riding in buses
I have a new thing: riding in buses. It’s something I developed this week; see, I was feeling particularly blue when I left Congress last Tuesday, so I wanted a nice, long relaxing ride home where I can just sort out my thoughts (I didn’t) and stare off into space (I did). I was also craving for a cheeseburger, so I stopped by McDo Philcoa before hopping into an air-conditioned bus to Shaw.
I therefore conclude that bus rides + food = 40 percent effective in curing the blues. It also helped that an old Filipino action movie starring Robin Padilla as a soldier was on. Oh, I’m not a fan, but I couldn’t stop giggling at his commander’s expression: “goddamit!”
The commander must’ve uttered it seven times within my 20-minute ride, which means he said it like every three minutes. To illustrate:
“Goddammit, what were you thinking?”
“Wag mo painitin ulo ko, goddamit!”
“Bukas na tayo mag-usap, goddamit.”
I mean, really. Ang sosyal na lang ni kuya.
Anyway. This morning I managed to convince my uberly cautious little sister to ride the bus with me; she had some reservations at first and complained about the bumpy ride, but when I got home tonight she told me she liked riding the bus.
Things like that, they make me smile.
do not forget
I stumbled upon this during my usual netsurfing tonight:
‘Rolling Stones classic wakes grandfather from coma’
Excerpts from the Telegraph article (boldface, my own):
Sam Carter lost consciousness after contracting severe anaemia but was brought back to life when “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” was blared into his ears.
The anthem was the first single the retired baker from Stoke in Staffordshire ever bought, released in 1965 when he was just 17.
Despite only being given a 30 per cent chance of survival, he woke from his coma after his wife Eva, 65, took the doctor’s advice and played him his favourite tunes through a set of earphones.
After three days of listening to the local Stoke station Signal 2, his eyes opened as soon as he heard the sound of Mick Jagger’s vocals and Keith Richards’ guitar riff.
Interesting, innit. I think this may be one of those isolated cases, but we never know, right.
There’s an inside joke to this one, too. See, my best friend and I would often joke around that we can do whatever the hell we want without fearing death because, well, look at Keith Richards! The guy’s prolly done it all–sex, booze, drugs, smoking–and yet he still lives (and even starred in a movie opposite Johnny Depp, if I may add). It’s like he defies science. Now, apparently, he can bring someone out of a coma.
Anyway, do me a favor. If I slip into a coma, play the following songs:
1. “Yellow Ledbetter” – Pearl Jam
2. “Where is My Mind” – The Pixies
3. “Barely Legal” – The Strokes
4. “Just” – Radiohead
5. “Lithium” – Nirvana
6. “With or Without You” – U2
7. “Seven-Nation Army” – The White Stripes
8. “Time is Running Out” – Muse
9. Whole albums of The Strokes. Or The Beatles, preferably the first few ones.
I’d throw in some John Mayer, but I think his songs will bring me deeper into the coma. Oh well.
battery fail!
Thursday was, quite depressingly, kind of a no-news-for-me day, so I asked Weng and Gladdys if they wanted to go out that night. Just for coffee, because I was craving for coffee as usual. CBTL in particular.
Two of the ATM machines in Trinoma weren’t working. One read: “SORRY, WE ARE TEMPORARILY CLOSE.” We just had to take a shot of that one, but the message was blinking so Glads’ camera-phone couldn’t capture it. Fortunately, I said, I brought my digicam! So I rushed to open the thing. It opened, but I couldn’t take a picture and the lens wouldn’t go back in because the battery had run out. Gaaaah. It wouldn’t fit back in the case with the lens out, so I had to wrap it in my sweater.
Now, for Friday. I had only gotten like three hours of sleep but had to spend the entire day wobbling in my three-inch heels because the two other shoes I use for work…were no longer suitable for using. Anyway, the day turned out pretty fine, but when I was going home it started pouring down rain and I got stranded at EDSA Crossing. So there I was, tired and sleepy and in heels, soaking in the rain. At first I didn’t care, because I kind of enjoyed the coolness of the air. But hours passed, and, well, you get the idea.
I was going to ask somebody, anybody, to come pick me up, but then my cellphone’s battery ran out. I was doomed. I don’t want to get into the details, but I managed to contact my parents shortly before midnight. By then I was already sulking in front of Starbucks Shangrila and had lost all the will to live, haha (it was anything but funny then though).
