actor in Dulaang Sibol, and went on to be the definitive lead in their play Sinta. See what I mean? He had everything going for him, at least from the standpoint of the shy, insecure bookworm with average grades. Probably the closest he came to disappointing his parents was choosing to take Management Engineering (reputedly Ateneo's hardest course) instead of Biology (his parents were hoping he'd become a doctor). And of course, he had Yoya, who was the crush of 2 other people I know, and was always being compared to Liv Tyler before I finally met her.
I should hate the guy. But I don't. I love him.
Ray is my closest cousin, one of my best friends. Beyond that, he's one of those people I admire, whose sheer niceness and generosity of self have been an example, and a sign of hope for this sad, doomed world. He is one of those people I can claim to know before I am turned away from the pearly gates at the final judgment, and hope maybe that'll buy me some time before being cast into the fiery pits. With all his blessings, there's another, more important one: he's just a nice guy. He never made me feel any less of a person. He appreciated black humor. We would have vacations at one another's house during summer vacations. He taught me to shoot pool. We watched VHS tapes (or was it Betamax?) of recorded Simpsons episodes I borrowed from Gab. I can still say to him "Lemonade?" and he'd still know to reply with "Pleeze." and I would conclude with "You're my best friend." We would sing along to "Beat It." We biked around his village in the rain, and I crashed my bike into an open manhole hidden by a small flood. We both had crushes on Alyssa Milano in "Who's the Boss?" (who didn't?) I lived in his house for six months, half of my first year in high school, because we thought it would be easier than my staying at home in Paranaque, and he would get mad at me because I burned through his Michael Crichton and John Grisham books before he'd get to finish them. For the past 2 years he's stayed over with us on weekdays and went home on weekends, because he used to work for Ford over at Laguna but now is at Unilever, still a far drive from Fairview. I can't say I won't miss him, but of course, being now married, he'll be with Yoya.
Did I envy him at certain points in our lives? Hell yes. But I never, EVER wished anything bad for him.
In another world, maybe I hate him. In this one, I am one of the people who brag about him first and fastest. You'd think he was my son or something.
Anyway, I just wanted to share that. I'm really happy for him. And yes I cried during the wedding.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Monday, April 26, 2004
My tita passed away this morning at around 4 AM. About an hour after the last post was published.
I knew she was in bad shape last night. But I didn't allow myself to think of her dying with any finality. I didn't even write it down in the previous post. I don't know, maybe I thought it was bad luck. But it's the closest I've been to death. I wanted to say something naive like I wish I never have to go through anything like that again, but the only way that'll happen is if I die first.
I knew she was in bad shape last night. But I didn't allow myself to think of her dying with any finality. I didn't even write it down in the previous post. I don't know, maybe I thought it was bad luck. But it's the closest I've been to death. I wanted to say something naive like I wish I never have to go through anything like that again, but the only way that'll happen is if I die first.
GDMFSOB
What a horrible, miserable fucking day I had.
Was woken up to get the car's aircon and other problems fixed. Finally! Dad gives me some money and instructions/directions. I go with my brother to the shop, which is in Sucat. It is fucking hot and traffic is bad. Practically across the street from the shop, we get a flat. Which wouldn't be so bad in itself, except that I had just changed another flat tire from the same car 2 days ago. So the spare was still flat. Luckily, we're near the shop, so both tires get vulcanized. Still, it's an unexpected, unwelcome delay, and an added expense. One of the tires ended up costing P250 because the tear was huge.
The car is looked at, and my dad arrives from some meeting. He leaves with my brother and a mechanic to buy parts. I'm left to watch over the car (and the spare was still being vulcanized). It is still blisteringly hot; thank God I brought the comics I borrowed from Chris. They try to fix the horn but there's a part missing. They tell me one of the bulbs in the right headlight is busted but they don't have those kinds of parts.
