More Promises

Teaser posters of The Promise.

Can't. Wait.

Whoa!

What was that?

Woke up at 2 p.m. Groggy. Pinned head. And no cigarettes. So by 2:02 p.m. I was out of the house. First time in 5 days. To buy cigarettes.

It was like a battlefield out there. Hudas-whipped. Bawang bomb raid. Whatever happened to those nice firework fountains, and those swirly things. And lusis?

Pucha. Gyera na ito.

And on that note. More like high-pitched eeek, really.



Happy New Year to all!

Ho!

So that was Christmas. Spent it in Bulacan with the family, including our seven dogs.

Signal was lousy, so if you didn't get a greeting from me, please be comforted by the fact that I was thinking of you all while I was gorging down impossibly juicy, well, oily chunks of bagnet.

And ...


because it's pretty.

Pretty sad.

Hur Jin-ho's April Snow. Lately, I've been picking up movies that should have been romantic starry-eyed giddy, but, no. How easy is it to make things complicated? Very. Four a.m. and I'm blogging. I secretly treasure these moments though. When I allow myself to be sad, to be --- what's the word?--- melancholic, just because. Thoughtful, even. Without having to explain, to assure anyone that I'm pretty much doing great.

Though beer would help right now.

Fuck you, April Snow.

Warp 9

Feels like it. Time anomaly or the momentum of Landmark shoppers? I think there's a collective push to let's just get it done already. Last year was crazy, but this one, everything's just moving way too fast.

Was in Metrowalk doing last minute DVD shopping. Might as well catch up with Miyazaki. Hunting for Lady Vengeance. And Cora of stall 16 was shaking her head in disbelief. Not with my violent erotica leanings --- Bakit ho puro patayan na R ang hinanahanap nyo?, to which I answered, Pang-regalo lang. Hah! --- but because it's gonna be Christmas in a day. Pang-regalo? Oo nga no. Pasko na bukas. And she shook her head, and the store owner shook his head, and I shook my head. There was a lot of head-shaking before we said our anyongi gasehyos.

Walking around aimlessly for what felt like an hour, I suddenly had a thought:

Coffee!

And really, in bold in my head. Ended up in Starbucks and saw Champ sitting under one of the green umbrellas.

And then another thought:

Pogi!

Then I thought of the Da Vinci-decoding, pogi-rock listening demographic and felt really low for the country's future. So I just went home.

Golden Promise

It's sad that we didn't submit any entries to the Golden Globes or the Oscars. I read in the Philippine Daily Inquirer a month ago (I think) that the Film Academy of the Philippines (I think) did not receive the usual annual invitation to participate in the Oscars. And the group never inquired? I don't know. It's not that we have to, but it would be great for the morale of local cinema, which has hit rock bottom. Our indie flicks seem to be the light at the end of a tunnel, but it's turning out to be a long, long, long, dark tunnel. Have you seen the Filmfest entries? Fluff. Redundant. Ewan. Exodus may be a tad too prophetic.

But as Asians, we have a lot to be be proud of. Stephen Chow's epic-ly hilarious Kung-fu Hustle and Chen Kaige's The Promise both received Golden Globe nomination nods for Best Foreign Film. Here's a bit of info on The Promise which stars Korean actor Jang Dong-gun (Te Guk Gi) and Hongkong's Cecilia Cheung (One Night in Mongkok). Lifted from English.chosun.com:

Jang Dong-kun in Bid for World Stardom at Cannes


Jang Dong-gun at the Cannes

Jang Dong-kun, the winner of last year's Blue Dragon Award for best leading actor, stepped on the international stage when “The Promise” by world-famous Chinese director Chen Kaige premiered at the Cannes International Film Festival to a packed house. The promotional party for the pan-Asian fantasy epic on Friday at the Chateau de la Napoule gave guests a 15-minute video sneak preview that triggered a storm of applause from some 300 film distributors from all over the world.

Jang is in the spotlight along with director Chen Kaige and co-stars Cecilia Cheung, Hiroyuki Sanada and Nicholas Tse. Guests said Jang showed international caliber and with his charisma proved himself a perfect fit for the starring role.

Dubbed an Asian “The Lord of the Rings,” the epic film of a fateful triangle between legendary slave Kunlun (Jang), imperial concubine Qingcheng (Cheung), and General Guangming (Hiroyuki Sanada) unfolds across vast battle fields in ancient China. Three years of planning and production costs of US$ 30 million have been invested on the film, a joint production between Korea, China and the United States. Korean producers Showist put up 10 percent of the total.

If the film had been made in Hollywood, it would have cost more than US$ 140 million. But thanks to support from the Chinese government, which even built roads for the shooting of the film, the production crew were able to save both money and time.

Jang suffered sunstroke several times during filming but displayed great enthusiasm for the movie until the very end, learning Chinese to record his dialogue himself. “The Promise,” a thrilling story on a grand scale, is scheduled to debut in Korea and China simultaneously in December.

See you in 2007

Korea's most popular tourist attraction.

Won Bin, real name Kim De-jin, joined the Korean army last November 28. Military service is a given for Korean men in their twenties, and for actors, this means disappearing from the limelight for 2 years.

730 and 1/2 days. 17,532 hours of ajushi Won Bin-lessness.

There are a couple of TV dramas to go back to, the sluggish first installment of Endless Love, but nothing really great. There's Tae Guk Gi, but how many times can one actually watch a war movie (exploding skulls, flying torsos and that maggot bit which is eww, argh, aaah!) without turning psycho or trigger crazy, and to be trigger crazy, there has to be a trigger to pull and before I realize it I'd be smuggling guns into the library, and all because of this guy who joined the army.

The Korean tourism board actually offers a tour to the military camps, a "meet-and-greet your favorite Korean actors" tour but it seems kinda freaky. See who assembles AK-47s the fastest. Watch them do push-ups, all sweaty and dirty and WHOA!

So yeah, I am weirdly feeling his absence. I really have to go out more.

Be still my heart

Pitter-pat. Rilo Kiley and my belated enthusiasm. I can't stop listening. They're a little bit like the New Pornographers if only NP weren't so damn weird. Sex and drinking and monkeys (but never in one song, thank goodness) and infectious jangly guitars. Pitter-pat. Postal Service's "Be Still My Heart," B-side to "We Will Become Silhouettes," will rule the world by Christmas. A flurry of hopeful heartbeats. Like a mile-wide stethoscope was pointed to a city on Valentine's day and amplified the walks down the street, the first of a million kisses. Pitter-pat. Hailing a cab in Sampaloc, killer elbows ready to strike any approaching shadow. I was carefully eyeing the nursing student on my right, most probably in her early twenties, a formidable opponent. True enough, the cab I was waving at drove pass me and the driver rolled down his window for her. After conversing with the driver, she turned to me, smiled (I was glaring at her) and said: Manong, kayo na lang mauna. Naknangpucha. Manong na ako. Pitter-fucking-pat.

Friday night with Potter

And that's his real name. But we usually call him Pot-Pot. It has been a little over a year since my sister's friend, Allan, gave him to us. He's so cute that I almost want to eat him. Especially when he's stealing food from the table.

Friday night and, after a couple of pages edited, I just want to play with Potter.

But no. He just wants to sleep.

He's actually a lot like me.

Soul Sistah

Here's to

a niggah-ass kicking,

whiskey-swigging,

bee-girl dancing,

Liz Phair loving,

Indian restaurant hanging

friend.

Happy birthday, Kristine!

