Michael Scofield had to spend months studying and researching every single thing between a screw he can use as an Allen wrench to D.B. Cooper, had to tattoo about 50 percent of his body with things as vital as structural plans of Fox River Penitentiary to a thanks-for-tattooing-the-obvious "Christ in a Rose" (alluding to Christina Rose, his mom's and boat's names... Does one really need a tattoo to remember a huge boat christened with your mom's name?) Anyhoo... He also mastered folding paper cranes. He did this all to escape from one prison... and eventually end up in another one.

(Post-Spoiler Alert)

My mode of escape is far less taxing, not to mention friendlier (and non-permanent) to the skin. These are all I need...



After catching an inch thick layer of dust on my movie backlog shelf, I finally got to see Pan's Labyrinth. It is, visually, a very beautiful film. It shows the whimsical world of Princess Moanna filled with faeries and magical chalk... but also, doesn't shy away from showing the terrifying world of fascist Spain filled with death, torture and a sliced mouth.


I always enjoy a well made film with not so well known actors. The absence of top-billed celebrities almost always lets the story and the craft stand out. A delight... as opposed to a mental montage of previous astounding roles flashing through one's head while watching a well known actor crash and burn, one suffers through in most well publicized films.


There is much to be said about fantasy literature... and conversely fantasy films. The transient escape they offer, no matter how bizarre to students of cynicism, is priceless.

Legendary authors like J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis wrote escapist literature to the nth degree. Although probably not intentional, it seems they designed alternate realities to the Second World War. The fantasy worlds may have elves, dwarves, centaurs and a magical lamp post... but the terrors of war and death are real and wholly prevalent, but with a inkling that in the end, goodness will prevail.


Both put the fate of the world in the hands of seemingly atypical characters. Atypical in the sense that they are not a ripped Hercules or an Excalibur wielding King Arthur. Hobbits and children are the primary heroes in these tales... an empowering idea that anyone with a courageous heart can be epic worthy. They (as said poignantly by Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire) rely on the kindness of strangers. A faun with a red scarf, an emaciated hobbit with multiple personalites, talking beavers, talking trees... And they are under the guidance of someone "enlightened" in the Dalai Lama sense of the word... a white wizard and a lion with a soothing voice.


They wage war against the most Goliath-esque of enemies with legions of ferocious pawns. Sauron with his Nazgul, orcs and Uruk-hai... Jadis with her wolves, dwarves and minotaurs.

Contemporary works follow a similar trend. J.K. Rowling, especially so in her final books, had less than subtle metaphors about terrorism guised as deatheaters and dementors.


Even the Wachowski brother's Matrix Trilogy, has the elements of unlikely heroes and impossible enemies (not to mention insanely chic eyewear)


Escapism is underrated. Many brush it off as works of whimsy made by wishful authors or brothers on pot. Attempts at belittling reality. To the contrary, I believe these books and films capture the essence of the times they were made more than history books and CNN specials. The characters are ironically made more relateable (yes, even with hobbit feet and wands), the emotions on war more authentic. (yes, even with the dramatic speeches before engaging in battle) It captures the pre-war anxiety, the terrors of war, and the post-war oxymoron of, for lack of a better term, a bitter sweet ending.

(Ok, even I puked a little in my mouth with all this sentimentality)

Tolkien said it best...
"Escapism (has) an element of emancipation in its attempt to figure a different reality"



It's kinda like bad news broken gently during bedtime.












.

Labels: blah (3x), boo-freakin-hoo, Bookworms Anonymous, movies

Bonus roasting on an open mall sale
The smell of fruitcake yanking at your nose
The price of kid's toys that make you turn pale
And folks eat 'til they weigh like rhinoes

Everybody knows, 8 hours of sleep and a 13th month pay
Help to make the season fun
Tired peons with their eyes all aglow
Won't find it hard to sleep 'til one (PM)

They know that free time's on its way
It's loaded lots of lazy hours on it's sleigh
And everybody's pants are gonna try
to see if they'll still fit with a zipped fly

The glorious days of non-work are finally here. I am getting all teary eyed just thinking of all the shut-eye and uninhibited lazing in bed I'm compelled to do.

