Tagged by the guy who doesn't smoke joints (or runs a joint where smoking is strictly prohibited). Wasn't keen on doing the post at first (you could say I was indifferent to it. hehe), but what the hell.
But first, the rules:
1. list eight (8) things/facts about yourself that people don't know (why 8? why not 9? i don't know, why not 10?---so, 8 it is)
2. then tag anybody you wish to tag (can be a friend or a relative or someone who has a blog; or wastes time maintaining one)
3. leave a comment on his/her blog telling them they're tagged (it's not mandatory, but do it anyway)
4. have them post the meme on their blogs and do the same thing (it's a simple instruction, don't you think?).
5. remember, there is no pressure. we're just keeping the cycle running.
Here goes:
1. I watched Sharon Cuneta in concert. Hey, I was a kid, seven years old, I think. This was waaaayyy back in 1984 or 1985 when our family lived in Las Pinas but I had to stay during the weekdays with our relatives in San Juan since I went to school there. They were complimentary tickets and most of the people in my grandma's house went to the concert. And since I didn't want to be left alone in the house, I had to come along.
2. I experienced a bomb scare. It was in 1986 and me and my parents were doing our Christmas shopping in SM Cubao. We were in one of the upper levels, shopping for shoes when someone shouted there was a bomb and people started running to one side of the building. Me and my parents of course ran along. We found ourselves huddled with the rest of them, waiting for the big kaboom that will send us to our big sleep. Or maim us, at least. No bomb exploded.
From what I can remember, someone from the upper levels saw some people in one of the lower floors running for some reason. Turns out Gary V. (or some other celebrity) was shopping there and people rushed to him for autographs or whatever. Some idiot thought there was a bomb (for I can faintly remember that there were some bombings in the Metro during that season) and saw it fit to alert the rest. Or some idiot got his kicks from seeing mass panic and shouted “bomb!”
3. I watched an episode of Kuya Germs' GMA Supershow live at the Broadway studios. Kindly refer to item number one, only a couple of years later. Moving on...
4. I drank my first shot of alcoholic beverage at age 14. My father's Rotary club was hosting a delegation of their sister club from Taipei. They took the guests to Subic (this was a year or so after the Americans left) for an overnight stay. Dinner was at a Chinese restaurant and the Taiwanese guys kampai'd everyone to their favorite rice wine. No exceptions. The old guys tried to intervene when it was my turn to take a shot, saying that I was underaged. The Taiwanese guys said that rice wine is okay for my age. After getting the okay from my parents, I took the shot of rice wine. I caught a whiff of it and it smelled like our local patis. I poured the wine into my mouth and it tasted like our local patis. The salty liquid quickly turned into an accelerant, forcing me to gulp it down, trailing fire down my throat. I downed a glass of ice cold Coke afterwards.
5. The first time I encountered wasabi, it almost burned my face off. Or at least it felt like it. It was in Taipei, some months after the rice wine incident. (Needless to say, bottles and bottles of rice wine were downed during that trip.) We were at a formal dinner; suit and tie stuff. Appetizers were served, some kind of raw fish, soy sauce for dipping and a small saucer of green paste. I saw someone in another table put some of the green stuff into the soy sauce, and-- monkey see, monkey do--so did I. I dipped a piece of fish and eagerly put it in my mouth. I think my face went red instantly. But instead of swallowing, I held it in my mouth. I hesitated spitting it out because, come on, I was in a formal dinner! To make things worse, drinks haven’t been served. Not even water. I stood up and headed for the restroom where I spat the vile thing into the toilet and flushed it away. I then rushed to the faucet to rinse away the burning in my mouth. I was there for quite a while.
6. I am wary of open doors. I dunno why. Natural paranoia, perhaps?
7. I used to have delusions of being a comics artist. I used to draw a lot. It was spurred on by seeing and admiring the works of superstar comics artists Jim Lee and Whilce Portacio during their X-Men days. I wanted to be like them so I practiced drawing, starting out with copying comics art line for line. When the time came, I took entrance exams to a couple of fine arts schools but failed them both. That didn’t stop me, though, and I still kept on drawing. Even bought Burne Hogarth’s Dynamic Anatomy on a trip to Canada. The drive to draw eventually tapered off sometime during college. That was when I began having delusions of being a writer, I suppose, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.
8. I love walking. I think I started appreciating walking towards a destination instead of taking a car or commuting when I lived in Cubao where every place I want to go to seemed to be within walking distance. With walking, I can take my time, take everything at my own pace. I get to really see a place, a street, or a neighborhood instead of just catching glimpses of it as the vehicle I’m in speeds along (or not, if I’m stuck in traffic). There are obvious downsides, of course, like letting my lungs wallow in the city’s pollution or the risk of getting mugged. The former is inevitable while the latter, thankfully, has never happened to me.
Whew. As for who to tag, um... anyone who comes across this blog and would like to try this meme. (Not that anyone really reads this blog...)
