beetlebum

a song about drug addiction. how i wish blur would get together again.

affiliation

vanity fair may 2001
there are covers and there are covers.

of sports and men

In Sport mag list of the wealthiest sportsmen, Tiger Woods is number one while Manny Pacquiao at sixth, quite remarkable for a Filipino. It also comes as no surprise that both men are now deemed controversial through rumours of extra-marital affairs. Well, some women want to bask in luxury and experience the privilege of living the grand existence. Going back to the list, there are only two footballers in the honor roll aside from the David Beckham who is at number three. The fabled club though does not include Cristiano Ronaldo but Ronaldinho and Lionel Messi, two South Americans now on the opposite levels of playing firepowers. Yes, Beckham is the only English footballer with the dream marketability. Just to show the profitability of basketball as a sport, there are more NBA players on the roster than any other sports. LeBron James is just outside the top three at number four, while Kobe could only manage 15th, lower than Yao Ming at 13, Kevin Garnett at 14 and Shaq who is joint ninth with Formula One’s Fernando Alonzo and the truly magical Valentino Rossi.

For good measure here are Sport mag’s members of the Wealthy Boys Club; 1. Tiger Woods (£59.3m) 2. Phil Mickelson (P31.6m) 3. David Beckham (£26.9m) 4. LeBron James (£25.3m) 5.Kimi Raikonen (£23.9m) 6. Manny Pacquao (£23.8m) 7. Lionel Messi (23.7m) 8. Alex Rodriguez (£23.3m) 9. Valentino Rossi (£20.9m) 9.Fernando Alonzo (20.9m) 9.Shaquille O’Neal (£20.9m) 12. Kevin Garnett (£20.7m) 13. Yao Ming (£19.7m) 14. Lewis Hamilton (£19.6m) 15. Kobe Bryant (£18.6m) 16. Roger Federer (£17.6m) 17. Allen Iverson (£17.3m) 18. Vijay Singh (£17.1m) 19. Derek Jeter (£16.9m) 20. Ronaldinho (£16.3m).

It should be noted that Manny Pacquaio’s figures do not include the recent win against Miguel Cotto. Sports is universal in its appeal and although the Americans lead the way with almost half of the names on the list with nine, it’s still a very international field in a variety of sports. Before Tiger Woods came along, golf was not a top earning sport. Through Tiger, the sport has re-branded into something cooler and spectacular. But he’s only human, he makes mistakes and he likes his blondes (his former girlfriend and his wife are) although those pictures of his recent flings in the papers were brown haired or brunettes. Is this about hair color or goes deeper than mere tabloid fanfare?

mourning borders

The news of Borders UK going into administration is harsh and brutal in these fleeting times. I always feel a connection to Borders, even in their Singapore store at Orchard Road when more than a decade ago I tried to find quiet contemplation. It’s great to see in the website that it’s still thriving wonderfully although with a new owner. The serene aura of their Oxford store (the town, not the street) was my source of enlightenment. There was of course no Borders branch in the Northeast England where I spent a year. But London is different. There are a few Borders in the grand capital. I go there during my birthdays to have my pictures taken. It has been a tradition the last few years san for the june birthday my dad passed away. The interiors are enchanting. The books are beautifully arranged. It’s my kind of surroundings.

Compared to other UK bookstores, or even supermarket chains who also sell a bunch of books, Borders is hands down my favorite. Where is the magazine section at Waterstone’s? What’s the attraction in WH Smith? Foyle’s is pleasing but there’s no branch available at Brent Cross. I can only dilly-dally that much grocery shopping at Tesco and Asda and the books in store are mostly mass-marketed capers. Borders is not doing well in the States either. They have to close a few outlets. Amazon offers competitive prices but nothing compares to the high of impulse purchases after luxuriating in a room full of picturesque book covers.

I grew up without the National Bookstore litanies of the Manila born and bred colleagues. It was a good thing my mom collected books and my lola Nellie sending us boxes of old titles from her base in Burbank. Plus there was the book club of my youth where we pay to rent books. I can no longer recall when I first set foot in a National Bookstore outlet. Was it in Manila or Cebu? I might have been already in my twenties. Then and now, spending time at any National Bookstore branches is oddly fascinating because the salespersons would merely provide a blank affect if you mention an author. I couldn’t help but wonder how did Ivy bring me the precise copies one fine day during one of her homecomings last year.

