rough

there were quite a few heartbreaking disasters in the news recently, from the super ferry tragedy to the devastation of typhoon ondoy in manila, the tsunami in western samoa and the earthquake in indonesia. awashed with grim scenarios from the ferocious devastations, the south pacific rim could use a dose of uplifting textures. the distressing pictures of people floating in muddy waters grip the core of our way of lives. ondoy in particular besieged both rich and poor, blasting even the executive villages in the affected areas. all the more reasons to embrace humility not only in the times of super typhoons and the pervading forecasts of signal number fours but also in the height of summer, when the only downside from the heat is a bout of mild sunburn. the capital would not be submerged in the flood if not for the ineptitude of the officials, including the less than solid prescience in basic urban planning. after the unrelenting storms, enters the lull in economics, it's the time to reflect, lend assistance and empower the afflicted.

stamps

I’m roaming around this blog precariously munching popcorn, sipping seven up and covered in crushing hodgepodge. At least I’ve finished the Chekhov short stories while standing in the train. The words were gorgeous. Sometimes it’s just more enriching to just chill. Upon alighting at my stop, I began a phone conversation with my friend detailing the classic style of a hermes bag. She got herself in the two-year waiting list. I'm still deeply overwhelmed by the sheer price and power of labels. But a chanel small leather good evidently exist in my most coveted items. To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to bear with unbearable sorrow. Pathetic, I know. I'm just here to heave a sigh.

slight

It’s such a deplorable state to be embroiled in an exhaustive capsule of a fortnight and the next few days are no different. All the pace I ever want is to slow down to have the time to capture the moments in writing and not to rant and moan about certain things. However the lighter side of the mess is that I was still able to press the remote into the right direction. The Accidental Husband which stars Uma Thurman as a love doctor hiding behind the less cruel medium of radio is a kind reminder of the advantages of measuring up vertically. Uma Thurman or any of the characters she portrays are all stunning. The actress is supermodel tall, with a job that has more substance than trying on clothes for a living. For very short people like me, it’s a vicious universe wrapped around in ridicule. People are mean. A joke in passing here and there may seem light hearted and innocent in its resonance but actually bruises in its core. But as far as transitions go, I’ve learned to develop a thick skin. Disparaging remarks rarely affects anymore. As I survey through the journey, the tallest of beings are actually less condescending than those who are not even five four and there are others who are shorter than me but are far more confident and shred the vilifiers into pieces by virtue of their tumefied self belief.

weave

It’s still September, in the early days of autumnal cool. The chilly breeze is actually growing on me, lifting the spirits to push my feeble disposition towards movement and productivity. There’s no point feeling low just because it’s cold. Getting motivated is a formidable imposition. The night before I was supposed to study for a test and as per usual I fell asleep, gotten to grips with only one topic out of many and discovered this afternoon that even the most intelligent of individuals believe in myths and absurdities. Quite a tangled web of algorithms, really.

In the glow of the computer screen, I’m digesting the stacks of notes I’ve got to chew and incorporate in the mundane routines. With the delicate slice of worry-free days far too rare especially in the next week, I’m clueless on how to accomplish the task of poring over the tiny print in those handouts. Keeping up with my kitchen duties is already a challenge. Still, I’m heaving a sigh. The cursor can blink indefinitely. But there’s no time to wallow.

minor divinity

politicians are usually huge on bravado. they give the speeches. they shake your hands without making eye contact. they ask the police commissioner to duke the stats. ooops, that was in the wire. i see elections as popularity contests and politics as a medium willing to kowtow to the good of the rich and powerful. but reading this blog about kris makes me smile. is it a question of when and not if she's going to run for public office? but i must admit kris' evolution has been fun over the last quarter of a century, i'm left enthralled. this from someone who couldn't see the logic behind the making of pido dida.

step, strut, sway

when i heard of martina hingis joining strictly come dancing, monica seles came to mind. the latter having graced the US version, dancing with the stars in 2008 and losing in the early stages of the reality series. seles was a bit stiff in the dancing department so her exit was understandable. i didn't see hingis perform live of course. who has the time to see shows live on the telly? but when i heard she was the first sleb to be sent packing, i became curious and checked the bbc i-player. the swiss miss did well. but where did those knockers come from? nonetheless the judges and the voters thought she wasn't up to par and that's it, until the next gig.

pause, rewind

fixing my stare at a midnight showing of footloose while writing this piece and waiting for the emmy’s at one am. i’m currently holding my breath to see kevin bacon dance. at this junction of the blog, the new kid ren (bacon) is on a tractor race whilst bonnie tyler’s holding out for a hero serves backdrop tune. i could sing to the lyrics of this 80’s staple.

