Multiple Lives

Meet Professor Rey.

Professor Rey was one of my professors in college a not too long time ago. He outlined to me to the concept of multiple lives, which I already had an inkling of from being obsessed with Batman.

Professor Rey enumerated being a keyboard player for an acid jazz band in some watering hole in Mile-Long (which has since closed down), a lawyer, and of course he was sitting before us as our professor for which subject for the life of me I could not remember. Three roles, he said. Three roles that afforded him release to different aspects of his personality.

I admired this concept of multiple lives and dragged my best friend to that run-down bar and rediscovered my annoyance for the genre of acid-jazz. Of course, through this all I also saw and acknowledged the talent of the musicians involved. I never knew how he was as a lawyer, but I supposed he couldn’t make any sort of claim without actually having that attorney’s license or whatever it is they call they document. And yes, he also reported for class. He relished in this, and probably passed it on to me.

A decade and a half hence, I find myself living multiple lives, along with a handful of other half-lives that live on only in my head. I make a living running a small advertising agency, which branches out internally into other multiple roles. I also perform a small function of serving the creative requirements of the family retail business in Baguio City. I am also a relatively active member of the Manila Jaycees. I am a frsutrated saxophone player who tortures my wife on not-so-quiet weekends. To top all that off, I am also a husband, and will soon be a father.

The Manila Jaycees are a curious thing. It asks one to accept and/or create obligations. These obligations are gladly met for various reasons. Some wish to make friends, some want to try and learn something new, some want to impress, some really feel the need to make a difference, some have them stuffed down their throats, and some just have way too much free time. Such is the fate of a Jaycee, whether of Manila or any other chapter for that matter. We accept the prospect of living these double lives and take on the baggage that comes with them.

Sometimes, when things happen at the same time, I find myself bemoaning how I seem to be pulled in different directions threatening to dismember me rather violently. But check this, for the most parts, our various so-called lives care little about how we separate them as long as we fulfill our commitments to each and every one of them well. If and when we make commitments, we are obligated to fulfill them. If not because we are Jaycess, but simply because we are reasonable and honorable human beings.

I have done my best to turn down certain projects and memberships in various committees. Not because I don’t like my potential teammates, but simply because I am afraid of not fulfilling my commitments and obligations to the degree I believe they deserve. I do not want to not fulfill them, but I have other so-called lives that demand for my time.

At some point, it must be said that turning down certain things should be forgiven, accepted and respected. But whenever these commitments are made and these obligations defined, they must be met and fulfilled to the best of one’s abilities in the spirit of not only a Jaycee, but also of honorable being gentlemen.

(oh, and a big wave to Professor Rey Olaguer in the one in a gazillion off-chance that he finds this.)

Flowers, Weddings, and the predicted Funeral...

I learned something new today...

I learned that if you want fresh cut roses to last longer, you have to cut off an inch from the bottom everyday (diagonally), so it will absorb water again.

Apparently, the ends of the stems seal up or "heal" or something in the span of a day. And thus, the bud can no longer suck in water...

Funky, huh? :D

I wasn't really planning to get the wifey flowers for Valentine's since we were in some agreement that the money would be better used to buy a new blouse for her. "New blouse in lieu of flowers," apparently... heh heh...

Then I got a text message from a friend who was helping sell some fresh Ecuadorian roses at a price I honestly felt was a bloody steal... (There's a nice couple who've made a rather healthy side business of flowers and floral arrangements. They apparently don't do retail, but were bringing in these Ecuadorian rarities for the occasion... Call them for weddings and similarly planned stuff. Call: 0917-8117071 and look for either Mike or Charo) So i reserved a dozen (the minimum order), and waited patiently for my wife to react on February 13, which was the delivery day... So react she did, and when I got home I saw rosebuds the size of fucking large eggs... damn beautiful...

A lousy photo of lovely beautiful flowers taken by a beautiful and happy woman on a very corny day...

When asked by my friend if the wife liked the flowers, I said: "She liked them so much, that if she wasn't pregnant right now, I'd have been sure to get her pregnant that night!"

I met the lovely flower-dealing couple today for coffee, and they told me about their rather blooming flower business (yes, stupid pun was intended). They mentioned about catering to a lot of weddings and other stuff except for funerals, since they couldn't be planned.

and all of a sudden, i felt just downright eerie... then I said, "If someone calls in for full floral arrangements for a wake, call the cops."

I mean, if you knew, or had an idea that you were going to die in a couple of weeks, would you order flowers? And wouldn't it be rather scary if one got a call, and the guy on the other line said: "I'd like a few bouquets for my funeral next week..."

(cue the Twilight Zone soundtrack...) Doo-doo... doo-doo... doo-doo... doo-doo...

So if you need flowers and floral arrangments for weddings, debuts, birthdays, anniversaries, and even funerals (just make sure you pay upfront and use a false name or they call the cops), call 7Lily Floral Atelier at the numbers above (you WERE reading, right? ask me again, and i bitch-slap you... but here's the number anyway... 0917-8117071 ).

Movie Review: The Bucket List

Last Friday, we decided to kick off the weekend by catching Rob Reiner's The Bucket List, starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman.

The story revolves around two people from either side of the social spectrum (rich, corporate mogul Nicholson, opposite working class mechanic Freeman), who find their lives on the clock due to cancer. They strike up an unlikely friendship, and agree to together venture forth and complete a list of things to do before they "kick the bucket." Hence, the so-called Bucket List, which the movie got its name from.

Reiner gets the film off to a great start by using an ace up his casting sleeve: using Freeman's distinctive and mellifluous baritone voice to narrate the first few lines of the movie.

After a rather forced set-up wherein filthy rich but friendless Nicholson shares a room with middle-class trivia-genius family man Freeman, and both become rather unwilling friends. They are informed of their pending doom due their respective cancer situations and they both go off in the great unknown the live the wild life before death finally catches up with them.

Okay, some parts of the movie were admittedly cringe-worthy, such as the mock taunts they exchanged on the race track. But Nicholson and Freeman have such charm between them, that the viewer is just glad to see them both looking like they're having fun, which they look like they are. Of course, Freeman has always played subtle, wise, old characters who never seem to lose their cool, while Nicholson has always played over the top larger, than life characters who steal every scene they're in. So essentially, these guys just got on board to celebrate their own typecasts, which were thrown into a new fictional situation.


The chemistry between the leads is palpable, and the contrasting characters play off one another nicely. Even Freeman's cool baritone sounds off great opposite Nicholson's devious sneering drawls.

An underrated player in all this is Sean Hayes, as Nicholson's witty and tolerant assistant, who sufficiently spices up his scenes without interfering with the leads.

The script isn't perfect, the plot has the mass integrity of Swiss cheese, but two names practically guarantee a watchable (albeit in this case, forgettable) and entertaining movie: Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman.

Definitely not a great movie, but it isn't so bad. And considering the body of work between these two guys, they're excused from making an effortless piece of fluff from time to time.

Recommended for fans.

Sacrificing Lambs... (From Manila Times' Manila Jaycees Minutes, Published Jan. 29, 2008)

Sacrificing Lambs
By Golangco, Jasper Lao, JCI-Manila


If you’ve never heard of Dana Batnag before, then I’m pretty sure you already have by now. But for the unenlightened, Dana Batnag, is a reporter of Tokyo-based news company Jiji Press. She’s the journalist currently gracing front pages all over the country for being accused of supposedly helping military fugitives escape in the recent unplanned demolition of the Peninsula Manila’s lobby last November 29, 2007.

What’s interesting is that the only thing the police have going for them is a video of Batnag in dialogue with Marine Capt. Nicanor Faeldon. I mean, what else do reporters do, right? They don’t have a transcript of their conversation, no written evidence, absolutely nothing substantial. But accused she stands.

Batnag is but the most recent victim of a culture of media vaudeville that requires sacrificial lambs for the appeasement of one’s ego, and the supposed saving of an institution’s face.

Good thing for her, at least she’s still alive. Unlike many of her news and media brethren.

