goodbye, brick

paul newman, 83

great actors never die.
they live through every scene
every performance
in a career typified by depth and substance

one of my friends actually doesn't know who he is.
but as several tributes attest, the actor with the bluest of eyes needs no introduction.
for every passing of someone familiar, lies a sense of awe and sadness.
such is life.

kulam full trailer

not for the snobs and the denigrators.

the radiance of an old film

by the time i was ten or even younger, i could memorize the full names of her husbands up to burton. as a child left to my own devices, my mom's old mags, meticulously binded and lined up in a dilapidated shelf, weren't spared from my exploring grasps. i always gobble up history. pop culture history. elizabeth taylor's history. my friend joy described her ten years ago as the embodiment of decadence. for me liz taylor is the face behind the saying that beauty is skin deep. the erstwhile movie star might not have been able to preserve the optical illusion that had catapulted her to the role of cleopatra, one of the greatest flops of all time. but i relish watching her films -- from cat on a hot tin roof to giant, father of the bride even national velvet.

a soap sud at my most melodramatic, rhapsody (1954) is a favorite. i enjoy the simulation of rachmaninoff concerto no. 2 and the john ericson character's ultimate sacrifice for love. i know there's a profound daftness in following the rigors of these romantic stories, but at the end of the day, when one's energy level has been depleted by the exigent aspects of running errands for the genial, watching thought provoking dramas is more draining than work itself. as it's quite a challenge to acquire a dvd copy of this feature, i just content myself in clicking my TCM eclectic mixes.

an afternoon at the ruins

the rough road leading to the ruins clearly tested our boiling patience. bump after bump after bump, i ventured into queries when the long and winding dirty track full of frangible holes seemed hellbent in threading the route to nowhere. my dear hubby was already resorting to colorful curses. but i dare say, upon stomping on the marked tourist site, it was lo and behold, an imposing structure in the outskirts of the city that is now talisay. innovative, all i could say of this concrete illusion that evoke a thousand blogs and articles. if only world war II didn't happen. if only the owners have the resources to restore the grandeur that was the mansion.

my loser tag

when i was in high school, i lobbied to get into the sports beat of our school paper. i literally pleaded with brizo (aileen grace), our editor-in-chief, my hopeful intentions. my prose then was dreadful but my enthusiasm was overwhelming. i was into the carl lewis-magic johnson world big time. i had fondness for the sports beat even in my whimsical youth.
i reckon i co-edited the page with fritz, the student from the other class, who was the much better writer. but come RSSPC ( regional secondary schools press conference ) time, the annual writing event marked in every high school paper calendar. i was chosen to join the contingent for the writing competition. i had absolutely no idea why our adviser opted for me to contend in sports writing and represent the school in the rsspc in janiuay, iloilo.

at the time, despite cutting my teeth playing tingayuhanay in our etcs football field, i couldn't grasp the rudiments of football. i also alluded to the blatant reality that i was among the hypnotized shrieking fans of the national coke-go-for-goal players from two years prior to the invitation. who was the guy i was rooting for? i remember the boy but i can't remember the name. who would pay attention to the game when there were cute boys around? but back to the contest. since it was held in iloilo, the sports topic was of course about football. my verbs got confused on the spot and i sucked big time and didn't qualify for the nationals. i knew i lacked preparations but i should have done better. i was also entered in the newswriting category held at the same time. news was just thrown into my lap at the last minute as the original entrant backed out. i think i did news first then proceeded to the sports booth. maybe i would have done differently if my two categories weren't linked.

i was the big loser in our group. brizo won. honey, my BFF won two contests and was adjudged the highest pointer in the nationals held in tacloban, leyte. eduardo (edu) won. agnes and sigrid who were delegates from other schools won. alan john may not have brought home a medal from the awarding ceremonies but became one of our class most distinguished achievers. still the exposure didn't shatter my confidence. i didn't get the chance to enter any more competitions. but i'd like to think i did improve. i've studied harder, dug deeper and learned the proper mechanics from the vitriolic criticisms.

i took delight in every moment of school paper life, especially when i edited my college sports pages. i know tackling sports topics is not as lofty as feature or literary writing. but it's not too shabby either and i've certainly relished the breaks that have come my way because i not only know my way around the sports channels and it opened doors to new friends and some enchanting horizons.

the fussy mode

since as long as i can remember, i can't function when everything is in disarray. i can't write. i can't read. i can't cook. not that i turn on the stove on a daily basis. the last time i did, i nearly set the kitchen on fire. i'm really, really careful now. i'm in such intense focus whenever it's deemed necessary to be caught in our tiny cooking enclave.

once a person get hitched, compromise is a key to less arguments. not everybody was born annoyingly obsessive-compulsive. mess is a part of life. with the long hours at work, my clean as you go hysteria has become less frequent. i've been subdued by our highly-cramped, tons of magazines living environment. i've just been to a friend's house and they have lesser books and other source of stay-at-home enjoyment. they're so content with their collection of datu puti vinegar and UFC banana ketchup (not getting paid for the product placements is fine by me). i should really do more tidying up rather than typing this slobber. but just like breathing, a few good words matter and the shredder and ironing board can definitely wait.