I need a hero. I’m holding out for hero til the end of the night. He’s gotta be strong. He’s gotta be fast. He’s gotta be fresh for the night.

teener sarah jessica parker plays lori singer’s (the leading lady) tag along. the new kid ren could groove gracefully. i enjoyed footloose the song tremendously in nineteen eighty four. i enjoy it tremendously now, gyrating to the beat during workouts.

kevin bacon would be at the emmy’s tonight as his wife’s date, who’s a perennial nominee for the closer. gosh, it has been twenty five years since footloose. time flies. i’m time travelling from when i was ten to thirty five. for my emmy fix at this point, the curtain opens with doogie wearing a white suit, singing and hosting. time travelling at its finest. doogie howser md was an icon of my youth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

it turned out kevin bacon wasn’t only an arm candy. he was a presentor and a nominee as well. alec baldwin won for 30 rock, not a surprise. but as a kid, i watched the eldest baldwin jumped off a building to finish off his stint on knots landing. he was gorgeous then, as gorgeous as rob lowe. he is funny now. i prefer hugh laurie to win the emmy every year. but my husband records breaking bad and we both adored malcolm in the middle. bryan cranston was hilariously good in malcolm. congratulations to mad men and 30 rock, two shows i only read about in all the media. both critically acclaimed and winning awards. for a melancholic note this week, my parents were both fans of the miniseries north and south in the eighties. my mom viewed dirty dancing a million times. i also joined the SRO crowd with the folks at era theatre for ghost in 1990. when i think of patrick swayze, i think of my mom and dad and the tear ducts automatically activates.

jen on chelsea lately

UK cinema opening for Love Happens
October 09.
see you at the movies.

sigh....

I love bookstores. I’m aware there is an inherent danger for me to buy more books than I could muster. Who doesn’t get inflicted with this type of conundrum? I buy more books than I could read and actually sustain. I’m also running out of shelf space. If only I can afford a big house for more storage compartment. That would be great. But poverty and squalor act as shadows to keep me in check since birth. If only…..

I love hotel rooms. Not the egregious, tacky kind. But ones with a five star treatment or a five star view cocooned in an island or white sands. The hotel in the middle of nowheresville England during a July wedding this year wasn’t too bad either. But that resort featured on SATC the movie is sheer beauty and decorate the dreams of the working class. If only...

tunes

coming out with albums within the week of each other, two of my chosen bands are rocking and blasting away with the goods. unfortunately in the fortnight, my listening skills would be muddled as the downtime is reserved for sleep. my focus would be geared mainly towards nursing the inner pain of the thought of waking up early to tackle the grind that put food on our table. nevertheless there would be no question that muse and pearl jam could produced the marvelous stuff, not merely by reading and listening to the sounds and lyrics of music past. but by sheer incantations of the instruments and steady, sometimes cracking vocals, words that bespoke of the joys and struggles of existence. by the power of their magic hands and fingers, the great bands could perform in jeans and t-shirts and the audience still be enthralled. yes, i’m still ranting about missing muse concert this year due to my unforgivable weakness for a soothing slumber.

caramel confetti

As I was mulling over my ruined diet during dessert at dinner, I began to rue the the slacker lifestyle I’ve been leading since time immemorial. Earlier in the day, I was able to record the salsa dancing exercises on the fitness channel with the earnestness of someone twenty years younger. The recording is yet to be played and help me burn calories as of this writing. Because amidst the challenge to lose the excess baggage, stocks of contemptuous old bills and random papers are sprouting in every nook and cranny of our compact environment and I can’t focus when it’s messy. My venerable shredder came in handy for this heart wrenching emergency. I may need to join a support group for people with hoarding problems. But it’s just papers. I’m not quite prepared to switch to electronic billing. At least not yet. Screw this week’s sked though. I'm cramming as usual. It’s more stimulating to relax and relish the slightly cooler weather. On that note it’s time for a snooze.

