[posting an old poem that i wrote 22 august 2005 while third eye blind mourns with wake for young souls]
that my favorite music will not be wrongfully revived
and skeletons will be identified, not by their names,
but by their dead hearts.
that crumbs of bread will satisfy the homeless orphans,
and the jews will not be persecuted, bombed,
or even looked down.
that the eiffel tower will be there forever,
and single attractive ladies will not be such a home wrecker.
that you'll forgive me for being your hurricane
even if it's not true
i have loved you in vain.
or maybe pictures will compensate
for the loss
of a loved one.
and i would learn how not to cry
every waking day
since you've long been
gone.
p.s. today, instead of attempting to find "something long and curly" for our kris kringle, i bought marquis de sade's 120 days of sodom and i am loving every page of it.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
the golden compass points to nowhere
[writing while the babyshambles promises that the world is our playground]
it was after watching the invasion that mikael and i decided to create a site solely devoted to film reviews. but while we're still tossing the ball on who will write the maiden article, then this one will stay here for now.
the golden compass stars daniel craig, the dreamer(s) eva green and birthday girl nicole kidman. (simply stunning) and frankly, that's everything there is to it. there is no story, there is no suspense, there is no twist (really, nicole is the mom?!?!?! yawn.) the visual imagery, compared to its new line cinema predecessor, the lord of the rings: the return of the king is stale and the screenplay is a whirlwind of ideas. here is a kid who pries inside rooms (one, an opportune moment to save her uncle... no wait, it's her father! from being poisoned and two, in her host's bureau... no wait, it's her mother! to find letters indicating that she's a spy of the magesterium (don't even bother to understand what it is) and then finds herself building an army and embarking on a mission to save her friend, guided by her golden cheat compass. children, are you thrilled??
this movie's fatal error is that it describes a new world with a new concept that it overwhelms our mind with too many new words and introduces too many new characters way too fast that it becomes impossible to find anything evil or engaging or embraceable about them. it rushes us, for instance, into understanding that witches in this world fly, although i honestly don't know how they even enter into the picture, or how they impact this world, except so mikael could lust over eva green. it sacrifices story over spectacle, and sadly, it failed miserably on both.
the movie says the kid's journey is a test of courage, i say this movie is a test of temper. seriously, where is the challenge in being a savior when you have a gadget that tells you everything? you know where your enemies are, you know how to solicit help from bears by toying with their emotions and you know the rescue center for the lost-and-found boys. and i am blown away by how fast this girl learns how to use the golden compass! it was apparently faster than daniel craig's total screen time, which is probably at 20 seconds.
and if that's not enough to classify this movie as "an unforgivable creation" the golden compass wins the blunder of the year in its atheism controversy, all because nicole kidman commands lyra (lyra, by the way, is the protagonist) to put her bag away (supposedly to signify blind obedience) and eva green mentions something about free will. oh please.... i'll take you to mikael and you will want to burn him in the stake for his blasphemy. this is the atheist in the flesh and to the core. (doesn't mean i'm proud of you, mikael, but i need to illustrate a point)
the only good part: the unlimited soda and popcorn. god bless the lazy boy seats.
to conclude, the golden compass is a messy tale that insults even the average intelligence. "this compass tells you what others try to hide, it tells you the truth," we were told, but it didn't reveal that it is going to be dragging and boring, and fuck it, with rats.
it was after watching the invasion that mikael and i decided to create a site solely devoted to film reviews. but while we're still tossing the ball on who will write the maiden article, then this one will stay here for now.
the golden compass stars daniel craig, the dreamer(s) eva green and birthday girl nicole kidman. (simply stunning) and frankly, that's everything there is to it. there is no story, there is no suspense, there is no twist (really, nicole is the mom?!?!?! yawn.) the visual imagery, compared to its new line cinema predecessor, the lord of the rings: the return of the king is stale and the screenplay is a whirlwind of ideas. here is a kid who pries inside rooms (one, an opportune moment to save her uncle... no wait, it's her father! from being poisoned and two, in her host's bureau... no wait, it's her mother! to find letters indicating that she's a spy of the magesterium (don't even bother to understand what it is) and then finds herself building an army and embarking on a mission to save her friend, guided by her golden cheat compass. children, are you thrilled??
this movie's fatal error is that it describes a new world with a new concept that it overwhelms our mind with too many new words and introduces too many new characters way too fast that it becomes impossible to find anything evil or engaging or embraceable about them. it rushes us, for instance, into understanding that witches in this world fly, although i honestly don't know how they even enter into the picture, or how they impact this world, except so mikael could lust over eva green. it sacrifices story over spectacle, and sadly, it failed miserably on both.
the movie says the kid's journey is a test of courage, i say this movie is a test of temper. seriously, where is the challenge in being a savior when you have a gadget that tells you everything? you know where your enemies are, you know how to solicit help from bears by toying with their emotions and you know the rescue center for the lost-and-found boys. and i am blown away by how fast this girl learns how to use the golden compass! it was apparently faster than daniel craig's total screen time, which is probably at 20 seconds.
and if that's not enough to classify this movie as "an unforgivable creation" the golden compass wins the blunder of the year in its atheism controversy, all because nicole kidman commands lyra (lyra, by the way, is the protagonist) to put her bag away (supposedly to signify blind obedience) and eva green mentions something about free will. oh please.... i'll take you to mikael and you will want to burn him in the stake for his blasphemy. this is the atheist in the flesh and to the core. (doesn't mean i'm proud of you, mikael, but i need to illustrate a point)
the only good part: the unlimited soda and popcorn. god bless the lazy boy seats.
to conclude, the golden compass is a messy tale that insults even the average intelligence. "this compass tells you what others try to hide, it tells you the truth," we were told, but it didn't reveal that it is going to be dragging and boring, and fuck it, with rats.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
9 sad songs that say so much
[writing while nelly furtado's all good things come to an end, jackson browne's call it a loan and fiona apple's across the universe complete the overall mood]
foreword: while i recognize the works of established songwriters whose music are lauded all over the world, i have to emphasize that this is a personal list. and given that music is an evolving art form, there is just no way for me to pick nine songs from the millions of albums that are released, the billions of recording artists and musicians that are signed up, and the infinite number of musical compositions that play on the radio and amplify our moods and affect our lives. (notwithstanding the ones i haven’t even heard; i ask the indulgence of my readers for any obviously, universally-and -beyond-well crafted music that i may have missed)
thus, i created four different categories, (each of which contain nine songs) now posted for your scrutiny and criticism.
now let the debates begin.
a. “the sopranos” --- (un)arguably the best of the best, grammy winners, classic favorites.
1. tears in heaven (eric clapton)
2. everybody hurts (rem)
3. wish you were here (pink floyd)
4. heaven knows i’m miserable now (the smiths)
5. with or without you (u2)
6. as tears go by (the rolling stones)
7. american pie [the day the music died] (don mclean)
8. the lonesome death of hattie carroll (bob dylan)
9. layla (eric clapton)
b. the popular -- ever-present in blogs and discussions. lyrically satisfactory. however, most of the songs in this section are characterized by fast tempo that seems to distract my tears. or there are lots of drums and less guitar and/or less piano. or the voice just doesn’t convince me enough of the heartbreak.
1. hurt (nine inch nails)
2. isolation, atmosphere (joy division)
3. gloomy sunday (billie holiday) this one however, gears towards, suicidal.
4. last kiss (pearl jam)
5. come as you are, where did you sleep last night(nirvana)
6. konstantine (something corporate)
7. disintegration (the cure)
8. somebody that i used to know (elliott smith)
9. the drugs don’t work (the verve)
c. "next in line" --the honorable mention; what i call “the next set of 9,” the runners-up
1. it’s cool, we can still be friends (bright eyes)
2. i need a heart to come home to (shelby lynn)
3. je n’peux pas te plaire (jonatha brooke) loosely translated as you cannot like me
4. the freshman (the verve pipe)
5. sexed up (robbie williams)
6. desperado (the eagles)
7. fake plastic trees (radiohead)
8. the scientist (coldplay)
9. it’s not going to stop (aimee mann)
d. personal picks - the ones that get me on a contemplative mood and prompt me to google, “meaning of [insert song title here.]” they’re rich in tone, refined and very distinguished in melody and the lyrics breathe poetry.
1. 9 crimes (damien rice) -- never, since eric clapton’s layla, have i heard a piano cry.
killer lines: it’s a small crime, and i got no excuse.... is that alright? give my gun away when it’s loaded... is that alright? if you don’t shoot it, how am i supposed to hold it?
2. you won’t find me there (10,000 maniacs) -- the story of an imminent break-up and the mature way of dealing with it.
killer lines: i’d like to know what makes you stay, while your eyes still search for escape. you think that i don’t feel the cold but i wait while confessions unfold... look into your heart and you won’t find me there.
3. empty chairs (don mclean) -- the song that offers a sneak preview to my father’s sad, dead heart; dedicated to my mom.
killer lines: ... a sympathy bouquet left with the love that’s dead.. and i wonder if you know that i never understood.. that although you said you’d go, until you did, i never thought you would.
4. emily (jewel) -- the soundtrack of my life while i nursed myself from my first heartbreak.
killer lines: woke up to find i lost my mind...i take my cigarettes, i give ‘em a smoke, oh god my heart feels froze... i wanna call names... i wanna throw things around.. but no bar can buy forgiveness.. another round...
5. alone again, naturally (gilbert o’ sullivan) -- the synonym of absolute tragedy in the music dictionary, this is about a guy who's going to kill himself by jumping off from a tower after being left in the altar and his parents dying.
killer lines: climbing to the top to throw myself off, in an effort to make it clear to whoever what it’s like when you’re shattered....where people are saying, “my god, that’s tough she stood him up...” leaving me to doubt all about god and his mercy for if he really does exist why did he desert me?