Guilty Pleasures

I think I love you. Constantine. The puppet master. Knees buckle with just one pout. Greenbelt 3 --- park, balcony, practically the entire mall --- was packed. Air-tight. Constantine swaggers to the stage, in dark denims and a suit, pouts, flips hair, sings, sweats. He crowd-fucks with his smoldering eyes. And we buy it. Most of the time I was leaning on W's shoulder. Stunned at the cheesiness of his theatrics, but mostly weakened by his curvy mouth. He has a great voice, sure. But it's the low registers, the soft growls, that deliver.

Disco inferno. Wednesday was a great day to be gay. Rocker sex machina? Check. Madonna's Confessions on a dance floor? Oh, honey. More than Kylie Minogue with Danii Minogue in tow. I might be at my office desk right now but my heart's a spinning mirrorball, a sparkly, sequined star.

After the After Party

Turning 30 felt major. Turning 31, not so. I think that 31-39 is like the growth-gap years, the gray area, the space-time continuum fold. A limbo. The long lunch hour before we go back to work in our forties. It's getting settled. It's the three turns before the long comfortable sprawl on the grass. It's the denial years. It's the fun years. Plus the constant sideways glances at blinking ATMs.

I turned 31 in bed, watching the first episode of Love Story in Harvard. One of W's surprises. But the Infernal Affairs boxed set shut me up. This guy really knows how to.

The post-birthday birthday party, in front of Sam's eviction, and later the mood-swinging Full House marathon, and much much later, cognac and photo albums and chocolates, on the floor just like the good old days in the university. Like we were waiting for class to begin. Waiting for morning when it's safer to catch a ride home.

Between the first and the fortieth

Drunkenness and its slightly tilting musical-numbered alternate universe has descending levels not too different from Hell's layered furnace. Sweeter is deeper. Deeper is closer to the floor. But it's not always peppery dancing and incandescent word play that punctuates a good, long gulp.

Like a prisoner circling his cell, planning escape, and memorizing, in the process, the cracks on the walls, the sharp turns, the geometry of forgetting. And somewhere between the first and the fortieth swig: Kim Ki-duk's unsettling endings. Ricky Gervais' rock star beginnings. Nine Songs and porn. The left turn in Makati Cinema Square. Rats. Writers and writing and laughing in between words. Beautiful Girls. The Eraserheads interview on the pavement outside 70s Bistro. The good old days and the ones that got away.

Last night, Dodo and I drank to forget and to remember.

But we also defied gravity.

I was still smiling when I got home, clumsily flipping through old mixes, looking for that Seona Dancing song. Positive that whatever happens in the future, there will always be nights like this.

Bali High

Flirting in Bali

Something Happened in Bali (Memories of Bali here in the Philippines) is intense. PJ Harvey Rid-of-Me, heart imploding intense. Self-destructive in 20 episodes. Green-eyed everyone of the four leads; jealouosy imprint in every strand, every curve of the story arch. Couples switch and swing, with each one refusing to let go. Who doesn't want to have it all? If looks could kill, this would be a massacre staring fest and a literal massacre in the end. (With apologies to the recent turn of events in Bali, God bless their souls.)

BLANKET FRIENDS

In contrast to the primal melodrama, the revelations are whispered in bed.

Confessions of love. The burden of regret. The beginning of lies. The end of lies. Almost always darkly lit, under the covers, their backs turned. In the last few minutes of the finale, we hear the last confession, murmured, crumpled like the sheets.

The restrain makes the damage more painful. More echoing. And really, this is how most things end. Not with swelling music or grand declarations. But with sobering silence.

BUG BITES

Over beer and nachos a Friday ago, this happened. Fuck Hollywood. Fuck adaptations. Let's talk and fight over Asian movies at Korean Bug. Let the biting begin.

OST: Something to Sing About

Got this from Is It Safe. So loveys, let's do this! (That's M, KF & LK, Starshuffler, My Alchemy and Sci-fi High).


If you were to create the sountrack of your life, this would be the song playing when you are...

Lonely Or Down: Joni Mitchell, Case of You. I could drink a case of this blue heartbreak. And I would still be on my feet. Death Cab for Cutie, Title and Registration. It elevates my sadness to something deceptively intellectual, so parang it's cool to be sad. Hee.

In Love: Ella Fitzgerald or Frank Sinatra, I Get a Kick Out of You. Dancey, decadent and obssessive. Almost like falling in love.

Fighting With Your Significant Other: Liz Phair, Divorce Song. Still, you’ve never been a waste of my time. Hole, Violet. I told you from the start, this is how it would end.

Having Sex: Cat Power, Covers record. Wild is the Wind, Satisfaction and Naked When I Want To in torchy acoustic. I keep it under my pillow.

Nursing A Broken Heart: Tanya Donelly, Just in Case You Quit Me. I keep my heart in hinges just in case. Prefab Sprout, We Let the Stars Go. Shush.

In Need of Cheering Up: Huwag Kang Matakot, Eraserheads. Because I’ll always believe in the words of Ely Buendia. A Hiccup in Your Happiness, The Lucksmiths. Your heart will mend, if by degrees.

About To Embark On A Road Trip: Ocean Colour Scene, The Day We Caught the Train. Wooh lala. And keep the motor running. The Beatles, Two of Us.

Sunbathing On A Tropical Beach: What Will You Do When Your Suntan Fades?, Beulah. And lots of bouncy Mariah.

Feeling Groggy And Need To Wake Up: The Mamas and The Papas, I Call Your Name. Sunshiny pop hooks and they sing like angels. Like everything’s right as California rain.

Feeling Suicidal: Cueshe is the sound of contemplating suicide.

Angry, Very Angry: Foo Fighters, Best of You or the outdoors disc (disc one).

Singing At The Videoke Bar: Sugarfree. Burnout. They do have this in the videoke machine of Cable Car. O kay tagal. Din kitang. Mamahalin.

Dancing By Yourself In Your Room: “Dancing With Myself. Billy Idol. There can be only one.” – Dodo Dayao

Singing, Dancing And Drunk Off Your Ass: Oh dear. Lots. From Kellis’ Milkshake to Pedicab’s Dito Tayo sa Dilim.

Playing Air Guitar: Stone Roses, I am the Resurrection. Album version. Squire’s seven-minute solo made me want to learn to play lead. Still learning. Still listening.

Chilling On A Rainy Afternoon: Now, we’re in business. When You Were My Baby, Magnetic Fields. Citronella, The Guild League. Sparky's Dream, Teenage Fanclub. The Very Thing, Stars. 5 Verses, Jeremy Warmsley. Video, Aimee Mann. Willow, Field Mice.

Reminiscing About High School: The Alarm, Absolute Reality. Suedehead, Morrissey. Ah, the dusty streets of Recto and the sweaty afternoons spent hunting for pirated tapes in the stalls of Tandem and Ever.

Reminiscing About College: It’s a Shame About Ray, Lemonheads. Everybody Loves Me But You, Juliana Hatfield. Winter, Tori Amos. Pare Ko, Eraserheads. Watershed, Indigo Girls. We used to hang out a lot outside the university library, smoking and laughing and eating take-outs from Beach House. Maybe this is why I ended up working in a library eleven years later.

Getting Married: Yeah yeah yeahs, Maps. Perfect 10, The Beautiful South. If ever. My wedding will have distorted guitars for violins.

Ghost Halo

Or maybe, who I could have been.

Being sick gave me a lot of time to think, to dig up photos from the happy daze of ad agency Survivor island plotting and lounging, and from the bubble (College of Arts and Letter) within a bubble (U.P. Diliman) life in the university where it was romantic to feel like a chair while deconstructing Beckett on the long walk from the Faculty Center to Philcoa.