I get a call to pick up my brother and the mechanic at my mom's office in Makati, because my dad has another meeting to go to, and the place they went to in Pasay didn't have the compressor we needed. Here my headache begins. So I drive from Sucat to the heart of Makati. It is hot, and traffic is bad. Sitting in traffic while basting in the heat: I like to think these things make me a stronger person. It is looking less and less likely that I can go to the bank like I wanted to. I pick up my brother and the mechanic, and receive new instructions, more money: the only place they know with the compressor we need is in Cubao. Terrific. I drive to Cubao. It is hot, and traffic is VERY bad. We get the compressor, but because of traffic and the delays (the flat, the missing parts) it's already late. The aircon will be worked on tomorrow. So after all this shit, what got fixed? The tires. We have to bring the car back to the shop tomorrow morning.
I get a call from my dad: drop off the mechanic and give him money to get back to Sucat, go back to mom's office, we'll have dinner and visit my tita who's in the hospital. We're not dressed, I say, we thought we'd be at the shop and back home by 3, which is why we were wearing shorts and slippers. No problem, he says.
On Edsa, going back to Makati from Cubao, the engine DIES. Which shouldn't happen, because the car's an automatic. I get it started again, but then it dies again a little while later. We pull over, and examine the engine. It overheated. The first time that this car, which has been with us for years, has ever overheated. Because the water completely ran out. A hose under the engine came loose and the radiator leaked fluid. Luckily, we have bottles of mineral water in the car. But it revealed yet another problem: the temperature gauge is fucked up, because I would've seen the overheat coming. Another delay. Get to mom's office, have a pizza. Mom gets a text: bring a priest. Thankfully, from this point I am no longer driving and we are using the Lynx.
We pick up the priest in his parish in Pasay before going to the hospital (UDMC). The hospital is horrible; the bathrooms are filthy and roaches are on the floor and walls of the halls. The priest says some prayers. I don't think they're last rites, but it's not looking good. My tita has had cancer for some months now, and she's been pretty weak recently. It was her fifth night, I think, at the hospital. She was having difficulty breathing, was gasping, maybe pneumonia or water in the lungs. Occasionally her arm would go up, violently and suddenly. She could hear us but couldn't really communicate, and her husband had to hold her legs down. It's a terrible scene, and I start tearing up. I'm not particularly close to my tita, but everything gets to me: how pale she looks, and how frail and just so-- small. I try to stop; I don't like crying in front of my family. I distract myself with details: there's an empty bedpan under the foot of the bed. Purses on the floor. Coffee and sandwiches on the table. Traffic sounds outside. The hum of the airconditioner. But try as I might, my mind goes back to the heavier things: my tito holding down her legs, watching her breathe. How's he feel? Is he prepared? I got scared when they asked us to bring a priest; it didn't look good, she might not last the night. Above her, sitting on the bed, is her daughter, my cousin. They're not on good terms, haven't been for years. They live in the same compound but not in the same house; my cousin "moved out" a while ago, and talks mostly to her dad. When she talks to her mom they usually end up quarrelling. This is what I hear, anyway. Sitting above her mother, she's fanning her head, a hand on her arm. I can see the dried tracks of tears on her cheeks.
My tita is my dad's last living sister. His elder sister, Anita, died long ago, before my parents even met. She died of cancer too. My dad's older brother also has cancer now. It became better but has come back. My dad's dad, also cancer. Died when my dad was 16. Also never met my mom. A little over a year ago, my lola, his mom, passed away. Not cancer, but as is common, I discover, pneumonia gets you in the end. The body just becomes so weak, that the breathing becomes almost impossible.
I hope this doesn't sound too cruel, but this was something I thought about: if you come from a big family, unfortunately you get to a certain age where you have to attend a lot more funerals.
When we left the hospital, my tita was asleep. My cousin said some color had come back to her cheeks.
-
This must've been karma for Sunday, which was pretty good. I was able to sleep late, dropped by the Costellos, then went to Quark's shoot for the next Chicosci video. He told me to bring office clothes but neglected to mention that we would be swing dancing. Possibly because it would've scared some people away. Mikey choreographed it, and it was fun. Doing around 7 takes of a 30-second shot was devastating, though. My feet still ache a little. Saw some people I hadn't seen in a while: Mikey, Alia, and Trinka. After, we grabbed some dinner and watched a great Ciudad gig at SGS, then finally got to try Una Sikat's Sizzling Bulalo before heading home.