We had the office Christmas Dinner last Thursday night and an encore lunch Friday. The compulsory Kris Kringle turned out to be really fun. One needs to jazz these things up to prevent a purchase of a one way ticket to boresville. We did the "wish list" format this year. The basic idea is to think of a gift you want (within the budgetary stipulations) and an alias. Mine was "Dumpling" inspired by Mikey from Queer as Folk. You draw from a hat the gift you're giving and an alias to whom you're gonna give it to. The fun part is guessing who's getting what you wrapped and the convenient part is not thinking of what gift to give, which let's face it, is one of the toughest things to do.

My Friday afternoon (thru night, thru early morning) was spent attempting to cross out every name on my hitlist, err... shopping list. It was a pretty successful undertaking with my dear friend, Ems. We have this holiday-rush-tradition, both of us are vying to be "The Tardiest Person in the Planet". By the time the mall was closing, I only had one unchecked person on my list, my feet were about to fall off, my pockets were a whole lot lighter, and I had a gazillion bags that weighed a ton in my hands. I stole a taxi cab from an older gentleman on the way home. I was more than willing to do the whole taxi war cha cha cha, but my feet and arms were just not up for it.


I still however managed to muster the strength to wrap. I may whine about the general phoniness of this holiday and I may love receiving a lot more than I do giving, but I absolutely, without reservation love, love, love, wrapping presents. I account this to the transience of a wrapper's life. It takes forever to cut, fold, tape, etc... but it only takes a simple ripping motion to lacerate the wrapper and make the entrails gift come out.

For every gift Ems and I bought for someone, we bought a corresponding one for ourselves. We believe in fairness and equality.


Some of the ones I can publicly announce include:

1. One of my annual new pillow. I believe sleep is an art form.
2. An orange bag. Nothing like a pumpkin colored mailman bag to draw the attention of trick or treaters.
3. Some badass shades to go with the orange bag.
4. Horton Hatches the Egg. Yes this is for me. Dr Seuss is one of my fave writers.
5. A collection of cartoons from The Newyorker
6. A couple of second hand books: One by Faulkner, one by Golding.
7. One of those "quilted" jackets that covers up body flabs with artificial ones.
8. A stuffed pig to remind me to stay away from complex carbohydrates
9. A Lucky Shirt.
   

We believe in that "You can't love others if you don't love yourself" adage very deeply. If I can impart a simple tip for boosting your ego and satiating all your senses... Don't forget to buy a gift (or more) for yourself. Narcissus may have drowned in his own reflection, but unlike Atlas, he could tie his shoelaces without the heavens falling.

And so I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from 1 to 92
Although it's been said many times many ways
Merry Christmas to you... (yes you.)

Labels: blah (3x), Bookworms Anonymous, holidays

I can think of only two infamous Christmas villains. The Grinch and Ebenezer Scrooge. Well, they aren't even technically villains, they just... during the early parts of their biographies... hate Christmas. They have entered our lexicon and any anti-yuletide energy you emit gives you the label of "scrooge" or "grinch" or "heartless, joyless, psycho-b*tch/ assh*le (use according to apparent gender)

You can't blame the Grinch for hating Christmas:

It could be that his head wasn't screwed on quite right. (a shrink)
It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight. (a Hushpuppies retailer)
But I think that the most likely reason of all (a statistician)
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small. (a cardiologist)

It's anatomical. Would you blame a short fellow for hating basketball, or a tall fellow for hating hobbit-houses? I've always loved the Grinch, his vomit-green fur, his voice done by Boris Karloff (most famous for voicing the original Frankenstein), his couture or lack thereof... of course I'm referring to the 1966 cartoon which has been as much a part of my Christmases as queso de bola. I like Jim Carrey, but that Grinch adaptation he did just sucked. Kudos to the make-up and prosthetics... "Damn you" for adding to/altering the storyline.

I think the Grinch blew it when he "stole". The eighth (spelling?) commandment applies in Whoville... and the punishment is far worse than the seventh circle of hell, it's having your heart grow three sizes bigger and having thoughts like:

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store. (commercialism)
"Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more!" (more commercialism?)

