“i mock you with a magazine,” said life
Tonight I had to buy something from a place with change for a thousand so I can go home, so I stopped by Starbucks at EDSA Central and got myself a mocha frap. To pass the time I a) stared off into space b) picked up a teen magazine to scan.
[Oh who am I kidding, I can't blog about this. But I like the title, so I'm keeping the post. Hah.]
Suffice it to say that I will try to make up my mind on Friday. Gah. Luis was SO right.
the end has no end
The SONA is over! Over! I survived 13 hours wearing three-inch heels! I think I deserve a pat on the back, oh yes I do.
Just for future reference, or something to tell the grandkids:
Remember, Jam, you covered President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo’s 8th SONA on July 28, 2008. You had a pretty nice time at the newly jazzed-up Batasan Pambansa where the beat reporters were really nice. Toni, who was covering for the Collegian, saw you and you young people stuck together. You were 21 then. You chased senators and other politicians. Manny Villar smiled at you when you asked your question. You shook Raul Gonzalez’s hand, which, when you thought about it later, was a tad too formal. You were impressed with Miriam Defensor-Santiago’s outfit, a shimmering pink gown. You met more people. You lasted from 9:30 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. In three inch heels. You rocked.
There. Now that we’re done with that, let’s go back to regular programming.
Let me just say that The Strokes helped me get through all the stress. It may sound crazy, but listening to their first two albums (“Is This It” and “Room on Fire”) always livens me up. I love their music to death; I would fly off to any country if I had the money just to catch them live. This is love. Love, I tell you.
They should make a new album already. And I think Julian should regain full creative control, because he let the others write songs in the third album and half of it pretty much reeked. Also, Albert Hammond Jr ought to spend more time with the band and less with with Agyness Deyn. She is so over *bitter*.
Anyway, check out these videos:
The Strokes playing “New York City Cops,” when suddenly Jack White barges into the stage and does the wicked guitar solo. Julian falls on the floor, partly because he is floored by Jack’s appearance and partly because he is too drunk to stand upright. At least that’s how I interpreted it. Just for the record, JI also love The White Stripes and The Raconteurs. Jack is a genius, he can play everything, even a marimba. I didn’t even know what a marimba was until I learned he could play it. Anyway, the video:
The Strokes performing “Juicebox” with Eddie Vedder at the 100th anniversary of RollingStone, or something. The video and audio’s bad. But I’m embedding it here, just because.
My little (former) secret is that I like it when people call me on my cellphone because my ringtone is “Mercy Mercy Me,” a The Strokes + Eddie Vedder cover of the Marvin Gaye classic. I recorded it with my crappy cellphone–which reminds me, I really ought to buy a new one.
And that is enough raving for the day.
hands, held
Yesterday can be broken down as follows:
11am to 4:30 pm – girls’ day out (a first for us because we always go out at night, except when we skipped class) with Weng, Martha, and Masol. We initially made plans to go one level up and hang out at The Podium, but a quick scan of the place made us realize we lowly mortals can only go to two stores there: Starbucks and Watsons. Haha. We were hungry so we shifted to Mega. Boo-hoo.
530 pm to 830 pm – planning at Luvi’s. After the brief redistribution of households we videoke-d and walked around Greenwoods. I gave my spankin’ new three inch heels for Monday a test-run. It nearly killed me, but I still love my new shoes. New shoes!
830 pm – 1230 am – At Cholo’s for Pam’s birthday. Hung out with Cholo, Garrene, RJ, and of course Jarold. He and I finally concretized our plan to see The Dark Knight together while we walked around Phase 5. We eventually invited RJ and Cholo later, because they said they haven’t seen it too. So we will see you, Joker, on Wednesday. Hah.
I spent all Saturday out of the house. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll resume my reviewing so I can kick ass at tomorrow’s SONA with my new three-inch heels. Yeba.
(The previous paragraph’s real meaning: I am scared of tomorrow, I am not even sure if I can walk decently in those heels. And I think I’m in denial because I am more worried about my feet; it’d kill me if I think in detail about how inexperienced I am to be doing something like this. Aaaaaaaagh!)
pears and plums
My sister is raving about how a certain piece of clothing smells so much like a certain someone. Me, I smell like glazed pears. Victoria’s Secret Pear Glace, hah.