Monday, July 16, 2007
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Japaholic
Eiga Sai's here. It's usually held during the first quarter of the year that when said first quarter went pfft and no announcement regarding the filmfest has been made, I thought it was discontinued. Glad I'm wrong. Contemporary Japanese films are the focus once again and aside from Takashi Miike, I'm not really familiar with a lot of the films and directors.
And Miike's film in the festival--Shangri-La--is a bit odd. Miike usually deals in ultraviolence and perversity (sample Audition and Ichi the Killer, if you can stomach the grisly violence) and from what I've read, Shangri-la is a feel good movie. Then again, it's a revenge film and calling it a "feel-good film" could be a relative way of looking at it.
As for the other films, Blue Spring sounds interesting and according to film critic Noel Vera, Harmful Insect is good.
Check out the Eiga Sai page for sked info and film synopsis. And as usual, admission is free.
And Miike's film in the festival--Shangri-La--is a bit odd. Miike usually deals in ultraviolence and perversity (sample Audition and Ichi the Killer, if you can stomach the grisly violence) and from what I've read, Shangri-la is a feel good movie. Then again, it's a revenge film and calling it a "feel-good film" could be a relative way of looking at it.
As for the other films, Blue Spring sounds interesting and according to film critic Noel Vera, Harmful Insect is good.
Check out the Eiga Sai page for sked info and film synopsis. And as usual, admission is free.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
Dancing Over to the Dark Side
Saw Spider-Man 3. Well, for one thing, it escaped falling prey to the Curse of the Three. Think of every 3rd film in almost every Hollywood film franchise and you'll get a sense of what the curse is all about. Think of Return of the Jedi, think of X3, Batman Forever, Blade 3, Fantastic Four. Oh, wait. That was just its first movie. Most third films range from being huge letdowns (Return of the Jedi) to just plain bad (Blade 3).
I was a bit apprehensive when I heard about the influx of new characters (Gwen Stacy, Sandman, Eddie Brock/Venom) and since it appears that Spidey will be fighting not just one, not just two, but three villains (include Norman Osborn, the New Goblin) I was expecting it to devolve into a mess.
Raimi proved me wrong. He was able to pull it off. It came out pretty good, although not as good as the second film and it's bit better than the first one. Peter's succumbing to the dark side was handled pretty well. It stumbles a bit when it comes to focusing on the villains, a downside when a superhero flick has too many villains. I still feel that it should've been split into two films. The Sandman could've carried the entire film without Venom. They could've introduced the symbiote costume in this one and saved the Venom stuff for the next one. But since Raimi's still undecided if he'll return for the fourth Spidey film, I guess he was forced to include Venom in this one. (I remember reading somewhere that Raimi was considering using another villain but Avi Arad, the movie's executive producer told him to listen to the fans and use Venom. Raimi's not exactly a Venom fan, but, well, I guess he found a way to pencil him in. And imagine a full Spidey film where Venom's the big bad. It'll be something like Raimi returning to his Evil Dead roots. And instead of Topher Grace, Bruce Campbell as Eddie Brock! )
Anyway, the cast did pretty well as expected, although Thomas Hayden Church was underused and spent most of his time as a cool special effect. Topher Grace could've done better. And Bryce Dallas Howard's Gwen Stacy looked like a John Romita drawing brought to life. High marks go to regular scene stealers J.K. Simmons as J. Jonah Jameson and the aforementioned Campbell (Raimi's ubermensch, appearing this time as a "French" waiter in a French restaurant).
The action set pieces one-upped the ones in the previous film, from the first encounter between the New Goblin and spidey to the final Marvel Team-Up-style fight.
And I just have to wonder, with all the dancing Peter did in this one, was it a nod to the dancing Spidey icon that spread through the net a few years ago?
I was a bit apprehensive when I heard about the influx of new characters (Gwen Stacy, Sandman, Eddie Brock/Venom) and since it appears that Spidey will be fighting not just one, not just two, but three villains (include Norman Osborn, the New Goblin) I was expecting it to devolve into a mess.
Raimi proved me wrong. He was able to pull it off. It came out pretty good, although not as good as the second film and it's bit better than the first one. Peter's succumbing to the dark side was handled pretty well. It stumbles a bit when it comes to focusing on the villains, a downside when a superhero flick has too many villains. I still feel that it should've been split into two films. The Sandman could've carried the entire film without Venom. They could've introduced the symbiote costume in this one and saved the Venom stuff for the next one. But since Raimi's still undecided if he'll return for the fourth Spidey film, I guess he was forced to include Venom in this one. (I remember reading somewhere that Raimi was considering using another villain but Avi Arad, the movie's executive producer told him to listen to the fans and use Venom. Raimi's not exactly a Venom fan, but, well, I guess he found a way to pencil him in. And imagine a full Spidey film where Venom's the big bad. It'll be something like Raimi returning to his Evil Dead roots. And instead of Topher Grace, Bruce Campbell as Eddie Brock! )
Anyway, the cast did pretty well as expected, although Thomas Hayden Church was underused and spent most of his time as a cool special effect. Topher Grace could've done better. And Bryce Dallas Howard's Gwen Stacy looked like a John Romita drawing brought to life. High marks go to regular scene stealers J.K. Simmons as J. Jonah Jameson and the aforementioned Campbell (Raimi's ubermensch, appearing this time as a "French" waiter in a French restaurant).