Never in our country’s history has the Filipino free press been more at odds with authority than they are now. The Filipino was never really good at shutting up, so it seems that a few people have taken it upon themselves to shut us up if we don’t want to. Apparently, it’s either journalists shut up, or they die. As per a report by the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ), a grand total 171 individuals working the fields of journalism and media were killed last year, 2007. Only six less than the 177 who bit the dust last 2006. Now either a news career automatically causes strokes, heart attacks, and stray bullets to randomly fly through a car window, or something’s really fishy.

We’re supposed to be a democracy, where freedom of expression and the press are at the forefront and serve as the most important manifestations of this so-called democracy. In a society where economic freedom is reserved for a fortunate few (who mostly hold government offices), intellectual freedom is what keeps the fires of this country’s soul burning.

Many have accused the press of being too unkind and focusing only on the negative. But this is not entirely true. The press has the thankless job of focusing on what’s prevalent. And if more bad than good things keep happening, then telling the press to talk mostly about good things would be like telling the press to simply close their eyes and ears. And even Helen Keller didn’t like shutting up.

I personally do not know for a fact whether or not the accusations against Batnag are true. Who knows? Evidence may surface showing her to be guilty. But the fact remains that the authorities have chosen to unprofessionally bring out unproven assumptions to the public in the hopes of showing work mileage that essentially goes in circles.

Offering up Dana Batnag as a sacrificial lamb this early without enough evidence will not do anything but remind this country’s citizens that the Philippines can only remain the land of the free, but only if we keep quiet and keep a ten foot pole between us and the people the government doesn’t like.

Not too free at all.

The Delayed Book Review: All-Star Superman, Volume 1

I need to do this.

I need to put this review together for a number of reasons:
First, I want to tell the world that I am sophisticated enough to finally grab a hardcover copy of the critically acclaimed ALL-STAR SUPERMAN by Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely and Jaime Grant. And that I finally listened to this recommendation by one of my favorite veterinarians, Dr. Sixto Carlos of the Makati Dog & Cat Hospital (the other favorite vets also work there, by the way.)
Next, I have to join the party in sharing my joy in having taken this literary ride with Morrison and company.

I think I’ve mentioned in my only other review so far in this blog, that I am not a Superman fan. In fact, I enjoyed Seagle’s “It’s a Bird” so much partly because Supes wasn’t the main protagonist of the story.

I am a Batman fan. (Just had to get that off my chest.)

So I open the book with expectations set “quite” high (pun intended), and while I’ve never been a fan of Frank Quitely’s art, his sense of story-telling, detail and nuance is among the best out there. And Morrison’s story was brought to life fully formed, and garnished almost perfectly.

What makes this series great?

Well, for one thing, they didn’t really toy around with Superman’s central character concept. In fact, they even added bits of detail that made the larger-than-life-ness of Superman a good thing, and not an annoying literary limitation.

Here are some great bits:
1. Superman playing “fetch” with Krypto. Where else but in space, right? and using a tree, no less.
2. Superman’s super-heavy white dwarf key to the Fortress of Solitude. Batman would probably hide the key to the bat-cave under the bat-rug. But when you’re Superman, you don’t have to hide the goddamn key, you just to use one of the heaviest substances in the universe so no one else can carry, much less use it to open the Super-gates of the Fortress. Sure beats the giant key that probably attracts way too much attention…
3. The pet sun-eater… with Supes feeding it baby suns… heh heh… cute touch.
4. Lois Lane initially disbelieving that Supes and Clark are one and the same, together with the human paranoia she experiences while hanging out at the Fortress of Solitude.

(above, Lois Lane in paranoia)

(above, Supes with his pet sun-eater)

With ALL-STAR SUPERMAN, Morrison successfully puts Supes back in the genre of great old-school science fiction almost worthy of Harlan Ellison.

It’s almost funny how writers have always managed to put Batman smack in the center of his core genres of crime and horror, which have helped make Bats what he is today. But with Superman seemingly losing creative relevance in the "modern" comic mythos for the past two or three decades, it only took Morrison and company a handful of issues to remind the entire comic book fandom that Superman is a science fiction book. Complete with a one-issue Jimmy Olsen-centered issue that recalls the good ole’ age of odd-ball one-off concepts in the vein of “What If?”

Oh, and if I may seem to have implied that ALL-STAR SUPERMAN is the ultimate geek-fest filled with geek-talk, then I must dutifully mention that Morrison kept the heart of the book together in the warm way he handled the appearances of Jonathan and Martha Kent. With meaning, purpose, and not just because the “superman-being-farm boy” thing had to be pounded into the readers’ brains.

If I seem like I’m gushing, I will flatly admit with pompous pride that I am. And if you want to know why, go grab yourself a copy.

Unfortunate Events (#2660)

We were at the tail-end of the first day’s shoot at our client’s steel processing plant. I was tired, and my voice was hoarse…

One of the last few shots to be taken were a row of welders, who had to light up in unison for that kick ass shot with the orchestral welding light effects. Then we started to relay instructions to those wiry Neanderthals with the sparkly power tools. It seemed simple enough: “everyone straighten out the girders before you, put your goddamned welding masks on, and on the count of three, everyone light up like the Fourth of fucking July!”

They couldn’t get the bloody choreography right, and I was beginning to seriously wonder if they understood the simple mix of English and Tagalog that I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

After over four tries, I walked all the way to the end of the row and waved my arms like a windshield wiper to try and get the welder’s attention. Then the welder looked up at me, flipped his mask open, and smilingly opened his mouth in that autistic inquisitory manner, then proceeded to point at his ears, which had… earplugs.

At that point, I was already hoarse, even more tired than when we started, and my shoulders were slouched in defeat. Then someone brought in a whistle. Riiiight…

We eventually got the shot right. Here it is…

Word of advice to people who say no one listens: check for ear plugs.

Shallow Secrets... Movie Review: National Treasure: Book of Secrets

Oookay, like "Sakal, Sakali, Saklolo," I went and saw this movie without having seen the prequel. But it's been reported to be on top of box office lists for the quite some time, and then there's good word of mouth. So I figured, "what the heck..."

The formula is soooo basic: macho hero (Nic Cage with just a wee bit more hair), hot chick (Diane Kruger, who is so on-paper perfectly beautiful that she almost comes across as bland), goof-ball who can do a lot of stuff (Joshua Bartha, who in this case is the resident computer expert at Mr. Cage's disposal. Can't do a team movie without one nowadays...), and then there's the old man for "elderly advice" or additional comic relief (Jon Voight, who is at his best when he plays a bad guy, so this movie ain't it, guys...).
The movie kicks off relatively decently, with the set-up for a "Da Vinci Code meets Indiana Jones meets... uhm... Nic Cage" kind of movie. But with all the too-convenient scenarios and the almost two-dimensional opposing characters, who eventually redeem themselves in typical popcorn fashion, National Treasure: Book of Secrets almost ends up being "The Goonies, 2008."

Ed Harris sets up Mr. Cage with the possibility that Cage's great-grandfather was involved in the assasination of Abe Lincoln, then Mr. Cage sets off on a crazy mission to find evidence to prove it otherwise. Cage's Ben Gates and Diane Kruger's Abigail Chase are estranged when the movie begins, Bartha's Riley Poole is peddling a book about the first movie's adventures, and somewhere along the way, we see Jon Voight wringing his hands over the thought of asking something of his ex-wife, played here by the classy Helen Mirren.

Ed Harris tails Cage's little crew until they cross paths at Mount Rushmore, where they find the literal City of Gold. a few kinks here and there... and they lived happily ever after. Honest.

Oh, and this is the first movie in a long while wherein the U.S. President was portrayed in such an intelligent, and almost positive light... Intelligent , that is, until he lets himself get kidnapped by one guy!! Bwahahahahaha...

Ed Harris' talent was totally wasted here. The guy deserves better material. Uhm, come to think of it, so do Nic Cage, Diane Kruger, Jon Voight, and most especially Miss Helen Mirren. Joshua Bartha, on the other hand, belongs in this pop-corn crap.