This was, roughly, a decade ago.

And generally, old + new traits, addictions, subversions, divided by years of existence, I haven't really changed.

Minus the fat and carbohydrate mood swings, and the widened vocabulary (mostly fat and carbohydrates related), and the mostly happy music swagger, yeah, not much personality alteration going on.

-----------------------------------

I finish my antibiotics cycle on Wednesday, and am excited to drink again. I miss beer so much. Missing beer sometimes, who am I kidding, oftentimes mean missing my friends. Like cocoa in chocolate, or sun in sunshine. Coffeemate in my mate.

See you all at the bar, loveys!

More seven

Tagged by the shuffler of stars. So here's my seven.

List seven of your favorite songs of the moment in your journal and force seven other people to repeat this process or a puppy somewhere in the world will be sad:

500 - Lush (Lovelife)
Shake, baby, shake / You know I can fit you in my arms.

At the Other End of the Telescope - Til Tuesday (Everything's Different Now) / Elvis Costello (All This Useless Beauty)
Can we agree that just this once, I'm gonna change my life / Until it's as tiny or important as you like.

14th Street - Laura Cantrell (Humming by the Flowered Vine)
I see you on the street / You kiss my cheek / My knees go weak / It's clear you've got nothing to lose / While I'm losing sleep.

Animals - The Guild League (Inner North)
We all begin with just our skin / And we live enthralled just like animals.

Saddest Quo - Pernice Brothers (Discover a Lovelier You)
Trying to be a better person / Hindsight's twenty and my visibility is worsening / All the accolades are choking / But my faith in life's unbroken.

Hollaback Girl - Gwen Stefani (Angel. Love.Music.Baby.)
This my shit.

Almost Home - The Reivers (End of the Day)
I was driving when I heard you call my name / It was not like before not quite the same / It’s too late to be much good and I might as well confess / That I have not got the nerve to borrow cigarettes /
When I’m almost with you music tries to play / When I’m almost home I almost hear you say/ It would be all right if we could run away.

-------------------------------------------------------

Tagging Is it Safe, Single Space and Sci-Fi High (but just catch up since I know you're out of the country again, sis). Tag you! Tag you all!

Me Me Me

Got this from Is it Safe. Happy birthday Dodo, Do, Sir!


Three Names I Go By:
1. Thor
2. Mytor
3. Madame

Three Screen Names I Have Had:
1. Mighty Thor
2. L.A. Lopez
3. Kuhol

Three Physical Things I Like About Myself:
1. Brain
2. Hands
3. Man boobs

Three Physical Things I Don't Like About Myself
1. Tummy --- Too much, too soon.
2. Ass --- or lack thereof
3. Man boobs

Three Parts of My Heritage:
1. San fernado, La Union
2. Baguio City
3. Balic-Balic

Three Things I Like About Myself
1. Problem solver. Rarely panics.
2. Happy with where I am, who I am, who I'm with.
3. Culinary skills.

Three Things I Don't Like About Myself
1. Verbal diarrhea. I talk too much.
2. I smoke.
3. Everything's a competition.

Three Things That Scare Me
1. Cancer
2. My father
3. Rat piss --- `cos you can die from it, I hear

Three of My Everyday Essentials
1. Music
2. Coffee in my coffee
3. Koreanovelas

Three of My Favorite Musical Artists:
1. The Beautiful South - Yesterday, today and tomorrow
2. Aimee Mann
3. The Guild League

Three of My Favorite Songs:
1. Animals The Guild League
2. Saddest Quo Pernice Brothers
3. I See You, You See Me The Magic Numbers

Three Things You Want In A Relationship:
1. Cuddling.
2. Long drives.
3. Eating out.

Three Lies & Truths In No Particular Order:
Lies:
1. I need space.
2. Tear here.
3. Best before (insert date)
Truths:
1. Barya lang sa umaga.
2. Good love never dies.
3. Music makes the people come together.

Three Physical Things About The SAME Sex That Attract Me:
1. Arms
2. Fingers
3. Mouth

Three of My Favorite Hobbies:
1. Blogging --- thinking of putting up a review blog of Korean movies and tv dramas
2. Going to Quamazon
3. Checking my pores

Three Things I Want To Do Badly Now:
1. Stop coughing
2. Go home
3. Finish "Romance" (Korean drama)

Three Careers I'm Considering/I've Considered:
1. Vampire slayer
2. Starship crew
3. Fluffer (hee)

Three Places I Want To Go On Vacation:
1. Jinhae province in South Korea
2. Hong Kong Disneyland
3. Norway

Three Kid's Names I Like:
1. Thor (hah!)
2. Zo
3. Hoy

Three Things I Want To Do before I Die:
1. Travel
2. Write a hit song
3. Write a novel, love story siguro with action and comedy

Three Ways I Am Stereotypically A Boy:
1. I love porn.
2. Too lazy to clean my room so everything's stacked up. High.
3. I love bullying people.

Three Ways I Am Stereotypically A Girl:
1. I read between the lines.
2. Dramarama queen. (Where were you? Why didn't you even call? Do you know him?)
3. I cry. A lot. Over TV.

Three Celebrity Crushes:
1. Kim Jae-won (Romance, 100 Days with Mr. Arrogant)
2. Kim Rae-won (Attic Cat, My Little Bride)
3. Lee Dong-gun (Lover in Paris, My Boyfriend is Type-B)

We laugh indoors

Six years last Sunday. Six years since the first "I love you" in a castle's (alright, motel that looks like a castle with huge rugs and an actual coat of arms) underbelly, in the dark motel room in the underground parking where lonely, tortured bodies should be discovered instead of whispered giggles.

It feels like I should feel the years between us, the actual aging, the gained weight, the beginning creases on our foreheads, the stories told and retold.

But I don't.

It's still all new.

I still can't wait to see him on Saturdays. I still get a little lonely when the weekday begins.



His smile still surprises me.

Pussy-whipped

Who doesn't want a wealthy, arrogant, gambling, wine-swigging, pretty boy asshole?

Who hasn't become a walking passive-agressive mess who shifts from insecure to defensive in a five-word sentence because s/he just wants to get it on dammit with a wealthy, arrogant, gambling, wine-swigging, pretty boy asshole?

So homely Jung-Eun takes in on-the-run petty gambler Kyung-Min because he is hot and has a really nice charcoal gray luggage. They have sex on the second night of living together, and with all the pouncing and the screeching and the biting, it's no wonder they called this Show "Attic Cat." No, not really. Kyung-Min likes this other wealthy, arrogant, gambling, wine-swigging, pretty girl, but Jung-Eun still lets him stay with her because she's fallen in love with his wicked ways. Aww. So now she goes around telling everyone that she has a cat to explain the noises like banging doors and cabinets because cats just love doing that and why she can't stay out late.

By episode 3, I was hooked. The wit's quick, the cat fights are involving in a WWF way but with less grunting, the heart break is unusually calm, like those few seconds before an accident.

-----------------------------------------------

I tried watching local TV just a couple of nights ago. And everything's a fucking rip-off in a really obvious ABBA Teens way. "Sugo" is really my-favorite-scenes-from-The-Matrix. "Kampanerang Kuba" tries to be original but it's so bad that regular bad is good. The show's Disney-ish song numbers is katu-corny; it feels like GMA Supershow all over again. "Encantadia" is just lost in its own maze of a plot and "Darna" has become too predictable. Having just borrowed from Buffy's "Hush" episode, it's just sayang that they end a good plot with a badly-executed fight scene.

