man on the side

An Amazing Race Sandwich

2008-01-31T12:33:00.000+08:00

They were in town for a few days, and of course I had to meet them. Paula (of Paula and Natasha) and Vanessa (of Pamela and Vanessa) were every bit as pretty and as charming as they are on The Amazing Race Asia Season 2. The 21 year-old Paula is a VJ and model in her native Thailand, while Vanessa manages the career of her brother, Malaysian singer Vince Chong. No, they didn't tell me who won the race, but of course, I knew well enough about the Race rules not to ask. They did talk about their experiences throughout the race, particularly Vanessa, who told me about her now famous "temporary amnesia" scare a couple of episodes back and her almost-breakdown driving that manual shift car en route to the pitstop in last week's episode. For the full stories of these Race-r hotties, plus some really sizzling photos, pick up a copy of Manual magazine (shameless plugging!) in the next couple of months.

Off the Net Somewhere

2007-11-15T14:49:00.001+08:00

Arundhati was with a friend, and they were discussing the subject of dreams. "The only dream worth having," Roy explained, "is to dream that you will live while you’re alive and die only when you are dead." "What exactly does that mean?" asked the friend.

So Roy wrote it down for her on a napkin:
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate was is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.

Heard the new Alicia Keys single yet?

2007-09-19T17:59:00.000+08:00

It's called No One. All I can say is: wow. Great lyrics. Great melody. Great vocals. Great production. It has HIT written all over it. Sadly, can't find an mp3 yet. But if you're curious, you can listen to it here.

Am posting the lyrics as well.

NO ONE
Alicia Keys

I just want you close
Where you can stay forever
You can be sure
That it will only get better

You and me together
Through the days and nights
I don't worry 'cuz
Everything's going to be alright
People keep talking they can say what they like
But all i know is everything's going to be alright

No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you
Can get in the way of what I feel for you

When the rain is pouring down
And my heart is hurting
You will always be around
This I know for certain

You and me together
Through the days and nights
I don't worry 'cuz
Everything's going to be alright
People keep talking they can say what they like
But all i know is everything's going to be alright

No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you
Can get in the way of what I feel

I know some people search the world
To find something like what we have
I know people will try try to divide something so real
So til the end of time I'm telling you there is no one

No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one, no one, no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you
Can get in the way of what I feel for you

Ganda di ba?

Tarantino Overload

2007-08-17T17:10:00.000+08:00

The irrepressible QT turned up yet again at the Cinemanila Film Festival at Gateway. I caught the back-to-back screening of Kill Bill One and Two last night, and he was there in the audience with us. During intermission, he thanked everybody who came out to see the films. Outside the theater, he had a photo taken with this girl who dressed up as Gogo Yubari (it ain't clear, my ancient cam-phone's to blame, but that's them in the pic). It was a bit extraordinary because we noticed he usually doesn't like posing for photos. Every time people went up to him to have their picture taken with him, he'd decline, though he didn't stop people from clicking away just the same.

I didn’t let the opportunity pass without talking to the man. I went up to him, shook his hand and congratulated him on the film. I kept racking my head for something else to mutter other than the usual "So how long are you staying?" Sadly, though, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. (I really oughta learn how to be more spontaneous when it comes to social situations). He was genial though and we chatted briefly about him flying off to Boracay today for the Film fest leg there. He was loquacious and moved around a lot, like he overdosed on caffeine. That or he probably hasn’t had his Ritalin shot for the day.

He says he loves it here and wouldn't mind coming back again and again. Funny but when he said that an image of David Pomeranz flashed through my brain. Oh well. An actual Academy-award winner coming for frequent visits in these parts can’t be that bad.

Tarantino in Manila

2007-08-09T17:56:00.000+08:00

How many times do we get an iconic director strolling down a mall like a regular guy? Well, maybe not so much like a regular guy, especially with the hordes of camera-wielding freaks (like me) trying to document his every move. Then again, I'm not sorry I was one of those camera-wielding freaks who zeroed in on Quentin Tarantino when he appeared at the opening of the Cinemanila Film Festival at Gateway mall yesterday. After all, it isn't everyday a well-known Hollywood actor-writer-director makes his way to these parts. I even got to shake his hand! Now that's something.

I wonder how their cheer went...

2007-07-24T17:30:00.000+08:00

A real banner I saw recently. I sure hope they won.

CLUB DREDD IS BACK!

2007-07-12T13:42:00.000+08:00

How cool is that? The seminal music venue where some of the biggest names in Pinoy rock started out is reopening its doors to a new generation of music-starved geeks like me. I wasn't old enough to have been part of the whole scene during Dredd's heyday, but you can be sure I'll be making up for lost time. In fact, if I had known about it earlier, I would've gone to the exclusive "soft" opening last night. Read the whole statement at their website: www.clubdredd.com

Club Dredd Eastwood, The Noisiest Place in Town is at 2/F Gweilos in Fuente Circle, Eastwood City, Libis, Quezon City.

(Say what you will about the choice for the new location of the club, but as owner Patrick Reidenbach was quoted as saying last night, at least there's more parking).

Week that Was and Witless Wonderings

2007-07-03T16:09:00.000+08:00

Tuesday: The band Craeons rocked it at the otherwise droll Rock to Save A Life show at the Hard Rock Cafe. There were 6cyclemind, Callalily, Moonstar88 and Cueshe (I slinked out before their set), but Craeons surprised me the most, only because I pegged them to be raw, untalented set-fillers. They weren't half-bad, especially the vocalist, who, after a few sessions with a vocal coach to rein in her powerful wailings, might just give Armi Millare of UpDharmaDown a run for her money.

Friday: The "relaunch" of the old Inihaw Republic along Katipunan to what is now Route 196 saw the likes of The Dawn, The Spaceflower Show, The Ronnies, Chilitees, Juan Pablo Dream and old staples Johnoy and Kakoi pack the crowds in despite the late night showers. Of particular interest to those who want their music lively and frenetic are the Spaceflowers and Juan Pablo, of course. With a Pinoy pizza in one hand and San Mig in the other, it was a good way to end the working week, and to start off the partying weekend. The fact that there wasn't a cover charge made it even sweeter.

