Tuesday, January 30, 2007
7:23 AM |
Ritmo sa Ritwal
Once upon a time, I had illusions of becoming a film director. I was into films, and
still am -- although largely in the capacity of a critic. (Which may prove the truism:
critics are frustrated wannabes.) In college, I made this short film titled
Trahedya sa Kabila ng Liwanag, a melodramatic tearjerker about two brothers and the dangers of drug abuse -- which was unfortunately the script assigned to us by our professor who was also teaching the scriptwriting class. We shot that film on video in two weeks, and came out of it delighted over coming into pure encounter with the cinematic elements, which were mostly abstract concepts we argued over or admired in our favorite films, until then. My chief cinematographer for that film was my college
kabarkada and fellow Midnight Society member
Clee Andro Villasor, who went on to do graphic and web design and photography in Cebu. (He did the design for
my LJ a few years back -- but the impact of the design is better appreciated in Explorer.) About two year ago, he texted me, suggesting that we go back to filmmaking again. I told him I felt it in my bones that the boat had sailed for me, and that creative writing for me was
it. Today Clee has directed his first documentary titled
Ritmo sa Ritwal, which is about the Sinulog in Cebu, and this is the DVD...
Shows you how far one could go when you set your heart to it.
Congratulations, Clee! Labels: film, friends, life, memories
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7:09 AM |
Mark in Antulang
Some pictures I took of
Mark in
Antulang, with Michael Ocampo's broken camera...
What do you think?
Labels: life, photography
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Monday, January 29, 2007
4:38 PM |
Erased From Phone Book
Permit me to de-pressurize.
Makasapot jud kaayo. Here's this writer-friend, let's call him... Dixie. You text him, he doesn't reply. I can understand not replying to chain text messages and god-awful viral quotes and jokes. (I don't send out any of those.) I can understand replying late, because super-busy, because
walang load, because... But not to reply to simple text messages?
(
Basig naay bag-ong number, Ian. Nope. Same number. He texted the other week or so, to ask a question. That surprised me, made me happy. When I answered, however, the silence returned with vengeance.
Ambot ngano.)
My paranoia goes on over-drive.
Did I do anything to make him mad? Did I say anything bad that would merit a virtual silent treatment? have my old detractors been telling stories about me again? Did I...? Last week, I sent a small message, hoping to spark a little cinematic conversation.
Wala pa rin. It's been like that since... since
dugay na.
Gisapot ko. Da, gi-erase
lagi sa phone book. I mean,
keber. You don't want my messages? Then I will not text you anymore. As for those detractors,
ambot nganong ana na sila. Never did anything to them. (Except, maybe, out-write them?
Haha. Pero makaluoy baya pud.)
And really,
you reading this, it's not about
you.
Labels: friends, life
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6:30 AM |
From a Weekend on a Beach, to Monday Work Day
I kinda disappeared from this blog midweek last week. Truth is, I was busy with preparations for the Tiempo Tribute this coming Friday, and there are endless things to do since I just got the job of organizing it roughly a week ago, and so I am juggling a thousand things, fervently hoping nothing falls within my being able to catch it. And then Mark's cousin Jeffrey breezed in from Manila around Thursday, which required that typical "babysitting" tour around the city, checking out the local restaurants, going to Forest Camp, etc.
We just got back from a great weekend down south of Negros, in
Antulang, somewhere in Siaton town -- thanks to good friends Annabelle Lee and Edo Adriano (and their daughter whom I call Scout, after the plucky girl in Harper Lee's novel) who've been trying to get us to their resort forever. Here's a shot of the place...
A sunrise, with photo taken from the infinity poolThis was the place where
Alfred Vargas had that famous photo shoot for his nude and barely there
picture coffeetable book, together with photography genius
Ronnie Salvacion. Last weekend proved that stars could align, and Mark, Jeff, and I were off to this beautiful secret spot. Early Sunday morning, Mark and I woke up early to catch the sunrise, and to restage some of the shots Ronnie did for
X-Ray with Alfred -- not quite successfully
(who am I to out-shoot Ronnie?), since I had with me a broken digital camera that kept turning off. Still, we got some good shots, and called the exercise a small success. I
will be writing about this trip within the week.