So. Pinoy Big Brother, anyone? I like Uma. He's cute and bastos. Yay.

August and Everything After

I live like I'm taking a walk. Admiring the scenery, the traffic. Feeling the chill, the warm hand I'm holding. Sometimes, I watch my shoes. Or the stars. But yeah, no running for this guy.

But August. August was a month of running. And it felt like I was wearing the wrong type of shoes the entire time.

and everything after

I was writing this post on the gig and Rockestra when an Internet error occured and that was it. I'm too tired and pissed to rewrite everything.

I've been sick for a week, coughing dry heaving coughs both from a half-baked cold and cigarette smoking sh-sh-shaking withdrawals.

Mostly in bed, curling up to a Le Guin book wishing I could armchair travel (but obviously not living in an airport though I kinda want to sometimes because airports are a sort of well-lit purgatory where we could all just wander around and window shop forever if no connecting flights connect), just finished the Second Summer of the Sisterhood (cold medicine makes me weepy), the Magic Numbers singing "I would die for you" in the background, and sometimes it would rain softly outside.

Now in the office. A little miserable, a little detached. But happy in a not-smiling way. Happy in a glum way because August went by so fast and so many things made me happy (gig and Rockestra and super friends) and made me think (moral arguments, ack!) and made me quietly grieve (listening to Diner). And I feel like I'm supposed to process all these sights and smells and sighs all around me but I don't know how.

Oh well

Which Trainspotting Character Are You?

Right. In a perfect world where I get to make out with Renton.

Move over, Harry Kim!

From Duskwatcher.

Uncanny similarity. Lovely pout. And, yay, ST:VOY uniform, a really good call.
You know me so well.

Thanks!

Public Service Announcement

Hey hey. Finally.

Best Before (that's us!) will be playing a few originals (naks!) and two covers, Weezer and Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Hope to see you guys there.

Please be there.

And thanks to Starshuffler for helping us book Chilitees! Kukulitin ka ulit namin for the next production. *Hugs, with beers*

The Importance of Being Idle

Because He Who Asks asked.

Multi-tasking really means why don't you join the circus since you're a freak of nature anyway. Juggling, trapeze twirling, jumping through hoops on fire, and why don't you feed the elephants, too?

WHAT ARE THE THINGS YOU ENJOY, EVEN WHEN NO ONE AROUND WANTS YOU TO GO OUT AND PLAY?

Reading. My head is already noisy on its own. Throw in a good book with lots of good dialogue and a warped plot and there's a swiftly tilting solar system inside me. Seriously, books are handy time machines.

DVDthons. Since W doesn't share my inhuman stamina for DVDthon all-nighters, this is usually a one-man affair. Or when Faye is around, it's a family affair with ice cream and junk food and serial smoking.

Smoking. Sometimes. It's when I get all broody and sensitive.

Shopping. It's when I get all broody and sensitive over money. And I hate it when someone's hovering and Jedi mind controlling me to make a decision.


WHAT LOWERS YOUR STRESS/BLOOD PRESSURE/ANXIETY LEVELS?

Making mixes. I can be incredibly focused when planning how to get from Miles Davis to Death Cab for Cutie, with a Kelly Clarkson detour in the middle. I can be so focused that I tend to forget everything else.

Musical remedies for this weekend: Transatlanticism, Death Cab for Cutie; Quiet is the New Loud, Kings of Convenience; Vespertine, Bjork; Dummy, Portishead; Nightsongs, Stars; Von Otter Meets Costello: For the Stars, Elvis Costello and Anne Sofie Von Otter.

Smoking. Gotta kick this one. But it keeps me from being violent. So, shrill shrieking Thor or lonely guy at the bar Thor? (Duskwatcher, mind your comment.)

Drinking alcohol. Oh sweetness.

Best Before. Me band. Jamming and just playing around. And then beer and oily food later.

And lots of TV.

Paradise Found

Sometime 1996. Caught up in relationship whirlwinds, desperate letters and bad decisions debris all around. I had been drinking regularly; drunken talk revolver: I love, I think.

One of those nights again with almost constant listener, Dodo. Cutting my blah blah blahs short, he says, "It's like that elephant in the living room."

Huh?

A few days later, he lends me Terry Moore's Strangers in Paradise, Vol. 3, issue 1: Love Me Tender.

In its black and white pages, the elephant-in-the-living-room bit. Massive and towering, yet most of the times ignored. Or simply missed. Like most of the things we look for, yearn for.

It must be difficult to write about love without going all Hallmark and puppies. But Terry Moore makes it seem effortless, the bastard. Francine, Kachoo and Dave are flawed and fragile, flashy and forgiving in just a few lines; their love triangle quietly shifting. Blossoming earthquakes. There are also deep dark secrets, amazons, funny moments. Unpredictable at every turn. The bitter in the sour, with the sweetness of a stolen kiss.

Yesterday, in the newly opened Fully Booked in Greenhills. Scanning the comic book shelves, and there at the bottom:

Happiness.

THORBOT

I repair everything, from sofas to shareware love.

From Cyborg Name Generator

Face Off

Yes, yes. I'm busy and can't be bothered. But while surfing for, uh, ideas, I stumbled across a a site that told me that I'm not polite. One that "reads" faces. Obviously, it's not very accurate (see: Very Low Gay Factor) and I don't think I have Chinese blood. Still, it got the having-drinks and watching-TV right where it hurts.

Neil Pt. 2

Okay. Now, for the babbling fan boy.

Faye and I were in line at 8:30 a.m. I don't even go to work that early. First sighting of Neil was around 10 a.m. And, wow, I just stood there. I wanted to shout "Gwarrrr!" or something that could've been "Welcome to the Philippines" but nothing came out of my mouth. Just a squeak. Then maybe tears. And, "Hmm. He's hot."

10 hours later. More composed now, but stinky. He says to me: Interesting name. I say: Uh-huh. And then I start rambling: You should really see what's outside the city. We have wonderful beaches. And thanks for coming over. He looks up, shakes my hand and says: Thank you. I've been wanting to come over. Then I look at what he wrote down on my Neverwhere copy. It says: Thor, Mind the gap! Neil Gaiman.

Hee.

Sunday. Couldn't move.

Monday. Kristine tells me that Neil said "butt-fucking" over at NU 107. In the context of Batman. Then he plays a Magnetic Fields song.

Went to writers' con at the Music Museum with Anne, Chiqui and Jovan. Saw Paolo, Therese, Maan, Luis and wait ... reunion? There were a few funny questions for Neil like, "How will you use your fanbase for the greater good?" To which he replied, "Ah, yes. All of you, don't leave after the session and wait for my orders."

He also announced that he'll be writing two more titles for Marvel, one of which is the 1602 sequel. And also, sometime in 2008, a six-part Sandman 20th anniversary release.

And for the kissing incident, please check out Chokwit's blog.

Giddy. Gracious. Galing-galing. Gaiman.

Neil Pt. 1

Hanging out with the Dream King. Really.

It's my turn to say: It must be love.

Sheepish and almost tongue-tied. Warm, fluttering wings in my stomach. After 10 hours of waiting in line, and 13 years of feverishly flipping pages, finally.

Neil Gaiman.

I have spent countless afternoons running to the Filbar's in Katipunan (and later on in U.P.) and ComicQuest in Greenhills to ask for the latest installment of the Sandman or Stardust. Never mind lunch. There was telephone-flavored ice cream to devour.

