the september issue

static

Today is a day to chill. The prospect of streamlining entrees, meeting self-imposed deadlines, performing less strenuous household tasks generate a more soothing relief than being engulfed in static volts. Pardon my metaphor. But I should be poised to multi-task my duties rather than drown in regret and lie in the pool of my inadequacies. I should be stopped from committing a number of deadly sins. Suffering from sloth and gluttony to name only two is never good for the conscience. The weather would be ghastly for the next nine months. A change to the cold air of autumn then the frosty winter has never been a tantalizing promise.

the strength of the hypotenuse

after an afternoon of reacquaintance with the breakfast club a few days ago, i decided to download my high school memory file, again. high school is not as convoluted and forlorn an institution as the film suggests. it molds us into generous souls and decent individuals prepared to conquer the world and create a niche in a highly competitive universe. wrestling with the equations in advanced algebra class or figuring out the inherent complications of the pythagorean theorem filled me with so much dread. i had a few talented teachers and some really awful ones. the Philippine state school version wasn’t divided into cliques but more into sections and then subsections, the process of choosing friends for life. if only i could have owned a functioning scientific calculator senior year, i would have felt better with my trigonometry grades. but the unbridled focus should have been ingrained in my system junior year, a s i grapple whether i took a beating in geometry or chemistry ? i can’t recall. i was always late first period physics due to a slight chance of bumping with an unrequited crush. all my high school crushes weren’t worth the thoughts nor compunctions they deserved. what was i thinking? i should have read more classic lit. staring at the reel and taking a closer inspection at the alumni personalities involved in the reunion, good grades are overhyped. i don't condone truancy or encouraging mediocrity. but those without the studious and emulous edge of my section did just fine. it was just a matter choosing the right track.

a quick read

i finished this book in a jiffy. though the reading action were expeditiously, done during the heydays of the gorgeous summer not in the requiescence of this bank holiday weekend. yeah, summer where art thou? i have to wait for 2010.

as someone who followed sampras career for nineteen years, i've read tons of in-depth interviews, i reckon i still got his transcripts for his 1999 US Open press con announcing his withdrawal prior to this first round match against marat safin and the 1993 newsweek interview as well. yes, the book hasn't much to offer much. for his trajectory after tennis, this is a poignant new york times piece.

for his career wavelength, this book is an apt and concised summary. whether one is a fan or not, this article does not do this bio justice. there was only a few mention about family, none at all about ex-girlfriends, the description of the actress wife was interesting. the coaches were the pivotal personalities; pete fischer, joe brandi, tim gullikson, paul annacone, jose higueras, back to paul annacone. my favorite part was the astronomical rent during the wimbledon fortnight, drawing the expense in living in this colorful capital.

two weeks from now, another champion would be crowned at flushing meadows. the usual suspects are all in contention. as long as the defending champion wither, i'll be as happy as a clam.

lovely art site 2

(The Red Door by alpha shanahan)

my tita wan who held a successful art exhibit last year in bacolod has launched a new website to showcase her work. her new home provides an alluring outlet for her style and her charming ingenuity to flourish. it's a blazing route to carve an enviable niche in the vibrant world of art. so do come visit when you have the chance.

cascading soaps

she was such a breath of fresh air, the young lady who sat next to me at the atrium. who unlike one of her friends doesn’t subscribe to philippine tv at all. i mean, there’s nothing wrong or low brow in downloading wowowee in our computers or hooking up with TFC, or squeal with chirpy delight upon the sight of zanjoe marudo in a telenovela. i mean if it weren’t for the wowowee regulars, i wouldn’t be able to join the fun in spotting my colleague recto wave his banner on the show a year ago. but someone who does not require daily doses of ann curtis or sam milby to light up the screen, is rare in my circle.

i was an ysabella drone two years ago and now i wonder what the crap happened to habang may buhay? is the soap too unpolished to be aired? are there more important stars? are there evil forces at hand? if not for judy ann santos, i don’t bother with anything on philippine television. i just don’t have the time.