The action set pieces one-upped the ones in the previous film, from the first encounter between the New Goblin and spidey to the final Marvel Team-Up-style fight.
And I just have to wonder, with all the dancing Peter did in this one, was it a nod to the dancing Spidey icon that spread through the net a few years ago?
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Debutante Muse
I also think that when she is already in her twilight years, her grandchildren will find Lola Maria Elizabeth sitting on a rocking chair, watching a telenovela on TV… and sniffing a cotton blanket.
Before she retires to a rocking chair, sniffing her blanket, she'll have to go through this whole debutante ball/gala thing first, with her family and relatives and friends along for the ride.
Crunch time approaching and I had to write an introduction for my sister (excerpt above), the debutante. And then I had to go to an actual recording studio to narrate the damn thing, which will be played while she enters the venue. I'm not exactly enamored of my voice (although quite a number of the opposite sex I've known over the years liked the sound of it (heh)) but it was really weird listening to a voice come out of the speakers that you acknowledge is yours but at the same time can't believe is yours. I think it's the aural equivalent of seeing your face through another's eyes.
Anyway, I'm not exactly thrilled doing the recording much less broadcasting my voice to a couple hundred pairs of unsuspecting ears this Saturday, but hey, it's for my not-so-little sister.
Not only is May 10th my sister's birth date (happy birthday Cha), today's also the day Andres Bonifacio and his brother Procopio were executed by men loyal to the traitor Aguinaldo.
Before she retires to a rocking chair, sniffing her blanket, she'll have to go through this whole debutante ball/gala thing first, with her family and relatives and friends along for the ride.
Crunch time approaching and I had to write an introduction for my sister (excerpt above), the debutante. And then I had to go to an actual recording studio to narrate the damn thing, which will be played while she enters the venue. I'm not exactly enamored of my voice (although quite a number of the opposite sex I've known over the years liked the sound of it (heh)) but it was really weird listening to a voice come out of the speakers that you acknowledge is yours but at the same time can't believe is yours. I think it's the aural equivalent of seeing your face through another's eyes.
Anyway, I'm not exactly thrilled doing the recording much less broadcasting my voice to a couple hundred pairs of unsuspecting ears this Saturday, but hey, it's for my not-so-little sister.
Not only is May 10th my sister's birth date (happy birthday Cha), today's also the day Andres Bonifacio and his brother Procopio were executed by men loyal to the traitor Aguinaldo.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Smash Club
Read in this week's Time that Edward Norton will play Bruce Banner in the next Hulk film. Such a no-brainer since Norton has played Banner-esque roles before. He'll be sort of reprising his role in Fight Club, only this time he'll have a CGI green giant for an alter ego instead of Brad Pitt.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Boredom for Hire
Bored. Came across this test.
I'll be Shang-Chi, Master of Kung Fu, preferably drawn by Paul Gulacy.
Heroes for Hire 65% organization, 47% responsibility |
You're a Hero for Hire! You're relatively moral, but that doesn't always pay the bills. You and your fellow bounty hunters have had some shady pasts, but have put them behind you. The jobs you go for vary, from hunting down non-registered capes to breaking up local crime rings, but if the price is right and the deed makes the world a better place, your employer can always count on you. Famous Members include: Black Cat, Deadpool, Iron Fist, and Misty Knight. |
 |
My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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| Link: The Marvel Hero Faction Test written by SpaceCowboyRemy on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
I'll be Shang-Chi, Master of Kung Fu, preferably drawn by Paul Gulacy.
Friday, April 13, 2007
R.I.P.: Kurt Vonnegut
"NEW YORK (AP) - Kurt Vonnegut, the satirical novelist who captured the absurdity of war and questioned the advances of science in darkly humorous works such as ``Slaughterhouse-Five'' and ``Cat's Cradle,'' died Wednesday. He was 84.
Vonnegut, who often marveled that he had lived so long despite his lifelong smoking habit, had suffered brain injuries after a fall at his Manhattan home weeks ago, said his wife, photographer Jill Krementz."
So it goes.
Monday, August 07, 2006
On Explosions
"When I stepped inside, I found the room filled with the smell that was quite similar to the smell of dried squid when it has been grilled. The smell was quite strong. It's a sad reality that the smell human beings produce when they are burned is the same as that of the dried squid when it is grilled. The squid - we like so much to eat. " - Mr. Hiroshi Sawachika, Hiroshima survivor
August 6th, the 61st anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
Thirty four years later on the same date, Etchie was born, a product of a decidedly different kind of explosion. Happy birthday, p're! Kailan ang inuman?