Reading books or any reading for that matter hardly concerns most people in my hemisphere. So does the wider public in RP or in the UK. But from my viewpoint, the people who read and write widely are tops in my list.

tumult

reports about the maguindanao massacre are very disheartening occurences in the the struggle for peace and order in the time of politics and elections overload. is this all about winning the elections? what's the thrill in acting like beasts in the wild? the death toll includes lawyers, journalists, passers-by's. in this highly- volatile world, the rich and powerful have their private armies. tempers flare up, hatred percolates. they have the weapons. they gor for the kill.

the philippines is not a lawless state. the elections are supposed to be part of the democratic process. we toil the earth. we gather the harvests. we feed our soul. it's not to act violent and curtial innocent lives and descend to the forces of wrath and evil.

10 feet from McNulty

Life is a Dream, the latest production at the Donmar Warehouse, based on the work of Spanish poet Pedro Calderon dela Barca, was a gorgeous experience. Dominic West and the rest of the cast were marvellous. I was maybe drifting off during the long-winded monologues, but staring at West up close in the flesh for paragraphs and paragraphs of lines was beyond surreal. West of course, starred in The Wire for five seasons, which is the best piece of television I’ve seen ever and that includes The Sopranos. West as Segismundo was mesmeric in Life is a Dream. He evolved from a wild prisoner to a tyrannical prince then back to being incarcerated to becoming a revolutionary until his rightful birthright as heir to the throne of Poland, all the while waxing philosophically about the stages in his life. The austere production design and the exceptional lighting bode well with the play’s theme. I get startled by the sounds, but that’s only me acting all wide-eyed and amateurish as part of the audience.

I’m always amazed by the delicacy of theatre as an entertainment commodity. There are no rooms, nor leeways, for mistakes. I wonder if the actors have earpieces for someone to whisper to them just in case they forget a line or their minds go totally blank. There was a time in high school that I was tapped as a stage whisperer. I was like a shadow feeding the actors words. Very lowly. But I guess having a free meal after the performances were well worth the drudgery. Oh, how simple gestures have such lovely appeals in our youth.

calming permeation

It was a major disappointment when I and the other half missed the first time Muse performed at the new Wembley. It coincided with the kind of sadness that resonates in our lives forever. In the US, Muse is the front act to bands like U2. But in the UK, it’s the main draw, filling huge stadiums to the rafters. Muse produces some fine tunes and their lyrics are not too shabby in the scheme of the good and the beautiful. Their latest album, The Resistance, does not disillusion their ardent fans. Although the homage to Queen is palpable in a few tracks, the overall effect still rises above the fray of tabloid and paparazzi pop. Undisclosed Desires may not be a creatively titled paean to love but its melody is quite catchy and soothing to the ears. There’s a rich tapestry overall despite the political perspectives of The United States of Eurasia. Politics is a serious and sensitive subject. Great musicians are great activists, taking the lead in making a difference through their songs. I’d prefer them to brighten the world with their music. But the pull to make our opinions heard on important issues is hard to resist and Muse is no exception.

ping-pong

table tennis was a physical education subject in college. it's a fun sport. i enjoy watching it. it's dominated by one nation in men's singles, doubles and women's singles, doubles and mixed doubles. it's their number one sport and they're the best in the world.

COYS

the winning margin is brilliant. i haven't seen the full highlights yet. i was trawling at the dawn of a new day and all i came up with is lurking into the wedding video of the new Hotspur.

the world of the Spurs eye-candies just expanded.

Nico Kranjcar and his Hotspur magazine cover.

funny seth

after a midnight viewing of zack and miri make porno, which became stale at the end, i began to ruminate on the distinct voices and starrers of seth rogen. in zack and miri, the so-called love angle is not as convivial as trying to make a comical porno movie. our household just really dig seth, or kevin smith, or judd apatow. but my favorite seth rogen film is funny people. knocked-up is almost there but eric bana extolling the virtues of aussie rules footballl is simply priceless. with that, screw the box office. here comes the dvd.

and speaking of parties

a video from TMZ. brings a hearty chuckle to the dreary lives of boxing fans.

party

from Nicky Haslam's article on ES Magazine : Lord of the Dance

"Harsh lighting can be fatal to the ego, and the face. It's fun to provide dim and dusky corners for dalliance. Never be afraid to go to a party where you don't know anyone. Love can still happen to the most hard-bitten. The whole point is to talk to people you don't know. It's boring when little groups of friends stick together; they can do that on any street corner."