in the meantime, george and cecil would suffice in the interim. the weekly program is more like an analytical thesis about the joys and pitfalls of marriage rather than the situational comedy of yore. the subjects vary each episode, aside from the constant battles with the in-laws, the plot has tackled issues pertaining to money, jobs, pregnancy and fertility, sibling rivalries, jealousies and the likes since it first aired this june. i thoroughly enjoyed the candy pangilinan episode, she was so hilarious in the role of the quasi-maid. this is middle class pinoy life at its best, the forte of director joey reyes, who also writes the script. judy ann and ryan need not flex their acting muscles, the scenes come off naturally. definitely i’m biased.

but if you ask the dyosa fan  and tfc subscriber who i bump into on the way home, she mutters the condescending  "haay naku, hindi sila bagay" (they don’t look good together). it has something to do with judy ann not being mestiza and her transformation into a beautiful siren is all down to her flawless endorsement. being far away from the motherland doesn’t automatically alter filipinos pervading prejudices a tiny bit.

fluid device

gripped and captivated by all the extra readings i’ve been doing on the wire, my net hours are usually spent devouring the reviews and checking references in the wikipedia page. since the emmy’s are looming, it’s a bit of a struggle to comprehend why the hell this show was not noticed by the industry. as far as i observed all the episodes stood out and sparkled with excellent writing and outstanding production values. i, too missed its original run. i had to rely on good word of mouth including president obama’s to join the cult. cheers to the BBC for the thorough reruns.

as politics is one of the recurrent themes of the wire, today is marked with heartfelt grief for the kennedy family with the passing of their patriarch, teddy, a staunch liberal senator from massachusetts, merely weeks after eunice’s funeral. i was surrounded by tons of kennedy hardbounds and paperbacks growing up that i thought JFK was still alive until i learned how to read. my mom even had a vinyl copy of his inaugural speech and we’re not even americans. but as citizens of the world, even then in the camelot era, we are lured by the pervading pop culture, whether it’s the british royalty, american politics, the olympics, pop corn hollywood, the classic films from the far east and europe and so on and so forth. these days, news permeate in fibre optic clicks and twenty four hour channels and the advances have deemed it possible for live feeds from bloggers and twitters to dominate our lives. as it was a generation ago, the boxes are constantly at hand for the ticking, it’s up to the individual whether to go with the party flow.

a taste of pinot noir

prior to sideways, the one film that i associated with paul giamatti was his supporting role in martin lawrence's big momma’s house. while that movie was a gross-out comedy, sideways is an exquisite story of resentment and anguish of its lead character. trapped in a dead-end job of a high school teacher, miles (giamatti), is both a writer and an oenophile by inclination. still agonizing from a painful divorce, he ventured off with his long time friend jack (thomas haden-church) to the central california coast for a week of wine, women and song or just purely for camaraderie before jack take the plunge.

for jack, a fading television star, the week would be a retreat from his impending future. for miles, who’s awaiting the verdict of his latest manuscript, it’s a much-needed respite from the beaten track. settled in their hotel in solvang, the lads hooked up with maya (virginia madsen), a part time waitress studying for her masters with whom miles shares a mild acquaintance and stephanie (sandra oh), a seductive bartender jack picked up along with his drinks. drawn together with their passion for wine particularly pinot noir, miles and maya began their tentative steps towards delicate affection and romance.

crafted by the deft strokes of director alexander payne (election), sideways has always been a personal favorite from the get-go. unlike the ken cut-outs of the hollywood studio mill, giamatti is a skilled thespian who injected miles with the breadth and depth of nuance and restraint. the authenticity of the characters' apparent imperfections reverberated with great resonance. the dynamics of the film delved further into the palette of mesmerizing discontent in a quiet but splendid fashion.

fleecy viewings

blogging as i fix my attention on the telly screen for wild child starring emma roberts, alex pettyfer and the late natasha richardson seems like a totally shallow activity. but to be truthful, i always find frothy teenage films enlightening even the likes of bring it on, mean girls, clueless and so forth. we know it’s going to be a happy ending for these beautiful and privileged creatures but on the other side of the coin, the features evoke cautionary tales for maleficient antagonists. good should always triumph over evil. these pieces of cinema do not drive me to sagacious mind-saunterings like city of god. i’m also still bawling my eyes out from the untimely passing of liam neeson’s wife, such tragedy. Ms Richardson had been an actress of great elegance, whether she play the roles with deep intensity such as in asylum or frumpy like in wild child.