Right now, I'm easing into my Monday, with a sad acknowledgment that weekend's "play" has ended, and "work" is just beginning. And there are many,
many things to accomplish...
Labels: life
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Wednesday, January 24, 2007
12:25 AM |
... And Oscar Makes the Cut
What? No
Dreamgirls for Best Picture or Best Director? No
Volver in the Foreign Language Film category? (Our very own
The Blossoming of Maximo Olivero was already shut out from the short list of ten last week.) No
Borat's Sacha Baron Cohen for Best Actor? No
51 Birch Street or
This Film is Not Rated for Best Documentary? No
Devil Wears Prada's Emily Blunt or
For Your Consideration's Catherine O'Hara (the perfect comic, ironic choice) for Best Supporting Actress? No
The Queen's Michael Sheen or
Babel's Brad Pitt or
The Departed's Jack Nicholson for Best Supporting Actor? This year, Oscar opted for a lot of surprises. There was no way
anyone could have predicted
anything.
And,
oh my, dear old funky crotch-grabbing Marky Mark is now an Oscar nominee. Eddie Murphy, too. Call that an evolution.
The complete list of Academy Award nominees can be accessed
here. Read the story
here, and the shocked or happy responses
here.
Labels: film
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Tuesday, January 23, 2007
7:49 AM |
Newsbreak Bites the Dust, Sort Of
This...
... is the last hardcopy issue of
Newsbreak. Which is a sad development, because it had signalled an evolution in Philippine news magazines. However, editor Marites Vitug says that "we will continue
our work online, the platform that is transforming journalism by opening the doors of our profession to citizens all over the world and, at the same time, forming tightly knit communities and audiences in cyberspace." [
More of that here.] Good enough, but
still...
[via
mlq3]
Labels: journalism
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Monday, January 22, 2007
The book will soon be available from Anvil Publishing.
Labels: books, philippine literature
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3:20 AM |
In the Inquirer
My article on the women in the films of Amado Lacuesta Jr. is in the Lifestyle Section of the
Philippine Daily Inquirer today.
Thanks, Lito!Labels: writing
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2:17 AM |
LitCritters Dumaguete No. 4
This week:The Necklace
by Guy de MaupassantL'Aquilone du Estrellas
by Dean Francis AlfarGood Country People
by Flannery O'ConnorThe Beginnings of Grief
by Adam HaslettLast week:How Rosang Taba Won a Race
by Dean Francis AlfarXilef
by Augie RiveraMenggay's Magical Chicken
by Nikki Go-AlfarAm I Blue?
by Bruce CovilleThe Dancers of Malumbay
by Raissa Claire RiveraThe Giving Tree
by Shel SilversteinLast, last week:The Girls in Their Summer Dresses
by Irwin ShawThe Secret Life of Walter Mitty
by James ThurberThe Lottery
by Shirley JacksonManananggal
by Irene SarmientoLabels: LitCritters
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1:09 AM |
What My Heart Longs For...
I've been dreaming of getting my hands on these for the longest time...
The search continues...
Labels: books, film, photography
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Sunday, January 21, 2007
10:12 PM |
Do We Still Make Stars Like These?
It's already a shame that most Filipinos do not know the vast tradition of cinema we have. It's even more shameful that when we are asked to name movie stars of old, especially the goddesses who have tickled our fancy, foremost in our mind are always Marilyn Monroe, Ava Gardner, Audrey Hepburn, Rita Hayworth, and other similar silverscreen vixens. Then again, one can go to any local video store and come away with virtually nothing in terms of stock from our film heritage. Which is sad, because when we compare the likes of Sandara Park, Pauleen Luna, Kim Chiu, Toni Gonzaga, and other contemporary actresses with
these...
... today's girls more than pale in comparison.
They wilt. We had goddesses the likes of Paraluman, Gloria Romero, Amalia Fuentes, Nida Blanca, Carmen Rosales, Lolita Rodriguez, Etang Ditcher, Mary Walter, Bella Flores, Susan Roces, Rosa Mia, Charito Solis, Daisy Romualdez, Corazon Rivas, Rebecca del Rio, Lita Gutierez, Zeny Zabala, Marlene Dauden, Myrna Delgado, Alicia Vergel, Luisa Montesa, Barbara Perez, Delia Razon, Mila del Sol, Tita Duran, Leonor Vergara, Lani Oteyza, Norma Blancaflor, Cynthia Zamora, Lilia Dizon, Norma Vales, Priscilla Cellona, Tessie Quintana, Emma Alegre, Carmencita Abad, and Olivia Cenizal, among many other
Sampaguita,
LVN, Premiere, and Lebran stars.