August 6th, the 61st anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
Thirty four years later on the same date, Etchie was born, a product of a decidedly different kind of explosion. Happy birthday, p're! Kailan ang inuman?
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Vignette: Pieces
Playing chess frightened her. She knew Matt relished this fact as he cracked open the chessboard and started arranging the pieces.
She watched Matt carefully pick up each chess piece between thumb and forefinger and set it down carefully—maybe even reverently—on its designated square. She noticed that his right thumbnail is irregularly shaped owing to his habit of chewing on it while playing his favorite game. The rest of his fingernails badly needed a trim and she made a mental note to remind him about it. After the game, maybe. After he’s won.
He smiled a nicotine-stained smile as he paced around the table, crouching towards the board and squinting at the pieces every now and then, making sure they are looking straight across the board at the opposing army. He used a long, bony finger to gently nudge a white knight to the center of its square. He then made one last slow circuit around the table, a general reviewing his troops before the battle. Satisfied, he straightened up, positively beaming.
She was so absorbed watching him go about his ritual that she barely heard him address her.
“Hmm?” she asked.
“Black or white?” he said, gesturing with a lean arm towards the table. “White, black? Black, white? C’mon, Ma, we don’t have all night.”
It’s begun, she told herself. The chess game hasn’t started and he’s already playing me. She looked at the chess pieces, at the arrayed whites and the arrayed blacks. What to choose?
She shifted her gaze to her son. He was lighting a cigarette, his intense eyes focused on the lit tip. He took a deep drag, savored it in his deteriorating lungs and exhaled it through his nostrils. A series of wet racking coughs followed it, silenced by another drag of the cigarette.
He saw her watching him and his thin, discolored lips stretched into a grin. “Ma…,” he said.
She walked towards the table, studying the chessboard and its pieces.
“Dither, dither, dither,” said Matt.
She looked up. He was still grinning but she could see impatience starting to creep into his eyes, slowly supplanting the benign grin. He took another drag of his cigarette and slowly ran his fingers of one hand through his thinning hair.
“It’s just two colors, Ma. How hard can it be?”
Do not play his game, she told herself.
“For fuck’s sake, Ma!”
Matt strode towards the table, took a piece each from the whites and the blacks and went to her. She silently prays he won’t try and make her eat one of the pieces like he did a week before.
He stood before her holding up a white king in his left hand and a black rook in his right. She tried hard not to look up, staring straight on at his chest, watching it rise and fall steadily against his loosely hanging shirt.
Do not play his game.
“Ma!”
His raised voice made her look up. She studied her son’s slowly deteriorating face. The grin was gone, melted by impatience. His cigarette still hung from one corner of his lips. She saw ash break away from the stick and fall silently to the floor. Her eyes moved on straight into her son’s eyes, looking for something to appeal to. Her son’s glare met her eyes and quickly terminated the search. He held up the two pieces in front of her face.
“Choose. Now.”
Do not play his game.
She closed her eyes.
Do not play his game. It’s been her mantra for some years now.
“Black,” she heard herself say.
She watched Matt carefully pick up each chess piece between thumb and forefinger and set it down carefully—maybe even reverently—on its designated square. She noticed that his right thumbnail is irregularly shaped owing to his habit of chewing on it while playing his favorite game. The rest of his fingernails badly needed a trim and she made a mental note to remind him about it. After the game, maybe. After he’s won.
He smiled a nicotine-stained smile as he paced around the table, crouching towards the board and squinting at the pieces every now and then, making sure they are looking straight across the board at the opposing army. He used a long, bony finger to gently nudge a white knight to the center of its square. He then made one last slow circuit around the table, a general reviewing his troops before the battle. Satisfied, he straightened up, positively beaming.
She was so absorbed watching him go about his ritual that she barely heard him address her.
“Hmm?” she asked.
“Black or white?” he said, gesturing with a lean arm towards the table. “White, black? Black, white? C’mon, Ma, we don’t have all night.”
It’s begun, she told herself. The chess game hasn’t started and he’s already playing me. She looked at the chess pieces, at the arrayed whites and the arrayed blacks. What to choose?
She shifted her gaze to her son. He was lighting a cigarette, his intense eyes focused on the lit tip. He took a deep drag, savored it in his deteriorating lungs and exhaled it through his nostrils. A series of wet racking coughs followed it, silenced by another drag of the cigarette.
He saw her watching him and his thin, discolored lips stretched into a grin. “Ma…,” he said.
She walked towards the table, studying the chessboard and its pieces.
“Dither, dither, dither,” said Matt.
She looked up. He was still grinning but she could see impatience starting to creep into his eyes, slowly supplanting the benign grin. He took another drag of his cigarette and slowly ran his fingers of one hand through his thinning hair.
“It’s just two colors, Ma. How hard can it be?”
Do not play his game, she told herself.
“For fuck’s sake, Ma!”
Matt strode towards the table, took a piece each from the whites and the blacks and went to her. She silently prays he won’t try and make her eat one of the pieces like he did a week before.
