Category: random

four eyes, etc

My right eye is a traitor. So in order to prevent its inevitable deterioration, doc says I have to wear glasses whenever I’m in front of a computer.

Fine. (Sigh.)

* * *

District 9 is absolutely brilliant. I will not say anything more. I deliberately avoided reading the summary or any blog entries or film reviews discussing this, so maybe you should too.

DISTRICT 9

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Philippines Free Press Literary Awards

When our names weren’t called, Dean Alfar turned to me and sang, Don’t cry out louuuuud. But I wasn’t crying. I didn’t even expect to be shortlisted!

But the night became so much fun because –

Okay, later. Look at this list first:

Judges (Poetry) Ricardo de Ungria chairman, Danton Remoto, Neil Garcia

Judges (Short Story) Charlson Ong chairman, Timothy Montes, Dr. Paraluman Giron

Finalists (Short Story) Sunboy by Dean Francis Alfar, Bad Heart by John Bengan, Outlaws, by Mary Jessel B. Duque, Big Yellow by Jean Claire Dy, The Death of Roy by Sharmaine Galve, Photo Sessions by Joy Anne Icayan, Catherine Theory by Sasha Martinez, Epic Life by Rhea Politado, Marita Pangan by Mechu Aquino Sarmiento, Wishes Do Come True by Mia Tijam, An Abduction by Mermaids by Eliza Victoria

Finalists (Poetry) Infinite Mondays by Mads Bajarias, Mebuyen by Mikael de Lara Co, Textbook Statistics by Arkaye Kierulf, Slowness by Marie La Vina, Instructions by Marie La Vina, Meals Without You by Arvin Mangohig, It Is 1980 by Natasha Gamalinda, Poet Looks at Satellite Picture of Home by Sid Gomez Hildawa, Poet Talks to an Old Movie by Sid Gomez Hildawa, The Little Things by Rafael Antonio C. San Diego

Winners (Fiction): 3rd Place: Catherine Theory/Bad Heart (tie), 2nd Place: Marita Pangan, 1st Place: Epic Life

Winners (Poetry): 3rd Place: Mebuyen, 2nd Place: (one of Hildawa’s poem, sorry I can’t remember), 1st Place: Textbook Statistics

Congrats to the winners!

* * *

As I was saying: the night became so much fun because I was finally able to attach a face and a voice to the names in my email Inbox, and my Plurk/Twitter pages.

I am still reeling: Before the program began, crazy crazy talk with Dean and Nikki Alfar, Alex, Kate, and Vin Simbulan, and EK. Always a pleasure.

When Sarge Lacuesta read the names of the finalists in Fiction, some people behind me cheered and applauded. I knew there were people behind me but I also knew that I do not know them. Why are they cheering? Who are these people?

Then a voice asking Dean, “Kilala mo?” and Dean saying, “Ito, ito.”

I turned and there was Mikael de Lara Co, who said he loved my poems (the ones that won the Palanca). When he said his name I couldn’t stop myself, I felt the need to clutch his arms and blurt out: I LOVE YOUR POEMS OMGZ. Yes. Like a crazy fangirl. Ew.

Mookie Katigbak, Sarge’s lovely wife, even actually said they are “big fans”. Or maybe she meant, some people she knew are “big fans”. Fuck it, I heard big fans and my brain didn’t even want to accept it.

Mookie: It is a big win. It is such a big win. We were saying Who is this? Who is this? And you look so young!

When she asked my age and I said 22, EK turned to me and said, “No way you’re 22.”

Very 22, sister. So sorry.

I finally met Sarge and Carl. Yay!

Philbert was also there, but I didn’t get the chance to talk to him. Anyway, he probably wouldn’t remember me.

Crazy Sharmaine kept saying Palanca Award! Palanca Award! Like she couldn’t believe it. Well, I couldn’t believe it, so there.

When I approached Charlson Ong and introduced myself, he said, Maganda ‘yung istorya mo.

Love it.

Can’t wait to see these guys again at the Palanca awarding ceremonies, eeh.

* * *

So I didn’t win, but I win Best Title, sabi nga ng mga Alfars, hahaha.

* * *

Special thanks to EK for the pictures (photos are over here) and the company. Enjoyed the chika. <3

* * *

When I got home, Nina and Tere, the girls from the flat, stepped out of the elevator, saw me, and said they have been looking for me, and oh, do you drink?

All in all, lovely night. (It’s one in the morning and I am typing this intoxicated.)

oh yes

If the poem’s language isn’t adequate for its subject, it isn’t poem; the subject eludes it, or we read only among its ruins. On the other hand, if the poem depends too much on language, it isn’t poem either. The poem must always transcend its language, and not be entangled in the language’s endless play of meaning. That infinite regress is the curse laid upon the mind’s hubris that denies spirit and mystery.

What is fixed in the poem is not meaning, as in interpretation, but a meaningfulness that, for one thrilling moment, is all of life for one human being – the very sensation of living, of being real to oneself, with all that lives. That one human being is the poet only, but he opens that meaningfulness to all the poem’s readers.