the breakfast club is showing in the afternoon on sky modern greats. stopped by HMV in manchester and discovered that they jacked up the prices of john hughes movies. it’s kind of expected but at least i was able to avail a copy of pretty in pink. i have a choice of absolutely divine featured photoplays this dizzy sunday from a glimpse of molly ringwald and andrew mcCarthy's bratpack years to the latest celluloid incarnation of the brideshead revisited. i had led a humiliating slothful existence, having not read a single work of evelyn waugh.

jamming at manchester

that's the thing about rock concerts. the sound is authentic, vehemently no miming possible. there are no second voices either emanating from the record system like the compulsory attendance to the kundirana concerts back in the day. but this is pearl jam, one of the best rock bands in the planet, a conjuration of good music and high energy. the beats from the mccready solos were such a thing of beauty, they drove me in silent euphoria in the seats. vedder has the gift of gab, a kind of kinetic charm only few people in this sleb-captivated existence possess. the arena was pitch perfect. we had a good view. some romantic dates are just too good to be true and this was one of them.

pearl jam wishlist

wishlist
(pearl jam, vedder)

I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off
I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on
I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on
The christmas tree, I wish I was the star that went on top
I wish I was the evidence, I wish I was the grounds
For 50 million hands upraised and open toward the sky

I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me
I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me
I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good
I wish I was the full moon shining off a camaros hood

I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun
I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on
I wish I was the pedal brake that you depended on
I wish I was the verb to trust and never let you down

I wish I was a radio song, the one that you turned up
I wish...
I wish...

the quick and the nimble

sunday one pm

it's a couch potato's dream night. television is a vital refuge in my deeply somber and laid-back routine and when my favorite sports events are on the telly, the high is incomparable. there was tiger strategizing his shots conservatively at hazeltine while two other channels (one terrestrial) were covering the world athletic championships. track and field has been given a bad rap for decades owing to suspicions and admissions of systematized doping of several high-profile athletes. usain bolt emerged from these shadows of doubt to capture the highly-frenzied, athletic imaginations with his gold medal winning, record-breaking sprinting performances. in these championships, he's pitted against the likes of teammate asafa powell and american tyson gay. in the distaff side, the young ladies from the carribean are marking the territory. it's probably in the diet. the russians have already won two gold medals both in the 20 km walk . in every athletic competition, my eyes dart straight to the women's super toned abs. the sight of allyson felix, yelena isinbayeva and blanka vlasic's lean and mean physiques is deflating to my highly-charged battle with excess adipose tissues. i should really move in high speed with a few frenetic runs rather than be this ethereal slacker.

sunday nine twenty five pm

9.58 seconds is truly mind-boggling. usain bolt astonished and awed the skeptics anew. tyson gay was second with 9.71, a national record. asafa powell third. this is the deepest field i've witnessed in a decade. four of the top five from the carribean nations. dwain chambers was sixth.

brooding

it's cosy when tiger woods is on top of the leaderboard of a major. it indicates a rationale to go forward in restructuring the beloved clicker diary. but it has been an emotionally draining week and here i am on a nippy saturday trying to make sense with the mess and clutter. just like jz, i discovered the varied richness of the new york times power blogs. the sagacity and color of the texts tend to subdue my burgeoning remorse and vehemence towards the next person. i need my exercise but i lack the vigor and commitment. looking at old photographs of myself is depressing. how could metabolism slow down with age? a bit of leeway for those who toil and toil hard should be the norm. but profound endeavors, although quite noble, are far from being the linchpins of success. couldn't the world forsake bitchiness as the ultimate power tool?

hughes reminiscence

even without his recent passing, john hughes and his oeuvre had this profound resonance to the landscape of my youth. some kind of wonderful of which hughes wrote the screenplay and was directed by howard deutch, was actually a subject of significant discourse in my high school years. a friend was enamored with the mary stuart-masterson character. i was more into leah thompson's amanda jones. thompson's role wasn't allotted much depth in the film, it was all about watts' (masterson) secret love for his best friend keith (eric stoltz). unlike some high school popular bitches, amanda was actually amiable. i'll have to find time to watch this homage to young romance when i have the time, as having seen this film only once in its entirety twenty years ago. not to mention the poster reminds me of unrequited longing.