Saturday: An invite from a co-worker I couldn't say no to: the Meg Anniversary party at the Rockwell Tent in Makati. After dinner at nearby Som's, we made our way inside the Tent, which was brimming with the pre-pubescent set; I'm just in my twenties, but I felt ancient next to the young ladies in their mini-skirts and the totoys with their gelled-up hair. Good music though: we caught the Terno set: Swissy, Paramita and UpDharmaDown, plus ChicoSci. We left after hanging out backstage, just as the models started sashaying down the runway. It was raining kittens and puppies when we got outside; too bad we only had Rihanna's "Umbrella" and not the real thing.

=================

EVER NOTICED....

...That it’s not enough for movie sequels these days to have just the corresponding ordinal number? There were a dozen Rockys and Rambos, but all the movies after the original just had a simple numerical symbol appended after the title. These days, that don’t cut it. Both sequels to Pirates of the Caribbean didn’t even have numbers: they had separate titles apart from the branding of the original: Dead Man’s Chest and At World’s End. (Of course, the original was also called Curse of the Black Pearl, but how many knew or even cared apart from the diehard fans?) For every Spiderman and The Godfather that spawned the austere “Two” and “Three,” there’re dozens more with fancier sequel titles. Sometimes, they’re not bad, like “Terminator 2: Judgment Day,” “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me” and “Meet The Fockers.” Other times, they’re so-so to just plain rotten and insipid, like “Next Friday” and “Friday After Next,” “The Matrix: Reloaded” and “The Matrix: Revolutions;” and “Babe, Pig in The City.” And do they really have to call it Die Hard 4.0? What’s the point zero for? Do they really want to associate it with a crappy software version?

...how action heroes have the initials JB? I was in the shower one morning when it hit me: there’s Jason Bourne, Jack Bauer of 24, and arguably the most well-known JB of them all – James Bond. What gives? (A quick Google search and it turns out I’m not the only one who noticed). Maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe it’s on purpose, who knows?

...that there're North, West and East Avenues in Quezon City, but instead of South, everybody calls it Timog Avenue? There has to be a logical explanation. Not that I need to know anytime soon, but I'm hoping somebody can enlighten me.

"Built To Last"

2007-06-22T17:18:00.000+08:00

I've been inundated with so much new music lately, it's tough to settle on something I can truly savor and appreciate. The new Orange and Lemons album is out, and it’s killer, just as I expected. Still in their plastic wrapping are albums from Travis, My Chemical Romance, Amerie, Omarion, Linkin Park, Michael Buble, the Spiderman 3 OST, Typecast and Sinosikat. Just Jack’s “Starz In Their Eyes” and Matt Kearney’s “In The Middle” are still favorites, months after I first heard them on Jam. But one band I can't get enough of these days is Melee. The song "Built To Last" is a classic PJ song (yeah, I can't help but take ownership). The words feel like they’re written by someone who knows what it’s like to have someone special, and he wants everyone to know how much he appreciates what he has. It’s touching and uncomplicated, heartfelt without sounding contrived. And the melody’s just too catchy for words; I can't help but turn the volume up every time I hear it on the radio. (Funny how a song takes on a whole new meaning when you can actually relate to what the artist is trying to say). I can definitely see a bit of, say Glen Philips or John Hampson in Melee frontman and songwriter Chris Cron.

A favorite part of the song is during the second verse, after the line “So why didn’t we believe it too?” and Chris does a short vocal upsurge and goes “Whoaaa yeah!” Dunno why, but I just love that bit.

Check out the song on the melee website meleerocks.com and in their myspace page myspace.com/meleerocks. Or if you’re too lazy, gimme your email address and I’ll send you the MP3.

Built To Last
by Melee

I've looked for love in stranger places,
but never found someone like you.
Someone whose smile makes me feel I've been holding back,
and now there's nothing I can't do.

'Cause this is real, and this is good.
It warms the inside just like it should,
but most of all, most of all it's built to last.

All of our friends saw from the start.
So why didn't we believe it too?
Whoa yeah, now look where we are.
You're in my heart now.
And there's no escaping it for you.

'Cause this is real, and this is good.
It warms the inside just like it should,
but most of all, most of all it's built to last.

Walking on the hills that night with those fireworks and candlelight
You and I were made to get love right

'Cause this is real, and this is good.
It warms the inside just like it should,
but most of all, most of all it's built to last.

'Cause you are the sun in my universe,
considered the best when we've felt the worst
and most of all it's built to last.

Boots In Heaven

2007-05-26T18:59:00.000+08:00

In case the image is too small, that's Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain hanging out in heaven wearing the requisite white vestments. And Doc Martens. The advertising agency that created it, Saatchi & Saatchi (London), says it's supposed to illustrate perfectly the durability of the boots. And as iconic images go, you can't go wrong with Kuya Kurt. The brand used three other dead celebrities to pitch their boots for them: Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols, Joey Ramone of The Ramones, and Joe Strummer of The Clash.

I think the idea is inspired. What better way to let people know that Doc Martens boots are the shiznit than by having seminal punk and grunge rockers wear them. In heaven, no less! I must say though that I imagine Kurt would have worn something like Chuck Taylors more than he would have DM's.

One person who isn't a fan of these ads: Courtney Love. Kurt's widow says she never saw nor approved the ads and wants them pulled out and discontinued. Which shouldn't be a problem, as the Doc Martens company has already fired their ad agency and issued an apology for anyone who might have been offended by the ad.

I wasn't exactly overcome by a burning desire to get myself a pair of DM boots after seeing the ad, but I see no reason why it should be regarded as offensive either. It's a brilliant idea, a bit risque perhaps, but imaginative and headturning, nonetheless. And isn't that what ads should be, what ad agency people whould strive for? Get your attention and keep it enough to make you ponder on getting whatever it is that's being shoved in your face? Depending on your willpower, the agency people are either extremely talented or you - the consumer - are extremely stupid and/or impressionable. One or the other.