6. at seventeen (janis ian) -- i didn’t even experience the rejection that is described in this song, but i still feel depressed. a bittersweet commentary about alienation and antiestablishment, janis ian got me at her first line.
killer lines: i learned the truth at seventeen, that love was meant for beauty queens... and those of us with ravaged faces lacking in the social graces, desperately remained at home, inventing lovers on the phone... remember those who win the game, lose the love they sought to gain.
7. brick (ben folds five) -- a narrative about a guy accompanying his girlfriend to get an abortion, this song “hits a note.”
killer lines: now that i have found someone, i’m feeling more alone than i ever have before....she’s a brick and i’m drowning slowly off the coast and i’m headed nowhere... driving home to her apartment, for a moment we’re alone.. she’s alone, i’m alone... now i know it..
8. on my own (eponine) -- the song that made les miserables more accessible to people, since it probably became a hit faster than the novel ever did. victor hugo would be proud.
killer lines: i love him but everyday i’m lonely.. all my life, i’ve only been pretending... without me, his world will go on turning....
9. the river (bruce springsteen) -- i always need my cigarettes when i listen to this song. carefully researched down to the most minute details such as the changes in the verb tense, this song is my national anthem that i have to play every morning. i keep my earphones pressed to my ear to relish the grief of springsteen’s quixotic attempts to overcome hardships and revive his failing marriage. a sad tale about youthful aspirations, loss, and the death of all hope, the word haunting doesn’t even come close.
killer lines: the entire lyrics.
foreword: while i recognize the works of established songwriters whose music are lauded all over the world, i have to emphasize that this is a personal list. and given that music is an evolving art form, there is just no way for me to pick nine songs from the millions of albums that are released, the billions of recording artists and musicians that are signed up, and the infinite number of musical compositions that play on the radio and amplify our moods and affect our lives. (notwithstanding the ones i haven’t even heard; i ask the indulgence of my readers for any obviously, universally-and -beyond-well crafted music that i may have missed)
thus, i created four different categories, (each of which contain nine songs) now posted for your scrutiny and criticism.
now let the debates begin.
a. “the sopranos” --- (un)arguably the best of the best, grammy winners, classic favorites.
1. tears in heaven (eric clapton)
2. everybody hurts (rem)
3. wish you were here (pink floyd)
4. heaven knows i’m miserable now (the smiths)
5. with or without you (u2)
6. as tears go by (the rolling stones)
7. american pie [the day the music died] (don mclean)
8. the lonesome death of hattie carroll (bob dylan)
9. layla (eric clapton)
b. the popular -- ever-present in blogs and discussions. lyrically satisfactory. however, most of the songs in this section are characterized by fast tempo that seems to distract my tears. or there are lots of drums and less guitar and/or less piano. or the voice just doesn’t convince me enough of the heartbreak.
1. hurt (nine inch nails)
2. isolation, atmosphere (joy division)
3. gloomy sunday (billie holiday) this one however, gears towards, suicidal.
4. last kiss (pearl jam)
5. come as you are, where did you sleep last night(nirvana)
6. konstantine (something corporate)
7. disintegration (the cure)
8. somebody that i used to know (elliott smith)
9. the drugs don’t work (the verve)
c. "next in line" --the honorable mention; what i call “the next set of 9,” the runners-up
1. it’s cool, we can still be friends (bright eyes)
2. i need a heart to come home to (shelby lynn)
3. je n’peux pas te plaire (jonatha brooke) loosely translated as you cannot like me
4. the freshman (the verve pipe)
5. sexed up (robbie williams)
6. desperado (the eagles)
7. fake plastic trees (radiohead)
8. the scientist (coldplay)
9. it’s not going to stop (aimee mann)
d. personal picks - the ones that get me on a contemplative mood and prompt me to google, “meaning of [insert song title here.]” they’re rich in tone, refined and very distinguished in melody and the lyrics breathe poetry.
1. 9 crimes (damien rice) -- never, since eric clapton’s layla, have i heard a piano cry.
killer lines: it’s a small crime, and i got no excuse.... is that alright? give my gun away when it’s loaded... is that alright? if you don’t shoot it, how am i supposed to hold it?
2. you won’t find me there (10,000 maniacs) -- the story of an imminent break-up and the mature way of dealing with it.
killer lines: i’d like to know what makes you stay, while your eyes still search for escape. you think that i don’t feel the cold but i wait while confessions unfold... look into your heart and you won’t find me there.
3. empty chairs (don mclean) -- the song that offers a sneak preview to my father’s sad, dead heart; dedicated to my mom.
killer lines: ... a sympathy bouquet left with the love that’s dead.. and i wonder if you know that i never understood.. that although you said you’d go, until you did, i never thought you would.
4. emily (jewel) -- the soundtrack of my life while i nursed myself from my first heartbreak.
killer lines: woke up to find i lost my mind...i take my cigarettes, i give ‘em a smoke, oh god my heart feels froze... i wanna call names... i wanna throw things around.. but no bar can buy forgiveness.. another round...
5. alone again, naturally (gilbert o’ sullivan) -- the synonym of absolute tragedy in the music dictionary, this is about a guy who's going to kill himself by jumping off from a tower after being left in the altar and his parents dying.
killer lines: climbing to the top to throw myself off, in an effort to make it clear to whoever what it’s like when you’re shattered....where people are saying, “my god, that’s tough she stood him up...” leaving me to doubt all about god and his mercy for if he really does exist why did he desert me?
6. at seventeen (janis ian) -- i didn’t even experience the rejection that is described in this song, but i still feel depressed. a bittersweet commentary about alienation and antiestablishment, janis ian got me at her first line.
killer lines: i learned the truth at seventeen, that love was meant for beauty queens... and those of us with ravaged faces lacking in the social graces, desperately remained at home, inventing lovers on the phone... remember those who win the game, lose the love they sought to gain.
7. brick (ben folds five) -- a narrative about a guy accompanying his girlfriend to get an abortion, this song “hits a note.”
killer lines: now that i have found someone, i’m feeling more alone than i ever have before....she’s a brick and i’m drowning slowly off the coast and i’m headed nowhere... driving home to her apartment, for a moment we’re alone.. she’s alone, i’m alone... now i know it..
8. on my own (eponine) -- the song that made les miserables more accessible to people, since it probably became a hit faster than the novel ever did. victor hugo would be proud.
killer lines: i love him but everyday i’m lonely.. all my life, i’ve only been pretending... without me, his world will go on turning....
9. the river (bruce springsteen) -- i always need my cigarettes when i listen to this song. carefully researched down to the most minute details such as the changes in the verb tense, this song is my national anthem that i have to play every morning. i keep my earphones pressed to my ear to relish the grief of springsteen’s quixotic attempts to overcome hardships and revive his failing marriage. a sad tale about youthful aspirations, loss, and the death of all hope, the word haunting doesn’t even come close.
killer lines: the entire lyrics.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
the story of arnie
[writing while neil young time travels with four strong winds]
november 15th was arnie's last day in our office. it was his last day of case processing, buying double cheeseburger meal on first break, buying starbucks coffee after buying double cheeseburger and sleeping under his desk.
arnie, i will miss you terribly.
i will miss your kenneth cole shirt.
i will miss our hotel buffets.
i will miss your questions about ipod touch and the mac.
i will miss you asking me if your stomach is now less prominent.
i will miss our inquiries on condominiums and stock IPOs. (initial public offering)
i will miss us logging in on bloomberg just to read the quote for the day.
i will miss your infectious laughter.
i will miss your care.
i will miss how you defy the english speaking policy in the production floor.
i will miss us reciting annabel lee together.
but mostly i will just miss how we sit together and talk (and joke) about batangas and blumentritt, about hating peanut butter and raisins, about career priorities and self-fulfillment and staying true and walking when the world is too much and relationships and break-ups and weddings and churches and all the million things in life that really matter.
p.s. the above photo was taken during our company's "perk'd day" with the theme, college nostalgia. i dressed up as a nurse and arnie, as a preppy.
november 15th was arnie's last day in our office. it was his last day of case processing, buying double cheeseburger meal on first break, buying starbucks coffee after buying double cheeseburger and sleeping under his desk.
arnie, i will miss you terribly.
i will miss your kenneth cole shirt.
i will miss our hotel buffets.
i will miss your questions about ipod touch and the mac.
i will miss you asking me if your stomach is now less prominent.
i will miss our inquiries on condominiums and stock IPOs. (initial public offering)
i will miss us logging in on bloomberg just to read the quote for the day.
i will miss your infectious laughter.
i will miss your care.
i will miss how you defy the english speaking policy in the production floor.
i will miss us reciting annabel lee together.
but mostly i will just miss how we sit together and talk (and joke) about batangas and blumentritt, about hating peanut butter and raisins, about career priorities and self-fulfillment and staying true and walking when the world is too much and relationships and break-ups and weddings and churches and all the million things in life that really matter.
p.s. the above photo was taken during our company's "perk'd day" with the theme, college nostalgia. i dressed up as a nurse and arnie, as a preppy.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
sweet sixteen salutation...
[posting while all saints teasingly hints i know where it's at]
... to my younger sister-best friend glyness, who celebrated her birthday november 8th and whom i owe a kamiseta shirt and large rainbow-flavored dippin dots.
me, she.
... to my younger sister-best friend glyness, who celebrated her birthday november 8th and whom i owe a kamiseta shirt and large rainbow-flavored dippin dots.
me, she.