What glorious, and intereseting, faces they had then. Today, most of them are lost in obscurity, condemned there by our collective cultural amnesia -- or they have become mere vinegar from the deteriorating celluloid of our unarchived old film titles left to rot in miserable conditions.
And so, today, we simply make do with Angel Locsin with the strange Adam's apple.
[Click here for a
brief history of Philippine cinema. All pictures found in the
Pinoy's Tambayan Classic Film Actresses Forum.]
Labels: celebrity, film
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9:42 AM |
About Saturday
I had great, uninterrupted sleep last night. I simply sank into deep sleep somewhere between 10 o'clock and watching murderous Annette Bening in
Mrs. Harris. But it had been a full Saturday that really started Friday night, when I chose not to sleep to finish cleaning the apartment, which had become a nuclear zone of mess.
When I wiped away the last bit of dirt from some forsaken corner of the pad, I proceeded to prepare for my two literary workshops slated for Saturday: first, a talk on the aspects of fiction and a small lecture on the demands of writing for children for my LitCritters (in the morning), and a lecture-workshop on poetry for the school paper staff (in the afternoon).
You could very well call last Saturday as my Creative Writing Day in hell, but both workshops went splendidly well. Even when I was so tired and sleepy, the whole day felt good, capped with great lunch with Mark over at Sans Rival.
The LitCritters, once again, made me proud by their ferocious command of literary criticism
(where did this come from?) as we went through our latest batch of stories to read and critique. (This week's list is composed of children's stories by both Filipino and foreign writers.) The LitCritters were dramatically constipated by one short story which will remain unnamed (
not yours, Dean and Nikki --
don't worry, hehehe), and there was froth practically forming in their mouths as they detailed their objections over a piece that, paraphrasing one LitCritter, felt like one huge cop-out that went nowhere fast. "And it was creepy to boot," said one.
(Ouch.) After this long day, Mark and I went to have dinner with the gracious and beautiful artist Sharon Dadang-Rafols, and her husband Jaruvic. We were there to discuss Sharon's set design for the February 2 tribute to Dr. Edith Lopez Tiempo, which I am facilitating for both Silliman University and UP Likhaan. Sharon and Jaruvic's house, in beautiful Silliman Heights somewhere in the outskirts of Dumaguete, was truly and artistically avant-garde, an open-door affair embraced by perfectly placed plants (bamboo for the most part). I
loved that dinner of
bulad with green tomatoes, chicken from Golden Roy's, and
paksiw. There went my diet, and I didn't care. I haven't seen Sharon in eons, and it was a great reunion of sorts.
The night breeze coming in and out of the house made it a cool evening to remember. And it also made me decide: this year, I'm getting me a house.
Labels: friends, life, LitCritters, writing
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Friday, January 19, 2007
10:08 PM |
The Ten Best Books of All Time
Time Magazine writes about
J. Peder Zane's
The Top Ten, which weighed many critics' and writers' top ten choices, and came up with the ultimate
Top Ten Best Book of All Time list...
1. Anna Karenina
by Leo Tolstoy2. Madame Bovary
by Gustave Flaubert3. War and Peace
by Leo Tolstoy4. Lolita
by Vladimir Nabokov5. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
by Mark Twain6. Hamlet
by William Shakespeare7. The Great Gatsby
by F. Scott Fitzgerald8. In Search of Lost Time
by Marcel Proust9. The Stories of Anton Chekhov
by Anton Chekhov10. Middlemarch
by George EliotAnd I'm thinking: I've only read
four out of these ten? And I call myself a reader?
(Feigning heart attack.)Labels: books
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5:03 PM |
Infamous Answers in Beauty Contests
[because i'm both busy and bored...]
Host : If you had a foreigner friend, where will you bring him to showcase the beauty of the Philippines?
Girl Contestant : Bocaue.
Host : Bocaue. Why Bocaue? There are so many places in the Philippines? Why Bocaue?
Girl : Because it's a magnificent place.
Host : Which part of Bocaue?