Ebenezer Scrooge. Poor guy, Charles Dickens succeeded in eternally associating his name with greed and malice. The billions of adaptations of A Christmas Carol agree in typifying Scrooge as an old man wearing a night gown with a night cap, round eyeglasses and is either counting piles of coins or screaming his head off holding a gas-lit lamp. This is the worst smear campaign in the history of 19th century literature! Only Dickens can transform a wise, savvy, frugal, obviously accounting-knowledgeable business man into a scared senior citizen defined by "selfishness" and "avarice". Mud-slinging Dickens... tsk tsk tsk.

He doesn't stop with the obvious libel. Dickens went as far as sending three "ghosts". We all know what these "ghosts" are. Nameless meddling spawns of Dickens: Agent Past, Agent Present and Agent Future. They, through deceit and trickery, convince Scrooge to give the money HE earned to charity. Talk about taking advantage of a poor old man with a semi-honest living! I have consulted my lawyer and he says that tombstone Agent Future showed you Mr. Scrooge is undoubtedly a death threat.

To deliver the final nail on the coffin... the plaintiff calls "Tiny Tim". The defendant, Ebenezer Scrooge, looks despondent as a 10-year old boy supported by a crutch accessorized by a nasty phlegmy cough takes the witness stand. Mr. Scrooge's attorney walks toward the stand:
"Tiny Tim, if that IS your real name," queried the attorney.
"Oh yes dear sir," Tim replied
"Tiny Tim of the Korean Mafia???," the attorney bellowed, several loud clanks from the audience as jaws dropped.
Tim looked nervously at the plaintiff.
"It says here according to your medical records that you recently had some adamantium infused into your tibula, femur and fibula!"... more clanking jaws.
Tim mumbled "I... I... I... femur?"
"Yes your leg bone "Tiny Tim"!," the attorney motioning quotation marks with his hands. The attorney swipes the crutch.
"Lo and Behold! he stands!!! No further questions your honor!" Audience clapping.

The plaintiff rises and asks Tiny Tim... "Is there anything you wanna say?"
Tiny Tim obviously rattled raised his hands, smiled and with teary eyes said "God Bless us, everyone!"
The audience oohed and aahed. Ebenezer was sentenced with two life sentences in a high security prison where he has to spend Christmas everyday with the thief Grinch and the Easter Bunny. No Bail. A million lit parols but No Parole.

He didn't stand a chance with the conniving skills of Dickens and the little boy.



It would take more than the entire Who-ville singing Christmas carols around a disheveled tree, three "ghosts" and Tiny Tim to silence my inner Grinch/Stooge.



17 days to no work, lots of food and sleep and presents aka Christmas! Whoopdeefreakingdoo!

Inspirational Christmas quote for the day:

Fame always brings loneliness. Success is as ice cold and lonely as the North Pole.
- Vicky Baum

Labels: Bookworms Anonymous, holidays, kids-r-i

Two Smacks

I have been an occasional lurking gawker at Italk2much. It is like the New York Times Book Review, but with the utmost ruthlessness and an OD of expletives. When I discovered the site while I was random bloghopping about a month ago, I instantly submitted my site. I belong to a subgeneration of closet people-pleasers... You know, the type that takes what other people say about you more seriously than you ought to but you keep a guise of apathy and a defensive "i-know-you-are-but-what-am-I-?" look in your eyes. Submitting my blog was a personal test of some sort, If I read the review I could either laugh and feel elated or laugh and feel irate. I did the former. It wasn't a rave but it was gratifying to know you're not THAT sucky. hehehe... My IT2M review here by Sassy Sadie.


One 44-Peso book
Who does second-hand bookshopping at 830 on a Saturday Night? I was thinking about that as I scanned the titles of upright books on the twelve foot bookshelves in one of the literary thrift shops I frequent. Tom Clancy... pass. John Grisham... pass. Sidney Sheldon... *barf*. The stack of unfamiliar authors not on the shelves proved more interesting for me. I found a pop-art book cover of Metropolitan Life by Fran Lebowitz. I have no idea who she is and the 1978 copyright probably explains why. The pages are yellowish but the parts I scanned are as new as newborn spring chickens. At 44 pesos, it was a steal.