Questions

2007-04-20T18:37:00.000+08:00

How can one person have such an immense impact in your life without their knowledge?
How can you be a logical, coherent, confident person one second and be reduced to a weak, blabbering, pathetic idiot the next?
How small can you make yourself feel next to someone who’s probably not that great to begin with?
How insane are you to want to kill yourself over something so profoundly insignificant?
How strong do you have to be to not care anymore?

Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard.

"The Scientist"
Coldplay

Culture. Or the lack thereof.

2007-04-17T19:09:00.000+08:00

On my second to the last day in my old job, I went out with a few officemates and ended up at the opening of a new bar called Martinis at the Mandarin Hotel in Makati. It was supposed to be a by-invitation only event, but we managed to stroll past the check girl at the door, owing perhaps to the fact that I was with people who were obviously Caucasian. (Let me tell you, I’d have never gotten in there if it was just me and my obviously Pinoy features). Although it worked in our (specifically my) favor, that just tells you that you can’t totally eliminate racial profiling in this supposedly modern, cosmopolitan city no matter how much we try to sweep it under the rug of tolerance and understanding. I’m not being cynical. Just stating a fact.

Inside we were treated to a feast for the senses: the bar was overflowing with drinks, mostly martinis (dry, fruity, what-have-yous) because the place was, after all, called Martinis; rail-thin models were modeling swanky evening gowns and doing Bond girl poses complete with faux assault weapons, dripping with jewelry head to foot that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a red carpet event in Hollywood; everyone was smelling of wealth and luxury. I even spotted two or three people there whom I’ve only seen on the society pages of the local broadsheets and magazines. While it was the first time I ever had an honest-to-goodness martini (complete with the olive), I’ve been to these types of functions before so I wasn’t exactly self-conscious. It did amuse me to know though that the expat friends I was with were getting a kick out of the whole thing, too. It occurred to me then that a free drink is a free drink, no matter how many of these things you go to, and, more importantly, no matter where in the world you’re from.

Mingling with the different types of people one usually finds in these kinds of events, the art of making conversation seems more like a science. Talking with the people you came with can only take you so far. Eventually you’re going to have to venture out into unknown territory…and talk to unknown persons. I had the (dis)pleasure of talking to a native of Austria who claims to have been flying in and out of the country for the past 10 years. All was going well, until he said he didn’t really like the Philippines because apparently, this country doesn’t have a culture to speak of. I would’ve smacked him on the head with the martini glass in my hand, until I realized that if that was what he thought of the country, incredibly sad though it may be, could I have said anything to make him believe otherwise? Considering he’s been in and out of here for a decade, his notion that this land of ours is severely lacking in culture must be based on personal observation. Apart from the fact that I am the least confrontational person on earth, I just felt that at that moment, I lacked ammunition to convincingly dispute that impression. So I just kicked him once in the nuts and resumed talking to my expat colleagues.

Of course I'm kidding. I just feel like this entry is getting too serious. All I wanted was to tell the story of the night I got to sneak in at an exclusive bar opening and chug my first glass of martini. Oh well.

April 23, 2007

2007-04-11T18:18:00.000+08:00

The Arctic Monkeys' second album, "Favourite Worst Nightmare" will be released on that date. The new single, "Brianstorm" is freakin' AWESOME. It packs a mean punch for a song that isn't even three minutes long. It's official: there won't be any so-called sophomore slump for these guys.

Favourite Worst Nightmare

Five Movies

2007-03-23T13:49:00.000+08:00

Kiki's Flying Service

I think I'm a closet fan of Hayao Miyazaki. I haven't seen the more popular titles, like Spirited Away and Princess Mononoke, but I seem to have a vague recollection of watching (and enjoying) his kind of animated movies when I was a kid. Anyway, my housemate John Ray seems to be a big fan; he bought a three-disc compilation of all of Miyazaki's movies last weekend. This one, released in 1989, is about Kiki, a thirteen year-old witch who leaves home (in a broom, with a precocious black cat, natch) to go off on her own in a distant seaside city. She ends up living with a nice pregnant lady who runs a bakery. It soon becomes apparent that her broom-flying skills (or lack of it) will come in handy as she starts her own, you guessed it, delivery service. (Kinda makes you wonder what you were doing when you were thirteen). The traditional animation is fantastic, trademark Miyazaki. I thought there was potential to say more with the story, but the simple, straightforward narrative is fine, too. And I loved the acerbic cat Jiji, with the hots for the sexy kitty next door. I think I enjoyed this as much as I did "Howl's Moving Castle."

300

By now, every local cinephile must have seen this movie and cracked all sorts of jokes about all the men in it in skimpy loincloths with bulging biceps and washboard abs. Occasionally though, one can read a random review of how good the movie actually is. The visuals are spectacular and like nothing else seen on film. The story itself, about how 300 of Sparta's finest warriors hold off an invading Persian army numbering in the hundreds of thousands until their inevitable deaths, is engaging and emphatic. That last scene of King Leonides near death, arrows sticking out from all over his body, actually reminded me of those movies by Fernando Poe Jr, where he's fending off a battalion of Japanese soldiers. If all the accounts are true, those Spartan men certainly were the real deal as far as courage and martyrdom are concerned. While the themes of heroism and bravery are anything but new, the execution of the filmmakers, with the use of advanced CGI technology, make this movie certainly worth the price of admission. For once, Hollywood produced an action movie that is thoroughly enjoyable and doesn't insult the intelligence of viewers (eat your heart out Michael Bay). People who love a good movie should catch this on the big screen while they can. (PS I hear this movie's director, Zack Snyder, is already making plans of bringing the comic classic The Watchmen to the big screen. That's something to look forward to).

Notes On A Scandal

More than anything, I feel that this film is an avenue for Judi Dench and Cate Blanchett to show off their acting skills, and by god, do those two act up a storm. A cynical spinster-teacher deprived of intimacy befriends the seemingly innocent new art teacher in the hopes of establishing a relationship beyond the professional. Dench is effective because she tempers her portrayal of the caustic and untrusting Barbara Covett with compassion; not enough to make me like her but enough for me to understand why she does what she does. Blanchett is fiery as always as the flawed mother and housewife Sheba Hart, who begins an affair with one of her students - all of fifteen years old. And while I may not have read the book, I got the impression that the writers intended the film to be funny, or at least, in some cases, make the dialogue of the characters humorous, particularly in Barbara's narration. The depth and complexity of the emotions displayed in this film may be too much for some people, but I like a good, well-written character-driven piece devoid of cliches and predictability, and this one definitely fits the bill.