There was also a time when I felt too cool to like Neil. Everybody else was suddenly deconstructing the Endless, some columnist began painting her face like Death, and I didn't want to be mistaken for jumping onto the bandwagon. It's just the way it is. When someting undergound becomes mainstream, the purists who don't even pee in the shower ;-) start searching for the next big thing.

Which was a phase I was really thankful for. But Terry Moore and Grant Morrison raves don't belong here.

I think it was six years ago, after reading American Gods, when I started reading Sandman again. Took the comicbooks out of the boxes and their acid-free wrap and just read the entire weekend. Bled over some of the pages, too.

And fuck it. Fuck the coolness. Fuck the cliques. Fuck the exes who memorized lines. (Well, not really.)

Mr. Gaiman wrote and continues to write great stories. Here's to more running and missed lunches.

First Blogsary

So there was this woman and she was on an airplane and she's flying to meet her fiancé sailing high above the largest ocean on planet earth and she was seated next to this man who you know she had tried to start a conversation with but really the only time she heard him talk was when he ordered his bloody mary and she's sitting there and she's reading this really arduous magazine article about this third world country that she couldn't even pronounce the name of and she's feeling very bored and very despondent and then uh suddenly there's this huge mechanical failure and one of the engines gave out and they started just falling thirty thousand feet and the pilot's on the microphone and he's saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Oh My God, I'm Sorry" and apologizing and she looks at the man and she says, "where are we going" and he looks at her and he says, "We're going to a party, it's a birthday party. It's your birthday party, happy birthday darling. We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much." - At the Bottom of Everything, Bright Eyes


Let's disco.

It has been a year, and we're all still here.

Still standing, still singing, still wanting more, still hoping, still smoking, still missing someone, still obsessing, still listening, still laughing indoors, still falling, still dusk watching, still failing, still trying, still loving and loving, still.


Lately, I've been worrying myself silly over (insert danger music) the FUTURE. Not the Star Trek kind of future --- I already have in handy a few Klingon phrases like "GhoS Daq Sop lij vaD!" or "I will eat your son's entrails for breakfast!" --- but retirement and money and insurance policies. I blame it all on the Hello Garci (In Da Club Remix) tapes. With the GloriaGate open, there's no controlling the rushing and consuming 50-foot wave of uncertainty.

And on this high-pitched note of panic, I'm welcoming my sister Faye and Arnie to the blogverse. Geekery is obviously thicker than blood, and if one of us turned out to be normal, then we would definitely hate each other. Thank God it's a perfect world and we are alike in most things, aside from the obvious girly-ness. Arnie, on the other hand, just came from a trip in Spain, so expect architecture details, a hint of loneliness, and a few Spanish words.

And to all you fellow travellers in the landscape of words: Engage!

Something to Fight For

You just have to admire the view.

I really had no choice but to. They closed all walkways and blocked Ayala-Paseo, Makati Ave.-Ayala, so I was forced to walk through the gathering storm of angry protesters on my way to our main office at the BPI building.

They were neither angry nor defiantly demanding for justice though. They were fighting something more immediate --- hunger. Eating from styrofoam plates. Waiting for the promised P500. Waiting for the ride home.

The Killing Joke

(Walking down the almost empty, dark corridors of Sta. Lucia Mall, after watching Batman Begins.)

W: Hmm. That was good.
Me: Yes. Good. But not ... great.
W: No.
Me: Fine. Coffee?

(Pause)

W: So ganun talaga boses ni Batman?
Me: Masikip ata masyado costume nya.


Huge Batman fan, I am. Since college. Arkham Asylum and The Killing Joke are beautiful, scary and hilarious books deserving of parades and human sacrifices. Burton's movies got close to the maniacal-laughter-in-a-stormy-night atmosphere; Schumacher simply gaytorized Batman. Nolan made a thesis-feature, the scholarly telling of what would drive a man to wear a bat costume.

Murder.
Corruption.
Katie Holmes.

Like most things taken too seriously, the movie came out a bit of a joke.

Accenture

I take back what I said about Orange and Lemons. Just when I've dismissed them as too predictable, they come up with "Hanggang Kailan," a sweetly smiling, slightly tipsy song that sounds like a lost Hotdogs gem.


"Umuwi ka na baybeh. "

I've gotten past the band's Psychedelic Furs accent. You know what they say about Bulakenos.

I don't, too, but I think you can choose from a variety of accents in Bulacan. There's also freakin' Regine Velasquez's improvised American twang (she doesn't pronounce the "g" and oddly enough, the "t"). And my dad with his rolling r's (Klingon?), who's really from the Ilocos, but now lives in Bulacan.

Fandom Come

Being a fan sometimes means believing against all odds. Irrational. Stupid. Hopeful.

Blind faith.


That motherhood hasn't dulled Tori's tongue.

That R.E.M. is still significant.

That Paul Weller is still King of soul.

That Liz Phair is not a sell-out.

That The Beautiful South is not contemporary adult music.

That Aimee Man is not predictable.

That Elvis Costello is a poet.

That The Blake Babies are truly blessed.

That Madonna knows the dancefloor better than anyone else.

That Tanya Donelly writes the most fragile melodies.

That The Stone Roses and The Reivers are the most significant bands of the late 80s and early 90s.



That Oasis' new album, Don't Believe the Truth, is cause for celebration.

Migraine Boy

Migraine Boy (in a turtleneck sweater) : Look! I'm a poet!
(Pulls up collar of sweater over his head) : Now, I'm a ninja!


-----------------------------------

Aargh. Nagging migraine since yesterday. Maybe it's something in the air at the library; five of us were complaining about it. It's the kind of headache that feels like a fat-bottomed guy is sitting on your head. A really ugly guy with a hairy ass. (I am punishing my imagination.) One theory is the angle of the computer screen. Another is that hellmouth is about to open. Again. It's the perfect cliffhanger for our season-ender. From beneath you, it devours. We fight evil while also confronting our personal demons.

I think I'm running out of demons to slay.

Or maybe the season could end with us in an Indian restaurant, eating and drinking beer and sweating over curry like a Lifestyle channel show. A sexy Lifestyle channel show. Where people actually sweat. It's like, in all scenes, everyone's sweating.

Which should either star Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie. Or both. `Cos if it were just us, there will be much hurling.

-----------------------------------

It's always wonderful to catch up with Safety Man and Duskwatcher. Always funny and relaxing. NSG-smoking area, with them in it, is my spa. Tambay lang. Walang ego. Walang pagalingan. Walang mali.

Pero laging malakas ang tama.

These guys have seen me at my worst. I don't think even W has seen my emotional grotesque-ness. I was a bloody punch in the nose waiting to happen, with all my defensiveness and snobbery. Back in Image, I even remember telling someone that if he thought that Sonic Youth was grunge then he didn't know a thing about music. Of course, I later on had a crush on that guy and made him a 10,000 Maniacs/Fairground Atrraction mix. Man, I was a fucking pain-in-the-ass.

And then Oasis happened. And Todd Rundgren and Matthew Sweet, Neil Gaiman and Diana Wynne Jones. And Ebe Dancel. And so much music, comic books, movies. I also got older.

There's always something new when we meet up. Excited to watch Clone Wars this weekend, and now hooked to a particular Ted Leo track.

-----------------------------------

I need a beer.

Nothing to sing about

Which is sometimes good. God, if you're reading this, or reading my mind right now, I am not complaining. I'm happy with this under-the-radar existence with my TV, CDs and books. Sith happened. Feasted on geekfest. Word played with buddies.