It is fairly easy reading. Ms Lebowitz has developed a sort of "lazy writing" I haven't seen before. I am reading the book very lackadaisically holding a cigarette between a couple of fingers and imagining a martini glass held by my other two fingers and opposable thumb. Here are some of the chapter titles: Breeding Will Tell: A Family Treatment, Better Read Than Dead: A Revised Opinion, Good Weather and its Propensity to Frequent Better Neighborhoods, and The Primary Cause of Heterosexuality Among Males in Urban Areas: Yet Another Crackpot Theory.


One Scarlet Johansson, Two Christian Bales and Several Hugh Jackmans
Ely, Tine and I saw The Prestige last Saturday Night, the bookshopping was my foreplay. The movie is basically about the rivalry between two young illusionists who are both obsessed and extremely vindictive (Ooh... Batman versus Wolverine) It has numerous twists further concealed by sometimes incomprehensible British accented dialogue and by flashbacks within flashbacks. I hadn't spent that much time figuring out the twists since The Matrix. But, plots with doppelgangers, hidden twins and cloning is cheating. Halfway through the mvie, I still hadn't seen Ms. Johansson that I could have sworn the actress playing Sarah, Borden's wife was also Scarlet with prosthetics. IMDB put an end to that theory.


I liked the movie primarily because of the four main cast members, the Vargas Girls outfits, minor roles done by David Bowie and Smeagol, and engaging my often bored mind from movies trying to conceal obvious twists. Twists have stopped being interesting since O. Henry. If you're gonna attempt one, make it so effective three friends are left in a deserted cinema talking about how's and why's.




Oh, and here's an addendum to my previous post:

Thing
One of the favorite characters in the Addams' Family. I think mainly because he doesn't speak and he doesn't have a face/legs/body. Without him, the Addams household would fall to pieces, sure Lurch is omnipresent... but little old agile Thing always does the heavy lifting. Thanks howling for my thirteenth Faceless Character and everyone who suggested characters. I always have a blast with my 13th posts.

Labels: bloghopping, Bookworms Anonymous, me likey, movies

All Friday night well into Saturday morning, I was deeply engrossed in the twisted memoir of Augusten Burroughs. I was powerless to put the book down. From burlap lined hallways to masturbatoriums, from electroshock therapy machines to Queen Helene Cholesterol, from Bible dips to fortune telling with turds, from eating McNuggets to eating candle wax, from psychotic parents to sociopathic offspring... This is a pageturner.

I owe the discovery of Running with Scissors mainly to book lover extraordinaire, Kat. (Thanks, I had such a twistedly fabulous time reading it!)

A quote from Jules Renard in the first pages of the book sums it all up... "Look for the ridiculous in everything and you will find it." Although the "names and other identifying characteristics" of the people described in the book have been changed, this is an Augusten Burroughs autobiography... dark, twisty and uber hilarious.

Most of the stories he confides here border on preposterous. In Toilet Bowl Readings, one of my favorite chapters... Dr. Finch, his mother's beyond peculiar psychiatrist, discovers divination with feces. The chapter begins with Augusten and two of the Finch daughters, Natalie and Hope, gathered around a toilet bowl examining Dr. Finch's floating turd. The doctor was astounded by the way the tip of his turd was above water and pointing upwards (I was gagging, but I couldn't divert my eyes away from the pages) The Finches were undergoing some financial problems, so the doctor instantly took this as a "sign from God" that things will be turning around. The grossest part yet was Hope, as ordered by her dad, scooping the coiled feces with a spatula and setting it out in the front yard to dry. (hahaha) And they do not stop there... they continue to scoop daily #2's and set it on the front yard picnic table as a chronicle of "messages from heaven". Dr. Finch kept a journal (with turd illustrations) to grasp the "bigger picture". Things did change for the better... well relatively, Hope won a frozen turkey from a radio station contest and the doctor received $1000.00 from an insurance company. This divination with feces episode of the Finches finally ended when the doctor became constipated. He lost his "gift" after that. The story is sooo ludicrous, that it HAS to be true.


The cover of the book I bought had a "Now a Major Motion Picture" tag on it. My curiosity made me click on IMDB, one of my really used bookmarks, in an instant.