Dreamgirls

The story of a Supremes-like girl group, the infighting and intrigues, the successes and failures and the relationships they form with the people around them and each other. Big deal. I knew I shouldn't have seen this, but I was bored and had nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon and some friends asked me to come along with them. Turns out I shelled out P150 so I could get bored in my seat inside the theater. I've seen the films of four out of the five nominees for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar, and I gotta say, Jennifer Hudson has nothing on all the other nominees (I've yet to see Abigail Breslin in Little Miss Sunshine). Sure she practically shits in her dress while doing "And I Am Telling You," but I don't believe she's better than Rinko Kikuchi and Adriana Barraza, who both acted their pants off in Babel, and Cate Blanchett in Notes On A Scandal. All the other performances in this movie were ho-hum. The sets were pretty impressive, but other than that, there was nothing truly outstanding and memorable about this movie for me. Chicago got it right. This one obviously didn't.

Death Note

I've become a fan of Asian horror films ever since the Japanese film The Ring came out. I saw them all, or the early ones at least - The Eye, The Grudge, Dark Water (all remade into Hollywood films) and the truly demented (but strangely fascinating) Audition. The trend caught on, and local theaters soon became inundated with Asian horror titles. With new titles coming out almost every other week, I lost interest for a while, but John Ray picked up this Japanese movie from our friendly neighborhood pirata last weekend (along with the Miyazaki collection), and we both saw it one lazy Sunday afternoon. The tagline says it all: "The human whose name is written in this note shall die." The note(book) lands, literally, at the feet of a college student named Light (yeah, I know). The Japanese god of death, who calls himself Ryuk and who has a penchant for apples, gives him access to the note on a whim. Light then proceeds to use the note to kill off all known criminals in and out of Japan. With the body count mounting, the world's leading police forces are stumped as to the identity of the killer. They then turn to one of the best and brightest detectives, codenamed "L," for help. What follows is a thrilling battle of wits between a crafty modern-day executioner who dispenses justice according to his own terms, and a highly-intelligent recluse out to expose and punish the mysterious serial killer. Not as terrifying in the classic sense as the aforementioned horror movies, but definitely a must-see if you want an innovative spin on tired plotlines dealing with crime and punishment.

A Message of Concern

2007-03-07T15:12:00.000+08:00

The slew of political ads currently polluting the airwaves are so unbelievably infuriating I can't help but switch channels or unconsciously mouth off an invective each time they come on. One thing I like about not working for the giant broadcast company anymore is that I don't have the obligation to tune in to local channels (especially when the news is on) anymore. Instead, I retreat to the familiar mess that is cable TV. If I sound like I'm being an elitist, that may be true, but I'd rather be called that than endure the desperation and sheer wretchedness of politicians stooping down to new lows to try to gain the attention of viewers, hoping that would translate into votes. I mean, how many times can one take the image of a distinguished senator dancing goofily to an inane song tailored to suit his needs (and his name)? How many times can one stand the image of obviously rotten-to-the-core politicians smiling cheekily and pretending to have the best interest of the masses at heart when all they really want is to cling on to power? And seriously, how can one even stomach the sheer audacity of more than a few of these so-called public servants who say one thing only to devour their words in favor of a spot in the lineup of a more favourable party? I'd have no trouble supporting someone whose opinion differs from my own but at least has the dignity to stand up for what he believes in despite the odds, rather than those who turn around and lick the ass of someone they used to crucify in the guise of "unity" and "team spirit." Barf.

The sad, inescapable fact is that we have to live with these political ads for another two and a half months, after which, once again, we as a nation would have to live with our choices. Is it too much to ask for people to be more discerning about the people they vote for? We all have our own ideas about what qualities a leader should possess, but is it really that hard to agree on who's too much of an ass to be given an honorific precursor to his or her name? I don't know about other people, but the chances of a candidate getting my vote is directly proportional to how bad his or her tv spot is; the more it sucks, the less likely their name will appear on my ballot. Call me shallow and irresponsible, but that's as good enough a gauge as I can get on just how effective and classy our local politicos are. (And we all know having lots of money does not necessarily guarantee a good advertisement)

Despite all my rants though, I highly encourage everyone out there to go out and vote in May. Apathy is never cool and anyone who doesn't exercise his or her right to suffrage does not have the right to bitch and complain about the government. Choose leaders who have impeccable records, who are steadfast in their beliefs and don't sell their principles, who are as idealistic as they are pragmatic, who can talk to the world but don't lose their patriotism, and who you know can truly make difference for the good of the country. But most important of all, vote for those who DO NOT DANCE AND POSE MAKE COMPLETE FOOLS OF THEMSELVES IN THEIR POLITICAL ADS.

And it's only Monday...

2007-02-19T16:51:00.000+08:00

Survived my first automobile mishap unscathed, thank god. Up until this morning I've been relatively accident-free since I first started driving Johnny around in mid-December (not counting that dude who backed up right into Johnny's right bumper a couple of weeks ago while I was parked outside the hotel during my brother's wedding reception). I suppose it was bound to happen, sooner or later, and I suppose, too, that I should be grateful I wasn't hurt, (except maybe my pride).

It happened in the middle of EDSA, northbound side, right in front of Megamall. Of course I would say that I don't think it was my fault, I was in the correct lane when this Nissan Adventure suddenly swerved right in front of me. Result: the signal light popped out and there's a nasty bump in Johnny's side.

Poor Johnny

At least now I know what it's like to be in an accident. I can empathize with people I pass on highways, obstructing traffic while standing around looking like clueless chumps trying to figure things out. I'm actually a little proud I didn't panic. I was very calm while talking to the folks in the other vehicle and the MMDA guy, but I let them know that I was more than a little pissed (it helps to put them on the defensive). In the end we decided to just let it go. It was a different scene inside the car when I drove off though: I was screaming my lungs out and cursing like a neighborhood tambay to no one in particular. That must've helped; an officemate I spoke to on the elevator in my building said she was surprised I wasn't in a foul mood after such a lousy start to my week. Well I don't think there's much else to do other than charge this one to experience.