– Gemino Abad (High Chair Free Association: What are poets for?)

living beyond your means, and other things

moopf-stickers

Photo from Emelegifts

Well, thank goodness it’s just free stickers and not something urgent.

I heard about the free Moopf stickers promo from Kate a year ago, 2008. So I sent an email to the people at Moopf, and got no reply. The promo promised I’d get the stickers the week after I sent them my address. Oh well.

Apparently my free stickers have been hurting inside a box at the office lobby since June 2008, unseen and unclaimed. If my boss didn’t go rooting for her lost phone bills there these stickers wouldn’t have been found.

Hmp. Maybe it’d be better if we had a mailbox right outside the department. Like the one  in Up! We’ll put our handprints on it! Then I’ll have the intern decorate it with sequins or something! Ha-ha. Hay.

* * *

So my fugly handy-dandy notebook had ran out of pages, and I finally cracked open the handmade notebook Tata had given to me as a gift the last time we met for dinner and chika. I’m in love with this notebook, it has the loveliest cover print and the brown pages are very sturdy. On one page I’ve written: story ideas – poetry fragments – here traipse the muses. A spell of sorts. ;) I’ve already written my first draft of a poem, hee. Writing longhand still has its charms. It works particularly well with poetry, the writing of which requires you to slow down.

I’m planning of buying another handmade notebook after I’ve filled this one. Look at this beauty.

toffee1

Photo from  Folksy

* * *

This morning while waiting for the water to boil, I calculated the money I’ve spent so far and yikes for July-August I’ve spent an amount bigger than my salary. Oopsie. But then I’ve bought dresses/tops from the mall to wear to…certain…events. I’m thinking hey let’s consider these as gifts to yourself.

But, books. I’ve bought way too many books. I may have also spent too much moolah on FOOD. And the CINEMA.

Shame, shame. Never again.

* * *

Hopefully, Eula, I’ll have money left to buy stuff at the Manila Book Fair in mid-September. Otherwise, I’ll just watch you fill your bags with envy, sigh.

* * *

I’m looking forward to the Friday Free Press event, EK. :) Dean Alfar will also be there, nice.

* * *

Before I end this post, some words of wisdom from the Twitter page of the lovely – and very sensible – Lauren Bacall:

@Lauren Bacall – Yes I saw Twilight my granddaughter made me watch it, she said it was the greatest vampire film ever.After the “film” was over I wanted to smack her accros her head with my shoe, but I do not want a book called Grannie Dearest written on me when I die, so instead I gave her a DVD of Murnau’s 1922 masterpiece Nosferatu and told her, now thats a vampire film! and that goes for all of you! watch Nosferatu instead!

Aye, milady. :D

pizza picture perfect

Because we ordered pizza. Because Cyril brought a camera. Because we’re hoors.

eliza-004

Bring it!

Continue reading pizza picture perfect

the missing keys: a comedy

Last night, at the condo:

Me (grumpy and tired): *can’t find keys in the bag while in the elevator*

Me: *is now grumpier*

Elevator: Ding

Me: *walks to the door of the unit and sets bag on the floor* *practically empties bag* *is still in denial that she has left her damn keys in her damn room*

Me: Damn it.

Me: *knocks on door* *opens cell phone to call flatmate* *cell phone dies*

Me: Fuck!

Me: *remembers landlady’s unit number* *hurries over to this unit*

Guy in the Unit: Yes?

Me: Is <landlady> in here?

Guy in the Unit: Oh. No.

Me: *explains her situation* So you mean she doesn’t live here?

Guy in the Unit: No, she lives in <another unit in another building>. Do you have her number? I can text her. Come in.

Me: *stands around for a bit inside the unit* *which by the way looks better than the unit she rents* *what is up with that?* *aimless chatter* I’ll go knock again and see if anyone answers.

Me: *runs across the floor to get to her unit* *knocks like there’s a fire* *knocks like Marc Nelson is outside and is naked and damn it girls YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS* *runs back to the other unit*

Me: Can I plug in my phone? So sorry.

Landlady: Oh dear, I’m outside! We’ll be at the unit in ten minutes. Can you wait?

Me: *seriously doubts Landlady will be at the unit in 10 minutes* Okay! *calls flatmate* *flatmate answers* Hey, thanks for letting me stay here, there’s someone who can open my door now, okay bye!

Guy in the Unit: Um. Okay.

Me: *runs* *gets inside unit YES!* *meets another flatmate WHO HAS SPARE KEYS TO HER ROOM HALLELUJAH*

Keys: You dumb bitch.

* * *

When I got to the office today, on my table were (1) my mp3 player (2) my two flash drives. I didn’t even know I had left them there. And I even opened my laptop last night to fix this unfinished story (didn’t do it, watched sitcom episodes instead like a responsible writer). Usually my brain goes like this ~ laptop ~music ~ mp3 player ~ flash drives. Last night, nothing.

Me: *sees the stuff left behind* *suddenly experiences delayed panic*

* * *

Gawd, my brain, gawd.

* * *

I have a story that’s done but it bores me and it doesn’t seem to be working, so maybe I’ll spec-ficfy it. Spec-ficfy. Sounds weird.