"The main thing is simply to invite your friends, and perhaps a few fashionable people of the moment to add spice. Parties aren't meant to sum up anything or represent a cultural moment; quite the reverse. They're about the continuity of friendship. To have the same people at one's parties over the years is wonderful."

it's actually petrifying to attend a party not knowing a soul. i play it safe most of the time. i go to gatherings where i'm practically on first name basis with almost every one. as always, feeling horribly unctuous all the way. how insipid.

cool movie

My husband classifies Commando (1985) starring Arnold Schwarzenegger as one of the best film ever. One of those it’s so bad, it’s good testosteronic bonanza. The lead star’s lines, catchphrases, expressions, invincibility border on utmost hilarity. The then former Mr. Universe and future California governor plays John Matrix, a one man killing machine, capable of gunning down a private army of hundreds. The body count in the film is so amazing, two men drop dead every second in Matrix’s attack of the dictator who kidnapped his daughter. One scene has Matrix fighting a platoon of combatants while using rose bushes as cover. Bullet-proof bushes, yeah, why not . Some of the men in villainous fatigue uniforms fall even before shots are fired. He gets shot in the arm, no signs of bleeding in the affected extremity. Then he is stabbed in the abdomen and still has no marks. He gets burned in the furnace in the final confrontation and survives the battle with barely a scratch. His daughter Jenny played by Alyssa Milano witnesses her father throw a pipe through another man into a boiler. But for all that the pretty tyke manages a smile in the ensuing close-up. Letting-off steam, indeed. Remarkably entertaining.

concert next fall

concert check, will the video survive till the event?
the countdown begins.

chant, counter-punch

gripped by the stimulating drama of manny pacquaio's love life, it's kind of cute that the boxing superstar is quite entranced by our national passion for karaoke singing. i can't sing so i thee not judge. i can't comment about pronunciation because i get tongue tied at mid air. floyd mayweather's words about his work as a fight commentator in between fights in an interview is a dig on the pambansang kamao's command of english. remember english is already pacman's third language. if the Q's and A's are conducted in cebuano (the visayan language spoken by 20 million people), he would be as fluent as anyone else. i love english as a language, but i stutter, i get stumped at mid sentence and it's horribly frustrating. nonetheless there's always a room for improvement and that goes for pacman, but with all that cash and humility, do english elocution still matter?

talking about boxing, going up to the heavyweight category from pacquaio's welterweight, let's tackle the issue of the greatest heavyweights. sport-magazine ranked joe louis higher than the former cassius clay. i did a research presentation about muhammad ali in my college english class and he transcended most sports and together with pele and michael jordan was one of the top three sportsmen of the twentieth century on most lists. he could have stayed undefeated like louis if not for the disruption over issues about 'Nam. one thing about lists though are that they are very subjective. every one has their favorites. in a few other rankings, ali is not even in the top ten. but he's surely top in mine.

tennis scoop

I’m no Agassi fan. But if the likes of Coleen Rooney, Cheryl Cole and their footballer spouses could write an account of their journey from rags to riches. Why the hell not a Tennis Hall of Famer? I don’t particularly agree with Marat Safin. Although I wasn’t really surprised by the revelations. So the rock star of tennis was not entirely squeaky clean? It was a colourful career. There was the battle with his stage father. Apparently according to a Jim Courier interview I read in ’96, the 1991 French Open champion once saw the elder Agassi threw his son’s trophy in the bin after a tournament when they were still in their early teens. There were issues with Bollettieri. There were a few critical moments about his long hair and ear piercings. There was the marriage to Brooke Shields. There was the union with Steffi Graf, who was no slouch in the game of tennis. There were the kids. He earned a lot from endorsements. Who needed the big serve when you can return serve like Andre Agassi? He could have won more titles. But who cares, he has personality, and that’s what people like.

this week, or that week

i went through my week deflated of the usual buoyancy. i was running errands for the people. i could get too condescending when it matters because i used to jostle the word nincompoop in a variety of ways. just out of exasperation i would like to cut the crap and take a breather and write. but as i was pondering the art of blogging and its reverberation, a friend brought a critical care article to critique. i forgot to ask the required number of words. i can't cerebrate at this point. i could try in essence. i need energy. i need time. the weather is nasty and my very significant other is battling the flu.

as i was reading and clicking windows, i thoroughly took pleasure in jz's blog on hillary's visit to the RP. i almost met hillary once six years ago. i missed her book signing at border's in oxford because i had to go to work. i could have blown off work, had her biog signed and met hillary face to face. but i chose to be goody two-shoes and it got me nowhere. nugon.

threadlike

midnight

The screen is flickering., my riposte to that is a big yawn. I can’t watch the show that my heart desires. I’m stuck with Southpark, my witty and cursive alternative to sleep. I also have a tetris record to break. Now, where’s the DS?