• Ryan Murphy directed and wrote the screenplay of the movie. I have no idea who he was, as it turns out, he is the director of the Nip/Tuck series. I haven't seen an episode of that show yet (aside from the opening sequence with the twitching pinky)
• Augusten will be played by an unknown (for me at least) young actor named Joseph Cross who had numerous TV roles.

Main cast with corresponding previous borderline psychotic roles:

• Joseph Fiennes as Neil Bookman (Augusten's lover) His was the first name that caught my eye. What can I say, those Fiennes brothers sure are fine. He repeatedly bashed a guy's head using a phone booth door in Killing Me Softly.
• Annette Bening as Deirdre Burroughs (Augusten's mom) She was amazing Carolyn in American Beauty. I absolutely adore her in that dining room scene... "Then, I must be psychotic then! What is this? Let's bring out the laugh-meter and see how loud it gets!" Remember that scene in the take-out window? "Smile! You're at Smiley's!"
• Evan Rachel Wood as Natalie Finch (Augusten's bestfriend) I was actually thinking about her in that character while I read the book, especially so because of her role in Thirteen. Although, she does fit the role talent-wise, Natalie has issues with her weight, I dunno how they'll translate that into the movie.
  
• Brian Cox as Dr. Finch. For me, he is one of those old actors you see everywhere and they are really good but you can't seem to remember their names (like that actor who played Saruman as opposed to Sir Ian Mckellen). He was in Troy, the 25th hour, Adaptation and the Bourne movies.
• Alec Baldwin as Norman Burroughs (Augusten's Dad) The first crazy role of his I could think of is that chipper person he plays in FRIENDS (I would like to take a mental picture! Click!) Norman was often times just referred to in the book and has dialogue only when he and Deirdre fight, and he is drunk everytime he speaks.
• Gwyneth Paltrow as Hope Finch (Natalie's older sister) I loved Gwyneth as Margot in The Royal Tenenbaums. That mink jacket was to die for.
  
• Honorable Mention: Patrick Wilson as Michael Shephard. I can't for the life of me remember this character in the book! But I do remember Patrick Wilson in Angels in America.

There is an extreme amount of talent in this cast. However, books turned movies rarely live up to their expectations. I guess it's time for a bible dip ala Hope Finch. A bible dip is basically asking a question and then opening a bible to a random page, pointing your finger on that page and making sense out of the phrase/word you're pointing at in response to your question... only I'm gonna use Running with Scissors instead of a bible.

Here goes: Will the movie be as good as the book?

(point) ...stove...

huh?

I read the whole paragraph just to get a grasp of the context...

"Your father isn't going to kill me," my mother said, switching on the front burner of the stove, pulling a More from her pack, and leaning over to light it on the heating coil. "He'd rather suffocate me with his horribly oppressive manipulation and then wait for me to cut my own throat."

huh? I can't get how that relates to my question. "But, Roll of the eyes, What can you do? Shrug."




Winsome Gunning Art Walk
Oh, I've been a terrible lessor... I'm late introducing The Artist. She is my tenant for this week. She creates amazing paintings in her posts that are reminiscent of the art in The Little Prince. Do check out her blog at Winsome Gunning Art Walk. :)

Labels: BE tenant, Bookworms Anonymous, movies

It was 1:37. I tried my darndest to apply eye drops without necessarily losing my eyesight. My hands were trembling. I always get panicky when I am late, which is almost every single time I go out. I almost always never wear a watch, I've always felt half handcuffed, literally and metaphorically to time.

I arrived at University of the Philippines-Baguio by 1:57. Farah was waiting on a bench in front of the guard house. I was 7 minutes late, a good record by my tardiness standards. We were off to the auditorium to attend Jessica Zafra's talk on the personal essay. Two days ago, I was thinking of buddies to go to the talk with, and it dawned on me that I have only 4 friends who were bookworms, like I was. Fortunately Farah replied to my 1 am text message a day after. And so there we were looking for the auditorium. I have only been to UP Baguio twice, and both were exams... both I (thank God) passed. The UPCAT and the Real Estate Board Exams.

The Bulwagan ni Juan Luna was already 3/4's occupied when we found it. We spotted a table stacked with Jessica Zafra's books while we were registering as "guests". The audience was mainly UP college students. Although our youthful good looks could pass for a college student, I took comfort in the fact that I saw a handful of older people scattered across the auditorium.