-
Still haven't seen Hellboy. Hopefully today, as a reward. Everyone watch Spartan. Might be its last day today.
What a horrible, miserable fucking day I had.
Was woken up to get the car's aircon and other problems fixed. Finally! Dad gives me some money and instructions/directions. I go with my brother to the shop, which is in Sucat. It is fucking hot and traffic is bad. Practically across the street from the shop, we get a flat. Which wouldn't be so bad in itself, except that I had just changed another flat tire from the same car 2 days ago. So the spare was still flat. Luckily, we're near the shop, so both tires get vulcanized. Still, it's an unexpected, unwelcome delay, and an added expense. One of the tires ended up costing P250 because the tear was huge.
The car is looked at, and my dad arrives from some meeting. He leaves with my brother and a mechanic to buy parts. I'm left to watch over the car (and the spare was still being vulcanized). It is still blisteringly hot; thank God I brought the comics I borrowed from Chris. They try to fix the horn but there's a part missing. They tell me one of the bulbs in the right headlight is busted but they don't have those kinds of parts.
I get a call to pick up my brother and the mechanic at my mom's office in Makati, because my dad has another meeting to go to, and the place they went to in Pasay didn't have the compressor we needed. Here my headache begins. So I drive from Sucat to the heart of Makati. It is hot, and traffic is bad. Sitting in traffic while basting in the heat: I like to think these things make me a stronger person. It is looking less and less likely that I can go to the bank like I wanted to. I pick up my brother and the mechanic, and receive new instructions, more money: the only place they know with the compressor we need is in Cubao. Terrific. I drive to Cubao. It is hot, and traffic is VERY bad. We get the compressor, but because of traffic and the delays (the flat, the missing parts) it's already late. The aircon will be worked on tomorrow. So after all this shit, what got fixed? The tires. We have to bring the car back to the shop tomorrow morning.
I get a call from my dad: drop off the mechanic and give him money to get back to Sucat, go back to mom's office, we'll have dinner and visit my tita who's in the hospital. We're not dressed, I say, we thought we'd be at the shop and back home by 3, which is why we were wearing shorts and slippers. No problem, he says.
On Edsa, going back to Makati from Cubao, the engine DIES. Which shouldn't happen, because the car's an automatic. I get it started again, but then it dies again a little while later. We pull over, and examine the engine. It overheated. The first time that this car, which has been with us for years, has ever overheated. Because the water completely ran out. A hose under the engine came loose and the radiator leaked fluid. Luckily, we have bottles of mineral water in the car. But it revealed yet another problem: the temperature gauge is fucked up, because I would've seen the overheat coming. Another delay. Get to mom's office, have a pizza. Mom gets a text: bring a priest. Thankfully, from this point I am no longer driving and we are using the Lynx.
We pick up the priest in his parish in Pasay before going to the hospital (UDMC). The hospital is horrible; the bathrooms are filthy and roaches are on the floor and walls of the halls. The priest says some prayers. I don't think they're last rites, but it's not looking good. My tita has had cancer for some months now, and she's been pretty weak recently. It was her fifth night, I think, at the hospital. She was having difficulty breathing, was gasping, maybe pneumonia or water in the lungs. Occasionally her arm would go up, violently and suddenly. She could hear us but couldn't really communicate, and her husband had to hold her legs down. It's a terrible scene, and I start tearing up. I'm not particularly close to my tita, but everything gets to me: how pale she looks, and how frail and just so-- small. I try to stop; I don't like crying in front of my family. I distract myself with details: there's an empty bedpan under the foot of the bed. Purses on the floor. Coffee and sandwiches on the table. Traffic sounds outside. The hum of the airconditioner. But try as I might, my mind goes back to the heavier things: my tito holding down her legs, watching her breathe. How's he feel? Is he prepared? I got scared when they asked us to bring a priest; it didn't look good, she might not last the night. Above her, sitting on the bed, is her daughter, my cousin. They're not on good terms, haven't been for years. They live in the same compound but not in the same house; my cousin "moved out" a while ago, and talks mostly to her dad. When she talks to her mom they usually end up quarrelling. This is what I hear, anyway. Sitting above her mother, she's fanning her head, a hand on her arm. I can see the dried tracks of tears on her cheeks.