chimes

nearly a year after this bit been written, i'm still waiting to yield to the radiance of the schmaltzy classic. i couldn't catch a break in the tcm listings. it's not available on dvd or if it is it's so obscure, it's hardly attainable. at least i've deposited the richly adorned reel in the nostalgia box. the story of the fictional heiress louise durant and her two blokes with the piano and violin is at present merely a mirage. if i crave the music, rachmaninoff concerto no. 2 and tchaikovsky violin concerto in D major are widely available in the internet and beyond.

view from afar

the picture is from this free mag on thursday. quite a sumptuous appetizer in itself, i couldn't afford the products advertised but the play on words and lists are captivating.

i've missed the first few episodes of the latest born survivor on discovery channel. but i recorded its latest chapter on persevering in the vietnam jungle. just the thought of all these extreme sports - rock climbing, mountaineering, caving, freefall, paramotoring, white-water rafting, jet skiing, kite skiing, wingsuit-flying, free jumping - makes me drool with envy. i'm simply the ultimate sissy, with no thoughts whatsoever of ever engaging in extreme sports. but the pictures i view with synthetized awe.
i merely glance.

stew

so what became of McNulty? this is the haunting refrain of my lilliputian frame, unless i get to dig the subconscious of the creative geniuses behind the wire. the deep recesses of my isothalamus is not yet framed to discuss the slow burning process that has kept me exhuming, researching and conferring with the sweeter, other half. i was mesmerized and confounded by the series. in a week, a month or so i’ll be ready to pick up the vibe of the cult and accord the arc and dramatization of urban decay its hyperbolic city of smiles perspectives.

whist i rollick in reading the vast and the grandiloquent the wire literature, here’s the delight of an interview. i’m walking past the political affiliations of the rag. because if there’s one thing i’ve gathered from all those midnight viewings in the marital bed, politics is not the be all and end all of greatness.

soft flashes

after catching production glimpses of the new sex and the city movie published in the tabloids and web galleries and seeing the girls cloaked in retro costumes from the eighties, i fall into a desperately seeking susan anamnesis. did every gal dress up like madonna and cyndi lauper back then? all the stuff from the big hair, voluminous skirts celluloid kept spooking me, sarah jessica parker was sensational in girls just want to have fun while kim cattral was more beautiful than any mannequin ever exhibited in shop apertures. a daily dose of the flimsy falcon crest a few months ago also brought all those eighties fashion back from the distant past. but the cast were draped in regular clothing. however the definition of regular clothing becomes vague and blurry as i scan the fashion folios and by solely walking along any street in london.

in retrospect, i prefer the tv version of SATC, the movie is like a parade of product placements of all the luxury items known to man and i gloriously lament my inability to purchase the aforementioned items. i’ve never been frivolous but it would be a welcome treat not to live within the budget and go crazy at westfield’s the village. oh it would be thrilling to own a chanel wallet. but in this rainy, nippy tuesday and with thoughts of my pathetic earning power rearing its ugly head, i’ll settle for window shopping along hampstead high street.

exploring the walls

i was able to get a link on an article about people fleeing facebook in the new york times and another piece about how the social web site can shake up kinship and solidarities. i probably haven't gotten to facebook fatigue yet. from my standpoint, it's still a wonder tool to communicate with far and away friends and family or friends that are so near yet so inaccessible. there is no bigger fan of snail mails than me but when people began responding to my letters with e-mails, i felt dejected. i exposed my excruciating scrawl to the world and all i got was an electronic mail? or i just have friends who lead hectic lifestyles that scribbling on a piece of paper then queuing at the post office seem like a prolonged process. phone calls are magical but i’m more comfortable writing than talking. although not quite the serial loner in nicole holofcener's walking and talking, the forlorn existence is hardly desolate as long as i have the books, magazines , the endearing comedy reruns on the telly, going online whenever the mood strikes.