Girl : The Bocaue Rice Terraces.
Host : What is your best feature?
Contestant : My graduation feature.
Host : What is you favorite motto?
Contes tant : If others can't why, why can't I!
Host : What would you like to say to foreigners?
Contestant : Please come back.
Host : What is your typical day?
Contestant : I think Saturday
po!
Host : If you were to describe the color blue to a blind person, how would you do it?
Contestant : That's a very good question. Keep it up.
Host : What is your edge over the other contestants?
Girl Contestant : My edge... 23 years old.
Host : What, in your opinion, is the ideal age for marriage?
Girl : Between 24 and 25!
Host : How do you see yourself 10 years from now?
Girl : I'll be 28.
Host : What is the biggest problem facing the youth today?
Girl : Drugs.
Host : Why?
Girl :
Mahal eh!Host : What is the essence of being gay?
Gay Contestant : I'm proud to be gay because what is naked is essential to the eye!
Host : What makes you blush?
Girl : Blush on!
Host : What is the essence of a man?
Gay Contestant : Testicles!
Host : Hey, I heard you almost didn't make it, how did you get here? Did you ride or did you walk?
Gay Contestant : Of course, did you ride. What do you think of me, did you walk?
[emailed in by jan villegas]Labels: humor, pageants
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Just got this from
Zarah Gagatiga, the coffee goddess and current KUTING president.
She's a great, great help in my ongoing research on risque subjects in Philippine children's literature (for this year's Tamaraw workshop), and Carla Pacis and Eugene Evasco's pathbreaking
Bagets: An Anthology of Filipino Young Adult Fiction seems to be a must-read for that paper. The book's just out from UP Press. Go and get yourself a copy.
Labels: books, philippine literature
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Wednesday, January 17, 2007
9:14 AM |
Books, Books...
Books spill over in my apartment, and I keep dreaming up ways to build new shelves in my already crowded place. Sometimes, when I clean, I throw a mantra over my library that goes: "I shall never buy another book if I can help it." All bibliophiles know this mantra -- and know how ridiculous it sounds, because it is largely untrue. Once, I was out shopping for bargain books with
Nikki Alfar,
Andrew Drilon, and
Vin Simbulan, and I kept saying: "I'm not buying anything... I'm not buying anything," all the while picking up books from a stack, and proceeding to the counter to buy
three. The truth is, books gladden, and receiving them as gifts can transport me to a minor heaven.
Janet Villa, for example, sent over the following over courier, and my heart skipped a beat:
I'm a Munro fan, so I can't wait to get into this collection of short stories.
Dean also gave me, besides the premier issue of The Digest of Philippine Genre Stories, the following for Christmas...
I've sworn to read at least two books a month, to make me sane again. (I tend to become forgetful when I don't read.) My reading list's full. Here's wishing all of us a new year of satisfied reading.
Thanks to Dean and Janet for the books!Labels: books
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8:23 AM |
YouTube's Finally Back!
After
daaaaaaaaays of utter deprivation,
YouTube's back. No thanks to that damn Taiwan eathquake. When I paid my Internet bill over at Globelines last month, I complained about the slow connection, and wondered why there were some websites I couldn't get into.
Friendster, for example. And
YouTube. "We've blocked those sites out for now," Jinky, the Globelines customer service rep and former high school classmate, told me. "It's to reduce Internet traffic while the lines are being repaired."
Awww. Friendster came back within a week. YouTube was a no-show. Until now. It just goes to show how addicted I am to YouTube these days. I wonder why.
Labels: life, web and tech
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Tuesday, January 16, 2007
It's a wonder how the tiniest bumps in the road of your daily grind somehow ends up ruining everything in your plans for the day. When I came home today to do my weekly cleaning (so that I could recapture that elusive peace of mind that would allow me to work on my projects and responsibilities without disturbing an ounce of my obsessive compulsion), I found that I had locked myself out. I couldn't find my keys for the pad. Which led me to texting Mark who had a spare. "I'm in Hypermart," he said, "with mom and Love." (Love's his sister.) Luckily my brother Dennis was beside me -- he wanted to borrow some VCDs. I told him I needed a lift to farway Lee Hypermart. He snorted and said he had work to do, and that it was out of the way. Of course, being the youngest sibling in the family, I had my own magical ways to getting what I wanted. My poor elder brother ended up giving me that much-needed ride. Which led me to having some ice cream with Mark's family, which led me to other things. Including a disastrous late afternoon nap that gave me the seed of a headache. (I don't know why I've been geting a lot of headaches lately. The nauseous kind that totally flattens you out.