I like people who smell good. Or have distinct smells that aren’t repulsive. Smells can do a lot, really. In this guy’s case, he smelled so good PEOPLE ATE HIM.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The screen shot above is from Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, which I caught on a cable channel about a month ago. I wasn’t able to see the first 10 minutes of the movie, but the gorgeous set and cinematography captured my attention. I found out later on that this German film was directed by Tom Tykwer of the wunnderful Run Lola Run. This one’s in English though, so yey.
So I see this guy, greasy and all, chasing a girl by…sniffing, apparently. He finally catches her and sees her slicing plums. When other people arrive, he drags the girl to a dark corner, covers her mouth to keep her from screaming, and eventually suffocates her. He then sniffs her dead body, a look of both absolute pleasure and remorse on his face. I get annoyed and enthralled at the same time.
And then the narrator says something like, “from then on, he knew his life’s purpose was to make perfume.”
It sounded so ridiculous, but the set was so glorious, that I just HAD to finish it.
The main character is Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, an “olfactory genius” who dedicates his life to preserving divine human scent. To achieve the ultimate perfume, he kills 12 virgins. The story’s basically about that. It’s so macabre, ahlavet. The ultimate perfume is so perfect that when thousands of people set out to hang him for his murders, just one whiff of his perfumed handkerchief cause them to declare him innocent and engage in one huge orgy (not shown on cable, though) right then and there. Yes, you read that right. Think of the rowdy, shouting crowd in Gladiator all waking up next to each other.
Anyway, Jean-Baptiste eventually realizes that even though he can control the world with his perfume, he still can’t make anyone love him, so he goes back to his hometown, pours all the perfume upon himself, and they all eat him. Out of “love.”
Oh and by the way, the movie also stars Dustin Hoffman as a master perfumer/mentor…
…and Alan Rickman (you know him as Snape in the Harry Potter movies) as the last virgin’s dad.
The concept’s so beautifully out-of-this-world (I never thought of putting the words “perfume” and “murderer” in the same sentence), you have to watch it. Based on the novel “Perfume” or “Das Parfum” by German writer Patrick Suskind. Enthralling.
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All pictures from Rotten Tomatoes.
wordcamp philippines 2008
This started as a secret blog sometime in July this year, meant only for the eyes of a few selected friends. Not that there’s anything particularly scandalous here or anything (some things are not meant to be put in writing hahaha); it’s just that I’m not too keen on having total strangers be aware of some of my adventures.
Anyway, Kirk told me there’s this WordPress Camp that may be fun to attend. At first I was like, “no, I want to blog in peace,” but after a few minutes I decided to give it a go. Why not? I’m always up for meeting new people, especially those I have something in common with.
The camp’s on Sept. 6 at the College of Saint Benilde in Taft. I’ll be marking my guide to life, my phone calendar. Mark yours too.
For more details, go here. Thanks to Mindanao Bloggers. You may also wanna visit these sites:
* i.PH: the Domain for Individuals
* Free Online Flash Games
* Wazzup Manila Philippines
* Real Estate CRM
* Real Estate Website Designers
* Orange County Real Estate
* Auto Insurance Quotes
* Lane Systems Inc.
* RedMedia
* Orange County Business Lawyer
I’m looking forward to going. See you!
nothing a little italian food can’t solve
The thing about me is that I’m spontaneous, so on Tuesday night I did something I prolly shouldn’t have done (not THAT big, but it hit me under these circumstances–yes I too can be a drama queen), and felt all sick and sad the next morning.
Thank God for friends who are spontaneous as well. Lawrence came to the rescue and we had dinner on Wednesday night at Pizza Hut Bistro in Gateway so he can help me rationalize my thoughts/emotions.
What can I say. We talked for a long time–he concluded that I am, indeed, in that phase, and he is amused. Even the (cute) waiter was fascinated with my animated story-telling. He left a note on the receipt, which cracked us up.
Afterwards we went to Starbucks, where Eula Valdez (!) lined up at the women’s CR. During our walk to the taxis at around 10:30 p.m. we passed by some pro basketball players; a game just ended at the Araneta Coliseum, I think. Actually, Lawrence said that. I know zilch about the PBA now.
