the tournament

I don't understand how an election candidate can claim to care for the people while effectively blocking half of the country's widest highway for his sortie, creating the worst traffic jam along Commonwealth Avenue in the post-Bayani Fernando era.

He probably couldn't care less. And judging by the jeers and soda cans and water bottles thrown his way while he and his party mates prance around their makeshift stage in the middle of the highway, the people couldn't care less either.

Let the perya begin.

***

Mabuti na lang uso na ang VOB (video on board) sa city buses. Daily commute allows to me to catch movies I secretly wanted to see but feels spending on them would be stupid (read: Booba, Dead or Alive, Resident Evil, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Porkchop Duo). Tonight's discovery is The Tournament, a feel-good, inspiring movie by my standard (lots of blood and gore, I mean). Starring Kelly Hu and that guy from The Full Monty, it's a two-hour time waster about the search for the world's best assassin via the process of elimination. This "search" is held every six years.

Then I remember that this is an election year. How I wish the events depicted in the movie are fictitious.

post-holiday blues

Today I will get a call from some stranger, asking to confirm if I was who I am, who will turn out to be the lawyer-executioner of a vast inheritance sum from a long lost grandparent. I'll go downstairs to check my bank account, and my 5-digit savings balloons to 8-digit sums. In real time. As in right before my eyes. A stopwatch on the ATM screen.

I'll walk out of the building not caring about the work I left behind, book a ticket to Prague, then I head home to get some sleep, but on the way I buy a brand new MacBook Pro, a dozen shirts, two dozen books, a king-size bed. A dozen jars of parmesan cheese. I buy a lot of things. I don't have to wake up early tomorrow, I say to myself.

The depths of the lows after the holiday highs. Haaayyy.

a fairy godmother could help

The wedding probably was the most un-magical we've ever seen, so much so that the media did away (thankfully) with any pretensions of a romantic love story and dedicated much of the coverage to what it really was - a marriage of egos. It was a big cathedral and a long procession of egos if you ask me. As if you would.

be careful what you wish for

As the Pussycat Dolls keep reminding us, we just might get it (referring to previous blog).

***

I really don't know what to make of Drag Me to Hell, but I haven't had this much fun in a horror film since, well, The Evil Dead.

Bring in the blankets. They'll be very useful for wiping off tears after hysteric laughter.

It's got blood.

It's got nice, gross stuff.

And a scary beast! Rawrrr!

Serenity

Wow. This just feels so great. It's a Friday, and it looks like I'm heading off to dreamland in my rented bedspace while the rest of the Metro are clogging restaurants, the wide EDSA streets, karaoke houses, and cinemas - fun places in other words.

I used to not care. Now I wonder why I'm giving a fart that it's Friday and everyone's supposed to be having fun and a great time.

I think I'd like a bad night to spite it.
***
I'm making a lot of compromises lately, and it's hard for someone as selfish as I am. Haha. And I thought I won't be needing life lessons when I'd led one full of them. Well almost.

They say saying sorry is the hardest thing in the world, but people don't ask God for help to do that. There's a prayer though for serenity.

days gone

It's been nine long years since the world last changed. But the memories are still strong - I remember watching The Others on primetime TV when the news rolled in, small and insignificant below the screen with the show's main characters dying on the background. Thinking about it now, it seemed like a cruel joke on the weight of the tragedy and deaths it reported.
***



Oh yes he is. I knew it.

RIP: Alexis Tioseco

Now I don't know much about Alexis Tioseco, but news of his death particularly struck me though I can't really explain why. Tioseco was murdered in his home in Quezon City with his Slovenian lover.

I first heard him on the program Media in Focus, as a panelist on the (very) recent NAA controversy along with Butch Dalisay and Carlo Caparas. He and Butch were among those who questioned the legitimacy of the selection process. He was meek and mild as a freshman in university, but on the few times that he was able to speak (Caparas took his and Dalisay's position personally), he made me listen to what he was saying. I first found it a bit difficult, seeing that he seems so lightweight sitting beside THE Pinoy Penman, but the words that came out of his mouth where sharp and concise, on target but not provocative. He was worth listening, and soon I found myself reading his articles in Rogue and checking his Wordpress. I remember watching that particular episode just about 2 weeks ago.

He was passionate about cinema (Filipino cinema in particular, which is more than I can say about other film intellectuals) and he wrote about really interesting stuff. A few blogs more, and I was already looking forward to what he was going to write about next. Rarely do we find someone as promising in his field.

He was 29 years old when he was shot 8 times.

Now I finally understand why his violent death struck me. He was gone too soon.