History's Voice

2007-02-13T15:59:00.000+08:00

The first time I saw an ad for The History Boys in the papers, I knew I had to see it. Yeah, I'm a sucker for coming-of-age movies. God knows how many times I've seen the films of John Hughes and Cameron Crowe, and almost all of the films I could get my hands on that fall under this category - from Mike Nichols' "The Graduate" to Doug Liman's "Go" and Gus Van Sant's "Good Will Hunting." And no matter how many times cable TV channels show "Dead Poets Society," (and even though I already have the DVD), I'd still be right there crashing on the couch to see it, (and I'd still be welling up at the end when Todd Anderson timidly rises up and stands on his desk, callling out "O Captain, My Captain" to Mr Keating).

I don't know about other people, but I always get that rush of excitement and anticipation when I hear about a movie that fits into my template of "must-see." That could mean it stars a favorite actor (Ethan Hawke or John Cusack) or a favorite writer and/or director is behind it (Cameron Crowe, Curtis Hanson, David Fincher or Darren Aronofsky). In the case of "The History Boys," it's the coming-of-age theme. I'd think twice about shelling out P120 for a Jerry Bruckheimer explode-a-thon, but that seems like pittance for a movie with genuine humor, relatable characters and a thoughtful narrative. This film has all of those.

Originally a play written by Alan Bennett and staged in England under the direction of Nicholas Hytner, "The History Boys" is set in 1980's Britain and tells the story of a group of lads being groomed for the big-time - that is, acceptance to the elite universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Their headmaster hires a sassy and somewhat acerbic new tutor named Irwin to complement the lectures of their established General Studies professor, Hector. Both teachers have very distinct styles of imparting knowledge upon their impressionable wards; one an advocate of constructive and creative thinking and the other, more freewheeling and spontaneous in his methods. Add to the mix a world-weary history teacher, Mrs Lintott, and you've got the recipe for a rambunctious, hysterical, and ultimately touching film about the complexities of growing up and moving on. I don't want this entry to sound like a review (well, not a proper one anyway) so I won't bore everyone with the details of what's good and what's bad about the movie. I will say this though: you know your ticket was worth it if you're still thinking about the movie long after you've left the theater.

Some choice quotes:

Mrs. Lintott: And you, Rudge? How do you define history?
Rudge: Can I speak freely without being hit?
Mrs. Lintott: You have my protection.
Rudge: How do I define history? Well it's just one fucking thing after another, isn't it?

Headmaster: There's a vacancy in history.
Irwin: [Thoughtfully] That's very true.
Headmaster: In the school.
Irwin: Ah.

Timms: You've got crap handwriting, sir!
Irwin: It's your eyesight that's bad, and we know what that's caused by.
Timms: Sir! Is that a coded reference to the mythical dangers of self-abuse?
Irwin: Possibly. It might even be a joke.
Timms: A joke, sir. Oh. Are jokes going to be a feature, sir? We need to know as it affects our mindset.

[Timms is trying to duck out of Athletics] Games teacher: What's your excuse?
Timms: I've got a sick note, sir.
Games teacher: I don't *do* sick notes! Get your clothes off! Did Jesus Christ say, "Please may I be excused the Crucifixion?"
Scripps: Uh, I think he *did* actually, Sir...

Mrs. Lintott: Actually I wouldn't have said he was sad. I would have said he was cunt-struck. Hector: Dorothy!
Mrs. Lintott: I'd have thought you'd have liked that. It's a compound adjective. You like compound adjectives.

This one is so true...
Hector: The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. And now, here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.

Definitely one of the better films of 2006. Thank god the folks at Ayala decided to show this one here. Otherwise I'd be scouring the seedy stalls of MCS and Metrowalk by now looking for it.

Retrospective and Resurgence

2007-01-19T17:00:00.000+08:00

It's a little late, but I wanted to come up with my own list of favorite songs of 2006. It was a good year for music, methinks, and not just because Mayer came up with the amazing album Continuum. Gnarls Barkley (undoubtedly the breakout artist of the year) were right, last year was definitely "Crazy."

A quick note before I get to the list: there were quite a few previously disbanded groups announcing that they were getting back together. All Saints were the first, and before the year ended, they released their comeback album, Studio 1. Pretty soon, we heard news that Take That, The Smashing Pumpkins, Blind Melon and The Afghan Whigs were all reuniting and coming out with new material. Good news, if you ask me (yeah, that includes Take That, I have their Best of album..) But the one that definitely got me excited the most was news that The Lemonheads were recording a new album. Evan Dando was quoted before as saying that the band was kaput, but he obviously ate his words. Already saw the album in record bars and I can't wait to get a copy.

The Lemonheads

And now on to the list. There's really just one requirement for a song to be included here - constant repeats on my player. (In the case of the OnL songs, constant badgering for the band to play these songs on their gigs).

1. Trains to Brazil - Guillemots
2. Waiting on the World To Change - John Mayer
3. Heart of Life - John Mayer
4. Over My Head - The Fray
5. You Give Me Something - James Morrison
6. You Probably Couldn't See for the Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me - Arctic Monkeys
7. Mardy Bum - Arctic Monkeys
8. Put Your Records On - Corinne Bailey Rae
9. Oo - UpDharmaDown
10. Let Me - Orange and Lemons
11. Eleven Minutes - Orange and Lemons
12. Much Has Been Said - Bamboo
13. Sexy Back - Justin Timberlake
14. Forever Young - Youth Group
15. Hide and Seek - Imogen Heap

We're now past the middle of the decade, and if previous decades are anything to go by, we're enjoying music now that will define the musical leanings of the first part of the new millennium. So far, I like what I'm hearing.