Update: The Italian food worked, but to further bolster the cheering-up program I got all dreamy/pretentious and bought the Style Issue of The New Yorker. I couldn’t put it down. Harmless escapism at its finest.
in case you were wondering how delusional i can get, here’s a to-do list
The product of boredom while waiting at the Manila Hotel.
1. Learn a new language, preferably Swahili (just so I can say “Yeah, I speak three languages. English, Tagalog and Swahili.”) or Portuguese so I can smooth-talk my way with people when I go to Brazil. Yesagirlcandream.
2. Learn to drive.
3. And then hotwire a car. Don’t die without hotwiring a car.
4. Hang out on a beach in Australia.
5. Live in New York, be a The Strokes groupie for some time until I marry any one of them. Preferably Julian. I know, he’s married. Boo.
6. Set up a famous money-making blog, preferably about fashion. Or music. Or film. Or just about me. Dammit Bryan you have raised the bar up so high.
IN OTHER NEWS, I am pretty happy with my real life. Yesterday was fun. Last night was even more fun. Bow.
tales of the undead commuter, part 1
Thursday night. The jeepney driver’s companion turned to me sharply when I paid P10.
“P11.50 na po,” he said.
“Kelan pa?” I asked (FYI, I recently came to terms with the idea that I’m probably innately defensive).
“Matagal na,” he said, sneering. “Hindi ka ba nanonood ng balita?”
It took me a while to respond to that because a) I had the sudden urge to flash him my media ID but realized that was so obnoxious, even by my standards–and besides, all I have for now is a temporary ID as the network hasn’t processed the real one yet (boo); b) I was trying to rack my brains out for jeepney fare hike news but all I could remember was they have to have the new fare matrix before charging extra; and c) during that moment I couldn’t remember the last time I rode a jeepney.
OA, I know, but so many things just happened this week. I’ve accepted that I can no longer have a nice week where I go straight home and rest after work; I just run in too many circles, hang out with too many people, and get assigned to too many things. Oh, but I’m not complaining. I like being out there.
Monday night AC and I had dinner at the Soul Shop, this quaint little place in QC that’s perfect for letting out frustrations because it’s so not commercial; there’s little chance that you’d bump into someone you know.
Tuesday night I went out with The Secret (we’re not supposed to tell anyone we went out lalala) for dinner and a movie that I never would’ve watched if it was just me, but it was okay because I like the company.
Wednesday night I watched the Cinemalaya entry Boses (on its Gala Night at the CCP) with two of my editors because I had to do a film review. Afterwards, one editor and I headed to this neat little place which can only describe as “what an English pub must look like” where we hung out with veteran male photojournalists ’til shortly before midnight. I got home around 12:30 a.m. and was once again like the undead at work the next day.
So, it’s Friday. I feel kind of terrible about bailing out at the last minute on a good friend whose house I’m supposed to stay in tonight. See, she wants me to meet this guy. We’re all supposed to hang out ’til Saturday with her other friends and cousins. But mom’s throwing a high school reunion of sorts at our house–we’ll be having around 30 people for lunch tomorrow–and she wants me to help out for a change since I’m out of the house pretty much every night since I started working. Oh, familial duties.
someone’s bro
“It’s a feeling of deep affection and attraction for another being, often combined with passion or desire – a need to be with another…Love will be an impulse that will inspire and ruin in equal measure.”
-the Angel Saraquael, defining Love before its creation. From Neil Gaiman’s Smoke and Mirrors
I’d give up
dating (which is getting a little too complicated, and a bit tiring, lately)
if it means
being
with him.
what have you done lately?
So what can I say about Wanted, which I saw last night with Jarold at Trinoma?
Putanginaanglupet.
That movie has got to be one of the best I’ve ever seen. There was never a dull moment, even when Wesley Gibson (the wonderfully talented, geek-handsome James McAvoy) was just Googling his name.
The cinematography kind of reminds me of Fight Club, only better, maybe. James McAvoy, Angelina Jolie, and Morgan Freeman were absurdly good. No no, they were perfect. Really, are actors allowed to be that convincing?
I have two words: bending bullets! Oooh, and the last scene killed. Killed, I tell you. And not just because this is a movie about assassins.
We left the cinema with happy, contented smiles on our faces.
__
Movie stills sourced here.