Two emcees announced the "program" was about to start and the smell of brewed coffee wafted from behind. Three students kept changing seats infront of us and a couple of girls were chattering about an Aristotle book they were studying. I was startled when a distinct, crispy "fuck" bellowed from the microphone. The "program" started without me even knowing and the expletive came from a small girl with a ponytail. She was apparently introducing Miss Jessica, and all I could still think about is "Philosophy is the science of universal essence of that which is actual" which the alto-voiced philosophy student was uttering behind me.

The girl with the ponytail left the dais and before I knew it, two groups of students occupied the stage. It happened so suddenly, I thought they were a flash mob who would throw orange golf balls at us. The students took on some Madonna Voguesque poses and one after the other recited lines barely audible. After hearing some familiar Zafra lines, it was clear that this was some sort of tribute to Jessica using snippets from her Twisted books.

Jessica came to the stage and sarcastically (I think) thanked the performers for a Fame like welcome, which she admitted was a first for her. I was for a moment starstruck seeing the writer of some of the books I really loved in college, and still love right now. She quickly made the awe go away with her humor, such is her charm. Some of her columns are dark, some are far out, some are cynical, but all of them are always real. She did such a laid back talk about her writing process, her experiences and even read a section of her journal. What I like about her writing/talking is how she can write about anything and make it Twisted. She does so by pumping in her pensive observations of irony, her hilarious wit, occasional references to great works of literature & cinema, and an update of her "plan for worldwide domination".

The open forum weeded out those who actually read a Jessica Zafra book/ column/ blog entry from those who came there I am guessing because of a paper they were writing. A girl to my left frantically took notes while the rest of us were laughing at Jessica's "I'm not skeptical" comment. (Honey, skeptical is with a "k") Furthermore, some topics are common knowledge to a Jessica Zafra fan... like her views on marriage, why her articles are always in English, her 4 month career as manager of the Eraserheads, and the origin of her cats' names. I didn't ask the best questions either, I kept trying to think of witty (aka be-my-friend-I'm-smart-too) questions but I exhausted my brain trying so I settled for the following two questions:

1. What was the first book you read AND loved?
2. What is your favorite David Sedaris essay?

To the first question, Jessica answered "The Old Testament" which she read when she was 8 years old. She added that it is the most violent and bloody book ever written, whose literary cadences have been imitated in many great books.
The second question is a manifestation that I'm still not over Sedaris. Jessica answered that she loved the last essay he did for The NewYorker which is complimentary to Me Talk Pretty...

There were a lot more interesting questions raised during the open forum usually related to her books, her writing process, her failed magazine Flip, her Eraserhead days, Marat Safin (one thing we have in common!), Roger Federer, her cats, etc. etc.

When the last question was asked and answered, the students started gathering around her like vultures to a limping springbuck. Camera phones, digital cameras... flash flash flash. I wanted to dive into the crowd and rescue Miss Zafra from unwanted human contact (after I have my pic taken with her...) I wanted to grab the megaphone a guy was using to announce a Tuition Fee Increase rally in order to announce: "Scram ignorant paparazzi!"

Outside, Jessica Zafra signed books. I bought mine a month ago and I was a little disappointed that books sold there were given a 15 pesos discount. However, I felt better looking at my obviously read books and comparing it with the crisp one the guy behind me was holding with a price tag still in place. A teacher tried to cut the line and Jessica admonished her saying there is a queue but gave in when the teacher pathetically pleaded she had a class. Jessica is nicer in person than in paper. I examined her ring, bracelets, watch and bag when she signed my books.

I was so thrilled her signatures where written backwards. I took an interest in this way back in high school after coming across a biography of Leonardo Da Vinci. (I instantly solved that clue in the Da Vinci Code) The boredom I experienced in Social Studies class is the main reason why the backs of my Cattleya notebooks had a million reversed cursive scripts of my name.

Jessica's latest book is 500 People You Meet in Hell, an antithesis of the Mitch Albom novel. I didn't like this book as much as I like love love love the Twisted books. However, seeing what Jessica Zafra wrote, I'm keeping this book in my shelf of favorites.