But to be fair, the movie was a pleasant way to kill a couple of hours. But it would've made very little difference if we chose to watch "The Chipmunks" instead.

BEE Lightly Entertained... Movie Review: BEE MOVIE

Let me begin by saying that one of the last people I expect to get environmental advice from is Jerry Seinfeld. But hey, people grow up, right? I’m talking about me, not Jerry, by the way.

As a grand sucker for the eye candy products of CGI animation, and supplemented by the added edge of a stand-up comic at the level of Mr. Seinfeld, “Bee Movie” seemed like a no-brainer for me.

As always, Dreamworks delivers on the visual quality of the thing, and the whole theme park approach complete with the Spanish translated ride instructions didn’t escape me either. The cinematography makes it quite obvious that we’re going to find a 4-D Bee Movie attraction at the Universal Studios park real soon.

What I like about this movie is that it didn’t rely too much on pop culture puns to “bee” entertaining. Of course it has its share, with notable vocal “appearances” by Sting (riiiight), and Ray Liotta (this one I honestly didn’t get…). Larry King appears (yet again). Everybody just loves this guy, huh?

Renee Zellweger’s raspy girl next door voice fit her character perfectly, Matthew Broderick’s dorky best friend routine went well, and the sparse appearance of Chris Rock as a mosquito added a few highlights as well. And yes, Sting just totally nailed for me, man. (I’m a fan, dude…) Oddly enough, only after checking the voice cast credits did I find out that they had Oprah, Cathy Bates, and a few other notables on the payroll as well. I mean… uhm… cool… right? Having Oprah around in something like this should be totally cool, right. BUT ONLY IF THEY USED THESE BIG NAME TALENTS A BIT MORE.

The whole ecological balance thing was a nice way to try and add some moral weight to the story. The operative word being “try.” But I guess that’s better than nothing.

Did I waste my time? Nah, I honestly enjoyed it. I wasn’t asking for much more anyways. If I want a nice, deep and memorable movie, I’d grab a copy of Schindler’s List or something.

Here's the "better" of the trailers they did for BEE MOVIE:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxBUwHTV_KA&feature=related

Movie Review: Sakal, Sakali, Saklolo

Movie Review: Sakal, Sakali, Saklolo
(a.k.a. “My share in contributing a meager P260 to the local movie industry”)

It started out as a typical weekend day at the mall. So typically Filipino, in fact. Complete with a Jollibee dinner, window shopping, and the highlight at some point being a drag queen in make-up and a mini-skirt popping out of a cubicle in the men’s room to a wide-eyed bunch of guys, who I assume were mostly straight.

* * * * *

With the remnants of the 2008 Metro Manila Film Festival holding on to what I assume is the last handful of days at the cineplexes, we had before us the annual line up of movies that didn’t represent the best of Philippine cinema, it represented what was LEFT of Philippine cinema.

The curious little boy in me had been trying to make my dominatrix wife agree to seeing Bong Revilla’s “Resiklo”, despite having to try and dodge Dingdong Dantes’ laser vision…

Obviously, I lost.

So we ended up seeing the sequel to last year’s critical hit, “Kasal, Kasali, Kasalo,” whose title was the rather creatively coined “Sakal, Sakali, Saklolo.” And I meekly followed my wife into the movie, whose prequel she supposedly caught on TV…

Given the praises last year’s prequel received, along with a nod from director Mark Meily himself, I actually expected a good movie. So, you think I got it?

No. The good news is that I didn’t get a bad one either.

After several months of intensely hawking Fitrum slimming caps, Judy Ann Santos and writer/director Jose Javier Reyes seem to have agreed that it was tantamount to give Juday as many opportunities as possible to show off her new, improved physique. Okay, not a bad figure at this point, but I could never get past the roundness of her face…

My beef with “slice-of-life” style Pinoy movies has always been the lack of solidly interesting conflict. And “Sakal…” is no exception. I imagine that the prequel ended with the couple happily marrying despite the social differences and all. And a wedding always provides a decent crescendo to a love story, which is where “Sakal…” picks up at the start.

So we get a glimpse of a career-vs.-family scenario for Juday, and a boy growing out of his expensive boyish hobbies for Agoncillo. All that, complete with the respective circles of friends that offer sometimes amusing commentary.

Juday points out to Agoncillo that they have to watch their expenses, then guess what? At the next scene, they're shopping at Santis’ Delicatessen. Real budget-friendly shopping right there… At least we now know where Direk Reyes gets his Hungarian sausages…

The couple tries to re-ignite their marriage by accepting an invitation to visit Dominic Ochoa is Spain, in what is most certainly the most expensive part of the movie. Now I understand that the distance from their son, Rafa was supposed to provide the source of the supposed conflict, what with the in-laws/grandparents suddenly taking turns imposing themselves on the poor child. The trip ends abruptly when they find out Rafa gets sick, and they quickly reschedule an earlier flight back home. Wow, real edge-of-your-seat material right there...NOT.

Guess what happened after that…? After a few kinks here and there, they all lived happily ever after. Honest.

I was mildly entertained, but while some situations were nice and realistically done, I was left wondering about what the movie stood for. It was almost academic for me to assume that the previous movie’s premise revolved around the social differences of the protagonists, which probably gave Direk Reyes a field day writing the first one, with a lot of stuff left over.

But here, Reyes just lets his characters go through the motions from one expected scenario to the next. I felt the movie was sprinkled with a lot of potential subplots that weren’t maximized, such as the placement of Hans Montenegro as Juday’s flirty co-worker, who is also a potential foil to Ryan Agoncillo’s rich kid husband. Agoncillo’s luggage getting lost… Agoncillo’s wallet getting stolen… Little details that could’ve been more useful. Oh, and they also wasted Freddie Webb’s time by handing him a character that had almost as much depth as a paper doll.

The chemistry between on and off-screen couple Judy Ann Santos and Ryan Agoncillo is unmistakable, but the truly bright spots are obviously the veteran actors in Gloria Romero, Ariel Ureta and Gina Pareño. They are just plain brilliant given their rather limited material, with Pareño’s over-the-top-ness reminding me of my own mother-in-law (without the redeeming factors.)

From what I gather from this episode, the first movie must’ve been good. My wife thinks so. Ergo, I think they should’ve left it as it was. But this movie supposedly made money, too. So I guess I smell another sequel? Oh well, I’m getting “Resiklo” on DVD.

Catch a movie review of “Resiklo” by Maverick Advertising’s former copywriter, Michelle Dompor. http://kablagblog.blogs.friendster.com/

Props for Richard Page of Mr. Mister

Don't ask, because I honestly don't have an explanation.
But if you ever have one of those days when you have a song that you played to death on a car tape deck until the sound was practically muffled from wear suddenly stream into your head... and you get that tilt-the-head-in-an-autistic-manner-then-smiling like-an-idiot moment... then you must know how I feel...

The melodic culprit happens to be a song called "The Best Thing" by Richard Page from his solo album "Shelter Me" that came out last 1996. Damn good album that sank without a fucking trace...

Richard who? Richard Page is/was best known as the lead singer and bass player of 80's fixture band Mr. Mister. Also known by music afficionados as the guy who was offered to replace Bobby Kimball when Bobby left Toto, and as the guy who again got offered the chance to replace Peter Cetera when Mr. Cetera woke up and decided that Jimmy Pankow, Lamm and the other guys were dead weight to him. (For the record, I don't think so. I think Chicago is a great band... Still is, even post-Cetera...)

Anyways, like the geek that I am, I did what geeks do when something invades their heads... I google it. So I google Richard Page...

I find a site offering songs at $0.20 each. I end up signing off (electronically anyway) the minimum credit purchase of $15 out of my credit card to download the goddamn song. Only to find myself having difficulty downloading. But I successfully got to play the whole song in streaming audio... Wrote them for customer support, got the song, and posted it in youtube. Here it is:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=Udnvlm5Y8nQ

And for those who actually know the above track and find it anemic (which it somehow is, but I personally find it a catchy kind of anemic), I'm posting below a link to a live performance by Richard Page and his band, Mr. Mister.
It'll give you a good idea why this guy was invited to practically lead two of the biggest bands of the past century.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=dOq9v4fAEo0&feature=related

Enjoy the links and don't ignore those streaming-in-your-head moments. Somehow, the song and the memories it brought back, even if only in streaming audio, were worth all the trouble...

the gathering...