____________________
[posting while green day decrypts the world with basket case]
never has one photo said so much.
p.s.this post is deliberately untitled.
never has one photo said so much.
p.s.this post is deliberately untitled.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
9 signature obsessions
1. france (place, destination dream)
vive le france! le sang français dans moi se manifeste par mes leçons françaises, leçons de ballet, films français et mon hantise avec le petit prince. if you looked up the meaning of that sentence in the online translation, please do not pretend as a french wannabe. or, if you don't have anything else to brag aside from singing the chorus of moulin rouge. (you know who you are; how can you belong to france when your favorite movie is notting hill??! that's like saying claude monet paints fingernails, not paintings! they will kill you there. and by the way, the french are known for their arrogance.)
2. pizza and potatoes (food)
dieting is a banned word inside yellow cab (where baked potatoes are now also available.) expect these types of food in my wedding reception; pizza and potatoes are the modern days' ambrosia.
3. apple, inc. (innovator)
i intend to write a separate article solely devoted to steve jobs and apple, but for now let me say this -- windows users, please don't hate us because we're beautiful. to my dear critic who once said apple is all form but no function, please do not embarass yourself twice. i see how much you love my ipod touch. such an eyecandy, isn't it? the wifi capability makes the zune look like an abacus. and don't even get me started with the operating system. i don't have enough time to list down, much more discuss the 114,000 viruses (that many?!?!?!) that plague the pc. in mac -- none, zero, nada.
now where did i read that article about apple users being smarter than windows users?
4. shoes (indulgence)
i can confidently say i don't own a bad pair of shoes -- flats, pumps, boots, wedges, stilettos -- i'm a proud owner of them all. i spend a great deal of time and money in shoe shopping that you wouldn't want to come with me; but just in case you do, i'll treat you to obsession #2.
5. books (collection)
my book collection started when i was eight years old; i wanted to fill up my bookshelf with agatha christie's crime novels. now i want a library, from austen to zola.
(very close in second place for this criteria is films. it was a tough choice, but when it comes down to it, i prefer written over visual. films are born from scripts; books can stand on their own.)
6. mercedes benz (status symbol)
of all the prestige cars manufactured in all parts of the world, i heart the benz the most. cars aren't really my cup of tea (blame my mantra -- cars don't fascinate me; brains do) but the benz has the most elegant look i don't doubt for one second i would choose it over the bmw. or the ferrari.
7. bathtubs (bliss)
literally the easiest way to my heart. hair tied up, my body - from chest down - soaked in heaps and sweeps of bubbles, making the neck and the shoulders prominent, eyes closed, lips parted. you get the idea. throw in obsession #2 and you can make me say yes to anything -- no kidding.
8. boys (people)
who wouldn't like them? they're so much better than puppets. peace. smile.
i've always enjoyed the company of men; they take care of me. i seem to create and induce in them a savior, knight-in-shining-armor effect. so abandon the idea that my raging hormones are calling out to you; i am naturally sweet and clingy to people, even to strangers sometimes. if i like you, i'd tell you.
9. my father (hero)
(no explanation given as i can never give justice to my father's next-to-god wisdom and merit and there's a lack of words to fully describe his greatness, honor and respectability. he's the most highly-principled man i know. if i tell you i worship my father, i haven't even half-begun.)
vive le france! le sang français dans moi se manifeste par mes leçons françaises, leçons de ballet, films français et mon hantise avec le petit prince. if you looked up the meaning of that sentence in the online translation, please do not pretend as a french wannabe. or, if you don't have anything else to brag aside from singing the chorus of moulin rouge. (you know who you are; how can you belong to france when your favorite movie is notting hill??! that's like saying claude monet paints fingernails, not paintings! they will kill you there. and by the way, the french are known for their arrogance.)
2. pizza and potatoes (food)
dieting is a banned word inside yellow cab (where baked potatoes are now also available.) expect these types of food in my wedding reception; pizza and potatoes are the modern days' ambrosia.
3. apple, inc. (innovator)
i intend to write a separate article solely devoted to steve jobs and apple, but for now let me say this -- windows users, please don't hate us because we're beautiful. to my dear critic who once said apple is all form but no function, please do not embarass yourself twice. i see how much you love my ipod touch. such an eyecandy, isn't it? the wifi capability makes the zune look like an abacus. and don't even get me started with the operating system. i don't have enough time to list down, much more discuss the 114,000 viruses (that many?!?!?!) that plague the pc. in mac -- none, zero, nada.
now where did i read that article about apple users being smarter than windows users?
4. shoes (indulgence)
i can confidently say i don't own a bad pair of shoes -- flats, pumps, boots, wedges, stilettos -- i'm a proud owner of them all. i spend a great deal of time and money in shoe shopping that you wouldn't want to come with me; but just in case you do, i'll treat you to obsession #2.
5. books (collection)
my book collection started when i was eight years old; i wanted to fill up my bookshelf with agatha christie's crime novels. now i want a library, from austen to zola.
(very close in second place for this criteria is films. it was a tough choice, but when it comes down to it, i prefer written over visual. films are born from scripts; books can stand on their own.)
6. mercedes benz (status symbol)
of all the prestige cars manufactured in all parts of the world, i heart the benz the most. cars aren't really my cup of tea (blame my mantra -- cars don't fascinate me; brains do) but the benz has the most elegant look i don't doubt for one second i would choose it over the bmw. or the ferrari.
7. bathtubs (bliss)
literally the easiest way to my heart. hair tied up, my body - from chest down - soaked in heaps and sweeps of bubbles, making the neck and the shoulders prominent, eyes closed, lips parted. you get the idea. throw in obsession #2 and you can make me say yes to anything -- no kidding.
8. boys (people)
who wouldn't like them? they're so much better than puppets. peace. smile.
i've always enjoyed the company of men; they take care of me. i seem to create and induce in them a savior, knight-in-shining-armor effect. so abandon the idea that my raging hormones are calling out to you; i am naturally sweet and clingy to people, even to strangers sometimes. if i like you, i'd tell you.
9. my father (hero)
(no explanation given as i can never give justice to my father's next-to-god wisdom and merit and there's a lack of words to fully describe his greatness, honor and respectability. he's the most highly-principled man i know. if i tell you i worship my father, i haven't even half-begun.)
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
9 characters that i am now but weren't one year ago (or years ago)
1. my own make-up artist.
i am a member of the mineral make-up mania. i starve for MAC, philosophy, smashbox, christian dior and shu uemura. this is a far cry from the pond's and maybelline that i carry a year ago.
2. a british believer.
at least in terms of music. i've joined the cult of the libertines, the smiths, robbie williams, radiohead, the police and the babyshambles. the beatles, of course, goes without saying.
3. an every-once-in-a-while smoker.
only when i write. and when i'm in the company of jeff and aga (colleagues), and oliver, and mikael. and uhm... that activity which isn't blog-appropriate. wink. :)
4. a subscriber to russian readings.
my russian romance began with vladimir nabokov's lolita in 2004. now i'm hooked to dostoevsky. in the queue are tolstoy, turgenev, chekhov and pushkin.
5. a financial investor.
my friends and i realized that we better make further benefit with our job knowledge (we deal with the US stock market) by selecting investments, equities and mutual funds alike, trading in the philippine stock exchange. the financial and corporate industry is the greatest strategy game ever invented by man, and the stakes couldn't get any more real.
6. a pseudo-bulimic.
i like to gag after eating; it gives me a natural high. long live the hourglass figure is my watchword.
7. a jollibee habitue.
sounds silly but since grade 4 i swore never to eat in jollibee; otherwise i'll be doomed for that day. i really don't remember anymore how the spell was broken (or how i came to my senses) but i'm glad i did or i'll miss the aperitive taste of a jolly hotdog.
8. a retired betrayer.
my past relationship highlights cheating, physical and emotional hurt and guilt and torment on both parties. mercifully (and miraculously) i survived.
this present day, i've nothing else to complain except that i'm too much loved.
9. an active blogger [(???)what do you call a person who writes blogs?]
my old blog consisted only of six entries. the years that followed were the most frightful mental drought. i kept on procrastinating to next week, but "next week" was one year long.
writing is my greatest love, my oasis, my asylum. if my soul doesn't look like me, then it looks like parchment paper. if you will kill me, kill me with a papercut of chaucer's page, and let the ink of epic words merge into me.
i am a member of the mineral make-up mania. i starve for MAC, philosophy, smashbox, christian dior and shu uemura. this is a far cry from the pond's and maybelline that i carry a year ago.
2. a british believer.
at least in terms of music. i've joined the cult of the libertines, the smiths, robbie williams, radiohead, the police and the babyshambles. the beatles, of course, goes without saying.
3. an every-once-in-a-while smoker.
only when i write. and when i'm in the company of jeff and aga (colleagues), and oliver, and mikael. and uhm... that activity which isn't blog-appropriate. wink. :)
4. a subscriber to russian readings.
my russian romance began with vladimir nabokov's lolita in 2004. now i'm hooked to dostoevsky. in the queue are tolstoy, turgenev, chekhov and pushkin.
5. a financial investor.
my friends and i realized that we better make further benefit with our job knowledge (we deal with the US stock market) by selecting investments, equities and mutual funds alike, trading in the philippine stock exchange. the financial and corporate industry is the greatest strategy game ever invented by man, and the stakes couldn't get any more real.
6. a pseudo-bulimic.
i like to gag after eating; it gives me a natural high. long live the hourglass figure is my watchword.