every piece of ourselves is a judgment device; the blogs, the photographs, the status updates, the farmville indulgence, the spouses, the kids, the photographs of the travels to the luxurious and deepest ends of the earth. that is the fact of life. our walls and individual profile pages are a reflection of our personalities. in facebook, friendster and others, we get to see how they’re doing even without asking permission. we just have to be conscientious with the writings on the wall, the friends we invite and accept and all the other maneuverings in the web applications. since not all of my friends keep official blog pages like my fluffy, frothy introspections, i treat their social networking pages as hallowed treasures. we’re only allowed a tiny portion on the lives of our chosen people and i grasp that with gratitude whether or not it’s fueled with sentiments.

stuck in the pages

the tales and short stories of chekhov are a bit dreary, but i still have a few pages left. then there are the other two novels and the vanity fairs. reading is unceasingly worth it.

whirr

there are just moments when we’re saddled with too many tasks.
as the last few days have been pushing me to the boiling point, i began to question the significance of good breeding in the overall mechanism of the universe. but since i couldn’t tackle the specifics without being thrown stones, i will embrace the perspectives calmly and rationally. is it really such a challenge to be polite? we go to school to be inculcated with sterling behavior. but screw all my childhood references on values education. the wicked stepmother becomes far more compelling than snow white. while cinderella’s stepsisters large feet storyline are far juicier than marrying prince charming and living happily ever after.

enough of my interjections, it’s time to thaw the ice and walk in the pool of tepid water. my date and i dropped by vue this week for a late afternoon viewing of funny people. laughing is a great exercise and this film is ideal for a sound functioning heart. it dragged a bit in the last quarter but still worth the money. just look at the cast. the writers, the producers. the incredible hulk (eric bana) doing comedy? why not? he’s incredibly dishy. while seth rogen has lost the excess weight and become sharper in his film performances. i had a great time.

pretty cool

my downtime during the last week had been dutifully spent playing pretty in pink repeatedly in the video disc. compared to deannie loomis, andie walsh certainly had some sturdy and discerning backbone. a character so stimulating, she’s in essence my definition of cool. literally living in the wrong side of the tracks (there was even a shot of the rail in the opening credit montage), she manages the household, her mom having bolted while her dad still pines for the wife and not working. andie is a good student and earns her keep at the record store called tracks after school. she’s a stylish young lady with a knack for design. when a rich guy dumped her, she didn’t grovel and die but picked herself up and showed the world she‘s made of sterner stuff. there lies the hypothalamus of the story. because this bit doesn’t only apply to being dumped by losers but heartaches and disappointments in general. the morsel applies to ventures falling through, performing a bad audition, falling flat on a job interview, as for miles' case in sideways, not getting that book deal. picking up the pieces and making the transition may seem daunting in the beginning but there’s no other way to go. deannie loomis or esther greenwood may be fictional but sylvia plath is not.

small town interlude

set in a small town in kansas during the late 1920’s, splendor in the grass is a stirring tale of sexual repression, economic instability, moribund values and young love. directed by elia kazan and starring two of the most gorgeous people in hollywood history, natalie wood and warren beatty, this is a stunning piece of great cinema. the title is from a william wordsworth’s poem "Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.”

deannie loomis (wood) and bud stamper (beatty) were high school sweethearts. the scion of the richest family in town, high school quarterback bud was in-love with deannie, the only child of a middle class family. inveigled by his raging teenage hormones, bud was frustrated that deannie is resisting his sexual desires, for as deannie’s mom stressed in one of their random mother-daughter conversations, "boys don't respect a girl they can go all the way with; a boy wants a nice girl for a wife". surmising that he’d had to marry deannie in order to get her into bed, his father, who wanted bud to go to yale, suggested that he find another girl to satisfy his cravings. bud shagged the first girl available and fragile deannie suffered an emotional setback so severe she had to be admitted to the insane asylum.

when i first read the synopsis my first reaction was, are you kidding me? who would go mad just because they’ve been dumped? then i saw the movie and marvelled at warren beatty’s chiselled features and muttered to myself, bud was so handsome, of course deannie would become insane with the thought of losing him. although bud as a character was deeply lost and confounded, deannie evolved into the more balanced protagonist. elia kazan painted the canvas splendidly, every scene so bruising and illuminating, every template magical. there was poetry in the platitudes and the pathos are easily discerned. a throwback from the resplendent era of silver screen incantations, this film is truly a timeless classic for future generations.