Sooo... it's officially 2008.

Maverick has regrouped after what seems to have a rather tumultous year since 2007 was the time we lost practically the last vestiges of Maverick Version 2.0.

Did we feel bad? Sad? Deserted? Rejected?

No. Yes. No. No.

At some point, we had to find that point wherein we were reminded that through all the laughter, the fun, and the... uh... fun. Maverick was and still is a business. A viable one at that.

But Maverick Version 3.0 was a dismal failure. We are now developing Version 2.5.

With the fresh blood we've gathered and possibly an old one coming in, Version 2.5 just might work...

I am still deciding whether or not to get my fat ass off leaning on the huge wall provided by my family.

I most likely will. Now it's time to build my own fucking wall. Brick by fucking brick.

Funeral For My Father's Friend

My father lost his best friend last week.
Mr. Arsenio Tan, my father's best friend of almost twenty years died last December 21, 2007 in Guangzhou, China. Arsenio, who saw my father through almost every stage of his life within a couple of years after my mother left was a good man. A good man who did well for himself, but did not let money measure men, much less his friends.

After all that time, I managed to build a rather loose, but comfortable friendship with said best friend's son. Hung out with him for a few minutes at the one-night-only wake with his father's ashes, which were brought back from his failed operation in China.

It's interesting how one surveys a funeral crowd and finds the air drowning in murmured chatters. All of which are underlined with a silent emptiness that echoes not in the ears, but in the eyes of those who reluctantly smile with a sympathetic pat on the arm.

And the murmurs go on with the same questions and the same old lines over and over again...

"How did he die?"
"I just saw him..."
"How old was he?"
"He's so young..."
"How's the family?"

"How did he die?"

"I just saw him..."

"How old was he?"

"He's so young..."

"How's the family?"

"How did he die?"
"I just saw him..."
"How old was he?"
"He's so young..."
"How's the family?"

and it goes on and on and on and on...

and then people lower their heads and trickle out of the chapel until one looks up again and finds only the family remaining. Tired of smiling and repeating the stories over and over and over again...

The wake will be over soon enough, and the things that families never want to talk about are finally discussed on that fateful family dinner, and then the family finally moves on.

Like we all will.

MR. ARSENIO TAN (R.I.P. December 21, 2007)

Photo by Dani Simmonds, SXC

Marked Man

MARKED MAN
An interview with Director Mark Meily last December 2006


The last time I saw him in person was almost two decades ago. He taught me how to literally kick ass. That’s because until 1988, award-winning director Mark Meily was my Tae Kwon Do teacher.

So I walked into our meeting place a minute late and he was already there having sushi. I was almost afraid he’d order me to do knuckle push-ups for being late…

Now manning his own production outfit, Spark Short Films, Mark Meily has become one of the most sought-after commercial directors in the business. And with the still ringing critical and commercial success of his indie opus “Crying Ladies” throwing enough feathers on his cap to make him chief of at least three Indian tribes, Mark Meily likes to pace himself between movie-making and various experimental concepts in advertising such as “Sugar”, a fifteen-minute love story reminiscent of Rupert Holmes’ Piña Colada Song that featured Bianca King together with Rafael Rosel.

The Metro Manila Film Fest had just been concluded, an indie film showing series was being held at the Robinson’s Galleria, my deadline was creeping in, and this guy who represented the threshold of indie, commercial and the commercial indie was the perfect subject for a handful of cinema-related questions…

* * * * *

JLG: After the success of “Crying Ladies”, people expected a lot, then suddenly it just seemed like you dropped out of the radar? What gives?
MM: The thing is, in the ‘States, in Europe, good directors do maybe one film every three or four years. “Crying Ladies” was last 2003, [then “La Visa Loca” and] I’m now working on my third film. So for output, that’s not so bad. That’s still prolific.


JLG: Didn’t you get a lot of scripts your way?
MM: I didn’t like the scripts. They confused me more than they enlightened me. I’m not saying there weren’t any good scripts. Probably other directors were getting them. The ones being offered to me were [either] too similar to “Crying Ladies” or rip-offs of other films, and I don’t want to copy other people’s work. Or worse, repeat what I’ve [already] done.

"...while [digital film-making] has made it easy to become a film director, it has also made it much easier to become a bad film director."

JLG: So what’s Spark Short Films all about?
MM: Well, as the name says, it’s primarily a production company. But we want to conceptualize new ways of doing advertising, such as subtle product placements in short films. “Sugar” being our first offering, which was a love story to be made into 3G content.



JLG: So how was it working with Bianca King?
MM: She was great. Very professional. And this project was a bit of a departure, since apparently [during that time] she was always typecast as the bad girl. And “Sugar”was the first time [Bianca] got to play the lead as good girl or victim.


JLG: Do you view the so-called “Digital Age” in Philippine Cinema a resurgence, or is it just hyped up?
MM: There is a resurgence, yes. But a lot of these films are becoming marginalized because they have a limited audience. For example, “Maximo Oliveros” was very successful because it was made on a very low budget, and they were able to blow it up 35[mm] and show it in maybe 12 to 20 theatres. [And that] made it earn more.
Some films good as they are, couldn’t afford to have their movies blown up to 35mm print [copies]. So they have a screening in SM, then one in Galleria, then one in UP, then one somewhere else…
Even if you fill up one screening room, how much do you think that will earn?


JLG: So distribution is limited because of budget. But what about quality-wise?
MM: It’s hard to generalize. There are a lot of good independent films. Digital film-making has democratized film-making. So consequently, while [digital film-making] has made it easy to become a film director, it has also made it much easier to become a bad film director.


JLG: Do you foresee good or bad in the local film industry?
MM: Both good and bad. Good, because there are a lot of good films being produced, but at the same time, there is a mafia-like organization in the mainstream film industry that wants to maintain the “old guard”. These guys control the movie industry in terms of distribution, etc. Some are in production companies, some are in the government… sadly, and some are producers.

For instance, these guys don’t see the [Metro Manila Film Festival] as anything other than a fund-raiser, not as a way to promote the best of Philippine cinema. Simply to raise as much money as fast as they can for Mowelfund, for the CCP, for the OMB (Optical Media Board), or something… they think that’s what it is. A business. Forget about the [actual] festival. Forget about doing creative films, they hate that word ‘creative’, they also hate the word “artistic”.


JLG: Do you think the MMFF will go on?
MM: Yes, it will go on. I just attended a conference organized by the National Commission for Culture and Arts. We were discussing the state of the industry. Particularly the Metro Manila Film Festival.

This year, they had a weird criteria: 40% box office performance. All of you are judges, but then the organizer says: ‘Hey, don’t put any value or number on that criteria, because it will be the SGV accountant who will put something in that box.’ I mean, seriously, why still you still invite judges to judge something with a criterion they do not have any say on?

Nowhere on this planet in the history of film festivals all over the world will you see box office performance or commercial viability [based on its first four days] as a criteria, and for that you get the best picture award. It’s stupid. Ridiculous. Nakakhiya ang Philippines.

But the awards will never affect the box office performance of an already successful film. Whether “Titanic” won best picture or not, it would have earned whatever it earned already.


JLG: So are we better off without the MMFF?
MM: Let’s put it this way. The way it started was to showcase the best, but the way the executive committee is changing the rules thinking that they can earn more is really killing it.

Just imagine what would happen if next year there would be five versions of “Shake, Rattle & Roll”, and five more “Enteng Kabisote”s. At the end of the day, people wouldn’t watch all these ten movies. They would just watch [what they think is] the best one.

My point is: why don’t offer people a choice? The ones who don’t normally watch Filipino movies. Give those [people] a choice. If you give them those five versions of “Enteng Kabisote”, do you think they will watch? No, they won’t. if they would, they’d probably watch one, since if they’ve seen one, they’ve seen them all.