the morning after

The tenebrous atmosphere is not exactly soothing to the shattering nerves at this junction of the day. It would be more practical to illuminate the room and soak myself in the art of poring over hard copies. The state of the body after fourteen hours of gruelling pacing, walking, shivering, pleasing, toiling and cogitating is one of significant ruin and debilitation. Drifting away to the world of comfort and dreams is the way to reinvigorate. I’m seldom vertical at home. My pervading rituals had been relegated to a series of distinctive sloth-inducing actions. I’ve got to carry out the chores of the day or I’ll turn into a spastic model android for the seven deadly sins.

rob pats scrawl

Robert Pattinson is a huge movie star. His role of Edward Cullen in the Twilight film franchise, based on the series of novels written by Stephanie Meyer, catapulted the fledgling young actor from Barnes, London into undulated stardom. I read an article about him before all the hoopla. The interview was conducted prior to his flying to Portland, and shooting the first Twilight movie. Those were the days when he was still living in London and his primary claim to fame was the role of Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I haven’t seen the fourth Harry Potter film at the time and when I did, I was gushing about this young man’s good looks. As showbusiness is mostly about looks and image first and talent second, you’ll know he’ll go places. Although luck overpowers beauty, talent or whatever skills imaginable in any job or work settings in the milky way.

In the Vanity Fair interview, the writer compares all the fanfare to Leomania, immediately post Titanic. But since I haven’t even seen Titanic through this day, I wouldn’t even know the difference. Both Leo and Rob are simply gorgeous and Leo has done a spectacular job in adding more gravitas to his acting mettle and body of work. While Rob is merely 23 and is still coming to grips into being the target of those pesky paparazzi. He’s also English. I know in the conclusion of the Vanity Fair piece, he was lauded as the next Hugh Grant. But Hugh Grant is public schoolboy, Oxford grad, a son of privilege. Rob is, I just reckon, despite the posh accent, in a more reachable class. Hopefully after all the madness comes the realizations, that talent, even in the brutal, highly-manufactured entertainment industry, should rise above good looks any time, any day.

the smiling masks

LOL
Originally uploaded by GeorgePontinoJr the Crystal Eye™

charlotte, emily, et al

there should be better use of my time than studying in-depth the literary talents of the bronte sisters, Charlotte and Emily, their younger sister Anne. i prefer jane eyre to wuthering heights, merely for my annoying fondness for happy endings. dealing with dusk and darkness is in earnest, too grim. in the course of all the downloading and ruining my eyes through dissecting letters and words, i'm coming into contact with sigmund freud and carl jung which brought me to peruse further the personalities of frasier and niles crane. i'm examining the structure of the vampire archetypes in both novels, the strong undercurrents of jungian reading.

through the film Devotion (1946), with Olivia Da Havilland in the role of Charlotte and Ida Lupino as Emily, i've come to appreciate the stories of these mesmerizing stalwarts of Victorian literature. the black and white film, although not entirely fictional, illuminate the strength and behind the scenes drama of female writers of the early to middle 19th century. most critics deems wuthering heights superior to jane eyre. but when it's between siblings, the success of one is the success of the other, and since i'm on the subject of sibling rivalry, Olivia Da Havilland's feud with her sister Joan Fontaine, also an Academy Award winner, is one that befuddles, primarily because the bond between sisters should be stronger that any feud dreamed up by the hollywood machine.

blast from home

I’m trying to make it a habit to read the local news in Bacolod City, the great fire just recently and the Masskara festival with Barangay Taculing being crowned dance parade champions. The performance is on you tube and whoever feels homesick should just press play. Barangay Taculing would always feel like home. When we first moved to our resident in the late 70‘s, it seemed miles away from civilization, now it’s a nearby abode from just about anywhere.

There weren’t any malls in the City of Smiles when I was still a student, it’s different these days. It’s been spruced up a bit in the last few years. I love malls. But I hate being caught in the debate between Westfield and Mall of Asia. I’m not a Manila kind of gal. I try to speak Tagalog. However, I’m more at home in my Bacolodnon drawl. Speaking of malls, where was National Bookstore when I had all the energy to read the penguin classics? I have easy access to books in the present but my cravings for books written by Filipino authors remain an unsatiated yearning. I’m so grateful for the internet for hooking me up with the world. When my Lola Nellie was still alive and before the web enveloped our lives she would send me clippings from LA newspapers mostly about the Lakers. My grandmother and I wrote constantly. I was such an atrocious letter writer. Confound the self-esteem dilemma of adolescent and young adulthood, the same upheavals and imperfections, in existence in my very core until this time.

do live, do travel

According to London think-tank, the Legatum Institute, the most prosperous nations in the world, in ascending order, are as follows: 20. Slovenia 19. Spain 18. Hongkong 17. France 16. Japan 15. Austria 14. Germany 13. Belgium 12. UK 11. Ireland 10. New Zealand 9. USA 8. Netherlands 7. Canada 6. Australia 5. Norway 4. Denmark 3. Switzerland 2. Sweden 1. Finland.