My tita is my dad's last living sister. His elder sister, Anita, died long ago, before my parents even met. She died of cancer too. My dad's older brother also has cancer now. It became better but has come back. My dad's dad, also cancer. Died when my dad was 16. Also never met my mom. A little over a year ago, my lola, his mom, passed away. Not cancer, but as is common, I discover, pneumonia gets you in the end. The body just becomes so weak, that the breathing becomes almost impossible.
I hope this doesn't sound too cruel, but this was something I thought about: if you come from a big family, unfortunately you get to a certain age where you have to attend a lot more funerals.
When we left the hospital, my tita was asleep. My cousin said some color had come back to her cheeks.
-
This must've been karma for Sunday, which was pretty good. I was able to sleep late, dropped by the Costellos, then went to Quark's shoot for the next Chicosci video. He told me to bring office clothes but neglected to mention that we would be swing dancing. Possibly because it would've scared some people away. Mikey choreographed it, and it was fun. Doing around 7 takes of a 30-second shot was devastating, though. My feet still ache a little. Saw some people I hadn't seen in a while: Mikey, Alia, and Trinka. After, we grabbed some dinner and watched a great Ciudad gig at SGS, then finally got to try Una Sikat's Sizzling Bulalo before heading home.
-
Still haven't seen Hellboy. Hopefully today, as a reward. Everyone watch Spartan. Might be its last day today.
Saturday, April 24, 2004
I think I'm too tired right now to put up my Matabungkay post but I would like to say:
Wong Kar-Wai's 2046 has been announced as part of this May's Cannes Film Festival. My first reaction to this news was utter elation, because I am a super Kar-Wai fan and have been waiting for this film since forever. I mean, when did In the Mood for Love come out? 2000!!! And he was already shooting this! He stopped and started from scratch something like 6 times (remember, he works without scripts, just general plot outlines, and when those change, then the whole film goes as well). The common joke was that it would come out in the year 2046. Anyway, it was supposed to debut at last year's Cannes Festival but they didn't make the deadline. But now it's an announced entry. So I hope that means something. Then again, if I remember correctly I think I read something about him stopping and starting AGAIN earlier this year, but I just phased it out of my memory because it had happened for the Nth time. So now I am more sober about it. But I am DYING to see this film.
Other interesting films at Cannes: Pedro Almodovar's Bad Education, Olivier Assayas's Clean, Walter Salles's Diarios de Motocicleta, Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 (sure to be controversial, and I hope to God it comes out in the US around the time of their elections), Mamoru Oshii's Ghost in the Shell: Innocence (nice to see an honest-to-goodness genre anime film actually in competition), Park Chan-Wook's Old Boy, Joel Coen's The Ladykillers, Emir Kusturica's Zivot Je Cudo, Hirokazu Kore-eda's Nobody Knows, Abbas Kiarostami's Five, Zhang Yimou's House of Flying Daggers, Quentin Tarantino's supposedly going to unveil Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair, and God bless him, Jean-Luc Godard is STILL making films. His latest's called Notre Musique.
--
Spent yesterday and the days before my Matabungkay trip reading all the major Hellboy TPBs, and now I am a major fan. So the movie better be good. Since I couldn't watch it yet, Neva and I watched David Mamet's Spartan, and LOVED it. I urge you, seek it out and watch it. It's whip-smart, the actors are excellent, and the structure is a doozy. It packs a wallop and the plot twists are genuinely surprising and entirely logical, which is terrific. Of course, it's Mamet so even if you don't like any of that shit there's his sweet, sweet dialogue. It'll likely disappear this Wednesday, so catch it ASAP.