Ugh.) Later, I was waiting for the Golden Globes to happen on TV when Mark said he wanted to take me out to dinner. Supposedly Chin Loong, but it was full. We ended up in Persian Palate. We were so full, it bordered on gluttony. That was when the headache began to throb for sure. I ended up not doing anything for the day. No cleaning, no work ... just sleep and Ponstan to get rid of the throbbing in my head. All this just because I forgot to bring my keys with me to work today.
Labels: life
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Monday, January 15, 2007
6:43 PM |
Jimalalud, Small Town Pageants, Piggish Politicians, a Flat Tire, and a Fire in the City
There were dark things to herald the beginning of the week, and when we did return to Dumaguete City, we were met by fire, and a flat tire. Somehow, everything summed up to an adventure, and in the end, that's what all that matters.
Positive thinking helps, my mother always intoned. She is a wise woman. If I never heeded that advise, I would have gone mad last weekend.
Sunday morning, Mark and I -- together with his mom Glenda -- started on our three-hour trip (two hours if one drove like mad) to faraway Jimalalud, Mark's father's hometown. Jimalalud, if you have to know, is a backwater town where nothing much ever happens and where there is largely nothing to see, except a coastline facing Cebu undistinguished by its rockiness. But it's a clean town, and something about it makes me tremble in memory of my childhood in Bayawan. I had longed for an out-of-town trip since the year started, and this one promised buckets of possibilities: besides the ease of having Mark's relations around to make the visit more comfortable, it was also the town
fiesta. I was thinking of
lechon, lots of it, all the way to northern Oriental Negros, daydreaming away the furious rush of mountains and sugar canes and coastal beaches from our car window.
Mark was to host the annual town fiesta beauty pageant, and his mom and I we were there to cheer him on. Or more precisely: to be the support we somehow
knew he would never have from the small-town organizing committee where the insularity and boondock-
ness of the place contrived to make any effort a Kafkian experience. And it was.
Shall I tell you about the lack of definite accommodations accorded a visitor? Or the convoluted flood of changes for the show's program that occurred every second of the last minute? But these were the good parts of the Jimalalud nightmare. The bad parts: One, starting a program (scheduled to begin at 9 p.m.) at around
11:30 p.m. instead. Imagine the wearying wait.
"Why can't we start now?" someone asked.
"We can't. [Pompous Politician Running for Office] is not yet here. We have to wait. She has a speech in the progam," was the reply.
(Yes, my dear people... in small-town Negrense pageants, it is typical for shameless politicians to hog the spotlight. Last night, I counted
five self-serving political speeches scattered throughout the entire program -- there was one
before the coronation, and another
after the coronation. It was rumored that a high city official supposedly gave instructions to close the entrance, so that no one could leave before the top brass had their say.)
"Why can't we go ahead on time, and accommodate [Pompous Politician Running for Office] when she comes?" someone suggested.
"We can't. We
have to wait," was the reply.
We waited. In between the waiting, we got conflicting news, each one coming in the heels of the other:
[Pompous Politician Running for Office] is not coming anymore. No, [Pompous Politician Running for Office] is coming. No, [Pompous Politician Running for Office] has sent a message she won't be here. Wait, [Pompous Politician Running for Office] is coming for sure. In the end, we started without [Pompous Politician Running for Office]. (She arrived very late.) That was near midnight, and I was about ready to commit
hara-kiri. All around me, the contestants milled about with their
bakla make-up artists and coaches. Their faces ranged from the grotesque in kabuki make-up, to the transcendent. (One girl was particularly beautiful ... until she opened her mouth, and had absolutely nothing to say.)
Two, in the middle of the show, somewhere near the 1 a.m. mark, it started drizzling. The comedy of the contestants' answers in heinous English could not even stop the dark skies from raining down on the circusy spectacle. Mark however soldiered on.
