blissery loves company, really

In Bruges - After a hit gone horribly wrong, two hired assassins - one experienced, one much too young - are sent to Bruges. Ray, the new guy, is not too pleased. "Ken," he says, "I grew up in Dublin. I love Dublin. If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me but I didn't, so it doesn't."

I cannot think of a more delightful, more heartrending film. Colin Farrell should make more movies like this.

Also, Bruges looks lovely.

Punch-Drunk Love - Oh, you all know those Adam Sandler comedy films. Sweet, soft-spoken guy, then he goes all crazy on your ass. Barry Egan is like that, but his violence breaks your heart. He has seven sisters, people are on his case all the time, and there's always this incessant fucking drum in the background. Barry just wants to have someone in his life to slow things down. Is that too much to ask?

Tres Dias (Before the Fall, Spanish) - Ten minutes into the film, we hear that a meteorite five times the size of the rock that fell to earth during the time of the dinosaurs will hit the planet soon. No one will survive. Now what? Do you confess your love to another person? Do you begin killing people and hanging children from trees? Do you eat ice cream? Closure comes in so many forms.

- Early this month, the Comelec denied Ang Ladlad’s petition to run as a party-list group in the May 2010 elections. Ang Ladlad aims to defend and protect the rights of Filipino homosexuals. The Comelec thinks its members are immoral:

The Comelec Second Division—composed of Ferrer and his fellow commissioners Lucenito Tagle and Elias Yusoph—last week rejected Ang Ladlad’s petition to be allowed to run as a party-list group in the May elections.

The division said the group’s espousal of same sex relations violated the Civil Code and Revised Penal Code’s provisions against immoral doctrines and those on decency and good customs.

Wow. The Comelec's logic just made my brain walk out and hang itself.

And of course people are furious. One brought up a wonderful point: "Gay citizens pay their taxes too."

Okay, Comelec and the other members of this vile, prejudiced society: Since you don't want gay people to marry, adopt kids, or to exist, even, what if - and this just an idea - what if we stop collecting taxes from them?

Hm? What do you think? :) Imagine. Boy Abunda, for example, has a wonderful career, lives with his partner and is unbelievably happy, and above all probably pays the government hundreds of thousands of pesos worth of taxes - but he's gay. Ugh. Ohnoes. And you don't like gay people right? I mean, you see them as second-class citizens right? I say give him back his money. :)

Just an idea.

- Maguindanao Massacre. As of press time, 46 bodies. I attended a public high school, and I remember there were 46 of us in one class. Imagine entering that room, and firing at every single person there. Every single one. And for what? In this case they say, political power. One of the victims reportedly was a father of seven. Another victim was a 67-year-old woman. There were at least 12 journalists. There were women. There was mention of rape. And I have no more words.

( photo  )

Month number 1 on the 17th.

♥

Thank you. :) The flowers looked amazing.

* * *

We went to UP on Friday. Ah, UP. You shall remain beautiful to me forever and ever.

I got him a book (a book, yes, because I am cool like that). I was planning to get more dangling earrings, but the jewelry selection in the Christmas tiangge this year underwhelmed me.

Passed through AS. Amazing how everyone looked so young. Amazing how everyone looked so young now, to me.

Photo from coverbrowser.com

You may remember Shirley Jackson from her excellent, excellent short story, "The Lottery".

You may remember this book as the source of that rather disappointing CGI-feast of a film starring Catherine Zeta-Jones and Owen Wilson. (That's a remake; they say the original film adaptation is better.)

There is a haunted house. They call it Hill House. A scientist wants to write a paper about psychic phenomena. Three young people come with him: Eleanor, Theodora, and Luke. Mrs. Dudley, who cooks for them and cleans the house for them, insists that she be out of Hill House before the dark descends. The doctor's party stays inside the mansion for roughly a week.

Consider the novel's first paragraph:

Chapter 1

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

Today, in the (e)mail:


 

Dear Eliza,

We are delighted to accept your story, 'Monsters', for publication in Philippine Speculative Fiction 5.