7. a jollibee habitue.
sounds silly but since grade 4 i swore never to eat in jollibee; otherwise i'll be doomed for that day. i really don't remember anymore how the spell was broken (or how i came to my senses) but i'm glad i did or i'll miss the aperitive taste of a jolly hotdog.
8. a retired betrayer.
my past relationship highlights cheating, physical and emotional hurt and guilt and torment on both parties. mercifully (and miraculously) i survived.
this present day, i've nothing else to complain except that i'm too much loved.
9. an active blogger [(???)what do you call a person who writes blogs?]
my old blog consisted only of six entries. the years that followed were the most frightful mental drought. i kept on procrastinating to next week, but "next week" was one year long.
writing is my greatest love, my oasis, my asylum. if my soul doesn't look like me, then it looks like parchment paper. if you will kill me, kill me with a papercut of chaucer's page, and let the ink of epic words merge into me.
Friday, October 12, 2007
fiction: a true story
today, inspired by a cate blanchett scene in notes on a scandal i put the heaviest make-up on me and i realized this has got to be the saddest day ever.
when does one earn the right to jealousy? does it begin with a casual stare or does one wait for a philandering business to commence? is betrayal of thoughts enough? or does one need to gather a collective evidence of sneaky phone calls, unnamed friends, empty 'sent items' folder and cancelled weekends?
the more-baffling-than-bermuda-triangle-mystery-why. why? because she knows what an espresso is? because she obligingly uses your favorite literary characters as her metaphors? because she tolerates your bloodshot eyes glued to your video games? because she doesn't phone you crying? she sleeps locked in your arms? she bravely makes the first move? she's a wildcat?
out with cate blanchett. julie delpy onscreen. her voice is crisp and she's saying, "but what does it mean, 'the love of your life?' the idea is absurd! the idea that you'll be complete with only just one man..."
i say this to your girl: if she wants to recycle you, she can have you.
for she may be all those things above, but those are the ones i never cared about anyway. and i have shotgun-ready answers to your next defense: i don't care if she's your apprentice and she's so far adopted your writing style. the fact that i write so much better than you means there's no contest between me and her. i don't care if you teach her about movies. the fact that i taught you to watch art films means i would not expect her at all to remember one line from malena.
lost in drugs, angels in america sighs, "i usually say fuck the truth. but mostly, the truth fucks you."
rewind to notes on a scandal. judi dench, in deep thought, murmurs, "it takes courage to distinguish what is real from what is convenient." i am neither. i am the empty eyes that are no match to your bewitchingly thoughtful, thin-lipped and 23-inch waist damsel in distress.
i walked on the broken glass and i feel no pain.
i downed four sleeping tablets and the effect on me is just a constant blank stare.
i move to the riverbank of my bed and i know you will not be there.
it speaks of the absence of fight.
the absence of care.
the absence of curses and cold shrugs.
and the absence of surrender.
because today, i crestfallen, unwanted, and terribly alone, celebrate the saddest day ever.
p.s. carly simon sings, "you're so vain, you probably think this song is about you..." don't even make the mistake.
p.p.s. this is a test and simply a play of words, an experiment if i can (half) feign cynicism and sadness. any similarity to actual events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
when does one earn the right to jealousy? does it begin with a casual stare or does one wait for a philandering business to commence? is betrayal of thoughts enough? or does one need to gather a collective evidence of sneaky phone calls, unnamed friends, empty 'sent items' folder and cancelled weekends?
the more-baffling-than-bermuda-triangle-mystery-why. why? because she knows what an espresso is? because she obligingly uses your favorite literary characters as her metaphors? because she tolerates your bloodshot eyes glued to your video games? because she doesn't phone you crying? she sleeps locked in your arms? she bravely makes the first move? she's a wildcat?
out with cate blanchett. julie delpy onscreen. her voice is crisp and she's saying, "but what does it mean, 'the love of your life?' the idea is absurd! the idea that you'll be complete with only just one man..."
i say this to your girl: if she wants to recycle you, she can have you.
for she may be all those things above, but those are the ones i never cared about anyway. and i have shotgun-ready answers to your next defense: i don't care if she's your apprentice and she's so far adopted your writing style. the fact that i write so much better than you means there's no contest between me and her. i don't care if you teach her about movies. the fact that i taught you to watch art films means i would not expect her at all to remember one line from malena.
lost in drugs, angels in america sighs, "i usually say fuck the truth. but mostly, the truth fucks you."
rewind to notes on a scandal. judi dench, in deep thought, murmurs, "it takes courage to distinguish what is real from what is convenient." i am neither. i am the empty eyes that are no match to your bewitchingly thoughtful, thin-lipped and 23-inch waist damsel in distress.
i walked on the broken glass and i feel no pain.
i downed four sleeping tablets and the effect on me is just a constant blank stare.
i move to the riverbank of my bed and i know you will not be there.
it speaks of the absence of fight.
the absence of care.
the absence of curses and cold shrugs.
and the absence of surrender.
because today, i crestfallen, unwanted, and terribly alone, celebrate the saddest day ever.
p.s. carly simon sings, "you're so vain, you probably think this song is about you..." don't even make the mistake.
p.p.s. this is a test and simply a play of words, an experiment if i can (half) feign cynicism and sadness. any similarity to actual events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
while the world sleeps...
• i love you (but you’re green). i dig pete doherty and the babyshambles.
• i am not a special body; i am a special person. thank you, sabina, i can’t wait to find out who will see you next in your bowler’s hat.
• hello, temple bar? yes, two strawberry margaritas every saturday starting november 3rd please. jacinda’s arriving. the girls are gonna be back on the dance floor. (and in cpk and greenhills too)
• the same familiar beyond-belief experience with lars von trier, thanks to mikael’s dancer in the dark.
• two more weeks before my birthday…. my dad’s gonna play layla all day…. my wish – that the dandelions in the lawns and meadows continue to bloom.
• i am not a special body; i am a special person. thank you, sabina, i can’t wait to find out who will see you next in your bowler’s hat.
• hello, temple bar? yes, two strawberry margaritas every saturday starting november 3rd please. jacinda’s arriving. the girls are gonna be back on the dance floor. (and in cpk and greenhills too)
• the same familiar beyond-belief experience with lars von trier, thanks to mikael’s dancer in the dark.
• two more weeks before my birthday…. my dad’s gonna play layla all day…. my wish – that the dandelions in the lawns and meadows continue to bloom.
Friday, October 5, 2007
"gusto ko magpakasal sa papel"
no, i will not write this in filipino.
i was texting my best friend oliver asking him to lend me his copy of d.h. lawrence's lady chatterley's lover (art cover illustrated by oliver) in exchange for one carton of marlboro lights. (oliver is a heavy-duty smoker) cutting out our usual pleasantries, we came to the point of his most crucial observation -- that i've retreated back to my truest self: bookworm, writer-worshipper layla. and to which i replied, and thus the explanation of the title, "magpapakasal ako sa papel." i liked the sound of that statement, and the english translation does not seem to have the same impact.
but before we carry on, i implore you to read this article, for it was the catalyst that brought this entry into form and finish:
the boy who was better than books
the nucleus of the write-up: i am sure (as i am already sure that the sheep hasn't eaten the little prince's rose) that a genuine, incontestable love (obsession if you may) for literature will always be of paramount importance in my criteria of men. and by literature i don't mean you parading your hardbound copy of harry potter while having the wild audacity to call yourself a book lover. (you better stop reading if you find that arrogant!)
in fact, the more i think about it, the more i realize i've only been truly happy when i'm with characters and not with people. i'm happy for edmond dantes's well-deserved revenge; i'm happy that scarlett o'hara finally understood rhett butler (even if it was too late of her); i'm happy that raskolnikov found redemption for his crime; i'm happy for madame bovary's and lolita's and anna karenina's meaningful odysseys (for there remains an ounce of happiness even in tragedies)
... i'm happy that victor hugo taught us never to give up on humanity,
... and that annabel lee found the kind of love i could only envy,
... and i wish for the cruelty and injustice to end in animal farm,
... as marquis de sade commands me to lie on the nailbed and embrace the world's harm.
i was texting my best friend oliver asking him to lend me his copy of d.h. lawrence's lady chatterley's lover (art cover illustrated by oliver) in exchange for one carton of marlboro lights. (oliver is a heavy-duty smoker) cutting out our usual pleasantries, we came to the point of his most crucial observation -- that i've retreated back to my truest self: bookworm, writer-worshipper layla. and to which i replied, and thus the explanation of the title, "magpapakasal ako sa papel." i liked the sound of that statement, and the english translation does not seem to have the same impact.
but before we carry on, i implore you to read this article, for it was the catalyst that brought this entry into form and finish:
the boy who was better than books
the nucleus of the write-up: i am sure (as i am already sure that the sheep hasn't eaten the little prince's rose) that a genuine, incontestable love (obsession if you may) for literature will always be of paramount importance in my criteria of men. and by literature i don't mean you parading your hardbound copy of harry potter while having the wild audacity to call yourself a book lover. (you better stop reading if you find that arrogant!)
in fact, the more i think about it, the more i realize i've only been truly happy when i'm with characters and not with people. i'm happy for edmond dantes's well-deserved revenge; i'm happy that scarlett o'hara finally understood rhett butler (even if it was too late of her); i'm happy that raskolnikov found redemption for his crime; i'm happy for madame bovary's and lolita's and anna karenina's meaningful odysseys (for there remains an ounce of happiness even in tragedies)
... i'm happy that victor hugo taught us never to give up on humanity,
... and that annabel lee found the kind of love i could only envy,
... and i wish for the cruelty and injustice to end in animal farm,
... as marquis de sade commands me to lie on the nailbed and embrace the world's harm.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
(tears to shed for) the celebration of heartache
first, i make an open invitation to anyone to watch shoot 'em up with me. i really need to see this movie one more time, this time, in its entirety.