Dammit, reviews so far of Tony Scott's Man on Fire have been less than stellar. Which is a shame, because I love the trailer and was really hoping for it to be kick-ass.
Wong Kar-Wai's 2046 has been announced as part of this May's Cannes Film Festival. My first reaction to this news was utter elation, because I am a super Kar-Wai fan and have been waiting for this film since forever. I mean, when did In the Mood for Love come out? 2000!!! And he was already shooting this! He stopped and started from scratch something like 6 times (remember, he works without scripts, just general plot outlines, and when those change, then the whole film goes as well). The common joke was that it would come out in the year 2046. Anyway, it was supposed to debut at last year's Cannes Festival but they didn't make the deadline. But now it's an announced entry. So I hope that means something. Then again, if I remember correctly I think I read something about him stopping and starting AGAIN earlier this year, but I just phased it out of my memory because it had happened for the Nth time. So now I am more sober about it. But I am DYING to see this film.
Other interesting films at Cannes: Pedro Almodovar's Bad Education, Olivier Assayas's Clean, Walter Salles's Diarios de Motocicleta, Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 (sure to be controversial, and I hope to God it comes out in the US around the time of their elections), Mamoru Oshii's Ghost in the Shell: Innocence (nice to see an honest-to-goodness genre anime film actually in competition), Park Chan-Wook's Old Boy, Joel Coen's The Ladykillers, Emir Kusturica's Zivot Je Cudo, Hirokazu Kore-eda's Nobody Knows, Abbas Kiarostami's Five, Zhang Yimou's House of Flying Daggers, Quentin Tarantino's supposedly going to unveil Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair, and God bless him, Jean-Luc Godard is STILL making films. His latest's called Notre Musique.
--
Spent yesterday and the days before my Matabungkay trip reading all the major Hellboy TPBs, and now I am a major fan. So the movie better be good. Since I couldn't watch it yet, Neva and I watched David Mamet's Spartan, and LOVED it. I urge you, seek it out and watch it. It's whip-smart, the actors are excellent, and the structure is a doozy. It packs a wallop and the plot twists are genuinely surprising and entirely logical, which is terrific. Of course, it's Mamet so even if you don't like any of that shit there's his sweet, sweet dialogue. It'll likely disappear this Wednesday, so catch it ASAP.
Dammit, reviews so far of Tony Scott's Man on Fire have been less than stellar. Which is a shame, because I love the trailer and was really hoping for it to be kick-ass.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Had the night all to myself, because Neva's in Iloilo right now. I suppose I was in a bit of an introspective mood. I had taken care of some things throughout the day, and then had dinner, did a few more things, almost watched a movie but didn't. It was already late but I still didn't feel like going home. Remember I asked a few weeks back about 24-hour places? This is when I need 'em. I remember in high school and early college doing this a lot: just staying out, even if I'm alone. All I need is a notebook and a pen. I'd order a hot chocolate and would stay in a small café for an hour or two. This doesn't happen very often anymore, so it was now tinged with a certain nostalgia. I still enjoy observing people, I found. I can still handle solitude somewhat, even if we're strangers now.
At the end, before I finally headed home, I had this sensation of missing my notebooks, the ones from those years, now filled with all sorts of detritus and memories. They all look different, feel different, smell different, have different weights and shapes.
CONNECTIONS
For a few months now, I've had a livejournal. I first got it because a) I thought they gave you space for pictures and b) it's easier to keep track of those using LJ. But since I have found out that they DON'T give you space for pictures, it's just sitting there, not really being used for much. The last few posts have either been pointers to this blog or a reprint of something I especially wanted people to see. My first idea with it was to keep it focused and concentrated on cool stuff: movies, comics, books, music, etc. I could talk about stuff and people could recommend stuff to me. But I like doing that on this blog. It's almost inextricable, actually, and I've probably written more about other people's stuff than my personal life anyway. The other idea was to put all my articles on there, but I'm less comfortable about that the longer I think about it. Plus, I'd have to get permission all the time from editors. So now I don't know. What do you think I should do with it? Someone suggested I use it for answering surveys and online personality quizzes and whatnot, but I don't know...
