Tuesday, December 31

No more little miss nice kantogirl.

Thursday, December 12

And this is the state of the single woman, according to Betsy Israel's "Bachelor Girl: The Secret History of Single Women in the 20th Century," here's what today's single girl can get that she couldn't get 100 years ago (or at least not without a truckload of grief): a decent job, the pleasure of walking down the street by herself without being hassled by the cops, her own rental apartment, credit, effective contraception and of course the opportunity to vote. Today, if she wants children she can adopt or bear her own without marrying and without suffering under a crushing stigma. And if she's lucky enough not to want kids, then she has that much more time and money to live as she pleases -- without accounting to or cleaning up after anyone else -- an unimaginable liberty for well over 99 percent of women throughout human history, including most of those alive today.

Ah yes, a huge demographic. The sooner marketers learn how profitable this could be, the better. [ via salon ]

Flying solo.

Wednesday, December 11

Enjoying a quiet evening at home, listening to Sarah McLachlan CD, reading magazine article on the single life, got this Herotica collection and Joi Barrios' "Ang Pagiging Babae ay Pamumuhay sa Panahon ng Digma" in a Booksale bin. This is the life. :)

Sunday, December 8

Even as I Hold You

Even as I hold you
I think of you as someone gone
far, far away. Your eyes the color
of pennies in a bowl of dark honey
bringing sweet light to someone else
your black hair slipping through my fingers
is the flash of your head going
around a corner
your smile, breaking before me,
the flippant last turn
of a revolving door,
emptying you out, changed,
away from me.

Even as I hold you,
I am letting go.

--Alice WALKER
This one's for the poetry and text addicts, not necessarily in the same breath. The UK Guardian's come up with the winners for their annual sms poetry contest, which in my opinion is a good use for a peso and 160 characters. I rather like this one:

Emma Passmore

I left my pictur on th ground wher u walk
so that somday if th sun was jst right
& th rain didnt wash me awa
u might c me out of th corner of yr i & pic me up

[ via the morning news ]
This will be one of the rare occasions I will ever post about weddings and getting married. But this one's really nice and sweet. Take a peek at Mark and Petite's wedding blog. They have an astig wedding compilation album mix. I mean, the Voltes V theme? Astig. Plus get this: They're getting married on the same day as Assunta and Jules Ledesma. Celebrity wedding battle. Cebu vs. San Carlos? Read up on the wedding of the year. Hehe.

Friday, December 6

Keep it

I don’t want to know
The color of your breakfast
The shape of your birthmark
The leanings of your politics

I don’t want to experience
The smell of your gas
The stench of your sneakers
The timbre of your burp

I don’t want to see
Your vacation slides
Your kindergarten medals
Your promotion papers

So, don’t over-share
Talk to my hand
I don’t want to know
Not anymore

I don’t want to know
The way her hair smelled
The way her skin glowed
The way you melted in her kiss

I don’t want to know
I really don't

[via renaissancegirl]

Fishhead. My gills are like, bleeding. Oh, what a pretty sight. Geeze, my gills are like, bleeding. Oh, can we be friends again? No. Geeze, my gills are like, bleeding. Can you hand me that cleaver so I can give you a lobotomy?

What is it that you do not get? It's not like things have not changed --they did, quite drastically even. It's a whole different world now. And while we did say we will remain friends, that was before you dropped your bomb. Apologies don't cut it. You have no sense of history. You say, Yeah I don't. Well I do. You just can't ask me to drop my sked and trek all the way to your place. You swear we're only going to watch videos. We haven't even discussed the whole matter yet. What do you take me for, stupid? Like, wtf is that? I am not a goldfish with a five-second memory.


Thursday, December 5

Role reversals

Felicity: Julie, I'm really sorry that you heard that. I should have come to you, and told you something up front.
Julie: That would have been hard. I mean, how do you tell somebody you're trying to steal their boyfriend?
Felicity: That's not what I was doing.
Julie: God, I feel so stupid when I was asking you, if you thought there was another woman. I had no idea I was talking to her.
Felicity: Julie...
Julie: He's a good kisser, isn't he?
Felicity: I did not plan this. Julie. I am so sorry.
Julie: You know, I really don't care what the hell you are. You can be sorry or not, it doesn't matter to me. You're just a lying bitch.