... and so i write my maiden article about sadness. the backdrop -- the gloomy weather (how appropriate), two newborn playlists in my itunes named heartbreak and angst, a fresh pack of vogue cigarettes i just swore never to purchase again and my terse monologue about how probably every one of them was right. that layla, you are too emotionally high-maintenance and too immature to even spell the dirty word called love.
or in my defense, i probably have always been too neglected.
or as the song goes, it could be i'm searching for a place so small with room for everything where worlds on worlds revolve.
sorry folks... my apologies for my most incoherent entry so far. and i have to abruptly stop this right here. blame my mixed emotions.
p.p.s. congratulations to my good friend/colleague chowie who has just given birth to a baby girl. oh how i want one.... :)
... and so i write my maiden article about sadness. the backdrop -- the gloomy weather (how appropriate), two newborn playlists in my itunes named heartbreak and angst, a fresh pack of vogue cigarettes i just swore never to purchase again and my terse monologue about how probably every one of them was right. that layla, you are too emotionally high-maintenance and too immature to even spell the dirty word called love.
or in my defense, i probably have always been too neglected.
or as the song goes, it could be i'm searching for a place so small with room for everything where worlds on worlds revolve.
sorry folks... my apologies for my most incoherent entry so far. and i have to abruptly stop this right here. blame my mixed emotions.
p.p.s. congratulations to my good friend/colleague chowie who has just given birth to a baby girl. oh how i want one.... :)
Sunday, September 16, 2007
i'm in love with true romance
the tagline: stealing, cheating, killing. who said romance is dead?
let me tell the story of true romance, true romance style.
clarence worley (christian slater, never better) is a hardcore elvis and kung-fu fan. he works in heroes for sale, where he gets to read comics and play music all day long; and that's practically every comic and music geek dream. traditionally, he goes to see movies on his birthday, and for this year, he sees three sonny chiba kung-fu movies. there he meets alabama and it is love at first sight.
alabama whitman (patricia arquette) is the disarmingly cute and clumsy call girl paid by clarence's boss to meet then sex-starved clarence. however, after spending one night together and tallying their compatibilities -- elvis, janis, kung-fu, and getting a piece of pie after a movie, alabama becomes mrs. alabama worley.
now all seems candy-sweet for the newlyweds except that clarence feels haunted knowing everyday that alabama's pimp, drexl, (the superb gary oldman) is getting away slapping and kicking around the girls who work for him, although alabama insists that drexl treated him pretty decent. after a ghostly visit from "the king" elvis, clarence decides to kill him.
what follows is the heated exchange between clarence and drexl, and it tells you that this movie is born from a quentin tarantino script. quentin tarantino writes no ordinary love stories. no roses and candlelight dinners. instead, quentin's idea of romance are gunshots and cocaine and 234 fuck words.
the trouble comes into paradise when clarence takes drexl's narcotics by mistake, thinking that the bag contains alabama's clothes. he sets off, rather amateurishly, to sell the drugs, intending to spend his and alabama's life spending the money. first, he pays his father, clifford worley (dennis hopper.. i cried for you, sir) a surprise visit and asks him to inquire from the police force (his father being a former cop) and determine if the police are after them and then quickly heads off to los angeles to sell his drugs through the help of his actor friend, dick.(michael rapaport) more hamburgers ordered, more giggles from the teasing alabama worley and more violence and bloodbath ensues as the gangsters find out the couple's whereabouts. in the end, the two manage to stay alive and money in hand, escape the massacre scene and indeed spend their lives spending.
now i can discuss this movie heartily as ever until pigs fly but i choose two favorite scenes. the first, as i've already said, deals with clarence confronting drexl. (gary oldman, i still don't understand why you have to do harry potter. you have too much talent for mainstream.)
the second, and this is much more poweful, involves don vincenzo (the brillian christopher walken, who according to my father held me when i was a baby) and clarence's father, clifford (extremely outstanding performance from dennis hopper). clifford endures torture from the unforgiving sicilian don vincenzo who declares that sicilians are the heavyweight champions for detecting liars. after getting his palms cut,(with scotch flavor. imagine the pain) clifford remains resolute and unmoved into telling clarence's location. perhaps resigning to his fate, he aggravates don vincenzo and tells the history of sicilians getting spawned by -- and i have to use this word to describe the aggravation -- niggers. how niggers changed the whole bloodline of sicilian people by banging sicilian women. and how don vincenzo's heart pumps black blood and thrives on the black gene. the hair-raising instrumental background amplifies the mood. both actors are too well into character i'd be scared to meet don vincenzo on the streets and i want to give clifford worley a peachy kiss.
and lest we forget, this story is all about, well...romance. clarence and alabama are very much in love, and the onscreen chemistry between slater and arquette is spontaneous and believable. clarence kills for alabama, and alabama in her own torture scene earns our tender sentiment as she stands ready to die for clarence as well.
now show me a man who will kill for me without fear or trepidation and i will gladly let the rats gnaw at my flesh before i betray him. show me a man who loves me inasmuch as he desires me to shamelessly pull down my underclothes in a highway phone booth and i will acquiesce to two dozen children. in fact, show me one man with the same insatiable energy for movies, a man who appreciates the finer things in life like sugar and red lips, brings me to his family and friends and tells them, "is she a four-alarm fire or what?" and says that none of my fears are too silly, none of my actions are too clumsy, none of my conversations with flowers and trees and the nature overall too weird, and none of my interactions with the opposite sex way too friendly and i will, i swear to aphrodite, borrow alabama's words and say, finally, "when it comes to relationships, if i'm with you, then i'm with you; and i don't want anybody else."
let me tell the story of true romance, true romance style.
clarence worley (christian slater, never better) is a hardcore elvis and kung-fu fan. he works in heroes for sale, where he gets to read comics and play music all day long; and that's practically every comic and music geek dream. traditionally, he goes to see movies on his birthday, and for this year, he sees three sonny chiba kung-fu movies. there he meets alabama and it is love at first sight.
alabama whitman (patricia arquette) is the disarmingly cute and clumsy call girl paid by clarence's boss to meet then sex-starved clarence. however, after spending one night together and tallying their compatibilities -- elvis, janis, kung-fu, and getting a piece of pie after a movie, alabama becomes mrs. alabama worley.
now all seems candy-sweet for the newlyweds except that clarence feels haunted knowing everyday that alabama's pimp, drexl, (the superb gary oldman) is getting away slapping and kicking around the girls who work for him, although alabama insists that drexl treated him pretty decent. after a ghostly visit from "the king" elvis, clarence decides to kill him.
what follows is the heated exchange between clarence and drexl, and it tells you that this movie is born from a quentin tarantino script. quentin tarantino writes no ordinary love stories. no roses and candlelight dinners. instead, quentin's idea of romance are gunshots and cocaine and 234 fuck words.
the trouble comes into paradise when clarence takes drexl's narcotics by mistake, thinking that the bag contains alabama's clothes. he sets off, rather amateurishly, to sell the drugs, intending to spend his and alabama's life spending the money. first, he pays his father, clifford worley (dennis hopper.. i cried for you, sir) a surprise visit and asks him to inquire from the police force (his father being a former cop) and determine if the police are after them and then quickly heads off to los angeles to sell his drugs through the help of his actor friend, dick.(michael rapaport) more hamburgers ordered, more giggles from the teasing alabama worley and more violence and bloodbath ensues as the gangsters find out the couple's whereabouts. in the end, the two manage to stay alive and money in hand, escape the massacre scene and indeed spend their lives spending.
now i can discuss this movie heartily as ever until pigs fly but i choose two favorite scenes. the first, as i've already said, deals with clarence confronting drexl. (gary oldman, i still don't understand why you have to do harry potter. you have too much talent for mainstream.)
the second, and this is much more poweful, involves don vincenzo (the brillian christopher walken, who according to my father held me when i was a baby) and clarence's father, clifford (extremely outstanding performance from dennis hopper). clifford endures torture from the unforgiving sicilian don vincenzo who declares that sicilians are the heavyweight champions for detecting liars. after getting his palms cut,(with scotch flavor. imagine the pain) clifford remains resolute and unmoved into telling clarence's location. perhaps resigning to his fate, he aggravates don vincenzo and tells the history of sicilians getting spawned by -- and i have to use this word to describe the aggravation -- niggers. how niggers changed the whole bloodline of sicilian people by banging sicilian women. and how don vincenzo's heart pumps black blood and thrives on the black gene. the hair-raising instrumental background amplifies the mood. both actors are too well into character i'd be scared to meet don vincenzo on the streets and i want to give clifford worley a peachy kiss.
and lest we forget, this story is all about, well...romance. clarence and alabama are very much in love, and the onscreen chemistry between slater and arquette is spontaneous and believable. clarence kills for alabama, and alabama in her own torture scene earns our tender sentiment as she stands ready to die for clarence as well.
now show me a man who will kill for me without fear or trepidation and i will gladly let the rats gnaw at my flesh before i betray him. show me a man who loves me inasmuch as he desires me to shamelessly pull down my underclothes in a highway phone booth and i will acquiesce to two dozen children. in fact, show me one man with the same insatiable energy for movies, a man who appreciates the finer things in life like sugar and red lips, brings me to his family and friends and tells them, "is she a four-alarm fire or what?" and says that none of my fears are too silly, none of my actions are too clumsy, none of my conversations with flowers and trees and the nature overall too weird, and none of my interactions with the opposite sex way too friendly and i will, i swear to aphrodite, borrow alabama's words and say, finally, "when it comes to relationships, if i'm with you, then i'm with you; and i don't want anybody else."