Running off to a date with W now.

Life is like that Sundays song, "When I'm Thinking About You": When you're coasting along and nobody's trying too hard / You can turn around and like where you are.


Like where you are.

Catching Debris

I've always wanted this look because I never learned how to place photos in this blog and I think this layout is perfect for my wordy-ness. Because that's all I have. Words.

Alex, I caught your falling debris.



After after hours. Workshop's finally over. I especially love this class because they have no expectations whatsoever on the class. They're happy just learning new things, revisiting old things, and smoking outside the library afterwards. Along with the occasional "blessing of a good book" and Bloc Party's raunchy guitar Strokes-meets-Stones licks, I've been happy doing the same things.

Belated happy birthday to Marnie. She will probably kill me for forgetting it. Apparently, cigarettes do kill brain cells.

Fallen Idol

I love TV.

I love TV more than other people.

I love the people in my TV shows.

I root for them, cry with them, fight beside them.

I am incorrigible this way.

Saying goodbye to Constantine of pop-farm extravaganza American Idol was difficult. Abrupt like a car crash, I wasn't prepared for the the silence that followed the rolling credits. How will I survive my Wednesday nights without his smoldering eyes and devilish scowl?

CSI.

My Thursday nights?

Lost.

Still, sigh. Paula Abdul crying was funny though. She's a certified nut. Last season's nail infection must have gone up her blood stream, to her tiny, bubbly head.

Smoking outside the library

Cars. Too many of them too close to each other. Like intimate, dusty Christmas lights. It's too hot for a smoke but I light up anyway. Light up, like to smile or to relax. Like The Lemonheads said, we should be paid to smile. I'm suddenly missing the company of previous officemates. I miss the weekly sharing of mix tapes, the after-lunch trips to CD Warehouse, the 7 a.m. breakfast of Carl's Jr. onion rings, Marlboro Lights and Coke, and the payday drinking at Travessia or Decades.

I've been working here for 4 years, longer than I've ever worked anywhere else, have made a few friends, but

The Rock's first appearance outside the rubbery ropes of WWF was in Star Trek Voyager (Season 6), in the episode "Tsunkatse" --- a sort of Mad Max-inspired celebrity death match pastiche with the glorious Seven of Nine in the sandals (or spiked heels) of Spartacus. The episode slightly sucked but like most Seven-centric episodes, it was stoic and unsentimental yet heartfelt.

And not a lot of people get this. That detached doesn't always mean disconnected.

Just a lack of connection. Sometimes, there is an effort to want more.

Smoke's done.

Playing Favorites

Got this from D'Bird. I'm actually doing this to relax my achy breaky brain. Tuesday is Monday, and everyone needs everything ... (4 hours later) Ang hirap pala nito! Kinareer ko na, sayang ang effort...had to dig for forgotten CDs...but so glad to listen to old, familiar stuff...now taking out The Housemartins...

1. Favorite Beatles song: Two of Us

2. Favorite Rolling Stones song: Wild Horses...because it makes me smile everytime, and when Buffy and Angel dance to this during Prom Night, sigh.

3. Favorite Doors song: Break on through to the other side...cos I remember my early days in Image Dimensions and I thought it was cool to play the Doors loud. And it wasn't.

4. Favorite Bob Dylan song: I always loved Rainy Day Women #6. And You're Gonna Make Me Lonsesome When You Go. And the first song I ever learned to play on guitar, Blowin' in the Wind. Heh.

5. Favorite Pixies song : Cactus

6. Favorite TV Theme Song: Buffy theme by Nerf Herder, and the Star Trek: Voyager theme

7. Favorite Prince Song: Seven

8. Favorite Madonna Song: Borderline

9. Favorite Michael Jackson Song: Ben

10. Favorite Metallica Song: Fade to Black

11. Favorite Motorhead Song : Um . . . Motorhead, yes, but no.

12. Favorite Ozzy Song: Iron Man

13. Favorite Public Enemy Song: He Got Game

14. Favorite Song From A Cartoon : Oh dear. Kiss the Girl from The Little Mermaid

15. Favorite Faith No More Song: Be Agressive...because it's hilarious

16. Favorite Depeche Mode Song: Never Let Me Down Again

17. Favorite Cure Song: Love Song

18. Favorite Song That Most of Your Friends Haven't Heard: End of the Day by The Reivers

19. Favorite Smiths song : There is a Light that Never Goes Out

20. Favorite Beastie Boys Song : Intergalactic!

21. Favorite Korn Song : WTF?!?

22. Favorite Police Song: Don't Stand Too Close to Me `86

23. Favorite Sex Pistols Song: Who Killed Bambi?...Freshman year in the university, I would spit in my drink and offer it to my friends, thanks Danyon.

24. Favorite Beach Boys Song: 409

25. Favorite Def Leppard Song: Is this the one with the handicapped drummer...yung putol yung braso...yung may creepy song na Two Steps Behind?

26. Favorite Song From Your Favorite Movie: Momentum by Aimee Mann from Magnolia

27. Favorite Duran Duran song: Rio

28. Favorite Blondie song: Tide is High ... but this is a cover, right?

29. Favorite Garth Brooks song: Ain't Goin' Down (til the sun comes up) ... heh

30. Favorite Song From An 80's One Hit Wonder: Heaven (Must Be There) by the ... uhm ... Eurogliders?

31. Favorite Song from a Videogame: No cheats code here. None.

32. Favorite Kinks song: Tired of Waiting for You

33. Favorite Genesis song: Against All Odds?...hehe

34. Favorite Led Zeppelin song: Dancing Days

35. Favorite INXS song: Not Enough Time

36. Favorite Weird Al song: Like a Surgeon!...I made it through Med School, somehow I made it throuuugh...

37. Favorite Pulp song: Loved Different Class, and I still love Disco 2000

38. Favorite John Lennon Song: Stand by Me

39. Favorite Pink Floyd Song: Brain Damage

40. Favorite Cover Song: *after 1 hour* One by U2, as sung by Michael Stipe

41. Favorite White Stripes song: Seven Army Nation

42. Favorite Dance Song: Runaway by Nuyorican Soul

43. Favorite U2 Song: Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses?

44. Favorite Song From An Actor Turned Musician: Pony, The Mongols...written by Yani...he's a TV actor, right?

45. Favorite Disco Song: Discohan na to! More, More, More by Andrea something

46. Favorite Motley Crue Song: Ay ganyan pala spelling ng "crue" nila

47.Favorite Guns N' Roses Song : Sweet Child O' Mine!!!!...yesterday, today and tomorrow...

48. Favorite The Who Song: The Kids are Alright

49. Favorite Elton John song: Tiny Dancer

50. Favorite Song, period: Good as Gold (Stupid as Mud), Beautiful South

Give me your chicken leg, I say!

I didn't actually say that to the kid beside me, who was an officemate's son, but I was really thinking it. Dropped by a children's party at McDonald's -- the Library's accountant's daughter was celebrating her 1st birthday --- and, well, imagine 30 kids running around with chocolote and ube sundae, their slightly chewed-on fried chicken ignored and looking lonely, and having not eaten lunch, I wanted to go to every table and collect those lonely legs and wings and breasts and stuff them into my mouth.

Yes, it had been an uneventful day.

Oh. And W told me yesterday that more people get depressed from being called stupid than being called ugly.

Something New

I was writing a review a few days ago and I wanted to give it a different spin, I wanted to make it feel "new."

Where does this new-ness come from anyway? A style-tone shift? A surprising angle? An astute observation?