my headache grid

i was scrutinizing in detail my whining sketches a few hours ago. reading through my thoughts from the past, i've pinpointed one weird lament. it's a conundrum amongst the compilation. still, just like any other bleeding pride, i was served with a frozen carcass and i had to retaliate with my winded pen. but despite that one instance, i've been offered tantalizing fried fishes recently and read an article about the best kansi in bacolod. most of the mild blue ladies are kind and helpful and that's no metaphor.

the tension headache from last night had all but disappeared. my mom used to tell me from across the shores that human beings need to work in order to eat. that was merely months after her stroke and she had this only daughter not getting along with virtual strangers in secret, the same drifters who cannot identify monica seles pounding two-handed backhands and forehands blaring live french open final on the tv screen.

these days, i have a choice whether to interact with fellow rovers during my free time or to simply grovel in my sentimental pool.

i write to ease the tension.

the point of all my denudations is to calm my nerves.

titles from my dvd shelf

this is actually in no particular order. i could have made them alphabetical or list ten rather than the limiting five. but i'm always pressed for time, mastering an irresistible ploy to hibernate. i pay my respects to all the social networking sites for making the proverbial slumbook of my younger years alive and well. to paraphrase our high school salutaturian's embedded quotes, "our choice of films reflect our personalities." the italicized excerpt has actually wavered from the original passage about the environment and i quite reckon jen would not be able recall ever constructing verses for my pleasure.

the five choices may mean that i'm ancient. but in reality i'm just too slow to catch up with the dark knight. i'm pretty circumscribed when it comes to films -- no brangelinas, no keira knightleys, no cb or any of her clones, as if i've i've never said that before. there are exceptions like the pirates of the carribean series, but only because of johnny depp.

west side story (1961) (directed by jerome robbins and greg wise)
--- i was already a teenager the first time i got hold of a copy of this film. i told my mom during the closing credits that the gangs could have taken tony to the hospital instead of maria singing somewhere. then there were george chakiris and rita moreno -- bernardo and anita, scene-stealing roles that deserved the oscars. i was dumbfounded by their dancing. up until now, i've never seen someone dance as elegantly as chakiris while moreno was bold and grandiose. natalie wood as maria was at her most beautiful. the world should remember her no less than an adept actress and the absurd rumors surrounding her love life and death are just products of the mean streaks of the hollywood machine.

gone with the wind (1939) directed by victor fleming
-- a young doctor on new year's eve categorized this drivel as the ultimate chick flick. but this only make me marvel about the first and third world analogy. while hollywood was producing this wondrous colour combinations in 1939, our local showbiz was still embedded in black and white milieus even way into the 70's. the concept of an english theatre actress playing a celebrated american heroine was an idea for the ages. vivien leigh was mesmerising. scarlett was the bad ass other woman with great resilience. melanie was the goody two-shoes, dutiful wife. and i'm a great fan of the actresses who played them.

wizard of oz (1939) directed by victor fleming
-- another classic from 1939. one of the great films that has launched tons of cliches and metaphors. as kids and teeners, it's a kaleidoscope of colors, a magical land with witches and leprechauns. a pensive nostalgia to how wonderful judy garland's voice was.

the godfather (1972) -- directed by francis ford coppola
a staple of every best films list. the depth and breadth of this gripping saga of the corleone family belongs to the ages. i got sucked into the vortex of the story and the performances of the fantastic cast -- brando, pacino, robert duvall, james caan. michael corleone was the silent water, the great chameleon, the pseudo-reluctant mobster whose penchant for ideological bloodshed is more ingrained than his father. marlon brando as don vito may be the most lampooned character in all of history. but don vito corleone was no caricature. he held court in his kingdom and his minions are submerged in the resonance of power in those jarring voice and piercing gape.

the godfather II (1972) -- directed by francis ford coppola
how could you, michael? how could you? that was only me wailing after the closing credits. the sequel to the first godfather may have also been a prequel as we see a young vito corleone played by de niro rise to the top of his world and michael corleone descent into the pathos of obsession. critics are a bit harsher to the director on this compelling aftermath. how could they? it still leaves a lot of queries and i'm still asking.

teenage beauty

when i was in grade three, our adviser took us, her pupils, to the garden in front of our homeroom. or was it a different garden? i can't remember anymore. it was too long ago. anyhow, she asked each one of us to draw the vista hovering in our midst thinking we were all future van goghs. i was dumbfounded, i couldn't even draw a straight line. i was sweating and panicking. but i was nine, too young to be jittery. i probably did miserably but i was not reduced to tears. i couldn't do any art, i accepted that fact by the time i learned how to write the alphabet.

but the teenage beauty is truly exquisite. when i was young, tita wan was the uber-musician with the voice to behold. now she's this iridescent artist i simply adore.