I'm also on Friendster and Y!M, by the way. Friends, look me up if we're not connected.
I'll be in Matabungkay for 3 days with my relatives. I doubt I'll have internet access.
At the end, before I finally headed home, I had this sensation of missing my notebooks, the ones from those years, now filled with all sorts of detritus and memories. They all look different, feel different, smell different, have different weights and shapes.
CONNECTIONS
For a few months now, I've had a livejournal. I first got it because a) I thought they gave you space for pictures and b) it's easier to keep track of those using LJ. But since I have found out that they DON'T give you space for pictures, it's just sitting there, not really being used for much. The last few posts have either been pointers to this blog or a reprint of something I especially wanted people to see. My first idea with it was to keep it focused and concentrated on cool stuff: movies, comics, books, music, etc. I could talk about stuff and people could recommend stuff to me. But I like doing that on this blog. It's almost inextricable, actually, and I've probably written more about other people's stuff than my personal life anyway. The other idea was to put all my articles on there, but I'm less comfortable about that the longer I think about it. Plus, I'd have to get permission all the time from editors. So now I don't know. What do you think I should do with it? Someone suggested I use it for answering surveys and online personality quizzes and whatnot, but I don't know...
I'm also on Friendster and Y!M, by the way. Friends, look me up if we're not connected.
I'll be in Matabungkay for 3 days with my relatives. I doubt I'll have internet access.
Monday, April 19, 2004
Neva and I watched Acacia last night. It's quite bad. This and The Uninvited, another stinker, are both Korean horror films. I was hoping to see something along the lines of the superb Tale of 2 Sisters, but these were horrific only in their quality and storytelling. Both are dead boring, and have minimal scares. The most effective were dream sequences, and even those had to ratchet up some sound effects. Acacia was actually more of a psychological non-thriller. The Uninvited was more frustrating, for the simple reason that IT ALREADY HAD ALL THE ELEMENTS FOR A PERFECTLY GOOD HORROR FILM. It had a great "mystery," tragic childhood stories, excellent score and cinematography, decent acting (with the girl from My Sassy Girl), and midway through the film is an excellent little gem of a scene that I think I will take to my grave, it is that good, but the rest of the film is an utter, unresolved mess. Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING is resolved satisfactorily. Everything was already there, but the director couldn't connect the dots in a clear and logical manner. Such a shame. Oh, well. At least I can now use the endings I was guessing at for my own purposes.
Both films were directed by first-timers, if I remember correctly.
On the other hand, PJ Hogan's Peter Pan was surprisingly damn good. I mean it, and was in utter awe with the level of sophistication, and sheer fun. There's a reverent mood throughout for the original source material, and I'm so glad it's not American. If I was a kid it would probably be one of those touchstone films of my youth, like The Neverending Story and Labyrinth. It actually feels like a lost classic '80s film at times, especially with the score. But with better effects, of course. And the humor! It's bursting with humor. Especially the Lost Boy Slightly. He'll go places, that one... and may I just add that Olivia Williams is one of the most beautiful women to ever grace our planet. I'm sorry, but everytime she is onscreen, even if she is not the main focus of the shot, I cannot look at anything else.
Oh, and Jason Isaacs is excellent.
Both films were directed by first-timers, if I remember correctly.
On the other hand, PJ Hogan's Peter Pan was surprisingly damn good. I mean it, and was in utter awe with the level of sophistication, and sheer fun. There's a reverent mood throughout for the original source material, and I'm so glad it's not American. If I was a kid it would probably be one of those touchstone films of my youth, like The Neverending Story and Labyrinth. It actually feels like a lost classic '80s film at times, especially with the score. But with better effects, of course. And the humor! It's bursting with humor. Especially the Lost Boy Slightly. He'll go places, that one... and may I just add that Olivia Williams is one of the most beautiful women to ever grace our planet. I'm sorry, but everytime she is onscreen, even if she is not the main focus of the shot, I cannot look at anything else.