Kindly accomplish and submit the attached

I'm on it, I'm on it!

(Howee.)

♥

More photos here

Tagged along with Kate and Andrea to meet up with Kat (known online as

purplerevolt – I believe she writes really well). Book swap night! I got Kat Revolutionary Road and Big If, and I got Clinton Palanca’s Landscapes and David Sedaris’s Holidays on Ice.

 

 * * *

While rummaging through old notes (I was looking for my earlier jottings for a story I wanted to write) I found the notebook containing the very first drafts of the Reportage poems.

It’s funny how you forget the amount of work that went into your pieces. How in the world was I able to survive writing all these lines?

It boggles the mind.

 How easily the land accepts departures

The Christian God brought ten plagues

Perhaps there is beauty in holding your daughter close

The reporter stands

So I just discovered this cute Twitter account, right:

Eliza: i should probably do this experiment. write down everything my tatay says.
Eliza: panalo siguro.
Kate: alam mo pwede
Eliza: like one time may inabot na malaking walis sa tatay ko. as in mas malaki pa sa kanya. Tatay: Liit naman niyan, wala bang mas malaki?
Eliza:  also he sometimes refers to himself as Fernando Poe. To wit: Gutom na si Fernando Poe, anak. I wanted to say, Tatay patay na siya. Never na siya magugutom.
Kate:  LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Kate:  FPJ = DAD
Eliza: truly.
Eliza:  hahaha
Kate:  pwede
Eliza:  =))
Kate:  alalahanin mo lahat at itwit mo
Kate: twitter.com/sabingtatayko
Kate:  ganyan
Eliza:  HAHAHAHAHAHA

With additional thoughts in parentheses.

The Ruins – Ew. (I read and absolutely loved Scott Smith’s first novel, and so I was intrigued when I heard that his second novel, The Ruins, has been turned  into a film. Story’s pretty much straightforward. To be fair to it, it does have a pretty freaky premise.)

Lars and the Real Girl – Aw. (Yes, took me quite a while to finally see this film. Roger Ebert, in his review, described Ryan Gosling’s Lars as “serene”. Yes, that’s the word for it. Serene. Despite the fact that he brings an anatomically correct sex doll everywhere he goes in this small, cold town. Watch this one.)

Chuck (first few episodes) – Hee. (“So you’re saying I should just stay in this car, and not do anything?” “That’s right.” “Let’s do this.” Me: *rofl*)

* * *

Coffee and dinner with Jaykie’s friends JME and BJ at CBTL/Pepper Steak.

Their names make them sound like robots or hardware, but they’re people, and really nice, interesting ones at that. Glad to meet you guys. : )

(JME showed me a series of pictures of Jaykie and BJ cooking nilagang giniling, but in the photos the guys looked like they were in a meth lab. Cooking nilagang giniling.)

Earlier Jaykie handed  me a copy of Ender’s Game, which of course made me squeal like a crazy fangirl. I read Ender’s Shadow first -  a dick nerd move – and I’ve been looking everywhere for a copy of Game. And here it is howeeeeeee.

But of course I can’t read that yet, for  I have been condemned (CONDEMNED!) to read this first:

It’s an 800+-page monster. Good luck to me.

* * *

“Now, for your Moment of – “

Sorry, not that one.

“Now, for your Moment of Zen.”

They could have just said “Open 24 Hours”, but hey, specifity is king.

In the story is Iris, who tells the story of her dead sister Laura, who through a novel tells the story of a young man and a young woman in love, who tell the story of a blind assassin and a girl who cannot speak.

Here: take a mirror and place it in front of another mirror. Which reflection of the mirror are you looking at? What story are you listening to, and who is telling it?

Are you sure?

Photo from toronto.ca
 

The poems are now available on the Palanca website! Click here.

Er, the formatting's making me OC, but what the hell, at least the collection's complete. ;)

Thank you Ms Catherine Walder for the head's up, and for the kind words about "I Am the City". (Eeeeh. ♥)

My story, "I Am the City", is now live over at Expanded Horizons. :) Clicky-click!