I feel like doing a Felicity right now. To think that I spent eight months growing my hair. Which is the entire duration of my stupidity. It makes me want to go out and break some bones--theirs.
Woke up this morning to the Violent Femmes screaming "Blister in the Sun" on NU 107. I got this auto-flashback of Claire Danes cavorting in her bedroom as Angela Chase. She was feeling mighty fine, then several scenes later she learns that the love of her life Jordan Catalano and her supposed best friend Rayanne Graf had sex in the school parking lot. Her world like, totally crumbled.

That was how I felt like. Yes, I know I'm substituting somebody else's so-called life for mine. I tried to find the words for it, but I only had that scene in mind. A song was all I needed to invoke a whole gamut of feelings, automatically generated and pop culture recycled. It doesn't mean that what I feel is less legitimate because I only borrowed words to express them. I am trying to find a word for it. It might be something along the lines of Bibliolepsy, only audio-video.

Tuesday, December 3

Interesting bit of sociological blah from babbling point: Txt-ing Selves: Cellphones and Philippine Modernity. Can I just say that the "R U 1 of us" ad campaign is eerie?
I want to believe in an indifferent, absurd universe. I always say I do. Then whenever I'm really sold on the idea, the universe/fate --or whatever have you-- gives me a shove and a definite un-ignorable sign. So three days ago, I got one of those scam sounding novena/chain sms message. I was supposed to forward the message to nine other people except the person who sent it to me. For the heck of it, and just to see if the universe is indeed indifferent, I wasted nine bucks and forwarded it. My friend L texted me back. She said if nothing good happened to her by Monday (which was a few hours ago), she would demand a refund. I quickly forgot all about it. Until this afternoon, all things happened at once. I got my affirmation right there. So the universe is not indifferent after all. It has a really weird and absurd sense of humor. It probably got tired of me whining and floating around, and decided to tell me that yes, your take on the matter was right on the money. If you close the door, you have to at least open the windows to let the air in. Now quit whining and get on with your life. Which is exactly what I'll be doing.

Monday, December 2

I have 6 episodes worth of Six Feet Under and the Buffy musical on video, which I still haven't played despite the fact it's been sitting on my desk for 2 weeks now. Player refuses to cooperate. Have I told you that Alan Ball is a god? Bummer.
Okay, I am alive now. Still a bit dazed, but I am vertical and breathing. My weekend was packed. So last Saturday, I conned some of my friends into accompanying me to Sanctum for Cynthia Alexander's Intertwyne video launch. If we came early, we could get a free cd. But some people were late, and it was past nine when we walked from Cafea to the other side of the wall. All ten of us were crammed into those benches by the door. The last time we were there, which was also a Cynthia Alexander gig, we were right in front of the stage. This particular group of friends have a tendency to be rowdy, distance from the stage not withstanding.

I managed to get them subdued--well almost, but not all the time. I sincerely apologize to those other girls who thought my group was a bit loud. I liked the videos they showed, especially the one from a 5&up interview. Near the end of the performance Cynthia Alexander asked who had ticket # 31. It had to be in our group. I had them paw through the clutter of bottles and glasses on our table and under the cushions and seats. Laile brought out a crumpled ticket #31 from somewhere. I got my CD, had it signed, and I am one happy girl. Hehehe. If they said we were going to hell after the gig, I wouldn't have minded. Anyhow, we went to Malate after that. Since I was happy, I wanted to just hang around and dance, which we did until like 5am. Then I had to head home and sleep a couple of hours. I rushed out again just in time to go to my first godchild's baptism. The pastor had this brilliant idea of passing Stanlee Kubrick around to all the godparents. By the time the poor kid got to Erik, he must have been disoriented and scared of the long-haired goony looking guy. I would have--especially if my name is a mouthful. He came very near to becoming named "Zhang Kar-wai." But he stopped crying the moment he was back in his dad Sigfreid's arms. Astrid missed the ceremony because she had a cold.

Over lunch and all afternoon, just hung out with Pepper and JP at Sig's house. Much debate over the film homage vs. rip off issue. If we ran out of things to talk about, our catchbasin was a certain young director and all discussion would flow right out in a steady flow. Tiring weekend, but very much fun.

Sunday, December 1

I'm beat. But I have a cynthia alexander live session CD!!! For free!! yey!