* * *

The novella/novel moved forward a bit, and then stopped again. Gawd, my brain.

Gawd.

noli me tangere and zombies

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Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard of Seth Grahame-Smith and Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

But have you heard of Carlos Malvar and Jose Rizal’s ‘Wag ‘Mong Salingin Ang Mga Patay (in progress)?

Noli Me Tangere and Zombies, bring it! (I don’t have a picture to accompany this because I suck at Photoshop.)

Click on the link to read/download the first chapter. It begins:

Nang gabing ang mundo’y magwakas ng tuluyan, abalang-abala ang mga tauhan ni Kapitan Santiago sa paghahanda ng piging. Ang piging ay isang pagsa-salo-salo na inaalay para sa isang panauhing pangdangal, isang santo, isang okasyon ng pagdiriwang, o kahit anong chorva lang. Ang chorva ay isang salitang hindi pa naiimbento ng mga panahon na yun sapagkat masaya na ang mga tao sa pag-gamit ng salitang “kwan” at “ano” upang ipabatid sa kanilang mga kausap ang mga bagay-bagay at konseptong hindi mabigyang hugis ng kawikaan. Masaya na sila sapagkat yun ang sabi sa kanila ng mga establisyamentong nangangalaga sa paggamit ng mga kawikaan.
“Bonggang-bongga ang piging ngayong gabi, Manang Flora!” sabi ng dalagitang si Ningning na nagtatadtad ng mga patatas. Si Ningning ay mahilig mag-imbento ng mga salita tulad ng “bonggang-bongga” at “dilemma” sapagkat hindi siya nakapag-aral sa unibersidad.
Kinurot ni Manang Flora ang tagiliran ng dalagita. “Huy, Ningning! Ano ba yaong pinagsasabi mong mga salita? Bilisan mo sa paghihiwa ng mga patatas at nang maluto na sa kumukulong mantika. Ilang minuto na lamang at magdaratingan na ang mga bisita.”
“Kung Ano Man, Manang!” sambit ni Ningning sabay senyas ng letrang ‘Ka’ gamit ang kanyang mga daliri. “Alas-sais y medya pa lamang! Hindi ba’t ang imbitasyon ay para sa ika-pito pa ng gabi? Sa palagay mo ba’y darating ang mga inimbitahang panauhin sa tamang oras?”
“Kungsabagay,” sabi ni Manang Flora. “Asa pa tayong sisipot ang mga yun. Malamang ay magpapamalas pa sila kung sino ang pinakaimportante sa lahat sa pamamagitan ng pagpapahuli upang paghintayin ang iba.”
Naghagalpakan ang dalawa sa katatawa.
“O, Da Ka!” hirit ni Ningning. Madalas siyang mapabunghalit ng “O, Da Ka!” simula nung nahabaan siya sa kasasambit ng “O, Diyos Ko!”
Hindi nagkakamali ang dalawa sa pagaakalang magpapamalas ng kani-kanilang importansya ang mga naimbitahang panauhin. Pagsapit ng alas-siete, kung kalian ang mga bisita’y dapat nagsisipagdatingan na, mag-isa pa ring nagpapaypay ng kanyang abanico sa sala si Tiya Isabel na kapatid ni Kapitan TIyago.

First heard from Crystal Koo’s tweet. Posted by J. Rizzle. Says he: “Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa sariling wika ay soshal. (And malansang isda too)” and “Are we human, or are we Sex Bomb Dancers?”.

got it

Photo20097131338687

I’m tickled that Expanded Horizons gave me a handwritten check. Hee.

I know it sounds like payment for some legally unsavory services (which might be why the people at the bank kept looking at me funny; they were taking so long with the check that I actually started feeling like a criminal), but really, “Night Out” is a story. Which you can read here, if you feel like it.

EH is also currently accepting submissions for its Fairy Tale issue.

They want stories that

reinterpret well-known (or less well-known) fairy tales and fantasy stories, or tropes. A starting point would be stories told from another character’s viewpoint, for example. (Women, fae, or even otherkin…)

Stories which flesh out the women characters in fairy tales is another possible angle. Stories which thoughtfully reinterpret or relocate “European” fairy tales in non-European contexts are also interesting to us (especially since many of these stories have non-European origins, for example, Cinderella). What happens to fairy tales when cultures collide is another idea.

If you have something – a story, an idea – then by all means work on it and send it in!

* * *

So I’ve started watching BBT‘s Season 2. Some random thoughts:

1. I want Sheldon Cooper’s T-shirt folder.

2. I think Leonard looks like a gay beautician.

* * *

Penny: Has Leonard ever dated a girl who’s not, you know, smart?

Sheldon: Well, once he dated a woman who has a Ph. D. in French Literature.

Penny: How does that not count as “smart”?

Sheldon: Well, for starters, she’s French. And it’s literature.

* * *

The rack where I hang my clothes finally collapsed beneath the weight of my various tops and pants, and so I came home and found my clothes on the floor. Being an enterprising homeowner, I Mighty-Bonded the rack to the door.

Evidently I had applied too much Mighty Bond. I now own a blouse glued to its hanger.

True story.