Risa is My Senator #1.
But I must say this is what it is: early campaigning. A detergent TVCommercial would be tacky, yes, but you know not there-there... Oh well...
Gratis+amore usually gives off something more artsy-fartsy, just sayin.
Let's get Risa out there. But IMO with extra extra care (and flair)
These days, it's chocolates. And green apples. And Fosters. The other week, it was all about Jack & Jill corn chips and LIP. There came days of cardio, cardio, cardio. And yogurt, yogurt, yogurt. And Mirinda Lemon and B movies. Chicken franks. Arabic flat bread. Lucky Me pansit canton chilimansi. And then some.
It's getting tedious. It's gotta stop. Butwhatelseisthere?
And a great deal of the Filipino’s response, I guess, owes as well to his creativity. My favorite example there is the barong Tagalog. That originated in the Americans forcing the indios at the beginning of their occupation to wear transparent shirts so they could not hide their bolos underneath them. Eventually, by dint of refashioning and embroidery, the indios turned the thing into their national costume. The badge of national shame became the badge of national honor. That’s a pretty brilliant way to respond to adversity.
- ripped from "Filipino Resilience" There's the Rub by Conrado de Quiros
These YouTube stars are doing what they can to help. Me, I don't know. I don't know what to do. How to help. All I know is I want to be there.
There's a certain persistent nagging part in me that just wants to let go. Jump. Fly. Scream. Live. Die.
I have come to conclude that right now, right this very instant, I'm living a purpose-less existence. My existence doesn't matter. At all. I mean if I die right now, and I mean that in an un-emo-ey way, like matter-of-factly, if I get run over by a cab or something less tragic, my non-existence won't, in any way, disrupt anything. My presence does not link to anything, anyone, other than my very own self. Not even a weak link to anything weaker.
Not that it hugely did before, but at least there was something there, then. Well, at least I thought I did. You know, that somehow I mattered. That I made a difference. That I was doing something that made a difference. I lived and not merely existed.
But now. Nada. It's just so sad. And I bet I'm not the only one, too. I mean, majority are worse off than me, that I'm sure. But that's them. And there's me. Damn.
Someone send me to Darfur. Now.
Got me into doing halang-halang, the one dish one could mention when asked about Bol-anon cuisine (if at all, that existed). I haven't cooked halang-halang ever and so why not? And without a recipe, too.
It turned out looking good, actually. Prolly, too hot (it gave me a freakin' headache) but it was all good. I think.
P.S. So, why the food posts? Because it's not EMO.
I judge little-known (at least, known little by me, for who knows they're like huuuge somewhere, some time) books by their first lines.Well, that's my way of convincing myself to buy it (you know, when Oprah isn't there. hah! I kid, i kid.), especially if I didn't have the money to buy, or had prior budgetary allocations for said amount, like say, a month's worth of Jasmine rice. Well, it happened that I was totally hankering for anything intellectually-stimulating other than White Dragons and Where's Fluffy and Strawberry Fields, and mostly after intoxicating weeeeks and weeeeks of cheap tweets and Wes Anderson flicks.
Okay, so, whatever. I just had to buy a book. And there's something witty and pretentious about using '20 Fragments of A Ravenous Youth" as a title, and from a actual mainland-er Chinese, too.
It turned out quite a good read. I didn't expect much (for sure, The Catcher in the Rye, this is not) and it didn't disappoint either. There were some cool moments, there, too, some I've listed below. I'm definitely going to re-visit China. Someday. Some day.
"Be young or die. That was my plan."
"I felt safer once I got there. Humans need cages around their bodies - wombs, houses, coffins."
"From inside the building came the sound of police dogs barking. I turned my back on that place of Morality and Power and Guidance."
"Huizi once told me that, when a young person started drinking, it was a sign that they were getting old. It suddenly felt very true."
"People always say it's harder to heal a wounded heart than a wounded body. Bullshit. It's exactly the opposite - a wounded body takes much longer to heal. A wounded heart is nothing but ashes of memories. But the body is everything. The body is blood and veins and cells and nerves. A wounded body is when, after leaving a man you've lived with for three years, you curl up on your side of the bed as if there's still somebody beside you. That is a wounded body: a body that feels connected to someone who is no longer there."
I loved Paris, J'etaime! 'Can't wait for New York!
I haven't entirely abandoned coffee, merely adding tea to my beverage roll. I mean the only sort of tea that I've been known of drinking (as does most Filipinos) is 'iced tea', basically juice in a different flavor. So this is sort of a revelation to me, that I could actually drink tea, you know, without wincing. It's actually quite good. I mean some varieties are to my liking, light and smooth. And I like it more East Asian style, clear and pure.
Today we remember the disappeared. The abducted. Disappearances. Enforced. Either by the State or other equally vicious establishments.
I'm one in the call for justice of the families and friends of the the disappeared. I'm one in the call for the ratification of the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance.
To think that I began thinking about pulling the Friendster plug like 4 years back. Whoot. About time.
P.S. I twitted this too. And ooh, guess what. Got a reply from Friendster twitter. Hah!
Can't I not buzz it myself?
I got that feeling. Yep.
Everything's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright.
Everything better be.
P.S. (On outdoor shots. Don't be deceived with the pearly white smiles, it was smmmoldering hot. Absurdly so. And what the hell where we doing out anyway? =P )
Apparently, uso pa ang tape diri.
I saw a young lad peddle some Arabic (i presume) tapes in one stoplight. My boss's son's PSP has a tape adaptor. (I actually didn't know such thing existed. Well, now I know!) A local driver is playing late 90s tunes on his car stereo. Cool. Cooler still, from a casette tape. Which from the looks of it, may have actually come from that actual time too, late 90s. So tapes are quite long lasting. I should know, I still have my mix tapes stored in a shoe box somewhere at home, last time I tried them (last year), they still worked. (At least some did.)
Speaking of mix tapes, there's 2 movies I recently watched that hark back to that era. Adventureland (an 80s period film, so actual mix tapes are passed around) and Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist (set today, so it's mix cd's). I might totally meander too far off with these films, so I'd better leave them for another post. I have to say though: I'm totally immersed in the Nick and Norah's soundtrack. So, there.
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