He stood before her holding up a white king in his left hand and a black rook in his right. She tried hard not to look up, staring straight on at his chest, watching it rise and fall steadily against his loosely hanging shirt.
Do not play his game.
“Ma!”
His raised voice made her look up. She studied her son’s slowly deteriorating face. The grin was gone, melted by impatience. His cigarette still hung from one corner of his lips. She saw ash break away from the stick and fall silently to the floor. Her eyes moved on straight into her son’s eyes, looking for something to appeal to. Her son’s glare met her eyes and quickly terminated the search. He held up the two pieces in front of her face.
“Choose. Now.”
Do not play his game.
She closed her eyes.
Do not play his game. It’s been her mantra for some years now.
“Black,” she heard herself say.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Infinite Ended
Sad to learn that online science fiction mag The Infinite Matrix had ceased publication as of two months ago. They have an essay by William Gibson and a novelette by Cory Doctorow and Charles Stross among their last salvo of pieces.
Also, raid their archive while their site's still up (it'll be gone after a year or so, I think), especially Richard Kadrey's mindblowing Viper Wire series of nanotales. I tell you, Kadrey makes it look soooo easy.
Also, raid their archive while their site's still up (it'll be gone after a year or so, I think), especially Richard Kadrey's mindblowing Viper Wire series of nanotales. I tell you, Kadrey makes it look soooo easy.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
R.I.P.: Stanislaw Lem
From Yahoo News:
Author of Solaris Dies at 84
WARSAW, Poland - Stanislaw Lem, a science fiction writer whose novel "Solaris" was made into a movie starring George Clooney, died Monday in his native Poland, his secretary said. He was 84.
Lem died in a Krakow hospital from heart failure "connected to his old age," the secretary, Wojciech Zemek, told The Associated Press.
Lem was one of the most popular science fiction authors of recent decades to write in a language other than English, and his works were translated into more than 40 other languages. His books have sold 27 million copies.
His best-known work, "Solaris," was adapted into films by director Andrei Tarkovsky in 1972 and by Steven Soderbergh in 2002. That version starred George Clooney and Natascha McElhone.
His first important novel, "Hospital of the Transfiguration," was censored by communist authorities for eight years before its release in 1956 amid a thaw following the death of Soviet dictator Josef Stalin.
Other works include "The Invincible," "The Cyberiad," "His Master's Voice," "The Star Diaries," "The Futurological Congress" and "Tales of Prix the Pilot."
Lem was born into a Polish Jewish family on Sept. 21, 1921, in Lviv, then a Polish city but now part of Ukraine.
His father was a doctor and he initially appeared set to follow in that path, taking up medical studies in Lviv before World War II.
After surviving the Nazi occupation, in part thanks to forged documents that concealed his Jewish background, Lem continued his medical studies in Krakow. Soon afterward, however, he took up writing science fiction.
Lem is survived by his wife and a son, Zemek said. Funeral arrangements were not disclosed.
Author of Solaris Dies at 84
WARSAW, Poland - Stanislaw Lem, a science fiction writer whose novel "Solaris" was made into a movie starring George Clooney, died Monday in his native Poland, his secretary said. He was 84.
Lem died in a Krakow hospital from heart failure "connected to his old age," the secretary, Wojciech Zemek, told The Associated Press.
Lem was one of the most popular science fiction authors of recent decades to write in a language other than English, and his works were translated into more than 40 other languages. His books have sold 27 million copies.
His best-known work, "Solaris," was adapted into films by director Andrei Tarkovsky in 1972 and by Steven Soderbergh in 2002. That version starred George Clooney and Natascha McElhone.
His first important novel, "Hospital of the Transfiguration," was censored by communist authorities for eight years before its release in 1956 amid a thaw following the death of Soviet dictator Josef Stalin.
Other works include "The Invincible," "The Cyberiad," "His Master's Voice," "The Star Diaries," "The Futurological Congress" and "Tales of Prix the Pilot."
Lem was born into a Polish Jewish family on Sept. 21, 1921, in Lviv, then a Polish city but now part of Ukraine.
His father was a doctor and he initially appeared set to follow in that path, taking up medical studies in Lviv before World War II.
After surviving the Nazi occupation, in part thanks to forged documents that concealed his Jewish background, Lem continued his medical studies in Krakow. Soon afterward, however, he took up writing science fiction.
Lem is survived by his wife and a son, Zemek said. Funeral arrangements were not disclosed.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Ten Percent
Time's All-Time 100 Novels.
I've read only ten of them:
Blood Meridian - Cormac McCarthy's brutal western about a young boy who joins a band of scalphunters and they hunt Indians in Mexico. McCarthy's novels are composed of long stretches of contemplative, idyllic, philosophical scenes written in hypnotic, poetic prose and are often punctuated with beautifully written, unbelievably brutal, vivid scenes of violence. I admit that the violence and the fighting were what I was after in the first place, so it made the slogging through the "quiet" scenes worth it. I've come to appreciate the book as a whole through subsequent readings.