on this young night
there was a car crash
whose driver didn't make it
to the dinnerdate
there was a lotto draw
that aired ten minutes late
there was a steak
re-heated
for the husband
that never came
and there was a full moon
that hid
behind the clouds
when a peddler of dreams
was being
killed.
note: this is a re-post from my old blog, per marco's request.
whose driver didn't make it
to the dinnerdate
there was a lotto draw
that aired ten minutes late
there was a steak
re-heated
for the husband
that never came
and there was a full moon
that hid
behind the clouds
when a peddler of dreams
was being
killed.
note: this is a re-post from my old blog, per marco's request.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
in pace requiescat, L lawliet
losing you was far more heartbreaking than losing my human boyfriend. (and i mean human, just literally.) L lawliet, why do you have to die?
for the benefit of my non-anime viewing readers, L lawliet (known to the world simply as L) is the eccentric detective (somebody whose name, face and whereabouts are a secret)in the contemporary japanese manga slash anime slash movie, death note (desu noto.) the central theme being justice, this story presents the case of light yagami, an A-list student who picks up a death god's notebook and L, an elusive and highly-intelligent figure (the brains of sherlock holmes, hercule poirot, perry mason and lex luthor combined)who hunts down kira (meaning killer) which is light yagami's alter ego. we see how light's initially virtuous intentions of creating a utopian world by eliminating convicted criminals and minor offenders and suspects alike conflicts with his self-indulgent, and conceited haughty self. declaring that he alone possesses the qualifications to determine the righteous, he pursues L who in turn swears to bring him to his execution in a manner no less than humiliating light in public tv. while light sees himself as a god of the new, evil-free world which he aims to establish using the deah note, L ridicules and regards him as nothing more than an atrocious, abominable and self-absorbed mass murderer.
capsulized in 37 episodes and two full-length movies, the manga also covers universal topics such as friendship (a bittersweet one, ironically formed between light and L) and love (the unrequited genuine devotion of amane misa towards light, and the shinigami rem for misa). the prime attraction though, is the heightened allegro-paced battle of wits, and one could not complain for the lack of cerebral competition (as in the case of light vs L, mello vs near, light vs mello, light vs near)
i could not run out of positive feedback regarding this story. the argument about justice alone could fill up this entry ad infinitum. the introduction of L, however, is death note's best gift. he has the mysteriously charming, inexplicably twisted appeal and nothing feels more helpless than falling in love with an anime character.
very little is known about L. he loves sweets, ("even if you eat too much sweeets, if you're doing enough thinking you won't get fat") dislikes socks, holds things delicately, a sloucher, and was raised at an orphanage. that's pretty much everything that's known about him. or one could say, descriptions of him.
so as a testament of my undying love for you, L, if the only way to be with you is to create you, (maybe your origin or your case works and exploits) then i'd gladly set my brain to its optimal exhaustion. you will become my most ambitious work, my magnum opus. i will think the way you think; for it will be unforgivable if i falter and ruin your reputation. i forgive you for dying; it wasn't fair play that you were up against a shinigami. you will be my next elegy, and it is in your memory that i will finish crime and punishment and take a renewed interest in law as an avenue of justice, retribution and deliverance.
this article was written on paper 3 septmeber 2007.
for the benefit of my non-anime viewing readers, L lawliet (known to the world simply as L) is the eccentric detective (somebody whose name, face and whereabouts are a secret)in the contemporary japanese manga slash anime slash movie, death note (desu noto.) the central theme being justice, this story presents the case of light yagami, an A-list student who picks up a death god's notebook and L, an elusive and highly-intelligent figure (the brains of sherlock holmes, hercule poirot, perry mason and lex luthor combined)who hunts down kira (meaning killer) which is light yagami's alter ego. we see how light's initially virtuous intentions of creating a utopian world by eliminating convicted criminals and minor offenders and suspects alike conflicts with his self-indulgent, and conceited haughty self. declaring that he alone possesses the qualifications to determine the righteous, he pursues L who in turn swears to bring him to his execution in a manner no less than humiliating light in public tv. while light sees himself as a god of the new, evil-free world which he aims to establish using the deah note, L ridicules and regards him as nothing more than an atrocious, abominable and self-absorbed mass murderer.
capsulized in 37 episodes and two full-length movies, the manga also covers universal topics such as friendship (a bittersweet one, ironically formed between light and L) and love (the unrequited genuine devotion of amane misa towards light, and the shinigami rem for misa). the prime attraction though, is the heightened allegro-paced battle of wits, and one could not complain for the lack of cerebral competition (as in the case of light vs L, mello vs near, light vs mello, light vs near)
i could not run out of positive feedback regarding this story. the argument about justice alone could fill up this entry ad infinitum. the introduction of L, however, is death note's best gift. he has the mysteriously charming, inexplicably twisted appeal and nothing feels more helpless than falling in love with an anime character.
very little is known about L. he loves sweets, ("even if you eat too much sweeets, if you're doing enough thinking you won't get fat") dislikes socks, holds things delicately, a sloucher, and was raised at an orphanage. that's pretty much everything that's known about him. or one could say, descriptions of him.
so as a testament of my undying love for you, L, if the only way to be with you is to create you, (maybe your origin or your case works and exploits) then i'd gladly set my brain to its optimal exhaustion. you will become my most ambitious work, my magnum opus. i will think the way you think; for it will be unforgivable if i falter and ruin your reputation. i forgive you for dying; it wasn't fair play that you were up against a shinigami. you will be my next elegy, and it is in your memory that i will finish crime and punishment and take a renewed interest in law as an avenue of justice, retribution and deliverance.
this article was written on paper 3 septmeber 2007.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
my first cigarette (or rather, my first four)
let's start with my influences. almost every person and every character that i admire smokes. natalie portman smokes. julie delpy smokes. rachel greene smokes. lolita smokes.
i don't have to love it, but since i've deflated my ego for less important things that aren't even worth mentioning, i might as well make an exception for one harmless cigarette. (that was my first deliberate deception to myself)
my first reactions -- my heart beats wildly. and i need a respirator. in between coughs, i asked my friends (from work) who i amused greatly with my struggles, am i supposed to inhale it all in before releasing? and i thought, "it's supposed to attack your lungs! so yes, breathe it in." and i did. and i coughed again.
the packet says strawberry flavor. good. this will help me like it.
well did i? was it a pleasant experience? i honestly cannot tell you. all i know is that i was in desperate need for mints. weird, but i felt claustrophobic.
i, however, asked if i could take the rest home.
i don't have to love it, but since i've deflated my ego for less important things that aren't even worth mentioning, i might as well make an exception for one harmless cigarette. (that was my first deliberate deception to myself)
my first reactions -- my heart beats wildly. and i need a respirator. in between coughs, i asked my friends (from work) who i amused greatly with my struggles, am i supposed to inhale it all in before releasing? and i thought, "it's supposed to attack your lungs! so yes, breathe it in." and i did. and i coughed again.
the packet says strawberry flavor. good. this will help me like it.
well did i? was it a pleasant experience? i honestly cannot tell you. all i know is that i was in desperate need for mints. weird, but i felt claustrophobic.
i, however, asked if i could take the rest home.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
9 reasons why break-ups are a good riddance
(based on real-life comedies and situations of female friends and mine)
1. nobody complains about too much pink, or too much ribbons, and too much lace. and our bedroom space becomes 100% ours.
2. so does our salary.
3. we can do our midnight sale shopping in peace.
4. we can avoid the steak and order salad, and nobody disagrees about the importance of dieting.
5. less unnecessary celebrations such as "monthsaries" and blockbuster birthdays.
6. dating and occasional flirting is a healthy hobby.
7. no morning litanies of the bed not being made or the dishes not being washed.
8. we can all live without the male biological need for guilty sex talk.
9. and most importantly, no playstation!!!!
1. nobody complains about too much pink, or too much ribbons, and too much lace. and our bedroom space becomes 100% ours.
2. so does our salary.
3. we can do our midnight sale shopping in peace.
4. we can avoid the steak and order salad, and nobody disagrees about the importance of dieting.
5. less unnecessary celebrations such as "monthsaries" and blockbuster birthdays.
6. dating and occasional flirting is a healthy hobby.
7. no morning litanies of the bed not being made or the dishes not being washed.
8. we can all live without the male biological need for guilty sex talk.
9. and most importantly, no playstation!!!!
Monday, August 20, 2007
9 things to do before year-end
1. go to the beach. (the last time was two years ago!)
2. re-visit baguio city.
3. enroll in alliance francaise de manille. (really seriously this time, i've already paid half)
4. attend a film showing in instituto cervantes with mikael, and with mark and harry, my new indie movie friends.
5. schedule a surprise visit to lovelyn's lovely household.
6. buy imax tickets.
7. decide on the following: hsdpa connection for iLa (my ibook), spa, tommy hilfiger watch, beverly hills 6750 visit -- then get over them.
8. treat myself to an A|X jacket -- my small tribute to alessandra.
9. carry-out my special charity. details withheld. says my dad, "you don't brag about kindness."
2. re-visit baguio city.
3. enroll in alliance francaise de manille. (really seriously this time, i've already paid half)
4. attend a film showing in instituto cervantes with mikael, and with mark and harry, my new indie movie friends.
5. schedule a surprise visit to lovelyn's lovely household.
6. buy imax tickets.
7. decide on the following: hsdpa connection for iLa (my ibook), spa, tommy hilfiger watch, beverly hills 6750 visit -- then get over them.