Caleruega Road Trip

2006-12-28T15:52:00.000+08:00

Ever since I first saw an internet photo of the chapel in Caleruega in Batangas, I've always had this fantasy of driving up there and seeing it for myself. I almost had that chance a couple of years ago when a friend and former colleague, Pia Arcangel, got married there. Unfortunately though, I couldn't make it to the wedding. I don't know if it was because I was so enamored by how pretty the place looked in that photo or if I was influenced by the wonderful stories of how gorgeous the place really is from the people who've been there, but for some reason, the desire to see Caleruega so consumed me that I vowed it would be one of the first places I would go to when I get my own car. (It actually became an agreement of sorts I had with The Man Upstairs).

Tuesday, December 26, I finally mustered the courage to drive up there on my own. My family wanted to come with me but I told them it was something I needed to do by mself. (Besides, we already spent Christmas in Tagaytay, going to see the mini zoo at Residence Inn and going hiking at Picnic Grove. Both places were packed; I do not recommend going there to spend a quiet Christmas with your family). Tagaytay is less than an hour away from where we live in Cavite. I left our house at about 10am and, with quick stopovers for gas and asking for directions, finally got to Caleruega at a little past 12nn (okay, so I'm a slow driver, give me a break, I've only been driving a couple of weeks).

A wedding had just finished when I parked quite a ways off from the church. Some guy even came up to me and asked if I already knew the directions to the reception! (I should've just went along with it, could've gotten a free meal...) After paying an entrance fee of P20, I discovered Caleruega is every bit as beautiful as they say it is. The chapel itself is tiny, I'm guessing only about a hundred people can sit comfortably inside. The brick facade, I found out later, is a reproduction of the original chapel in Caleruega, Spain. The area around it is filled with just the right kinds of plants and flowers, almost making it seem too picturesque and perfect to be real. Almost.

Inside, the majestic stained glass altar is a sight to behold, especially with the noontime sun behind it. (Too bad my lousy camera phone couldn't do justice to it).

The scenery outside is just as spectacular. Miles and miles of lush greens and rolling hills, and Taal Lake off to one side in the distance.

Not surprisingly, I'm not the only one bewitched by this place; scores of couples, apparently looking for (and finding) the perfect place to get married, were also walking around the property. Apart from the chapel, Caleruega is also a retreat house and its facilities can also be used for workshops and seminars.

On my way back, I passed another quaint chapel just a few minutes away from Caleruega. The open-air and circular-shaped Chapel on the Hill, as it is called, is just as interesting and almost as beautiful, where one can breathe in fresh mountain air and take in the awesome view of miles and miles of green hills. Too bad I wasn't able to take pictures. A quick stop here if you're going to or coming back from Caleruega wouldn't hurt.

Now I can finally scratch that off my list of must-do's and must go-to's. I'm already looking forward to the next road trip...

Rockstar dreams fulfilled...somewhat

2006-12-19T12:21:00.000+08:00

So that's what it's like to be a rockstar

A couple of weeks ago found me up onstage with a microphone in front of me at Mag:Net Katipunan, one of the steady hangouts of budding artists and musicians. But, instead of bursting out into song, I had the pleasure of reading aloud a poem and an excerpt of a short story I wrote. Yeah yeah, not very rock star-ish, I know, but it was close enough. It was the culmination of the four-week "hanging out" writing class I attended facilitated by Sir Krip Yuson. Alongside the "hanging out" songwriting class under Cynthia Alexander, we were asked to read our works aloud in front of a good-size audience.

Rock star mode

With "classmates" Caroline Howard and Timi Nubla and "prof" Sir Krip Yuson after the reading

Mag:Net is offering the same hanging out classes next month, I think. I might sign-up again. I highly recommend others do so too. There are worse ways to spend Saturday afternoons than "hanging out" with writers, songwriters, musicans and other artists. I think they added a scriptwriting workshop conducted by Ricky Lee.

And in the interest of providing my readers (yes, all four of you) with a semblance of what I learned in class (and on the off chance the person I wrote it for will get to read it) here's the poem I read during our, er, "graduation." (Keep in mind that I consider myself more of a prose guy. I'm a bit uncomfortable writing poetry, and I'm the first to dismiss lovey-dovey poems on longing and heartbreak, but this one practically wrote itself. Plus if Sir Krip thought it was good enough to be heard by a roomful of complete strangers, then who am I to judge?)

Jill

The sheets are crumpled and restless
the pillows downcast and forlorn.
The journal I keep on the nightstand table
Is tear-smudged, exhausted and torn.

I wish I could turn you off
as easily as the lightswitch
near my bed
because then
I won't have to worry
about going to sleep
and seeing you in my head
almost in a hurry
without my consent

Throwing punches underwater
casting nets in a fishless sea
I dread the thought of sleep tonight
When I see only you, not me.

Highlands High

2006-12-06T15:50:00.000+08:00

The closest I have ever come to playing golf was practicing my swing with a kiddie club set in my cousin's house in Japan when I was 11 or 12 years old. Last weekend though, I found myself on the fairways of the Tagaytay Highlands, trying not to make a complete fool of myself in front of some Aussie friends from work. It was really like a being a fish out of water, with me bravely trying to swing a 3-iron so it would at least hit the ball further than a few feet away. (You know you're not really doing well when even the girl caddy who looks like she's barely out of her teens is giving you golfing tips).

My caddy Jhen-Jhen (yes, those 'h's are really there) took this shot

At the end of the day though, it was exhilarating just to be there, breathing in fresh, honest-to-goodness mountain air instead of noxious, asphyxiating black soot from Metro Manila's streets. For a change, it was relaxing to see greens all around as far as the eye can see, and the Taal lake and volcano in the distance, instead of the concrete and asphalt jungle of Makati.

The third hole (I think)

By the 11th or 12th hole, we were a bit exhausted. Our caddies though were as cheerful as ever.

Driving the golf carts was fun!

View from our unit. That's Taal lake in the distance

The Tagaytay Midlands course is about several hundred feet straight down from our balcony

I don't even know how I scored (at least I got a two-over-par on the 17th hole, I think), but my Aussie mates think I actually got better with each hole we played. If that's the case, golf is definitely something I'd like to try again. Anybody out there with a club membership?