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller's classic novel set during WWII in Italy centers on a clause in the US Air Force contract which states that you can no longer go on flight missions and will eventually be discharged by the Army if you think you are going insane. But since only sane people can realize they're going insane, that means you're sane so you'll still have to go on missions. The entire novel has situations that resemble this logic. It's cynical, ironic, and funny and I admit that I didn't "get" it much when I first read it. Yeah I got most of the funny parts the first time but the cynicism and irony didn't hit me until I reread it some years later (when I was less stupid, I guess) which made the book funnier.
Catcher in the Rye - This J.D. Salinger novel was a required read back in 4th year high school and it bored me. Suffice to say that it didn't make much of a impression on me while most of my classmates were oohing and aahing at it.
A Clockwork Orange - Haven't seen the movie by Stanley Kubrick but Anthony Burgess' novel was awesome. Was greatly impressed with the way Burgess combined bits of Cockney English, Russian, and God knows what else language to create a new lexicon of slang.
Lord of the Flies - This novel by William Golding was a required read for a philosophy subject back in college but I only finished reading it a couple of years after college. I remember liking it but I don't remember much of it except that it's about a bunch of kids marooned on an island (a situation taken by Kinji Fukasaku to the extreme in his excellent Battle Royale) and has an apocalyptic ending. Sounds like it's up for a reread one of these days.
Lord of the Rings - Everyone knows all about these books by now. Liked it when I read it years ago, tried to reread the first book when the movie came out but it began to bore me. Guess I must've outgrown it. Not really a fan of the sword and sorcery type of fantasy anymore.
Neuromancer - William Gibson's seminal book set in a society which has become too dependent, even obsessed with technology. It started the cyberpunk movement and it's the novel wherein the term "cyberspace" was coined. And it has one of my favorite opening lines in a book ever: "The sky was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."
1984 - George Orwell's scary novel about a totalitarian state where Big Brother is watching and knows all. Read this book and see facets of our present world reflected back at you.
Slaughterhouse-Five - This novel by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. about a man unstuck in time (he's living his past, present and future simultaneously) is okay, but I prefer his apocalyptic Cat's Cradle. Still worth a read, though.
Watchmen - Written by Alan Moore and drawn by Dave Gibbons, Watchmen is the only graphic novel (or comic book) to be included in the list. One of the few comics work that can truly be called brilliant. It's an annual read of mine for everytime I read it, I discover something new about it.
I've read only ten of them:
Blood Meridian - Cormac McCarthy's brutal western about a young boy who joins a band of scalphunters and they hunt Indians in Mexico. McCarthy's novels are composed of long stretches of contemplative, idyllic, philosophical scenes written in hypnotic, poetic prose and are often punctuated with beautifully written, unbelievably brutal, vivid scenes of violence. I admit that the violence and the fighting were what I was after in the first place, so it made the slogging through the "quiet" scenes worth it. I've come to appreciate the book as a whole through subsequent readings.
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller's classic novel set during WWII in Italy centers on a clause in the US Air Force contract which states that you can no longer go on flight missions and will eventually be discharged by the Army if you think you are going insane. But since only sane people can realize they're going insane, that means you're sane so you'll still have to go on missions. The entire novel has situations that resemble this logic. It's cynical, ironic, and funny and I admit that I didn't "get" it much when I first read it. Yeah I got most of the funny parts the first time but the cynicism and irony didn't hit me until I reread it some years later (when I was less stupid, I guess) which made the book funnier.
Catcher in the Rye - This J.D. Salinger novel was a required read back in 4th year high school and it bored me. Suffice to say that it didn't make much of a impression on me while most of my classmates were oohing and aahing at it.
A Clockwork Orange - Haven't seen the movie by Stanley Kubrick but Anthony Burgess' novel was awesome. Was greatly impressed with the way Burgess combined bits of Cockney English, Russian, and God knows what else language to create a new lexicon of slang.
Lord of the Flies - This novel by William Golding was a required read for a philosophy subject back in college but I only finished reading it a couple of years after college. I remember liking it but I don't remember much of it except that it's about a bunch of kids marooned on an island (a situation taken by Kinji Fukasaku to the extreme in his excellent Battle Royale) and has an apocalyptic ending. Sounds like it's up for a reread one of these days.
Lord of the Rings - Everyone knows all about these books by now. Liked it when I read it years ago, tried to reread the first book when the movie came out but it began to bore me. Guess I must've outgrown it. Not really a fan of the sword and sorcery type of fantasy anymore.
Neuromancer - William Gibson's seminal book set in a society which has become too dependent, even obsessed with technology. It started the cyberpunk movement and it's the novel wherein the term "cyberspace" was coined. And it has one of my favorite opening lines in a book ever: "The sky was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."
1984 - George Orwell's scary novel about a totalitarian state where Big Brother is watching and knows all. Read this book and see facets of our present world reflected back at you.