JLG: Which of the entries from the last Metro Manila Film Festival did you like most?
MM: I like… uhm, I have to like something, right? (grins…). I think the best would probably be “Kasal Kasali, Kasalo”, and for cinematography “Ligalig”.


JLG: So why do you think it seems that Filipino movies throughout the regular course of a year do not make money?
MM: It’s not just a Philippine phenomenon. It’s universal. All over Asia, in Europe, even in India, there are lesser films being produced. There are too many choices.

For example, during Holy Week, you only had a choice between “Jesus of Nazareth” and “The Ten Commandments” and they were shown only thee or four movie houses along Sta. Cruz. This was back in the 70’s and 80’s. Now, on Holy Week, I have DVD’s, in malls there are film festivals… I have over 70 channels on cable to choose from. Back then on Holy Week, the only thing on TV was “The Seven Last Words”! So even if you showed “The Ten Commandments” over and over, people would still watch it because there was nothing to do. Now, people don’t even have to go to church anymore. I can choose from “Ang Dating Daan”, “Iglesia ni Cristo” or the Catholic Church all on TV. There’s also piracy. There’s the internet. There’s YouTube… and pretty soon, they’re going to launch mobile television.


JLG: So is the industry going to die?
MM: Let me quote Mother Lily [Monteverde]. For all the people that hate her, people still listen to her, because when she makes sense, she makes a lot of sense. [She said] ‘We’re all in this business, because we’re crazy.’

And that’s it. We just love making movies, because we love movies!


JLG: How many more episodes of Mano Po do you think there will be?
MM: Probably around 4 more.

JLG: Uhm… what do you think about “Enteng Kabisote”?
MM: Didn’t see it.

JLG: I did.
MM: Sucker.

* * * * *

At some point, most directors will tell you the ultimate critic should always be the audience. While at the airport last 2004 after a film festival in India, Meily’s attention was called from behind, and he thought, “oh no, not another beggar…”.

“Turns out this was a porter. Then he said, ‘I like “Crying Ladies”.’ Not a film critic or not a film schooler, this was a porter. Cap, jacket and all.

“No,” I said. “You did not see ‘Crying Ladies’.

‘[yes], I did,’ he said. He then named all the other big movies in the festival, then said: ‘but among them I like ‘Crying Ladies’. That’s why I remember you.’

“For me, that porter’s comments exceed whatever film critics’ praises are.” - Mark Meily

(Photo elements generously provided by Mark Meily, composited rather plainly by the author. This interview/article was published in Issue 2, Volume 1 of Manifesto Magazine published by the C! Magazine Group under the editorship of Jose Mari Ugarte, circa 2006.)

Trapped into Cinematic Submission (Metro Manila Film Festival 2006)

Trapped into Cinematic Submission (MMFF 2006)
By Golangco, Jasper Greek Lao

(I am posting this out of some sense of personal history in connection to the on-going MMFF)


As of this writing, I am still eagerly awaiting Ben Stiller’s “Night at the Museum” to hit theaters on mainstream. A couple of weeks prior during the holiday break, when the wifey and I had a lot of time to kill, we scoured through the newspapers and “clickthecity.com” for something interesting to catch on cinema. Yeah yeah… it’s the age of home entertainment, but hey, I couldn’t get fresh Tater’s popcorn at home…

I found myself staring at posters with the familiar faces of Vic Sotto, Lito Lapid, Judy Ann Santos, et. al. in even more familiar concepts. There was Lito Lapid in one of the worst Zorro rip-offs I had ever seen, Gretchen Barretto in yet another horror movie production, Vic Sotto playing himself with a different name, and of course, there was the nth installment of Mano Po and other sad creations. Don’t get me started on the one with John Prats dressed up like the X-men’s Nightcrawler.

For some reason, there was a matinee of Denzel Washington’s Déjà vu. Of course we missed it and were mulling whether or not to catch any other movie just for an excuse to gorge on barbeque flavored pop-corn and have some down time.

With my wife having a long-standing crush on “Bosing Vic” as the man is often referred to, the only thing on the multiplex that seemed to have any redeeming value was “Enteng Kabisote.” The redemption being my wife shuts up, while she stares at Mr. Sotto’s mug for an estimated 120 minutes and I can shut my brain off and pretend it was still the seventies but with better special effects. And yes, gorge on barbeque flavored pop-corn.

The special effects were more than serviceable. Heck, some effects were even half a notch better than the first “Star Wars” (episode 4, a.k.a. A New Hope for you Gen X’ers). Visually, Enteng Kabisote wasn’t an eye sore, and the fact that Kristine Hermosa is still one gorgeous babe didn’t hurt either. But at some point, I honestly felt that for a couple of hours, I was being spoken to like a 5 year old. Of course it’s a comedy, and people go to watch “Bosing Vic” not to get a good story, and I will stop now about Enteng Kabisote and move on.

I felt cornered as my wife and I were looking around the Cineplex and had to choose among some rather limited offerings courtesy of the Metro Manila Film Festival.

The films that managed to get a lot of advertising were “Mano Po 5” (can’t wait for Number 69…) and “Matakot ka sa Karma.” The rest were either hinging on variety show appearances or just throwing their lucks in the air. And while marketing movies are expensive, they are critical in helping a movie succeed. Of course that is, if there was anything good enough to market. Judy Ann Santos’ “Kasal, Kasali, Kasalo” did very well, but most likely only due to Judy Ann’s fanbase. The film “Ligalig” received good reviews, but fared very poorly. It could be said that the results were a reflection of the Filipino’s movie palate, but I think that that assumption is rather unjust. I would’ve given it a chance, but I knew absolutely nothing about it, and Heaven knows my wife knew quite a bit about “Bosing Vic.”


So isn’t it sad that the movie-going public has to be cornered to patronize their own movies? So we got tired of the whole “there’s a song and dance number in the middle” routine and the Indians haven’t. And we definitely got tired of the “ST” phase (ok, so I really haven’t… but hey…). Can’t we go back to good old fashioned film-making?

“Panday” was successful not only because it featured the “King of Philippine Cinema”, Fernando Poe, Jr., but because it was very original and by no measure derivative. A handful of daringly original films in the recent past have done well. They were produced because they were stories that had to be told, not because they had stars to build or contracts to fulfill.

My wife and I recently caught “Inang Yaya” starring Miss Maricel Soriano. The movie was well-attended, and while I felt that the story needed a legitimate climax and some genuine conflict, at least my intelligence wasn’t insulted. It wasn’t over-acted, the dialogue was not stilted, and the situations were very realistic. Okay, so the ending wasn’t satisfying, but at least it really looked like it tried. Unlike most local movies that spring out from time to time.

The local film industry has often complained about the lack of support from the public, but I think it’s mostly their fault. Just because they dish out one decent movie every now and then, they shouldn’t expect people to come in droves. People want choices. Good choices. And from that comes confidence. The movie-going Pinoy has lost confidence. And a “film festival” filled with recycled goods doesn’t do anything to help.

Some would say I’m a minority, but the average monthly box office doesn’t seem to think so. Of course there’s also the obvious culprit called the Philippine economy.

The price of an average movie ticket nowadays runs somewhere around P100-P130. The average wage earner clocks in something between P300-P350 for a day’s work. And that’s an average white collar job. So why should he or she shell out over P500 to take the family out for a piece of recycled celluloid crap?

I have been told by people tired of my whining that I am not the market. That’s a load of jack.

But let’s say we’re talking about the supposedly real audience of local cinema, which are the masses in Philippine society. Does it mean that the masses do not deserve to be entertained with something creative and original? Something that will be worth something even after they’ve walked out of the theater? Something that will not make them regret shelling out their hard-earned P500 (and no, that doesn’t even include pop-corn).

People love movies. They always will. But they will love good movies. So I implore the local film-makers to start making more of them, promote them right, and to paraphrase Kevin Costner: “if you shoot it, they will come.”