This Writing Business

2006-11-30T18:28:00.000+08:00

Partly fueled by my need to engage in more "creative" pursuits, and partly because I've got a lot of free time these days, I've been taking a weekly informal creative writing course under the tutelage of the esteemed writer Mr. Alfred "Krip" Yuson over the past month. I saw the ad for what they referred to as "Hanging Out" classes in the one of the broadsheets and didn't think twice about signing up. There are also classes taught by Ces Drilon (TV Newswriting), Cynthia Alexander (Songwriting) and a couple of others, all of them held at Mag:Net Cafe in Katipunan. Our group meets every Saturday at 4pm, except the last two sessions which were held during weekdays because of Sir Krip's busy schedule. There are only about six or seven of us "students" in the group and I gotta say I've learned a lot just by "hanging out" with Sir Krip. At first, it was daunting, even scary, to have my work criticized by such a giant in Philippine literature (can you say Palanca Hall of Fame?), but I couldn't pass up the chance of having him pass judgment on my writing. Of course, there was the risk that he could tear my heart out by telling me I actually suck, but I knew that if he so much as gives me a hint that I CAN write, then that would REALLY be something.

Sir Krip always tells us to add layer and meaning to everything we write; it doesn't have to be deep and life-changing, but our work should SAY something more than what we originally intended. Mostly we discussed poetry, as most of my classmates are apparently into it (I consider myself more of a prose man). For Sir Krip, the basic rule of poetry is to never directly state something in the poem; find a way to say it more eloquently, work around the concept of whatever it is that's on your mind and how you feel, and toy with words that conjure images and meaning, symbols and representations. Almost anyone can write a poem about love and heartbreak, of loss and despair, of hopes and fears. What separates the poetic from the pathetic is a mastery of the language, the ability to choose words that are not only appropriate but symbolic as well. A good poem, at least for him, should give readers an image upon which to draw emotion or feel empathy with the author, making them understand somehow what the poet is trying to say.

I myself am not much of a poet. Like I said, prose is more my thing. The idea for the short story I submitted to Sir Krip is something that's been stuck in my head since mid-2002. It was inspired by an article I read online. I finally got around to writing it early last year and, working on it off and on, finished it a few months later. It wasn't until recently though that I let anybody read it. I've gotten really positive feedback, but then, that was sort of expected - not because I'm conceited enough to think I'm actually that good, but because the people I showed it to were all good friends and colleagues. Even if they told me it was really good I had to find out what a distanced, impartial critic thought about it. And I don't know anyone more distanced and impartial (not to metion more competent) than Krip Yuson! He is the first complete stranger I gave my short story to. Talk about pressure.

I am proud to say though, that he thought I did good. Hearing an accomplished writer like him tell me that he thought I could definitely write is exhilarating, to say the least. He had some comments about my story, but overall, with a few minor adjustments, he thought it was good enough to be published. Published! That just about did it for me. I am definitely more committed now about this writing business, moreso because, in addition to familiar people telling me I've got what it takes, a respected and award-winning writer now actually thinks so, too. Words fail me. (Wait...that can't be good.)

Lazy Sunday

2006-11-24T12:21:00.000+08:00

I don't claim to have invented the phrase "lazy Sunday," but for the record, I've been using it even before I knew about the Calvin and Hobbes full-color comics collection that bears the same title. In my case, I've always had a fondness for so-called lazy Sunday afternoons. I'm sure many people have them; those days when you don't feel like doing anything particularly productive, and you just sit around the house or take a relaxing walk and savor the life that you have now and everything and everyone that's in it. The trick is to not be involved in anything that would tax the mind and body (like worry about work the next day or the fact that you haven't started on your Christmas shopping yet). Some people go on trips, mostly with their families, perhaps to the mall or a picnic outside the city. I wouldn't consider those spending a "lazy Sunday" simply because they're not exactly being "lazy."

When I find myself alone in the house on lazy Sundays, I like to put on some music, or watch mind-numbing TV or DVDs. (The soundtrack to Reality Bites or maybe Matt Costa, Donavon Frankenreiter, Jamie Cullum or Rooney always puts me into lazy Sunday mode). A strategic position to be in is on the couch by the door, where, on a good day, I can usually see the afternoon sun showering everything in brilliant gold, including the uniformed ice cream man and his wheeled mini-cart, kids playing ball in front of our gate and the neighborhood tambays parked on their usual spot in front of the sari-sari store. Sometimes there would be the occasional salesman plying his wares: perpetual "special offers" on laundry detergent, plastic "tabos" and "batyas" and even whole living room "dividers" made of steel or wood. (I sometimes wonder how they can lug those things around, and if anybody ever actually, quite literally, gets those things off their backs).

When I'm not busy looking out into the world outside our house, I turn on the TV and lose myself in all the dreck it has to offer. I can usually count on HBO and Star Movies to provide at least a couple of hours worth of mindless time-killers; if not, there's always the re-broadcast of the latest episode of Conan or (if I'm really desperate) Leno, as well as series like CSI, Grey's Anatomy and Ed. And if I still don't find anything good enough to stare at for the next hour or so, there's always our DVD collection, which by now has gotten pretty *ahem* extensive. Currently I'm watching the first season of Huff.

Sunday afternoon is also the best time to curl up in bed with a good book. It's been a while since I did that though; I think the last was a re-read of "A Good Year" by Peter Mayle a few weeks ago, in anticipation of the upcoming movie release. I also leaf through a copy of "1,000 Places to See Before You Die," a gift from Ayen, which sometimes depresses me because it only makes me aware of all the places in the world I might never get the chance to see before I die.

I get pretty busy during the week, with work and after-work, er, "extra-curriculars." It's pretty cool sometimes to wake up Sunday mornings with absolutely nothing planned and just cruise along and let things happen without my active participation in anything. But then when 6pm rolls around or the moment the shadows lengthen enough to take over everything in sight, I can't help but feel slightly queasy; another day gone and only Monday and the rest of the working week to look forward to. Sigh.