8. treat myself to an A|X jacket -- my small tribute to alessandra.
9. carry-out my special charity. details withheld. says my dad, "you don't brag about kindness."
Friday, August 17, 2007
quentin craze
dilemma. this is already my fourth revision, and i'm still on the first sentence.
i'd like to write about my encounters (yes, plural) with writer-director extraordinaire, quentin tarantino, and i scowl at my amateur and unsatisfactory writing. this experience, as i always say, is like god coming down to earth and all the inks of the world tremble.
okay, stream-of-consciousness is my best bet. for i do not want to write this article carelessly or with upper-class airs, but with great reverence.
august 11. queued outside cinema 5 of the gateway cineplex are us cinephiles. i kind of like this assembly of mostly geek-looking, long-haired bespectacled people -- all of us eagerly (and in my case, sleeplessly) waiting for cinemanila's best gift to date -- quentin tarantino. he created kill bill, that's like saying he created my long-lost mother in beatrix kiddo's vengeful persona.
promptly at 1pm, he arrives. i am expecting him to emerge from the elevator, heavily guarded(and for my own humor, maybe with a machine gun?)au contraire, he passes rather conspicuously through the gateway food court - no panic, no screaming. jai pointed out a good irony; if it were richard gutierrez, the place would just be one bloody havoc.
full of smiles and hi's, he makes his way inside the cinema, only to come out a few minutes later to smile and say hi again. he goes towards the cinemanila office and in doing so, has to pass right through us. he shakes jai's hand and jai is numb. i am waiting for me to drop dead.
then his seminar. the rules: no video, no autographs, no photos. either you're here or you're not here. "this seminar isn't for glamour, this is for art." i cannot agree more.
okay, time for questions. one asked, "do you consider the repeatability aspect when you create your films?" answer: "yes, i am egotistical enough to admit that. and when you watch my films for the second or the third time, i hope you discover something more in them than when you first saw them."
next question. holy f$%*ing motherf%&#*!! is he pointing at me? yes, b!tch, you. take the mic and don't lose it.
i start to say, "i'm sorry i'm kind of trembling." the audience giggles. i giggle too.
proceed. "i'd like to ask about your casting process. you don't strike me as traditional...so do you have a defined method in choosing your actors.. say, do you base it on filmography, or for lack of a better term, do you rely on impression, trusting your instincts kind of thing? you said in the bonus features of reservoir dogs all tim roth had to do was to walk on that room.. no words, no lines, just walk and you immediately cast him."
answer: "no defined method. you talk to them about casual stuff, you talk to them about the movie and your vision. i never go for popularity... because the actor has to own the dialog and believe in the dialog.. because when i wrote that script, i've put every little detail in it already - the shot, my commas and periods, my if's and's and but's except one thing. i've put every single thing except their voice...and i just realized, just now, that my characters are actually more important than my movie."
maybe that's the cue for the warm-up stage. more questions, more tales, more laughs, more quotable quotes. i feel like i'm watching an opera but the notes just go on higher and higher. quentin (first name basis, huh) has an uncanny ability of saying even something so casual strike the listener as something profound.
but as all good things come to an end, so does the speech. amongst his finest of fine words my favorite is, "the beauty in art is that you're never done. there's always new joys waiting to be discovered... i don't classify myself as a master of the arts, in fact i'm a student seeking professorship in the arts, and the day i graduate is the day i die."
this article was written on paper 15 august 2007.
p.s. my other close encounters with this first-rate director include: the gala screening of death proof where he declared, "whoever said that the filipino audience is subdued doesn't know a f^$!" and the screening of kill bill 1 and 2 (my personal favorite) where he sat among the audience and laughed at his own lines. i watched volume 1 by myself and i retreated to the back of the moviehouse, avoiding distraction. he arrived shortly and he was one seat apart from me. somehow it felt casual. no phony charm. no beg-me-to-sign-and-the-more-i-will-resist. just laidback moviewatching.
looking back now, i am reminded how through the entire adventure he remained remarkably, incredibly and humbly human.
note: quotes are not verbatim and may have been paraphrased.
i'd like to write about my encounters (yes, plural) with writer-director extraordinaire, quentin tarantino, and i scowl at my amateur and unsatisfactory writing. this experience, as i always say, is like god coming down to earth and all the inks of the world tremble.
okay, stream-of-consciousness is my best bet. for i do not want to write this article carelessly or with upper-class airs, but with great reverence.
august 11. queued outside cinema 5 of the gateway cineplex are us cinephiles. i kind of like this assembly of mostly geek-looking, long-haired bespectacled people -- all of us eagerly (and in my case, sleeplessly) waiting for cinemanila's best gift to date -- quentin tarantino. he created kill bill, that's like saying he created my long-lost mother in beatrix kiddo's vengeful persona.
promptly at 1pm, he arrives. i am expecting him to emerge from the elevator, heavily guarded(and for my own humor, maybe with a machine gun?)au contraire, he passes rather conspicuously through the gateway food court - no panic, no screaming. jai pointed out a good irony; if it were richard gutierrez, the place would just be one bloody havoc.
full of smiles and hi's, he makes his way inside the cinema, only to come out a few minutes later to smile and say hi again. he goes towards the cinemanila office and in doing so, has to pass right through us. he shakes jai's hand and jai is numb. i am waiting for me to drop dead.
then his seminar. the rules: no video, no autographs, no photos. either you're here or you're not here. "this seminar isn't for glamour, this is for art." i cannot agree more.
okay, time for questions. one asked, "do you consider the repeatability aspect when you create your films?" answer: "yes, i am egotistical enough to admit that. and when you watch my films for the second or the third time, i hope you discover something more in them than when you first saw them."
next question. holy f$%*ing motherf%&#*!! is he pointing at me? yes, b!tch, you. take the mic and don't lose it.
i start to say, "i'm sorry i'm kind of trembling." the audience giggles. i giggle too.
proceed. "i'd like to ask about your casting process. you don't strike me as traditional...so do you have a defined method in choosing your actors.. say, do you base it on filmography, or for lack of a better term, do you rely on impression, trusting your instincts kind of thing? you said in the bonus features of reservoir dogs all tim roth had to do was to walk on that room.. no words, no lines, just walk and you immediately cast him."
answer: "no defined method. you talk to them about casual stuff, you talk to them about the movie and your vision. i never go for popularity... because the actor has to own the dialog and believe in the dialog.. because when i wrote that script, i've put every little detail in it already - the shot, my commas and periods, my if's and's and but's except one thing. i've put every single thing except their voice...and i just realized, just now, that my characters are actually more important than my movie."
maybe that's the cue for the warm-up stage. more questions, more tales, more laughs, more quotable quotes. i feel like i'm watching an opera but the notes just go on higher and higher. quentin (first name basis, huh) has an uncanny ability of saying even something so casual strike the listener as something profound.
but as all good things come to an end, so does the speech. amongst his finest of fine words my favorite is, "the beauty in art is that you're never done. there's always new joys waiting to be discovered... i don't classify myself as a master of the arts, in fact i'm a student seeking professorship in the arts, and the day i graduate is the day i die."
this article was written on paper 15 august 2007.
p.s. my other close encounters with this first-rate director include: the gala screening of death proof where he declared, "whoever said that the filipino audience is subdued doesn't know a f^$!" and the screening of kill bill 1 and 2 (my personal favorite) where he sat among the audience and laughed at his own lines. i watched volume 1 by myself and i retreated to the back of the moviehouse, avoiding distraction. he arrived shortly and he was one seat apart from me. somehow it felt casual. no phony charm. no beg-me-to-sign-and-the-more-i-will-resist. just laidback moviewatching.
looking back now, i am reminded how through the entire adventure he remained remarkably, incredibly and humbly human.
note: quotes are not verbatim and may have been paraphrased.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
mathematics
you are a
triple delight
above average,
and infinitely sexy.
you boast of 10 girlfriends
and you have
two black books -- one for the hearts you destroyed
the other for the whores you scorned.
your friends
are single serving
you say,
too many weeds, too many wine,
too little time.
you are accoutable
for a handful of
unborn babies.
you speak of
too many thoughtless ideas.
you are important to
no one.
you are
half-witted, half-conceited
and sixty degrees below zero
cold.
this poem was written on paper 9 august 2007.
triple delight
above average,
and infinitely sexy.
you boast of 10 girlfriends
and you have
two black books -- one for the hearts you destroyed
the other for the whores you scorned.
your friends
are single serving
you say,
too many weeds, too many wine,
too little time.
you are accoutable
for a handful of
unborn babies.
you speak of
too many thoughtless ideas.
you are important to
no one.
you are
half-witted, half-conceited
and sixty degrees below zero
cold.
this poem was written on paper 9 august 2007.
notes to my biographer
[my sincere apologies to my boyfriend for the blatant plagiarism of the title (happy now??)]
this article is divided into three main parts, namely: basics, beauty and brains, with subdivisions. the answers represent the best-of-all-time best (especially in the “brains” area), at least in my perspective. some choices prove to be tough but i cannot list down everything that i deem admirably worthy; otherwise, this article will forever remain unfinished.