Eulogy for a Classic House along Quezon Avenue

There is absolutely no point to this blog entry. i just finally had the camera while passing by this house, which is now in full view since the property has apparently been sold and the trees have been downed and the house is now in full view (at least until they completely take it down...)

We are losing more and more of these beautiful structures every day...

Unfortunate Events (#2659)

One of the cats pissed on my laptop.
my shiny brand new 17" hewlett packard with the altec lansing speakers laptop.
pissed on the lcd inverter and now my beloved machine is blind like a bat.
i have it attached to an old monitor while i pray for deliverance in the form of a new inverter that i will have to wait until after christmas to order, because the hp offices are closed.
i have a good bet on which cat it is.
it's the one that has hated me for a while now.
and i will keep kicking his ass until i get my new inverter.
it's almost funny somehow.
i mean, imagine the conversation:
"Hey, what's wrong with your new laptop?"
"Uhm, LCD ain't working."
"It's new, right? Take it to HP for a warranty check... oh, wait... why'd you rip the face plate off??!? That voids the warranty!"
"Can't get no warranty. It was bought in the States without the warranty on the price I bought it for."
"Yeah, but they still cover those things. The machine's new."
"Uhm... feline error."
"Excuse me?"
"Uhm... catpissedonthething..."
"Wha...?"
"I said... Cat. Pissed. On. The. Thing..."
"Right. Kidding..."
"No kidding..."

And then there's the part where I burst into tears...

Heaven Help the Philippines

We are waiting to head off to our annual Christmas party, and traffic is bad. People are hesitant to hit the road...
In my boredom, I googled "gloria corrupt," and i found this:

http://in.ibtimes.com/articles/20071212/philippines-corrupt-gloria-arroyo-ferdinand-marcos-joseph-estrada.htm

AND WE HAVE THREE MORE YEARS OF HER TO GO.
'Nuff said.

Christmas and the Dying of Mother Earth

Mother Earth dies a lot more on Christmas time...

Don't believe me? Just try and imagine how much paper we waste this time of year. Imagine all that fucking paper wrapped around that gift, ripped out by the gifts' recipients in a matter of seconds to add to the great dumpster that Mother Earth has become... don't get me started on the felled trees...

Let's take it one step further, people...

Christmas time encourages a waste of money. A lot of money is thrown around without care in the form of unwanted gifts.

Gift-giving is actually more of masturbation than trying to make people happy. More often than not, people give gifts because they do not wish to disappoint, and to feel better about themselves. I going general here, not specific.

Corporations spend gazillions on corporate gifts each year. more than half of which are crap. They usually just pick out the ones that fit their budget and are probably the least embarrassing among their options.

i must admit. i'm sometimes one of them. okay, most of the time. But hey, i'm in advertising.

The Gin Blossoms: Major Lodge Victory (CD Review)

The Gin Blossoms are Back… with all their baggage.

After over a decade, one of my favorite bands, the Gin Blossoms are back with “Major Lodge Victory”, a decidedly mid-tempo collection that really sounds like a Gin Blossoms album. It sounds too much like “Congratulations…I’m Sorry”, and tries too hard to sound like “New Miserable Experience”.

While the album is more than listenable, it doesn’t break any new ground. While the first single “Learning the Hard Way” is filled with their usual goods: catchy melodies with a lot of hooks and a brand of grunge harmony that has them tagged as a scruffier version of Wilson Philips, it somehow sounds like a bunch of great musicians just doing their jobs.
Not necessarily labored, but somehow short of the drunken melancholy and desperation that is their trademark.

“Come On Hard” follows and vainly attempts to bring back that old edge they lost along with former leader Doug Hopkins. “Someday Soon” to me, is “As Long As It Matters” played sideways. Everything else just fades out inoffensively into the background.

While the disc is anything but a waste of money, I hope they break out the gin, get stoned, get depressed, and write better songs for their next effort.

Oh, and someone tell Robin Wilson he’s starting to sound really nasal.

Track List:

1. Learning The Hard Way
2. Come On Hard
3. Someday Soon
4. Heart Shaped Locket
5. The End Of The World
6. Long Time Gone
7. Super Girl
8. Let's Play Two
9. Curious Thing
10. Jet Black Sunrise
11. Fool For The Taking
12. California Sun

log on to: http://thegins.com/ for a free stream of the tracks on Major Lodge Victory...

The Canine Mafia in our House, Part 1 (The Epileptic Cat)

Meet Chiqui. He's a yellow cat. He's epileptic. He has seizures, shits and pisses while he does. Seems to be in a ton of pain, but eats like there's no tomorrow. In his case, you're never sure about tomorrow anyway.

Meet Jennifer. She's a toy poodle. She's really cute and knows how to use it. But both literally and figuratively, she's a bitch. Jennifer's the reason Chiqui is an epileptic.

See, Chiqui was a nice healthy cat who just slinked into the house one quiet weekend. He was absolutely inoffensive. Looked healthy and clean, and he looked like he felt right at home.

And then Jennifer saw him.

Jennifer (in the photo) knows that she's one of the most adorable things on the goddamned planet, and that we love her to pieces. This is probably why she is what she is. But long ago, she was just playful. very playful.

So playful she practically turned that poor little kitten into her own personal soccer ball. We thought it was okay. Until one day not too long after, Chiqui started to have seizures. The vets and we are thinking that his brain got royally rocked and thus, led to his epilepsy.

(to be continued...)

quotable #1

"We usually gather new friends to help us do new things in our lives, but we keep and treasure the old ones to hold us back from doing new STUPID things."

the wager...

yesterday i got into a wager.
a wager i put upon myself after mike's comments about how unwittingly insulting i can be. (who's mike? he's one of the few people i really trust in that now-quiet zoo i call an office...).
i wagered that i can resist making an insult to anyone who works there. should i make an insult of any sort, i am fated to buy pizza for the crowd.
it was sad how many noted that me without my insults seemed so... UN-ME.
i suppose i got into it to try and see if there really was some other relatively interesting manifestation of me apart from the guy who spat out sarcastic comments and (occasionally) funny insults at those around him. yesterday, i was mostly quiet...
today, i found another facet i can exploit and still have some fun with my life... i found that i had fun exploiting my own conceit.
damn, i'm good.

The Delayed Book Review: It's a Bird"

The Delayed Book Review (# 1, 11/03/07)

Seagle’s “It’s A Bird” Soars

Writer: Steven Seagle

I just finished a graphic novel I just bought out of some odd sense of pity on a rather poorly performing branch of the undisputedly largest bookstore chain in the country. (Sometime soon I may get to talk about that. But for now, I’ll talk about my new book.)

I gave myself a budget of a thousand bucks for something new to read. Something that I felt wouldn’t feel like work soon enough through a chapter or two. An obvious choice was a graphic novel, which my wife quite plainly (and in a rather pedestrian manner) refers to as simply a “slightly thicker comic book”. Potato, potahto… Oh look, I found a graphic novel that is supposedly Superman related, but doesn’t have him on the cover. And if the reviews on the back cover were to be believed, this book wasn’t going to be made of your regular pulp. So off I was to the cash registers…

With my wife pregnant into her first trimester and either craving for food or dozing off, I found myself a nice little “dozing off” moment where I kick my shoes off and stretch myself out on the couch to engage myself in my new “slightly thicker comic book”. She was off dreaming, and I had time to read.

One of the first things I noticed was the rather rushed and haphazardly painted art. Rather sloppily done watercolors by some guy I’m not talking about on this piece. But hey, I read the reviews on the back cover and I told myself that this ought to be good. All things considered though, the art was serviceable and from time to time, seemed just right for the job, and fit the story.

I’ve seen Steven Seagle’s name on some other piece of printed matter which escapes me. And with the phone lines down right now, I don’t have any internet connection with which to cheat and pretend that I am a well-researched writer. So I will sit here and simply admit to having seen the author’s name somewhere and hoping that perhaps I remember where before I finish this.

I imagine that Mr. Seagle was offered a chance to write something for Superman and found his brains in an initial snag. He resorts to a rather common literary device wherein the writer writes about a writer who is writing what he is supposedly writing. If that doesn’t make sense, look it up. Like I said, I currently don’t have an internet connection and cannot pretend to be a learned literary person who can identify the different figures of speech. Big deal.

