Tuesday, June 28

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?


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.

Katie Holmes.

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

Thursday, June 16


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.

Tuesday, June 14

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.

Saturday, June 11

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.

Friday, June 3

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.