Slaughterhouse-Five - This novel by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. about a man unstuck in time (he's living his past, present and future simultaneously) is okay, but I prefer his apocalyptic Cat's Cradle. Still worth a read, though.
Watchmen - Written by Alan Moore and drawn by Dave Gibbons, Watchmen is the only graphic novel (or comic book) to be included in the list. One of the few comics work that can truly be called brilliant. It's an annual read of mine for everytime I read it, I discover something new about it.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Reprieve
And so the deadline to Fully Booked's 1st Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards has been extended up until the end of February. That means I have less than a week or so to bug perennial collaborator and artist of choice Allen and convince (or browbeat) him to draw the story. He signed on to this venture back in early December but had to beg off due to an increased workload in his ad jobs.
First things first, though, I still have to finish writing the story in full script. Broke down my treatment of the story into panels and pages just before Christmas but hit a wall when I realized I still had to do a bit of research (the story being a piece of historical fiction set in early 17th century Manila and starring a samurai). Add to that good pal and artist supreme Allen's departure from the project and the then-looming end of January deadline led me to figure that it could never be done in time even if I were to find a new artist so I held off completing the script.
We roughly have six and a half weeks to complete the damn thing. I have until the end of next week to finish writing the script and hand it to Allen to hopefully convince him to get back into the project. From there he'll have five weeks or so to draw the entire 12-page story.
It sounds quite easy, no?
Hah. I wish.
First things first, though, I still have to finish writing the story in full script. Broke down my treatment of the story into panels and pages just before Christmas but hit a wall when I realized I still had to do a bit of research (the story being a piece of historical fiction set in early 17th century Manila and starring a samurai). Add to that good pal and artist supreme Allen's departure from the project and the then-looming end of January deadline led me to figure that it could never be done in time even if I were to find a new artist so I held off completing the script.
We roughly have six and a half weeks to complete the damn thing. I have until the end of next week to finish writing the script and hand it to Allen to hopefully convince him to get back into the project. From there he'll have five weeks or so to draw the entire 12-page story.
It sounds quite easy, no?
Hah. I wish.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Enlightenment
Finally got my hands on the 4-disc Infernal Affairs trilogy boxed set courtesy of my kumpareng balikbayan.
I've seen all three movies before (I own pirated DVDs of the two sequels) but now I can finally understand what the hell they're saying in the first movie. Infernal Affairs 1 I saw a couple of times in the Japanese Wowow channel without english subtitles. Hopefully, the characters' dialogues in the film will be way better than the, uh, dialogue that ran through my mind while watching the un-translated version. Certainly, it'll be less retarded than my dialogue.
I've seen all three movies before (I own pirated DVDs of the two sequels) but now I can finally understand what the hell they're saying in the first movie. Infernal Affairs 1 I saw a couple of times in the Japanese Wowow channel without english subtitles. Hopefully, the characters' dialogues in the film will be way better than the, uh, dialogue that ran through my mind while watching the un-translated version. Certainly, it'll be less retarded than my dialogue.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Natural Selection at Work
Found this in Noel Vera's blog:
"After I asked the nurse to leave us, the patient permitted me to remove his trousers, shorts, and two or three yards of foul-smelling, stained gauze wrapped about his scrotum, which was swollen to twice the size of a grapefruit and extremely tender. A jagged zig-zag laceration, oozing pus and blood, extended down the left scrotum.
Amid the matted hair, edematous skin, and various exudates, I saw some half-buried dark linear objects and asked the patient what they were. Several days earlier, he replied, he had injured himself in the machine shop where he worked, and had closed the laceration himself with a heavy-duty stapling gun. The dark objects were one-inch staples of the type used in putting up wallboard...
An unmarried loner, he usually didn't leave the machine shop at lunchtime with his co-workers. Finding himself alone, he had begun the regular practice of masturbating by holding his penis against the canvas drive-belt of a large floor-based piece of running machinery. One day, as he approached orgasm, he lost his concentration and leaned too close to the belt. When his scrotum suddenly became caught between the pulley-wheel and the drive-belt, he was thrown into the air and landed a few feet away. Unaware that he had lost his left testis, and perhaps too stunned to feel much pain, he stapled the wound closed and resumed work.
I can only assume he abandoned this method of self-gratification."
"After I asked the nurse to leave us, the patient permitted me to remove his trousers, shorts, and two or three yards of foul-smelling, stained gauze wrapped about his scrotum, which was swollen to twice the size of a grapefruit and extremely tender. A jagged zig-zag laceration, oozing pus and blood, extended down the left scrotum.
Amid the matted hair, edematous skin, and various exudates, I saw some half-buried dark linear objects and asked the patient what they were. Several days earlier, he replied, he had injured himself in the machine shop where he worked, and had closed the laceration himself with a heavy-duty stapling gun. The dark objects were one-inch staples of the type used in putting up wallboard...