On the bright side, I now have a Motorazr 2 V8 ra ra ra!
uninspired
It’s like every night since this week started I get this overwhelming urge to drink expensive coffee alone and just stare off into space.
Or read. Get lost in a book til ‘morning. I’ve been buying a lot of magazines and shit, but I miss really reading. I still haven’t finished Haruki Murakami’s “Norwegian Wood,” which I began like two months back. I did, however, recently finish Nick Hornby’s “High Fidelity” in two days, but that’s mainly because I like all the music talk, plus I have an ulterior motive: to find out why cool men cheat on women they like/love. Don’t ask. Anyway. I also tried to watch the movie version, but first few minutes into it and I already couldn’t stand John Cusack’s incessant talking to the camera.
You know what I’ve been looking for since February? Anything by Jack Kerouac. Preferably “On the Road.” Because I’ll prolly never get over the whole Beatnik and hippie eras. I settled for Ken Kesey’s “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest” in March, but it’s not enough, and gah I don’t even remember if I finished it. Does anyone have anything by Jack Kerouac? Please?
I’m also strangely craving for anything about vampires, but the Anne rice novels I find in book sales are the ones whose stories I already know because they’ve been adapted into movies (Interview with the Vampire, Queen of the Damned); I don’t want to spend money buying new ones. There’s this teen vampire series “Twilight” that’s all the rage these days, and frankly I’m curious, but not curious enough to want to shell out money. At least for now.
It’s only been three days but I feel like a zombie. I miss jolly, giggly me. I miss my raucous laughter. I miss friends from different circles. I also miss spontaneous road trips. And going out for coffee and other stuff past midnight just because my friends and I feel like it. I miss some drinks and lots of deafening music. I miss long talks and walks.
End of incoherent rant.
rolling in the ocean
The video for “My Drive Thru,” the Converse ad campaign featuring Pharrell Williams, Santogold, and THE Julian Casablancas is out! Hawlyguacamole (poster below, video way below).
I found the song pretty weird (very Pharrell, very un-Strokes, but what do you expect it’s an ad) when I first heard it several weeks back, but it’s starting to grow on me. As usual Julian looked and sounded like his usual rock star-self *swoon*, with long hair and aviator glasses and all. Oh, what I’d give to be near this guy. Hahaha.
You know that part in Almost Famous where Fairuza Balk’s character Sapphire looks at the new groupies in disdain, saying, “They don’t even know what it is to be a fan. Y’know? To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts”? Well, I know exactly how she feels, ’cause I truly, truly love everything about The Strokes and their music and what they’re all about, so much so that…you get the idea.
Anyway, I got the news off one of my favorite blogs, The Modern Age. It’s “a blog about music, pop culture, the Strokes, puppies, Jack White, and cute boys.” Ah, all the good things in life.
The music blog is maintained by a female rock journalist who lives in New York; maybe I’ll meet her one day, and we can discuss The Strokes and The White Stripes while watching the two bands play after one another. Then maybe we’ll go backstage, talk to the bands, and the mornight will end with me pledging to be a The Strokes groupie. Or publicist. Or assistant to the manager. I’ll take any job, really.
A girl can dream.
new beat’s resolutions
I almost threw my cellphone out of the car window today, I was so pissed at its crappiness. The space key doesn’t work sometimes, the battery runs out after a few hours, I sometimes can’t hear the voice on the other end of a call. I ranted about it pretty much all the way to Jollibee for the obligatory Sunday breakfast (yes, the family’s Sunday life is idyllic like that) until Papsi turned around and offered to help me buy a new one.
Emphasis on ‘help.’ Since I’m a working girl (!) now, I’m expected to shell out my own money for my own stuff. The problem is, I’m grossly incapable of saving up. I really, really mean that. In fact, when I told my mom last Sunday that I’ll start saving up, she roared in laughter. Even I was surprised.