But in hindsight, I can even say I enjoyed the show despite its glaring flaws, and mind-numbing wait. At least it was a spectacle, no matter how minor it was. What was
not enjoyable was seeing the parade of politicians -- the vice-mayor, the mayor, the governor, the congressman, the congressman's wife now running for his old post -- use the stage to jumpstart their election campaign for the year. It was an orgy of shamelessness that only convinced me how dirty local politics was.
What amused me, however, was seeing how the whole circus of a town beauty pageant become the local community's chance to out-do one another in a race for Warholian fame, each one determined to get their 15-minutes of "mention" despite the uselessness of the whole endeavor. People clamored to have their names read out loud as sponsors and "acknowledgeables." (Mark had to read a list that went on for more than two pages.) People clamored to be called upon as "presenters" of awards for winning candidates. One fat woman -- a major sponsor -- barged in, and demanded to be part of the Board of Judges,
just like that. And of course, there were the shameless politicians in their smug Cebuano, patting each other's backs and announcing to the world how wonderful they all were.
The whole circus ended a few minutes before 4 a.m., and we went back to the organizing committee chairwoman's house with our spirits like paper fed through a shredder. Around 9 o'clock, with the sun having burst through the rain in a minor miracle, we settled in our car with dreams of reaching the civilizing air of Dumaguete in record time.
The towns rushed by in our effort to come home fast. Jimalalud, Tayasan, Ayungon, Bindoy, Manjuyod, Bais, Tanjay, San Jose, and Amlan flew by. In Sibulan, one town away from Dumaguete, we had a flat tire. Ma'am Glenda, feisty as always, took charge, immediately setting out for a mechanic to change our tires. (Mark and I just looked at each other, complicit in our common ignorance of car maintenance and repair. How
un-butch we were, not that we cared.) That flat tire took a while to fix -- but it became an instant fascinating study of the craft of vulcanizing: in a mechanic's shop, I watched transfixed as the able-bodied but sweaty and dirty young man went about his process of fixing the holes in our car's inner tube. There were too many holes, he finally said, and Mark ended up buying a whole new tube.
That episode could have been the stuff of more headaches. But we were finally home in Dumaguete, and in that very moment, that was what mattered most. Soon, inside the car once again, we passed by the charred remains of Body and Sole Massage Parlor, Marjorie's Boutique, and Rosante Bar and Restaurant (all right at the intersection of Alfonso Trese Street* and Silliman Avenue) which went up in flames the previous night while we were gone.
I took note of my excited indifference: in Dumaguete, after all, no place ever progresses to something better until it has been burned to the ground. What will this new corner become when it springs from the ashes? A Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf branch? With parking? We can only hope.
On that note of strange hopes for better urban planning, I must confess there are a list of Dumaguete blocks and building I'd
like to see go up in flames... But I don't want to be accused an arsonist, so my lips are sealed.
*I have promised to never ever call this street by its modern nameLabels: dumaguete, life, negros, pageants, politics
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Saturday, January 13, 2007
2:01 PM |
LitCritters Dumaguete No. 3
Today, I am in awe of my former students because, barely two sessions into LitCritters, they have somehow become virtual masters of stripping the stories we have been taking up into their barest essentials, and managing to distill what they believe is the theme of each story. They are so passionate in their arguments, too -- all I could do this morning in Chantilly was to stand back, prod them on, and watch them go at it, as they relentlessly bemoaned the subtle tragedy of Irwin Shaw's "The Girls in Their Summer Dresses," went deep under the powerful, dreadful climax in Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," and told me that despite my misgivings over its cruelty, there is something thematically worthwhile in Irene Sarmiento's "The Manananggal." I really cannot wait for our next session, when I introduce them to the children's story.
This week:How Rosang Taba Won a Race
by Dean Francis AlfarXilef
by Augie RiveraMenggay's Magical Chicken
by Nikki Go-AlfarAm I Blue?
by Bruce CovilleThe Dancers of Malumbay
by Raissa Claire RiveraThe Giving Tree
by Shel SilversteinLast week:The Girls in Their Summer Dresses
by Irwin ShawThe Secret Life of Walter Mitty
by James ThurberThe Lottery
by Shirley JacksonManananggal
by Irene SarmientoLast last week:A Rose for Emily
by William FaulknerThe Book of Sand
by Jorge Luis BorgesWe Won't Cry Over This
by Socorro VillanuevaLabels: LitCritters, writing
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