An unmarried loner, he usually didn't leave the machine shop at lunchtime with his co-workers. Finding himself alone, he had begun the regular practice of masturbating by holding his penis against the canvas drive-belt of a large floor-based piece of running machinery. One day, as he approached orgasm, he lost his concentration and leaned too close to the belt. When his scrotum suddenly became caught between the pulley-wheel and the drive-belt, he was thrown into the air and landed a few feet away. Unaware that he had lost his left testis, and perhaps too stunned to feel much pain, he stapled the wound closed and resumed work.
I can only assume he abandoned this method of self-gratification."
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Back from the grave
Recently learned from Dean Alfar's blog about Fully Booked's forthcoming 1st Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards. It is a writing contest and it's set to launch within the next few days. It has two categories, one for comics and one for prose genre fiction (scifi/fantasy). As Mr. Alfar reported, author Neil Gaiman has pledged $15,000 for the top prize. Or prizes since I reckon that it would be divided between the two categories. Was talking with Etchie about it earlier in YM and he said that winning just a thousand of that pot prize would be enough for him. So I guess if he joins and wins the contest, I'll leave him with the thousand and run off with the rest. Hehe.
Needless to say, I'm sorely tempted to join in the comics category. While exact details of the contest are yet to be released and the deadline's mid-December, there's no harm in preparing for it this early. I'll have to go through my notebooks and review some of the ideas I've scribbled through the years and have been gathering dust and see which ones are fit enough to be brought back so that my brain could start playing with them again. And of course I can always invite my muse over, hogtie her and threaten to reenact with her one of the deadlier scenes in Deadwood unless she gives me a dozen brilliant ideas or two.
I've been in a bit of a roll the past few days in the writing department. Started writing a script for a short comics story that I'll submit to a minicomic anthology and started polishing and fixing up a prose story that I stumbled upon one of my older notebooks.
I just hope that this momentum won't crash into a dead halt and instead pick up steam in the next few weeks or so.
Needless to say, I'm sorely tempted to join in the comics category. While exact details of the contest are yet to be released and the deadline's mid-December, there's no harm in preparing for it this early. I'll have to go through my notebooks and review some of the ideas I've scribbled through the years and have been gathering dust and see which ones are fit enough to be brought back so that my brain could start playing with them again. And of course I can always invite my muse over, hogtie her and threaten to reenact with her one of the deadlier scenes in Deadwood unless she gives me a dozen brilliant ideas or two.
I've been in a bit of a roll the past few days in the writing department. Started writing a script for a short comics story that I'll submit to a minicomic anthology and started polishing and fixing up a prose story that I stumbled upon one of my older notebooks.
I just hope that this momentum won't crash into a dead halt and instead pick up steam in the next few weeks or so.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Fortress of Decrepitude
Finally went home to the condo in Cubao. I still am enjoying my "vacation" at my parents' house in Sta. Mesa but one thing made me come back home to this little bachelor's pad/office ASAP: CSI's 2 hour season ender directed by Quentin Tarantino will air this Wednesday on AXN. And since they don't have AXN in Sta. Mesa and I have it here, well... 'nuff said.
While I was away from this place for some months, the toilet and bathroom got dirty (duh). No, dirty is too soft a word for it. It degenerated. The floor, heck the entire room has turned into one stinking quagmire. Not just-splotches-of-dirt-on-one-corner-of-the-floor dirty but muck-encrusted-and-Oh-my-God-did-that-small-pool-of-goo-just-try-to-grab-my-leg dirty. And one drawback of living alone is I have to go and clean all that stuff up lest it turns into a new primordial ooze and the first of the earth's new creatures walk out of it.
While I was away from this place for some months, the toilet and bathroom got dirty (duh). No, dirty is too soft a word for it. It degenerated. The floor, heck the entire room has turned into one stinking quagmire. Not just-splotches-of-dirt-on-one-corner-of-the-floor dirty but muck-encrusted-and-Oh-my-God-did-that-small-pool-of-goo-just-try-to-grab-my-leg dirty. And one drawback of living alone is I have to go and clean all that stuff up lest it turns into a new primordial ooze and the first of the earth's new creatures walk out of it.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Empty
A week or so ago, I received a text message from Etchie notifying me that he has linked to this here blog over at his blog. Never mind that this said blog is empty, he says, he just has to link to it. I don't mean for it to sound like he's desperate to put up a link, least of all to this Godforsaken shithole of a blog. I don't think so. You see, he's been pestering me for months to join him in this blogging thing. I told him that I'd rather read online journals than write one. I'm that other kind of pervert; more voyeur than exhibitionist. It's just one of his passively devious ways to get me to write something, anything on this Godforsaken shithole of a blog.
Hence this post.
And yeah that's one point to you, Etchie.
Gah.
Note to self: Consider changing the blog title to Godforsaken Shithole of a Blog.
Hence this post.
And yeah that's one point to you, Etchie.
Gah.
Note to self: Consider changing the blog title to Godforsaken Shithole of a Blog.
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