Oh, and Jason Isaacs is excellent.
Sunday, April 18, 2004
Neva got me to try kickboxing yesterday. Holy hell does my body hurt. Worse, I had a really difficult time getting to sleep later that night because it was just so damn hot. So when I was woken up today, not only was I sleepy and groggy, my body was a roadmap of pain. And it was still hot. Getting up out of bed was an adventure in itself. It felt like someone had replaced my limbs with an old frail man's while I was asleep. My legs nearly gave in the shower, but man was that cold water sweet. Putting on a shirt was another adventure. I tried tilting my body to the side for easier access; no go. I just had to grit my teeth and keep from wincing. And it got even better when we got to church and there were no more chairs left.
Still, I feel good about it. I haven't done anything so strenuous in a long time, and this kind of pain feels good, actually. That's when you're more used to it. After the session yesterday, Neva and I had lunch at Power Plant, but we couldn't resist and ended up getting a massage at Suriya later that afternoon.
I reviewed Voice of the Fire in the latest newsletter of Fully Booked (it's called In Print). It's free, I think; you can just ask for it over the counter, but they'll give you a copy whenever you buy something. I guess they don't have any proofreaders, because my own less-than-500-words review had all of 7 typos, and a bunch of missing words, so I'm sorry for the confusion. But hey, it's free.
I was at a wedding last Friday at the Westin Philippine Plaza, which I'd never been to. It was very nice, and sweet. The ceremony took place in the garden, right beside the bay, and near the large chessboard with pieces as big as children. What was amusing, though, was that as the ceremony went on, and the sun went down, the wind kept getting stronger and stronger, and the waves rose, and towards the end they were crashing against the wall and salty seaspray would get in our eyes. A few times, the wave was so high that it actually deposited small, blackish crabs onto the garden. And you could almost see the expression in their eyes, the "What the fuck just happened?!" look, because as soon as they landed on the grass it would be a few seconds before they moved again.
Am I the only person who hasn't yet seen The Passion?
I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry.
UPDATED: Neva reminded me, thanks to her comment: above the review in In-Print it says "Graphic Guru," which I did not ask for or come up with. It's a complete surprise to me, and I would've asked it not be there, actually, especially since Voice of the Fire is NOT a graphic novel. There is a Hellboy review under mine, though, but it's uncredited, so it sort of looks like it's mine as well. But it's not.
Still, I feel good about it. I haven't done anything so strenuous in a long time, and this kind of pain feels good, actually. That's when you're more used to it. After the session yesterday, Neva and I had lunch at Power Plant, but we couldn't resist and ended up getting a massage at Suriya later that afternoon.
I reviewed Voice of the Fire in the latest newsletter of Fully Booked (it's called In Print). It's free, I think; you can just ask for it over the counter, but they'll give you a copy whenever you buy something. I guess they don't have any proofreaders, because my own less-than-500-words review had all of 7 typos, and a bunch of missing words, so I'm sorry for the confusion. But hey, it's free.
I was at a wedding last Friday at the Westin Philippine Plaza, which I'd never been to. It was very nice, and sweet. The ceremony took place in the garden, right beside the bay, and near the large chessboard with pieces as big as children. What was amusing, though, was that as the ceremony went on, and the sun went down, the wind kept getting stronger and stronger, and the waves rose, and towards the end they were crashing against the wall and salty seaspray would get in our eyes. A few times, the wave was so high that it actually deposited small, blackish crabs onto the garden. And you could almost see the expression in their eyes, the "What the fuck just happened?!" look, because as soon as they landed on the grass it would be a few seconds before they moved again.
Am I the only person who hasn't yet seen The Passion?
I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry.
UPDATED: Neva reminded me, thanks to her comment: above the review in In-Print it says "Graphic Guru," which I did not ask for or come up with. It's a complete surprise to me, and I would've asked it not be there, actually, especially since Voice of the Fire is NOT a graphic novel. There is a Hellboy review under mine, though, but it's uncredited, so it sort of looks like it's mine as well. But it's not.