But lo and behold, Seagle doesn’t turn this thing into a farce. But instead points out everything he finds absolutely ludicrous about Superman, and juxtaposes all of them with a rare hereditary disease, along with the rest of the humble qualities of humanity. The result is probably the very first “Superman” book in a long while that I actually enjoyed and I didn’t feel insulted my feeble intelligence. Sorry, purists… the Justice League doesn’t count. I don’t care what the writers say. Superman may be the center of a lot of those stories, but it was everyone else that made it interesting. Superman vs. Batman? Batman, hands down. Ever since I was four years old. I guess that even as a kid, I always believed that getting things the hard way was the only way to get them for them to be worth it to me. Batman may have had his gazillions, but I’m sure it wasn’t easy standing up to light-wielding inter-galactic policemen, amazon princesses, or smart-asses who can circle the globe before you finish taking a piss.

It’s amazing how Seagle makes the simple fact of being healthy and walking about a super power in itself, and that humanity as itself at its best is anything but feeble. Seagle also uses the prospect of Huntington’s disease as a great springboard to release a lot of angst against the prospect of having to deal with a character, who for all intents and purposes cannot realistically have a problem. At least not in the way that we define problems.

I’ve blabbered quite lengthily to many people who cared to listen (at first, anyways… they tired sooner than I’d hoped.) that Superman didn’t deserve his own book. Superman was for me a character that flew by in the background carrying a car wreck and its passengers to safety, or rushing some old lady to the grocery store, or even saving a cat or something… Superman was designed to be god-like. Any writer worth his salt (like Seagle) knows that the whole kryptonite thingie is way too manufactured. I echo Seagle’s assumption that Kryptonite was a last-ditch attempt at making Supes interesting somehow by making him vulnerable something. Anything. Not working, if you asked me. So back to “god-like”… Who wants to read about the weaknesses of Clark Kent? All of which involves dorkiness and little more. If you want to make the prospect of Clark Kent and his attempts at humanity interesting, then I suggest you try to find yourself a copy of Larry Niven’s essay “Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex”.

Check out the family Bible, dear reader. God is everywhere, He makes or breaks the characters and usually finishes up the stories rather conveniently with just a lightning bolt or something, but God is seldom the lead character. And I reckon the same should be for Superman. But that could be just me. I am a devout Catholic and absolutely God-fearing, but while I believe in God and know I piss Him off from time to time and am always aware that I shouldn’t, I don’t want to read about Him too much. I’d much rather read about the ark, the snake, or that unlimited supply of fish from Jesus Christ.

Seagle nonetheless finishes off the book with a rightfully subtle resolution, where a family comes together to face their undeniable humanity and the weaknesses that come with it. All the while, reminding us all that life may have hitches, but all in all, life in itself is a gift not to be wasted mulling and skulking about over our limits, mentally or physically.

(Woe is me. The book was first published last 2004. Somebody help me name that rock I’ve been hiding under…)

10:40pm 11/03/07
http://www.larryniven.org/stories/Man_of_Steel_Woman_of_Kleenex.shtml

statcounter... wow, this is new...

as of now, i am officially a tech idiot...

somehow i've always fancied myself as a techie of sorts. even to the extent of having accepted product review jobs (for free) just to level up my co-called techie mojos...

and while surfing around, i found a blog that has something called statcounter... "oh look...," i thought. "now i can find out how much of a loser i am by finding out that no one else in the hot dang world logs on to my so-called blog..."

consequently however, this same technology also apparently tracks me and where i may or may not cyber-stalk...

uhm... more on that later...

baby somersaults

the wife and i went to the OB-Gyne today... we were hoping for the usual ultrasound thingie with the thermal print and all... but we were told that the only thing required for the moment was a doppler audio thingie instead...

today's objective was to try and check for some baby heartbeats. but that doppler machine thingie that seems to work like some amplified stethoscope kept getting static from the baby's supposed restlessness...

i kind of imagined that he/she (the baby) was giving us the finger, while screaming out that we won't get him... (or her)....

i came out happy that the wife was happy, but felt like i still wanted my little thermal print... nonetheless, we're heading back in a couple of weeks for that...

hope to see him (or her)...

Maverick Maverick Maverick... what am I to do with you?

Maverick will live. That much is an undeniable truth. Maverick will stay alive in whatever form as long as I want it to.

The question now is: do I still want it in this form?

…

I find myself being weighed upon by some sense of responsibility to a handful of people still in the house who seriously need the jobs for their survival, and through it all I am crushed by the empty echoes of laughter that was in these walls that grow ever colder.

Maverick will live. But Maverick will always be me. Telling myself that Maverick has outgrown me and will thrive in my absence is a cruel joke that even I do not find funny.

Well, here I am. I’m not going anywhere. But it’s time for some serious rehab…

almost there...

i personally find it just a tad pathetic that from time to time i will fill in a blog entry just to document my development on the workings of this thing...

ironically enough, while i question the current legitimacy and ultimate effectivity of a web-log or "blog" due to its oversaturation on the web, i find myself drawn to it. somehow, with blogs and other forms of free self-expression, the world seems a slightly more introspective place. a tad quieter. it's like there's not really much of a need to scream when you've shouted out online...

but before i get myself to more shouting, i find myself studying quite intently on how to be found online. for a blog that can't be found and read by anyone, will be like sending out messages in bottles that will ultimately sink to the bottom of the ocean...

let's see if this post actually floats out somehow...

i want to pay my taxes...

I want to pay my taxes,

...because I want to be a responsible citizen.
...because I want to help subsidize housing projects for the poor, who sleep on the streets.
...because I believe there are honest and hard-working government people who are underpaid.
...because I know that the government needs to fund public hospitals
...because there are public schools out there that need books, chairs, tables and sometimes even roofs.
...because this country is poor and everybody should chip in.
...because as a business owner i am obligated to.
...because I don't really have a choice.
...because it is something that has been done since time immemorial.


i don't want to pay my taxes:
...because the government people are not responsible with our country's money.
...my tax money is being used to subsidize the mansions of corrupt government officials, who usually have more than one house, more than one woman, which ergo requires more than one house, and so on...
...because the number of corrupt government people who misuse the money far outnumber the good apples who work in the government for a pittance.
...because I see very few public hospitals that actually look like they can treat patients and are being properly funded.
...because our government officials send their children to the best and most expensive schools, sometimes even abroad, talk a lot of about the public education programs that never happen, and they are probably using our tax money.
...because this country is poor, while our government people get richer by the day. what's wrong with this picture?!?
...because less than half of what i pay the Bureau of Internal Revenue actually gets into the government's coffers. the rest probably went to the two-toned Rolex the tax officials were wearing when i met them.
...because I am a dreamer, but do not have a choice anyways.
...because of so many reasons, i may have to make a new post.

where'd all the money go?

the above question is rhetorical. i am supposedly asking about the gazillions of pesos the Philippine government put in funding for equipment that will supposedly automate the election process here in these parts last 2004.

reality check, folks. it's 2007. the money is only mentioned in hushed tones with shaking heads.

count 'em. ONE POINT THREE BILLION PESOS. ALL FOR NOTHING.

that money could've done a lot of things for the countrysides. that money could've built 100 health clinics, or hand over a year's worth of minimum wage to over ten million people.

but no, it's all for naught. no one is even sure if all the hardware bought back then can still be accounted for. not that it'll be of any use since they're all obsolete by now.

okay, so something went wrong and it couldn't be applied. and that's it?!? no one is currently being held accountable. but someone has to pay.

the government complains about low revenues, but that's probably low because of how they waste money left, right, front and center. we will pay taxes with hard-earned money, where we will spend 15 minutes just to earn a few more hundred pesos on any given day. and they lose 1.3 billion pesos just like that. heaven only knows how much the kickbacks were.

the government loses a lot of money because they have way too many idiots in there. and no, i didn't vote for them. i don't vote. not since renato de villa and oscar orbos ran their ticket and gave us the last truly honorable options. i mean, why vote when all you have to choose from are idiots, pretenders and people too smart to take the government seriously? okay, there are still a few good eggs in there. but they are painfully outnumbered.

elections are but a couple of months away and the vaudeville is in high gear. grab some popcorn, sit back and enjoy the show. that's all it's good for anyway.

the police and chemistry

i am a Sting fan. pretentious and pompous ass that he may be, i am a fan. i am a fan of intelligent, eloquent songwriting and elaborately experimental instrumentation. so yes, i am a fan of the Gordon Sumner, a.k.a. Sting.

but let me tell you something interesting. Sting, in all his supposed greatness and sense of purpose has never reached the charts' top spot. he has never had a billboard number one song alone. the first and last time a number one song was billed with the name "Sting" was the group effort "All for Love", with Bryan Adams and Rod Stewart way back in 1993. The biggest chart climber he has had is probably "All This Time" from his grim and atmospheric "Soul Cages" album from 1991 dedicated to his late father. "All This Time" hit number one (as some might argue), but only on the Modern Rock charts. not exactly the cross-format charts that truly merit the greatness he has always been worthy of.