Where do I spend my money? Well, aside from the necessities–like lunch food and travel–I spend a lot on dinners. Dinners with friends from different circles, sometimes with one, sometimes with many. Believe me when I say that there has not been a week since June that I didn’t head off somewhere with friends at least once after work. I’ve been spending a lot on movies, too. And on nights out when we feel like hopping from one place to another. There’s also shopping, and buying stuff for people I care for. Yes. Contrary to popular belief I am not all that selfish.
I read somewhere that when you really want to stick to something you have to announce it to the world, so that when you fail people will storm your house carrying torches and pitchforks, demanding that you stand by what you said. Or something to that effect. Anyway, that’s what I’m doing. I’m announcing to the world–or at least to the three or so people who regularly read this blog, myself included–that starting tomorrow I will save up. And that by the end of the month I will have five-figure savings in the bank. If other humans can do it, so can I. Oh yes.
there is no justice in this world
The Strokes guitarist Albert Hammond Jr and Agyness Deyn are reportedly engaged. And they’ve been dating for what, two months? I’ve had a longer relationship with my crappy cellphone (which I really, really ought to replace sometime soon).
I comfort myself with a) the fact that if Albert wasn’t such an insanely good guitarist he wouldn’t be my type; b) the fact that he isn’t my favorite Strokes member anyway (Hi Julian!) and c) butter cookies, num.
Also, may I just say that leather jacket + slacks = no no. I expected eclectic taste from Agyness, but Albert was responsible for getting The Strokes all cool-looking! What happened?
Bleh what do I know. He’s a musician, he can do whatever the hell he wants. Including famous models.
i want the batpod
So it’s 11:00 p.m., and I just got home from (finally) watching The Dark Knight with RJ. I’m glad I no longer feel so out of the loop, heehee. Talk to me, I’m cool again!
We had dinner and lounged around the mall for more than two hours because the movie’s screening time was at 7.
Okay, now to the movie. Maybe this is just because my other friends had raved about it–thereby raising my expectations–but I was kind of disappointed. I thought there’d be more action (I blame you Hollywood for desensitizing me to explosions). And I’m sorry, I didn’t see Batman Begins, so why does the “Batcave” look like a rooftop covered by white plastic square sheets? Has it always been that way since Bale became Batman?
Batman’s voice also cracked us up. It was prolly part of his disguise, but it was distracting nonetheless. It’s like everytime he speaks in that voice I hear him saying, “listen to my voice, it’s deep, husky, and therefore action hero-ish.”
But hey, at least I now know what I want for Christmas: the Batpod!
It has big wheels and looks very easy to maneuver. Like a kid’s bike, except it can fire at you and run you over. Hah.
All in all, I liked the movie. And I shall whole-heartedly ride the bandwagon and say “Heath Ledger for the win!”
Afterwards we drove (well, he drove) to Jarold’s place where we pestered Ja for like 15 minutes. See, Ja couldn’t come because he’s cramming for some configuration thing. Baa. But he promised to make up for it. Hopefully soon.
fruitless
I’m trying to like My Morning Jacket, but I find them not nearly as likeable as New York-based Vampire Weekend which was dubbed The New Great Discovery, or something to that effect. Actually I wasn’t too crazy about Vampire Weekend’s songs either, save for “Oxford Comma.” They sound kind of folksy, and while that’s not a bad thing, I guess it’s just not my cup of tea.
Anyway, it’s just that I’ve been seeing My Morning Jacket’s name everywhere, and I want to know what it’s all about. I guess I have to watch Elizabethtown in full to appreciate them–they were the band featured as Ruckus. I never finish Elizabethtown when it’s being shown on cable, even though I adore Cameron Crowe (hello, Almost Famous), mostly because for some reason I can’t stand Orlando Bloom and never really liked Kirsten Dunst.
See, I’ve been constantly trying to find a new band to like while The Strokes have yet to release their fourth album. So far the search is futile–no band’s given me that magical feeling you get when you know from the first track that you’re going to love their music. That’s the way I felt when I first listened to Nirvana years ago. And Pearl Jam, and the Smashing Pumpkins, and The Who, and more recently, the White Stripes, Muse, and The Strokes. Ah, the good old days.
So right now I’m sticking to new stuff from the old and familiar–R.E.M.’s Accelerate, The Raconteurs’ Consolers of the Lonely. Not bad, but still.
Anyway, I gotta fly. Will see The Dark Knight with RJ in a few hours.