Look.

We passed by Sasa the Sorbetera's branch to get some free ice cream  say hi and in exchange for two scoops of Macadamia Nut this picture was taken:

This is unfair, Sasa! We demand fondue!

With Sasa and Jaykie (Mall of Asia, October 25); I don't know who took the picture, but thanks I guess :p

More photos here

Home. Finally. Cake from the sister, Vicky Christina Barcelona in the DVD player, goofing off with the brothers. Parents are both well. Jaykie as (virtual) company. "I Am the City" accepted by Expanded Horizons for their November issue. (I'm a "repeat author" y'all!) November 1st came and the sun was up and about, oh yes, the day looking ridiculously beautiful. Good times, good times.

Thanks to all those who greeted me.

Let's talk about the weight gain later.

We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.

- Richard Dawkins

via purplerevolt  :)

Yeah I'm feelin' lazeh.

October 23 (Friday)

Research night. Because we never get tired of each other, oh no.

I am so not drunk in this picture.

More photos here.

October 24 (Saturday)

Christening day of uber-cute Johan. I'm still waiting for Joan (proud mom) to upload the photos. God, I must have looked horrid. But what the hell. Love you Joan, your baby's absolutely adorable. :)

P.S. Seriously Ace that was a fun ride from Makati to Bulacan. We should do that again! Hahaha.

October 25 (Sunday)

Watched this with Jaykie.

Not a fan of romantic films at all, but believe me, this is a fun watch. "Inventive" I think was the word Roger Ebert used to describe this film.

Got this early birthday gift. Howee. (Also: we were able to find an issue of The New Yorker in BookSale that went for TEN PESOS. TEN PESOS my goodness.)

Thanks, Jake. ;)

* * *

And oh, Ms Lanot of the Graphic says they will use all of the poems from "Reportage". It will appear in several issues. Watch out for them? Yes? :)

fragment:

me: powerful tag team – katt’s phrase

j: lol para naman tayong mambubugbog

me: or kunwari “hyper-intellectuals” ganyan

me: so I guess I have to buy a cigarette holder

me: and red lipstick

me: and a beret

j: and listen to freeform jazz

me: and talk about Camus ganyan

me: I love freeform jazz!

me: is there such a bar here?

j: hmm

j: I can ask all my friends lol

j: lol I don’t even know who that is

j: so I suppose between the two of us I’m the ditzy blonde

me: haha with the big boobs ohyeah ohyeah

...in truth, I didn't become a writer the first time I put pen to paper or when I finished my first book (easy) or my second one (hard). You see, in my view a writer is a writer not because she writes well and easily, because she has amazing talent, because everything she does is golden. In my view a writer is a writer because even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway. Wasn't until that night when I was faced with all those lousy pages that I realized, really realized, what it was exactly that I am.

- Junot Diaz, author of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

I'm working on what's looking to me like a novel right now. (My "novels" often turn into "novellas" - I have a hard time writing long, monstrous stuff - but we'll see.) Really struggling, but still writing. Still happy about it, but I understand the torment, Mr. Diaz. Thank you for this.

Read the whole article here.

 

Well, not exactly the weekend because my schedule's weird, but whatever.

Oct. 16 - IV- 1 whut.

Dinner at Cyma (Greenbelt 2) and coffee at Trinoma with high school friends. Still sabog, still fun. :D

More pictures here.

Oct. 17 - Nice night at Serendra, na nauwi sa alay-lakad and peoplewatching.

Bummer, I didn't know Bruce Wayne's already dead. And a time bullet? Wha~? /end nerd

* * *

Random: I had my ID picture taken at Waltermart for ze French class. My hair's blue in the picture. TRUE STORY.

Some pipe or whatever exploded in the condo unit washroom. Got drenched. (Quick: think boom box, car, boys, SOAP SUDS.) Ondoy-like flood indoors whut.

Moved me to tears. Thanks Kath R. for sharing.