basics
birth name: layla torres bool
character names: in no particular order, and not limited to
• purple payne (my favorite) in jai lanting’s young souls
• laney in jai lanting’s r-rated syzygy
• claire in revenge, a play directed by grace perdiguerra and donna christine banuelos, authored by one of their students
• lara in harm, a short film without a script and directed by jai lanting
• jennifer love hewitt, presenter in the video music awards, a project by the mass communication students of the university of batangas (over-the-top funny, we had our own angelina jolie, mary kate and ashley olsen, usher, ben affleck, gwen stefani, evanescence, simple plan – it was a question of who’s the most ambitious)
• lena, in a one-act play written in filipino (can’t remember the title anymore, this was in 1996) launched by the creative arts and speech training students
birthday: 21 october 1984, hence a libra, born year of the rat
height: no taller than 5’3, which explains the high heels
weight: as of this writing, 92 lbs
citizenship: filipino born, french at heart
preferences
food: pizza, pasta, potatoes, tuna and cheese
fruit: wild strawberries. :)
ice cream flavor: very rocky road
cakes and pastries: conti's mango bravo
drink: i realize nothing’s healthier than water, so i now shy away even from green teas and juices
cocktail: frozen margarita
beer: colt 45
bar: temple in greenbelt 3.made some friends there.
songwriter: jewel kilcher
church wedding song: here, there and everywhere
dance: flamenco
mode of travel: the sea, please, if possible
beach: i am yet to experience boracay. batangas (matabungkay, san juan, and calatagan are the prime spots) will do for now. i love my province.
destination dream: france, where else? runners-up: niagara falls, iceland, reichenbach falls, burj-al arab
my weakness in men: wit, candor and remarkable intelligence.
beauty
skincare: i swear by philosophy. from facial cleansers and moisturizers to shower gels and conditioners and hand creams.
make-up: again, philosophy. i'm deadly afraid of breakouts, and mineral make-up is my holy grail. (the only exception is smashbox's intuitive o-glow as my choice of cheek tint) visit any beauty bar outlets and prepare your credit card.
clothing and apparel: quite a broad range – terranova, mango, zara, freeway, petit monde, topshop and ukay-ukay in baguio city
my fashion achilles heel: belts
my charm: my smile
fragrance: kenzo
salon: i cut my own hair
fashion magazine: mega
shoes: CMG, celine
bags: i love them oversized
workout: bellydance videos and carmen electra’s aerobic striptease
model: alessandra ambrosio is my goddess!
brains
* (i am currently reading fyodor mikhailovich dostoevsky’s crime and punishment)
mythology: norse
fairy tale: lewis carroll’s alice’s adventures in wonderland and j.m. barrie’s peter pan
narrative poetry: the wife of bath’s tale, from geoffrey chaucer’s the canterbury tales
lyric poetry: edgar allan poe's annabel lee tops the list.
elegy: thomas gray's elegy written in a country churchyard.
ode: john keats's ode on a grecian urn
short story: rabindranath tagore’s the judge (i composed a sequel)
essay: michel de montaigne’s apology for raymond sebond
play: henrik ibsen's a doll house
novels -- categorized by theme. see below:
allegory: antoine de saint exupery’s le petit prince. open to debate. many people classify the little prince as fantasy, but it deserves more credit owing to its philosophical inputs. pardon my blasphemy when i say this book equals the bible.
tragedy: gabriel garcia marquez’s one hundred years of solitude. one word – apocalyptic.
mystery: sir arthur conan doyle, agatha christie and erle stanley gardener – creators of sherlock holmes, hercule poirot and perry mason, respectively.
romance: emily bronte’s the wuthering heights. dark and poignant.
political: george orwell's nineteen eighty-four
controversial: vladimir nabokov’s lolita
movie: it’s a tie between lars von trier’s dogville and ingmar bergman’s the seventh seal. sure, the matrix is good, but these two films show you what can be achieved by relying on actors’ touchstone performances and a mind-blowing script without any need for smoke and car chase and any of those blockbuster special effects. citizen kane is a masterpiece, agreed, but there are films that you appreciate for their cinematic appeal and there are some which walk over your shadow and grab and squeeze your heart then drain you of your blood. that’s the torture of watching dogville and the seventh seal. and afterwards, you still want to watch.
animation: pixar animation studio’s cars, narrowly beating monsters inc.how the academy awards people thought happy feet has a more significant message and/or is more creatively crafted is beyond me. what poor taste.
columnist: conrado de quiros
philosophy: everybody talks of existentialism, so i wouldn’t join the group anymore. (i still like the idea, it’s just becoming increasingly popular) i prefer metaphysics.
painting: jan van eyck’s portrait of giovanni arnolfini and his wife, also known as the arnolfini couple
sculpture: laocoon and his sons
my natural talent: i am an effortless speaker.
my compositions: mostly essays, some poetry
my pseudonym: pennylane
and, my autobiography: i don’t want to live twice. copyright pending.
this article was written on paper 3 august 2007.
this article is divided into three main parts, namely: basics, beauty and brains, with subdivisions. the answers represent the best-of-all-time best (especially in the “brains” area), at least in my perspective. some choices prove to be tough but i cannot list down everything that i deem admirably worthy; otherwise, this article will forever remain unfinished.
basics
birth name: layla torres bool
character names: in no particular order, and not limited to
• purple payne (my favorite) in jai lanting’s young souls
• laney in jai lanting’s r-rated syzygy
• claire in revenge, a play directed by grace perdiguerra and donna christine banuelos, authored by one of their students
• lara in harm, a short film without a script and directed by jai lanting
• jennifer love hewitt, presenter in the video music awards, a project by the mass communication students of the university of batangas (over-the-top funny, we had our own angelina jolie, mary kate and ashley olsen, usher, ben affleck, gwen stefani, evanescence, simple plan – it was a question of who’s the most ambitious)
• lena, in a one-act play written in filipino (can’t remember the title anymore, this was in 1996) launched by the creative arts and speech training students
birthday: 21 october 1984, hence a libra, born year of the rat
height: no taller than 5’3, which explains the high heels
weight: as of this writing, 92 lbs
citizenship: filipino born, french at heart
preferences
food: pizza, pasta, potatoes, tuna and cheese
fruit: wild strawberries. :)
ice cream flavor: very rocky road
cakes and pastries: conti's mango bravo
drink: i realize nothing’s healthier than water, so i now shy away even from green teas and juices
cocktail: frozen margarita
beer: colt 45
bar: temple in greenbelt 3.made some friends there.
songwriter: jewel kilcher
church wedding song: here, there and everywhere
dance: flamenco
mode of travel: the sea, please, if possible
beach: i am yet to experience boracay. batangas (matabungkay, san juan, and calatagan are the prime spots) will do for now. i love my province.
destination dream: france, where else? runners-up: niagara falls, iceland, reichenbach falls, burj-al arab
my weakness in men: wit, candor and remarkable intelligence.
beauty
skincare: i swear by philosophy. from facial cleansers and moisturizers to shower gels and conditioners and hand creams.
make-up: again, philosophy. i'm deadly afraid of breakouts, and mineral make-up is my holy grail. (the only exception is smashbox's intuitive o-glow as my choice of cheek tint) visit any beauty bar outlets and prepare your credit card.
clothing and apparel: quite a broad range – terranova, mango, zara, freeway, petit monde, topshop and ukay-ukay in baguio city
my fashion achilles heel: belts
my charm: my smile
fragrance: kenzo
salon: i cut my own hair
fashion magazine: mega
shoes: CMG, celine
bags: i love them oversized
workout: bellydance videos and carmen electra’s aerobic striptease
model: alessandra ambrosio is my goddess!
brains
* (i am currently reading fyodor mikhailovich dostoevsky’s crime and punishment)
mythology: norse
fairy tale: lewis carroll’s alice’s adventures in wonderland and j.m. barrie’s peter pan
narrative poetry: the wife of bath’s tale, from geoffrey chaucer’s the canterbury tales
lyric poetry: edgar allan poe's annabel lee tops the list.
elegy: thomas gray's elegy written in a country churchyard.
ode: john keats's ode on a grecian urn
short story: rabindranath tagore’s the judge (i composed a sequel)
essay: michel de montaigne’s apology for raymond sebond
play: henrik ibsen's a doll house
novels -- categorized by theme. see below:
allegory: antoine de saint exupery’s le petit prince. open to debate. many people classify the little prince as fantasy, but it deserves more credit owing to its philosophical inputs. pardon my blasphemy when i say this book equals the bible.
tragedy: gabriel garcia marquez’s one hundred years of solitude. one word – apocalyptic.
mystery: sir arthur conan doyle, agatha christie and erle stanley gardener – creators of sherlock holmes, hercule poirot and perry mason, respectively.
romance: emily bronte’s the wuthering heights. dark and poignant.
political: george orwell's nineteen eighty-four
controversial: vladimir nabokov’s lolita
movie: it’s a tie between lars von trier’s dogville and ingmar bergman’s the seventh seal. sure, the matrix is good, but these two films show you what can be achieved by relying on actors’ touchstone performances and a mind-blowing script without any need for smoke and car chase and any of those blockbuster special effects. citizen kane is a masterpiece, agreed, but there are films that you appreciate for their cinematic appeal and there are some which walk over your shadow and grab and squeeze your heart then drain you of your blood. that’s the torture of watching dogville and the seventh seal. and afterwards, you still want to watch.
animation: pixar animation studio’s cars, narrowly beating monsters inc.how the academy awards people thought happy feet has a more significant message and/or is more creatively crafted is beyond me. what poor taste.
columnist: conrado de quiros
philosophy: everybody talks of existentialism, so i wouldn’t join the group anymore. (i still like the idea, it’s just becoming increasingly popular) i prefer metaphysics.
painting: jan van eyck’s portrait of giovanni arnolfini and his wife, also known as the arnolfini couple
sculpture: laocoon and his sons
my natural talent: i am an effortless speaker.
my compositions: mostly essays, some poetry
my pseudonym: pennylane
and, my autobiography: i don’t want to live twice. copyright pending.
this article was written on paper 3 august 2007.
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