Jessica Zafra Resources:

• New blog = Jessica Rules The Universe
• Old blog = Twisted (In this blog, Check out the 229 Comments in the second to the latest entry "Emotional Weather Report #4", Jessica went missing for a long while, and a lot of bloggers started making conspiracy theories as to where she went.
• Podcast (Just one though) I noticed in her talk all her TV references were actors/shows from GMA 7 and I learned in this podcast why... hehe
  
• Emotional Weather Report. Jessica's column in the friday editions of The Star.
  
• Her books are available in Powerbooks and National Bookstore
  

Labels: baguio, Bookworms Anonymous

Un:
It was dear Vianca's first birthday celebration last night. She is the adorable daughter of my officemate. She is extremely ticklish and would give a four-toothed smile whenever you touched her armpits or her knees.
I've been googling for over thirty minutes now searching for any idea when memory starts. One said 3, one said before birth... I have no idea what happened on my first birthday except for what I can piece out from old polaroid family pictures.



Deux:
Oh joy! I found two of David Sedaris books! After getting hooked on Me Talk Pretty One Day, I was a crazy National Bookstore patron asking a couple of salesladies for an inventory or Sedaris' books. They need to apply the Dewey decimal system or fix their classification system or something. First the biographical essays were placed in the Fiction section, and second I had to supervise as one of the ladies looked for the books in a shelf clearly devoted to John Grisham and another shelf/shrine for Paulo Coelho. I knew I had to step up and find the books myself... which I did... eventually.



Trois:
I went pirated DVD shopping the other night with Joanne before we headed for Caffeeklatsch. I was looking for A Scanner Darkly, which I am pretty sure won't be aired in any Philippine cinema. They had one but I was disappointed when it was a sine copy not a DVD copy yet.
While we were scanning the movies like vinyl records, a Korean girl popped her head between Joanne and I asking the vendor for "Koreotology?"... I gave Joanne a quizzical look. She mouthed "Korea novela!"... I shook my head and mouthed "Choreography!"... The vendor without even an ounce of doubt told the Korean girl "We don't have Coyote Ugly." When the Korean left... Aahhhh... Marunong pala kayo mag-korean ate...

I bought three CDs that night and decided to do a semi-movie marathon when I got home from Vianca's birthday.

The Producers
Blah... I wasted 75 bucks on this. After really liking Rent, I thought I'd give another Broadway musical a go. They must have done something different with the musical for it to be a hit.
Max Bialystock (Nathan Lane) is a producer of a flop musical and Leo Bloom (Matthew Broderick) is an accountant. The whole premise of the story is that producing a flop can make more money than a hit if an accountant would tweak the books. The Producers was written by Mel Brooks, he is the voice of Bugs Bunny and several other Looney Tunes. (Erratum: Thanks snglguy... It was Mel Blanc who provided the voice of Bugs Bunny... hahaha... my bad!)
Most of the characters were overly satirical although I think they were written and made to be performed that way. The songs were too cabaret for my taste and made me remember that aspect of musicals that I don't particularly like. I can't get Timon (The Lion King) when Nathan Lane performed and Matthew Broderick's character is all too similar with Peter Macnicol's role as Renfield in Dracula: Dead and Loving It (coincidentally another Mel Brooks movie) Uma Thurman as Ulla and Will Ferrel as Franz Liebkind were good (not great) supporting roles. The best performances of the movie were done by the even more sardonic minor characters like an assistant who prolongs "yesssss" awkwardly. If you're gonna go sardonic... do it to the nth.
I like the cinematography though reminiscent of Fred Astaire or Audrey Hepburn movies. I especially like the dance Ulla and Bloom did in the freshly painted white office. I didn't know Matthew Broderick can sing and dance. And I loved Uma's gracefulness in the green dress, especially when she slid across the table. I guess the training she did for the Kill Bill movies came in helpful. Movie not recommended for non-musical fans.