Boredom Is Its Own Reward

2006-11-03T16:24:00.000+08:00

10 years ago: Hmm...1996...I was sixteen and a college sophomore, I had just shifted to the CMC from CAL...this time then I was probably in a Humanities or Comm class in AS, then racing off to the gym for PE, (or was that the pool for a skin diving class?). Or maybe I was hanging out at AS 101...
5 years ago: 2001...I'm 99% sure I was at the desk in GMA, taking somebody's summary or something... Or was I on graveyard duty and if so, was probably asleep at this time.
1 year ago: My Southeast Asian journey. I had just gotten into Bangkok, surviving an almost 48-hour train ride from Singapore. I think I took a quick nap before meeting up with a friend and hitting the bars at Khao San road...
Yesterday: Right here in the office. Saw Marie Antoinette with a friend in Glorietta, and Johnoy at Capone's later in the evening.
Today: Still in the office, pretending to work (hope my boss doesn't see this). Just got back from a two-hour seminar.
Tomorrow: Saturday! Most probably going to Divisoria for some early Xmas shopping. A class at 4pm. And dinner with some friends hosted by an acquaintance we made in Cebu.
5 snacks I enjoy: Tortillos, french fries, V-Cut, banana-q, that lugaw thing with burnt monggo beans
5 bands/artists that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: John Mayer, Howie Day...I can't say I know the lyrics to most of their songs, but I really like Oasis, Arctic Monkeys and The Perishers
5 things I would do with $100,000,000: Try to count it, put it in a bank, think about it, probably invest it, and definitely spend it (on something)
5 locations I'd like to run away to: The south of France, Boracay, Baguio, Italy, Peru
5 bad habits I have: Cursing at no one and at odd hours, gnash my teeth when I'm asleep, mistake kindness for affection, constantly try to please people, be a masochistic idiot
5 things I like doing: Listen to music, hang out with friends old and new, play with my nephew and niece, read, sleep
5 things I would never wear: Denim shorts, baggy pants, one of those outdated perfumes (along the lines of Poison or Drakkar Noir), shirts with the swastika or image of Che Guevarra or some such pop culture icon I don't really know and whose principles and ideals I am not familiar with and therefore cannot claim to support or advocate, and pink shoes.
5 TV shows I like: The Practice, Friends, The Amazing Race, 24, Prison Break
5 Movies I like: Dead Poets Society, Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, Reality Bites, The Breakfast Club
5 famous people I'd like to meet: John Mayer, Jimmy Carter, Chris Carabba, JD Salinger, Greg Latterman (of Aware Records)
5 biggest joys at the moment: Playing with my nephew and niece, the anticipation of finally getting that thing that i want (which is probably better than actually having it, I think), getting mushy messages from friends, watching good live music in seedy bars, DVD marathons on lazy Sunday afternoons while pigging out on junk food
5 favorite toys: classic Nintendo video game (Mario 3!!!), Gameboy, that four-piece yellow puzzle game, board games like Clue and Pictionary, Jeopardy on PS and PS2

In Memoriam

2006-10-22T18:04:00.000+08:00

Reporter. Journalist. Friend.

I didn't cry when I found out Dan Campilan had been killed in a car crash just a few hours after we saw each other. My housemate woke me up to break the news; I was shocked beyond comprehension, yes, but no tears fell from my eyes. I still found it hard to believe that someone I had just been with for dinner and coffee can be...gone, just like that. I called up the other people we were with and they confirmed what I hoped was just a really, really bad joke. I sat on my bed for a full hour going over in my mind the events of the previous night. He couldn't possibly be dead, I thought; we had just kidded him about his less-than-stellar driving skills the night before. There was no way he was involved in that crash.

I didn't cry when, a few hours after the crash, I saw for myself his lifeless body down in the basement of the funeral home, the embalmer fussing over him,
getting him ready to face his final audience. There was a lump in my throat at the sight of him lying there, his face unrecognizable because of the injuries
he sustained in the crash. Even then I still couldn’t believe this was my friend we all good-naturedly kept teasing about his Bisaya accent and corny jokes that
were so often off-the-mark. And yet, even then, the tears didn’t come.

No, I didn’t cry during the four days we mourned at Funeraria Nacional. I heard from his closest friends, co-workers and family during the two necrological services we organized for him, and listened to unending anecdotes about people’s encounters with him. There was a tremendous outpouring of love for him; practically identical testimonials from the people closest to him of his kindness, generosity and dedication to his family. But except for a few sniffles during mass, I still didn’t cry. I thought that was a bit strange. Dan and I weren’t what I would call close, but I would’ve thought I would feel emotional enough about his death to warrant a tear or two. Heck, I cried when the Pope died, and I didn’t even know him.

I flew to Cebu with common friends to attend his funeral. That was the least I could do for him, I thought; to say goodbye one final time to a person I was only starting to get to know. When the time came to transfer the casket from the chapel to the Church for the funeral mass, I found myself becoming an instant pallbearer. It was surreal – the image of myself carrying a friend in a casket to take him to
his grave. I started thinking about the good memories I had with Dan – the endless laughs we shared with our other friends at a coffee shop a just couple of weeks
before the crash, when we all found out a very special secret about one of us; the trips to Tagaytay, where we had dinner and wine and more laughs (often at other
people’s expense); his easygoing and carefree demeanor that masked the difficulties he had to endure (and was still enduring) to help his family in Cebu. And on and on and on. And it was then, right after I helped placed his casket inside the funeral
vehicle, the tears finally came. And boy did they come.

All throughout the mass, while we were marching from the church to the funeral and then right at the gravesite itself, as he was being lowered to his final resting place, it was like the floodgates had been opened and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I was bawling my eyes out, unashamedly, along with almost everyone else there that day. I had never really lost anyone significant in my life since I was a kid, and if my emotions at Dan’s funeral are any indication, I’m probably going to lose it if and when that happens. I am scared out of my mind. So much for my self-perceived cynicism.

If we are going to judge purely by socio-economic indicators, Dan lived an unfortunate life. I’d like to think though that Dan is a very, very lucky guy. To the very end, he was surrounded by people who cared about him, who knew who he was and loved him for it. The song goes that people get what they give; the people who knew him best gave Dan the love and respect he so richly deserved, but Dan gave so much more of himself to his friends and family. How many of us can say that about ourselves? We should all be so lucky if we get even half of that amount of love when we leave this earth.

Thank you for the memories Dan. We will miss you.

Dan in Wikipedia
Dan's profile on the GMA 7 website