Can someone really go back to the beginning and start anew?

Is there such a thing as a new beginning?

Struggling with the writing, the work, the heat. I just want to surprise W again is all. Inject the old relationship with excitement. With something surprising, something new.

And that's nothing new.

Shuffled, Too

Set your iPod to Shuffle. Post Tracks #1- #10. Courtesy of he who investigates Is-It-Safe.

1. Pavlov's Bell (live) - Aimee Mann
2. All Across the Universe - Fiona Apple
3. Breathless - Angie Hart
4. Jeremy Engle - Liz Phair
5. Plastic Sun - Sonic Youth
6. Hovering - Beulah
7. At the Bottom of Everything - Bright Eyes
8. The Distance - Travis
9. Stars - Dubstar
10. Life and Death of Mr. Badmouth - PJ Harvey

Chaotica

Holding 3 jobs at the moment under one organization. And fuck it, I gained 3 kilos. 1 kilo per job. Multi-tasking should come with a calorie breakdown. Fat from sugar. Fat from stress.

Constantine was okay, but I agree with dododawg, it's oderless shit. I want my movies disturbingly stinky or cloyingly sweet. Gym clothes sour. Dark alley piss-pungent. I would say that Finding Neverland smelled like cotton candy, pink popcorn, and petrol; Closer like sour cigarettes and melting electronic.

I can't get this guy out of my head. Ice. Is what they call him. And he's very trained at making me feel inadequate. Met him at one of the high school get-togethers, a friend of a friend. Pale and pogi and plirty. He's very good at ignoring me in the first few minutes (or hours) of drinking when the first tagay goes around. And I watch him, waiting for eye contact. Until I get bored, or drunk, and then we finally talk, and his eyes seem to sparkle, and I'm blabbering like an idiot so I just stare at his fingernails. He has stubby fingers.

Weird, though. His real name is Abner. Another Abner. Just my luck to meet 2 Abners (both cute --- the luck factor) in a year when I've never met any Abners in the past 30 years.

At the end of the day, or the break of dawn, drinking is just a little more fun with cute guys around.

He's Got a Ticket to Ride

High school buddies are like walking archives of yourself, you meet up with them and all the awkwardness and silliness of clumsy flirting, expert cheating and naive break-ups hit you like a slap on the face, sudden but not as painful as you thought it would be.

Mickie was like our prom queen, only, you know, queen. He was the first among us to kiss a boy, to openly flirt, to fall in love, and I suppose, to get his heart broken. I would watch from the stone benches around the school quadrangle how he worked the boys, and it was just magical. He was the key to a portal, an alternate reality to gayville.

Dab was quiet, sometimes awkward, and very stiff. Like he had some weird bone disease, cemented joints. A tinman who had played volleyball and sang Jose Mari Chan songs. Sometimes, at the same time.

I rarely thought of them after finishing high school. And never really missed them. Thinking back now, I did cut them off like a leg. Diabetic and useless. I just wanted to move on from the rejection, the laughed at spelling bee champion.

14 years later, and it doesn't really matter. Fact is, we all laughed and loved our young hearts out. Together, mean and brilliant and innocent. And drinking together now is, I don't know, like being in the then and now. A temporal fold in the space-time continuum where we are grown-ups and children at the same time.

Mickie is still graceful, still coy and majestic. Dab, dark-eyed and now gay, has a welcome sweetness. A real warm smile, as palpable as heat.

Dab flew over to South Africa last week where he will manage his father's printing press business. And I can't get over it, can't jump across the void he has left. It has been a four-month reunion, of careful catching-up and careless drinking. And suddenly this.

Music Meme 2

*courtesy of geek dawg is-it-safe.*
*and because there's not much going on. which is good.*

1. What is the total amount of music files on your computer?
4 GB i-tunes, 10 GB wma ... as of February 11, 2005. 4 p.m.

2. The CD you last bought is?
In just now ... Alexi Murdoch's Four Songs, Beulah's Yoko, and Bright Eyes' I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning.

3. What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?
"Bidin' Time," The Reivers

4. Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you.
From my musicbot's Bus Ride playlist, a soundtrack to traveling, 20 minutes of beginnings and blurry houses.

• Prettiest Eyes - The Beautiful South
• Deathly - Aimee Mann
• Almost Home - The Reivers
• If I Can't Change Your Mind - Sugar
• Daddy, You've Been On My Mind - Joan Baez

*word*

Life According to the Eraserheads

*with a little help from Gracie.*

Describe yourself using one band and song titles from that band
Created by naw5689 and taken 16853 times on bzoink!
Choose a band/artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band:	Eraserheads
Are you male or female:	Tamagotchi Baby
Describe yourself:	Super Proxy
How do some people feel about you:	Hard to Believe
How do you feel about yourself:	Bato
Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend:	Kaliwete
Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend:	Pare Ko
Describe where you want to be:	Tindahan ni Aling Nena
Describe what you want to be:	Police Woman
Describe how you live:	With A Smile
Describe how you love:	Huwag Kang Matakot
Share a few words of wisdom	Wag Mo Nang Itanong
Create a Survey | Search Surveys | Go to bzoink!

Thor According to Tori

Got this pala from Chino's (Itchyworms) site, and I can't stop cross-referencing songs in my head. I'm unstoppable!

Describe yourself using one band and song titles from that band
Created by naw5689 and taken 16852 times on bzoink!
Choose a band/artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band:	Tori Amos
Are you male or female:	Northern Lad
Describe yourself:	Strange
How do some people feel about you:	iieee
How do you feel about yourself:	Way Down
Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend:	Professional Widow
Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend:	Honey
Describe where you want to be:	Past The Mission
Describe what you want to be:	Space Dog
Describe how you live:	A Sorta Fairytale
Describe how you love:	Upside Down
Share a few words of wisdom	Don't Make Me Come To Vegas
Create a Survey | Search Surveys | Go to bzoink!

Life According to Noel Gallagher

Describe yourself using one band and song titles from that band
Created by naw5689 and taken 16822 times on bzoink!
Choose a band/artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band:	Oasis
Are you male or female:	Little James
Describe yourself:	Rock and Roll Star
How do some people feel about you:	Half the World Away
How do you feel about yourself:	I Hope, I Think, I know
Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend:	Married With Children
Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend:	Shakermaker
Describe where you want to be:	Digsy's Diner
Describe what you want to be:	D'yer Wanna Be a Spaceman?
Describe how you live:	Cigarettes and Alcohol
Describe how you love:	Little By Little
Share a few words of wisdom	Live Forever
Create a Survey | Search Surveys | Go to bzoink!

AniMeme

DUSKWATCHER! Make me an anime character, please! Kaya lang payat ha.

Be An Anime Character by mangacatgirl
Character Name
Eyes	Pink
Hair	Short Black Spikey Hair
Fashion Style	Mandrin
Attitude	Badass
Role	Senshi
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Player

Inspired by starshuffler's recent entry, I came up with my own playlist, my mix of the week, a lopsided soundtrack to an emotionally uneven series of events that were happening all around me, but not to me. Mabi and I used to kid around that our lives were like black and white French movies, static (and silent) opening sequences in train stations --- reading a book, maybe, or chewing on a pen as people, shadows and headlights pass our unmoving shoulders in synthetic frenzy.

Now, the songs, in particular order.