as university freshmen, our class was tasked to submit a film in a PSF (personal social formation) course so inconsequential that the requirement was considered beyond absurd. the theme was love, how lame. after a lot of deliberations and food for thoughts, we decided to shoot our personalized version of pretty in pink, again written by hughes and directed by deutch. as one of the ring leaders for the project, i had to watch pretty in pink in betamax over and over. we chose our andie, our blane, our duckie. the finished product wasn't altogether enough of a masterpiece but it saved our butts from such snooty, vainglorious, loudmouth member of the faculty. i craved to see andie and blane shatter the resistance to their union anew. after eighteen years, the movie's sequences are now a bit sketchy in my mind.

my favorite john hughes film is the breakfast club, which i've seen when i was much older during the HBO years in the nineties. the social milieu of teenage life goes through a roulette of labels and stereotypes; the brain, the jock, the basket case, the princess, the criminal. in one saturday of detention, five high school kids of varying predilections learned the substantial aspects of life and belongingness by spending a weekend together dissecting their angsts, pondering their insecurities and forming friendships. a dvd of this brat pack classic would be a terrific addition to our repository shelf.

hark the band

i could listen to blur all day. after a handful of successful gigs in the summer, there are a few train of thoughts of the band getting back together. one is it's highly unlikely, the other is it could be a possibility. whatever the outcome may be. i'm contented on viewing the videos and listening to the tunes, or just reading about them. it's quite simple and i'm a bit of a bore.

movie confections

the commentaries to the sound of music film was absolutely fab. it's lovely to hear from dame julie andrews narrating the production pleasures of the much-loved film. google has led me to some pages featuring few reunion videos and photographs whilst reading pieces of writing about the real von trapp family. my lola nellie once sent us a copy of maria von trapp's book in the late '80's and the story has always piqued my curiosity.

sabrina (1954), with audrey hepburn in the title role, not to be confused with the 1995 remake starring julia ormond, has just wrapped up in front of me and it left some thoughts to ponder. how come sabrina was still in black and white when some motion pictures made twenty years earlier like gone with the wind were in technicolor? but the afternoon viewing has nevertheless inflamed a humprey bogart interest in my screen planner. perhaps i’ll try a day off rendezvous with the african queen and katharine hepburn. or revisit the resplendent comic timings of hepburn-tracy movies on tcm. doris day-rock hudson cinematics may be sugary and way too nice but their charming smiles were exquisitely preserved by celluloid.

i can’t wait for my days off.

fast forward swim

the meet was mostly about the swimsuit controversy, with 43 world records set in the eight day competition, i began to jest in earnest, would wearing arena pro-glide suit would transform me into champion swimmer? as a mightily tiny creature, the answer would be hilarious to the absolute power. phelps settled for silver in the 200 free. paul biedermann came out of nowhere to break records in middle distance free events, erasing ian thorpe's, the foremost proponent of body suits, 400 free standard time. but the sweetest thrill was the fast forward button, i tend to yawn during the long distance events that the remote served as my comfort knob, a paramount essential when rewinding and playing again phleps vs vadic in the 100 fly.

hometown dispatch

These are the last days of summer. July was more about downpours. Hopefully August would offer numerous delightful options. Although that's kind of impugnable as the Met already predicted more rain, I would always indulge in these warmer temperatures. However sometimes I get ticked off with just a little nod in the wall thermometer scale. Then Adam Smith’s wealth of nations comes to mind, making me wonder why the temperate zone countries have so much power financially and politically. History and Social Studies were favourite subjects when I was in school. Getting into a debate in class was such a high. Along that train of thought, I am thinking of tita Cory and how she was this person of interest in those civics discussions. I heard arguments yesterday regarding her legacy at work and how I agree with Sophie. Arnel, my friend’s husband, had an honest facebook shoutout yesterday but he was blocked by the opposing voices through the backtalk box. I will just probably read this book again.

While the commotions about CJC becoming national artist is utterly deserved. Obviously, there are tons of strong reactions in the comments sections of newspapers. This blog is thoroughly riveting in its depth. This is not about elitist bourgeoisie crap. I may not have seen the the lilian velez story : till death do us part. But I know that art is supposed to be sacred.