Prime
This movie looks into an older woman-younger man relationship, which is normally subjected to a double standard of morality. I thought it would be similar to The Graduate, but Uma doesn't look a day over 30. Rafi (Uma Thurman) is a 37 year old divorcee who meets David (Bryan Greenberg) a 23 year old artist, both in the Prime of their sexuality. Meryl Streep, who is as usual spectacular, is Lisa, Rafi's psychiatrist and early in the movie revealed as David's mom.
I watched the movie generally from Meryl's point of view, a spectator of Rafi and David's relationship. Meryl quickly deciphered from her sessions with Uma that she is dating her son, and its refreshing the movie didn't stretch this "twist" when it was already evident.
The best performances of the movie were done by the two female roles in Meryl's office. It's hilarious how Meryl struggles with her role to her patient and her role as a mom. How she conceals her emotions when Uma divulge's intimate details about her sex life with David. (Rafi: You let me talk about his penis?, Lisa: Trust me, that was harder for me than it was for you) Bryan Greenberg was physically a perfect fit for the role but he lacked a certain something I can't quite put my finger on.
As opposed to The Producers, the supporting roles were bland and only delivered lines for the main characters to develop their characters on. Except maybe for Jon Abrahams who is David's obnoxious friend that threw pies at his ex-dates and Bubi whose head panslapping is David's image of a conscience.
The movie was good until it reached the final 10 minutes or so when everything got ambiguous, the whole gift thing at the end seemed like Ben Younger didn't know how to end the movie and it didn't fit with the "one year later" segment at the end, which I think was written before the later half of the movie.



Sex, Lies and Videotape
It was 3 am when I finished Prime, so I put off watching this movie thinking I couldn't appreciate it as much as I would've wanted to with a half-asleep brain. This was what I really wanted to watch and this fact made me regret watching The Producers even more... not only did I waste money, I also wasted time and braincells. I hope I get to watch it before the weekend ends.

Labels: B-days, Bookworms Anonymous, movies

The other weekend, while waiting for my habitually late friend Ems for coffee and sympathy, I decided to sojourn my ennui by going literary window shopping. There is something satisfying about a shelf full of books. I rummaged through the coffee table books, scanned some unsealed biographies and even went shamelessly to the Self Help section. I was scanning Zsa Zsa Zaturnnah when a small green paperback book caught my eye.

That was the exact cosmic moment when I was introduced to David Sedaris. His name was vaguely familiar. Then I remembered Jessica Zafra making mention of him in her blog, but I never really took an interest. I read through the raves done by newspapers, but it was the title that made me buy the book, I have a thing about titles.


What a sight... David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day side by side with Parachutes by Coldplay. I was freshly 15th day compensated, so I also bought two other books and some kick-ass shades, but these two made me feel especially satiated that day. I've been desperately looking for a copy of this Coldplay CD. So imagine my joy when I found it beneath Bloc Party.

David Sedaris is a humorist and an essayist. His essays are mostly autobiographical. He writes hilarious and insightful stories about his family, his Greek heritage, his jobs, his move to France with Hugh and other mundane things like insomnia or his love affair with his typewriter.

In Go Carolina, the first essay in this book, David talks about his struggle with his childhood lisp. He pronounced esses as etheth. Instead of following Miss Samson's instructions on how to produce the S sound properly, he opted to increase his vocabulary. Instead of saying "Yes", he'd say "Correct" or "Affirmative". Instead or "rivers" he'd say "a river or two". When asked what he'll do on New Year's Eve, he replied "On the final day of the year we take down the pine tree in our living room and eat marine life". Anyone who can work around the letter S is a genius, don't you think?

I loved Big Boy, Nutcracker.com, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Jesus Shaves, Make That a Double, 21 Down, The City of Light in the Dark, I Pledge Allegiance to the Bag... arrghh... I love em all!

I knew I've turned into a David Sedaris addict when I found myself reading his book while I was blowdrying. Multi-tasking takes on a whole new form.

I'm on a book hunt now:










Targets:
Left: Barrel Fever (1994) At Large
Middle: Naked (1996) At Large
Right: Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim (2004) Last seen in National Bookstore

LR: What would a bad review (of Me Look Pretty One Day) sound like?

DS: It just talks about how weak most of the book is and the stories that don't belong in there and that the things I've written are obvious setups for jokes that don't work that well. I can give anyone 20 good reasons not to buy that book.

January Interview (Linda Richards)

Labels: Bookworms Anonymous