What no Singapore? The investment group looked into nine key factors such as personal freedom, health, education, democratic institutions, safety and security, governance, economic fundamentals, innovation, trust and social cohesion. Except for the obvious choices from North America, Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong and Japan, the remaining 12 countries are mostly from Europe. Damn, I haven’t travelled much. But I’m acquainted with people who have more or less circumnavigated the globe and I’m living vicariously through them.

generational flux

The film version of Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club (1993) is a sprawling chick flick. Divided into a series of vignettes and flashbacks, the film tackles the relationships and experiences of Chinese mothers and their American daughters. Meandering between generations could sometimes get tricky. Mother-daughter dynamics are already hard and complicated enough between the same cultures, but having the kids confront the grievances of another belief system create pressure and friction at the same time. In the film, we see June (Ming Na) and Waverly (Tamlyn Tomita) struggle for their mother’s approval and affection both as children and as adults. While Lena (Lauren Tom) and Rose’s (Rosalind Chao) passivity fuels the breakdown of their marital unions. Their mothers experiences in China somehow contributed to the irresolute formation of their daughters upbringings. Lindo (Waverly’s mother) was forced to have an arranged marriage when she was fifteen to a child-boy. An Mei draws the lessons in her life from her own mother's experiences as a lowly concubine. The perils of Suyuan and Ying-ying as young brides in China breaks the sheer will and spirit. Suyuan left her twin baby girls under a barren tree during the outbreak of war while Ying-ying accidentally killed her baby boy in her depressive state due to her husband’s extra-marital affairs.

As a film about women, the men in the stories are either portrayed as cads, controllers, womanizers and weaklings. Not much are shown about the mothers’ husbands in the States. Fair enough, the spotlight is on the women overcoming adversities. But as they inhabited in their married lives; raising children and forging careers, the men should be the significant other half. All in all, with the women wearing cheongsams with tiny waists in the China scenes which makes me drool with envy, the movie may not be altogether stirring but it’s remarkably good looking cast and their shining performances make up for all the stereotypes of migration and over-indulgence of melodrama.

the day

It’s such a bummer of a day. I accomplished absolutely nothing. Oh swell, sometimes the spirit is so frail and so weak. My surroundings are a mess with all the falling leaves and a backdrop of dusk and itinerant cold. Now I have to make my way to the kitchen to prepare the stew. I have to calm my nerves. Breathe.

asperity

I’m watching a chopper show on the Discovery Channel at the moment. Since I couldn’t find the clicker, I’m left gazing at the visuals and hearing the voiceovers. So men bitch when it comes to engines and motors? I thought it was the blondes-only clique savage attack at the brunettes in The Apprentice that makes me squirm. In my professional universe, I have lots of questions to ask. How could people who are rude and temperamental still have friends? If somebody is provoked, I could understand the same high-pitched retaliation. But a slight banter or a light nudge does not deserve disrespect. Abrasive personalities exist within our midst. There are those who sport highly-flammable façade but there lie a lovely inner core. Some others are just damn awful. They go hot and cold. You’ll never know when they’ll strike you with a deadly venom as their posse let them get away with their abrasive, barbaric personalities. They shouldn’t really. The good natured earthlings deserve better confidants than Aaron Eckhart’s character in The Dark Knight.

second november

all souls day has long been over in the philippines as of this writing. i remember the prelude to the all saints day of my childhood, my mom would read the prayers and my lola dels and lola cel would kneel and utter the benediction. the rituals of the past seem hovering by the mindset as i walk and walk the alley ways of the present, performing tasks that envelope our structure. i'm not huge on religion but going to the independent church with lola cel was embedded in my pre-pubescence life. just as the cemetery hoopla on all saints day are de rigeur in my salad days. until now, i'm still in the experimental stage with my valenciana. sadly, mom, lola dels and lola cel are no longer with us. three role models who taught me all the good manners no finishing school in switzerland or a posh boarding school in the middle of nowhere of the english countryside could ever inculcate to an impressionable waif.