Sting represents for me a classic example of a band leader who does everything that matters on paper: he wrote the biggest songs, he is the official "voice" of the band as their main vocalist, the outspoken of the three, and is quite obviously the most charmismatic of them all. So why did he not hit the heights of his band considering his more than pivotal roles in it? couldn't he have just picked up from where he left off? Keep writing good songs (which he did), keep singing (which he did), keep being outspoken (which he still is), and... everything else... So why DIDN'T he hit the heights of his Police days?

the answer is CHEMISTRY. sometimes, even if one has all the ingredients one supposedly needs, one would still need that melding of energy that brings the best ideas to life. sort of like that jolt of electricity one needs to restart a brain.

the band split up due to ego disputes. particularly between the erstwhile leader steward copeland, who formed the band in the first place, and of course, sting, arguably the most powerful creative force and personality within the band, who eventual emerged as the leader as far as the public was concerned.

thing is, the chemistry and creative balance accorded by the rest of band helped bring Sting's ideas to a level he couldn't do alone. he had all the so-called"raw material", but the band gave him the kitchen that cooked everything to perfection. This applies to every other endeavor in almost any industry.

in hindsight, having had the business partners i did way back, i was able to engage in a lot of other things creatively speaking, while other tasks were handled and led by partners who gave more time and energy to them. And yes, we did well. Well enough for me to think that i didn't need them. i was wrong.

i didn't need them to survive, that much i can say is true. but to fly to the heights that we did back then, i needed them then. and if only ego allowed, i needed them still.

but much time has passed. and unlike Sting, there are no Grammy Awards and no passionate fans clammoring for our reunion. the egos remain, too.

and i suppose i need my ego more.

making a job not feel like a job...

The answer to the above title is very easy: find something you like doing, and try to see if you can turn it into a nice living.

But how does that translate to the people around you?
last Friday, I had a photoshoot at the studio of Raymund Isaac. The man needs no introduction, and to do so would not only be an insult to him, but would do him a grave injustice.

He is known by many for his stock in trade, which is fashion and celebrity photography. but while his photos really do speak for themslves. the experience of working with the generous creative genius that is raymund isaac is a reward on its own. i will site this man as an example, as this is an entry not to particularly gush about raymund, but to discuss what his work attitude stands for.

Let's start with the fees. okay, so he ain't cheap. nowadays, with the advent of digital photography, wannabes are all over the place (yours truly sometimes included). now what separates the men from the boys or course are a lot of technical stuff, from lighting, to focus, to timing, angles, and a bunch of other stuff that i don't even want to begin pretending i have an idea about... but i digress... so Raymund ain't cheap. you can and will easily find another so-called photography who probably even has better equipment that Raymund, who will probably charge you a quarter of Raymund charges. but there are trade-offs. a lot of them.

Firstly, i consider among my job descriptions art direction. particularly photography art direction since i will end up taking the photos in and adapting them into all sorts of things from ads, to point of sale materials, to posters and stuff. so being there during a shoot and giving my 5 cents worth from time to time really does help in making my job easier in the long run. now working with just any photographer will probably turn in technically decent images, but with almost no creative energy in it. there is an x-factor that will be noticeable. so you pay for raymund's time, but more than that, you pay for his energy that really comes across. it's even there when you look at the photos a couple of years after.
and during the actual shoot, the flexibility of his process, the concern he has for the ultimate results, and for the client's needs almost makes you think he's underpaid. he even brought down articles of clothing from his very own wardrobe (no closets for this man) to help find better outfits for the models. all with no pretense, no ego, and even with just the right sprinkling of humor.

So you have agreed on what the shoot lay-outs will be, but this guy will always do you one better and improvise as he goes along. oftentimes resulting in even better shots.
point of the matter is that he embodied customer service and creative professionalism. honestly, the first talent was ready and raring to go by one o'clock, although the actual shoot started at around 2:30pm. raymund apparently had meetings with the staff that he had to attend (it was Friday, after all). that was the only "bad" part of the whole thing. but over all, the results were spectacular, the clients were happy, and the day ended very well. i felt that i did a lot of work, but raymund didn't make it feel like a job.

How do YOU serve your customers?

good guys

I was looking for my gray spandex suit. In my mind, I was opening my shirt to reveal a barrel chest with a black bat logo, while trying to remember whether or not Alfred had my cape dry-cleaned.

No, I’m not Batman. But for a brief seconds I wished I had superhero chops, when I witnessed a low-life snatching some lady’s necklace at the very moment we drove up to park at a McDonald’s along EDSA.

I ran right out only in time to catch the horrified indignation of the victim. Then telling myself I could have done something if only I’d been there sooner if only I didn’t have a plane to catch, if only my wife didn’t keep nagging me to not get involved, if only… Yeah, right. The list just goes on.

Then when the smoke in my head dies down, the real reasons come popping out like fresh bubblewrap. I would’ve done something, but I know the crook’s probably from around this neighborhood, and knows every nook and cranny like the proverbial back of his hand. And I think he probably has back-up lurking around somewhere with harmful thoughts and even more harmful things. They usually do. And it’s all probably futile to get him in jail anyway even if we do grab him, since the rumors of police protection on these crooks are so rampant that they’re probably true.

Again, the list goes on…

And as the reasons and excuses stream through my head, the only constant is the feeling of helplessness and futility that I can’t shake. As I bite into my pie and sip my soda, my wife, the driver and I shared stories about other petty crimes that have happened before our eyes. Since talking about similar incidents seemed to be therapeutic, and that reminding ourselves of the commonness of petty crimes seems to absolve us of our indifference.


* * * * * * *


I grew up seeing my elders pulling over the streets and helping push stalled cars. I remember staring out the windows smiling as I watched my uncle or father dutifully helping out. Back then, these actions were called “bayanihan”, and I grew up thinking that I would become a helpful citizen, too someday.

Fast forward to someday. Today.

Several times, my wife and I would find some unfortunate soul with a stalled car somewhere pushing his vehicle all by his lonesome. I’ve helped such people in the past, when there was heavy traffic and no nasty surprises could be done without dozens of other seeing it.

I’m tempted to pull over like my uncles and dad did back then. To safely leave my wife in the car like I was way, way back, and then there it is. It isn’t safe anymore. Too many crooks have used the whole stalled car routine, only to rob, maim, kill or rape some idiot Samaritan, who happens to stop over. I couldn’t risk my family by pulling over and playing the good guy. Circumstances have dictated that good guys suffer collateral damage. I’ve always fancied myself among the good guys, but am I still? And how many more are there like me in this country, who have gotten tired of even considering to pull over for fear of falling victim to a ruse? A lot, I’d wager.


* * * * * * *

Ever hear the question: “where are all the good guys when you need them?”?

Here’s the answer: They just passed by with their wife and kids. Waiting for the time they can pull over without having to worry about having a weapon in their faces all because they wanted to help out.

When do you think that’s going to be?



8/20/2006