1. Going Through the Motion - Aimee Mann
2. It's Raining - Quasi
3. Waiting for Sunset - Beulah
4. Stuck on an Island - Liz Phair
5. Here On In - South
6. Recycled Air (live) - Ben Gibbard
7. Headphones - Bjork
8. Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning - Cowboy Junkies
9. Cold Water - Damien Rice
10. Poor Fractured Atlas - Elvis Costello
11. I Know - Fiona Apple
12. I'm Tongue-Tied - Magnetic Fields
13. The Same Thing You Thought Hard About is the Same Part I Can Live Without - Evan Dando
14. The Final Push of the Sum - Grandaddy
15. Wigout - The Mongols
16. Heaven - Lamb
17. Ctrl-Alt-Delete - Silverman


King of the Jail House

On introducing her new song, King of the Jail House, in the Aimee Mann: Live at St. Anne's DVD: This is a new song ... about a sad, bitter, dysfunctional relationship. Wait. That's all my songs.

Baby, I love your way.

Monday was spent looking for office spaces in Ortigas for W's design office. Tired with the early morning client calls and the mess his design team has been making in the living room, he has finally decided to separate home life with work. First stop was Medical Plaza Suites. The first unit the broker showed us was beside a psychiatric clinic, the second, right next to an obesity center. The view was great, Laguna Bay and an olympic-sized pool below, but, well, obviously.

Mega Plaza was more promising. Rent is cheapo, the space just righto. And it's right across Robinson's Galleria. Original plan was to buy, but since rent's affordable, was able to convince W to hold-off purchasing a space. Will transform home office into entertainment center instead. Woohoo.

Then, so happy with the possibility, W got me an electric guitar --- bare mahogany with a white plate. On the drive home he said that it was the only way he knew how to show his appreciation, a thank-you gift for being around. And I said, Baby. I love your way.

The Sandman Cometh Over

Oh, Therese!!! Thanks for this one.

From neilgaiman.com:

Incidentally, I'm trying to organise (well, I'm not actually doing the organising) the promised signings in the Phillipines and Singapore before or after the Melbourne convention and Australian book signings this summer. The signing in the Philippines looks like it's happening, but I'm not sure about the Singapore one, as originally I was going be brought in with Dave McKean by the British Council, a plan that was scuppered by MirrorMask, and now I'm not really sure who to talk to. (If anyone in Singapore has any bright ideas, feel free to let me know.)

Post No Bill

Want Ad

The Library needs a receptionist and a marketing coordinator. A receptionist who can speak AND understand English. Pwede na ring pretty or pogi. A marketing person who can write proposals, do graphic design and arrange flowers. Deadma kung panget basta bright. Until then, I'll be everything for the External Communities.

CD Sale Ad

Here are a few CDs I'm selling for P100-P150 bucks. Will add more titles soon.

Mutual Admiration Society - Various Artists
Singles - Red Sleeping Beauty
The Acid House Soundtrack - Various Artists feat. The Verve, The Chemical Brothers, Oasis, Belle & Sebastian and Beth Orton
A Secret History: The Best of The Divine Comedy - Divine Comedy
Mother Earth: The Best of the Acid Jazz Years - Mother Earth

Make it so, Number One.

Got this from Lt. Torres (aka NebulaWatcher). I laughed so hard, it's scary.

You Know You're Addicted to Star Trek When...

Your favorite drink: Tea, earl grey, hot You can quote the name of every single episode just by watching the first 10 seconds of the introductory clip You own 13 Star Trek Technical Manuals and Blue Print Schematics of all Starship but you no longer need them When seeing a doctor, you're afraid of getting a shot and ask for a hypospray instead Your electronic project: Positronic brain You have 4 TVs at home and each of them are playing TOS, TNG, DS9 and VOY respectively 24 hours a day non-stop You remembered the lock up code that Data uses on the Enterprise's Main Bridge before beaming down to meet Dr. Soong and Lore You've learned playing the song "The Inner Light" with a penny whistle After broken your neighbour's window, instead of just running away, you try to use the "Picard Maneuver" to escape You're hosting a conference, your response to any suggestions: Make it so You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends who are addicted to Star Trek.

Get Your Own Addicted Meme Here



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Blogthings

The Drugs Don't Work

It has been awhile.

Seven years to be exact.

The drugs don't work their magic anymore. Not after a friend had tried to snort ice that wasn't powder-y enough and a few sugar-tiny crystals burned a hole through a nasal passage. Wheezing from the blood clot, we brought him to Makati Med and left him at the emergency room. High and scared to be caught, we fled as soon as we saw a nurse approaching him.

I wonder how he is right now. The last time I heard, he was learning how to drive a car because the turtles we gave him had died and he had nothing better to do.

Last Saturday, I realized that I could never do drugs again. Valium, yes. But weed, ice, ecstasy, K --- farewell dear friends. I will and am missing you dearly, but I hate remembering the mess that I had been too chickenshit to clean up.

Still 30

Got this from Luis, who got it from a friend. But I don't get it, I chose The OC over CSI. And still...

You Are 30 Years Old

30 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

The F Word (Warning: Contains Language)

Fidelity.

Oh dear. Over lunch today, the two Ms and I couldn't agree on the boundaries of in/fidelity. Is a one-night stand un/forgiveable? Is a two-year affair a necessary evil in a relationship rut? Is the winning over a prerequisite of the moving on?

Physical infidelity is so much like the common old with its many episodic mutations and prescribed remedies. A blow job for a blow job. A farewell fuck for a grudge fuck. Honesty is usually the most recommended cure-all, but honestly, I'd rather not know. If it's just an itch that needs scratching or a scrape that needs soothing, then nevermind. It is the knowledge that hurts, the knowledge that leads to a feeling of betrayal. Of not being good enough.

I'm not the type who needs to be won over. If my partner needs to be in love with someone else for a couple of weeks, months or years to be able to appreciate what we have, then adios. Really. I won't entertain a nanosecond of win-me-back pleas.

It only takes a maximum of 45 minutes or less. Quick fucks are quick fixes. If it takes more than that, then you are trying to hurt someone.

100,000 Fireflies

I mostly spent the holidays in front of the TV watching my Quamazon purchases. Dead Like Me Season 1. Fluff fun Latter Days, disturbingly sick I Stand Alone, and the reinvented but amusing King Arthur. Watched `til there were little blinking dots when I closed my eyes. Like a vision of traffic, like watching a city from a hill. Like 100,000 fireflies.

So. 2005.

The Bomb

4 days into the new year and I'm sick to the stomach with panic. Someone very integral to office operations has dropped the bomb (M, will tell you all about it very soon) and I'm sad and worried and panicking. I've already lost one staff; after another loss, we'll be officially limping. And the thing is, I actually care.

God Bless KF

Still sleepy from last night's itchy all over-ness, I walk into my office a little sad. Work has resumed. Then I see what looks like a CD wrapped in silky craft paper stamped with ... Judgment Bunny's seal of fine taste. The first word I see through the paper is "Bless" and I almost faint.

Thank you, Kristine! I have ordered this twice through Amazon but there had always been hitches: no stock available, etc. Bless you and your Jeff Buckley-humming heart.

"So this is the new year."

Spent New year's eve drinking with my sister in front of the TV. Gee, they sure are having fun but I prefer the cozy indoors, the familiar laughter over old Tropang Trumpo jokes, the predictable contours of my bed. So, like M, here are my resolutions:

1. Eat less. After midnight.

2. Doodle more. It just might turn out out to be a book at year's end. And in the words of Willow Rosenberg: "I do doodle, you do doodle too."

3. Spend less. On food. After midnight.

4. Drink less. Vodka or whiskey.

5. Love more. The family, the boyfriend, the friends, the work, the country.