WHITE HEAT

I'm sick and I kinda like it. Ate calamares midnight and my stomach has been bad since I woke up this morning, and throughout my 'sleep' I feel that the fried rice and calamares were climbing out of my throat. I knew I shouldn't have eaten but les parents brought it home because they thought I hadn't had dinner. My stomach was so puno when I woke up I had to force my finger into my tonsils so I could throw up (just like I always do in the morning of every art opening) and so I have a smaller tummy. Despite the (very early) call of work, my body just refused to get off the bed, so I read this short story by Gilda Cordero Fernando, from a collection I bought at the Anvil sale yesterday near the office (nothing much there you don't already own). One of my favorite short stories ever is hers, although I'm not very much drawn to her essays that come out in the papers. In this collection, people may be dirt poor, living in buses, but they tell their stories in beautiful English, its weird. Also their names are Yoying and Socorro. Anyway, I hope Anvil has a library of their out-of-print books that the public/media can access and just photocopy, if they're not reprinting anyway, di ba?

Anyway, felt weak the entire day. So I'm kind of enjoying being home early on a weekday. As I write this I am waiting for the white adobo to cook--the recipe (from Yummy; yes I've switched entirely to Summit magazines, haha!) I peek into from the open laptop. Saw this new hit sitcom called Modern Family. It's alright. Finally saw Two Lovers. Gwynnie is gorge. Its sad. A friend said sobrang makaka-relate ako. Some people exaggerate (Or do they?).

Siguro makaka-relate talaga 'ko pag natuloy na 'yung Filipino remake nina Piolo at KC: "Two Lovers in Paris."

Or, as same friend said, when they make the porn version, lalagyan lang ng Hilton sa huli: "Two Lovers in Paris Hilton."

Param-pam!

THE CONTRIB

I wrote a short recap on the film and design scenes of 2009 for this month's Preview.

And about Manila Design Week for the October issue.

Wala lang.

THE BLOC PARTY

Before leaving for the Syquia bloc party last Saturday, I thought of bringing a camera. It was, after all, my first time to attend this, one of the most chica parties in town, and I wanted to take pictures of the works at the group show at Manila Contemporary. But there’s something about the weather and my mood that made me tamad, and so just went to Syquia straight (but swung by Oarhouse for a glass of Jack first). Besides, I’m not good with keeping my gadgets safe while partying. On my way to Malate I was thinking why I rarely see photos of my old hangouts like Blue Café and Matina. Oh because in those days, people just attended parties and did not need to blog about them. There were people called photographers.

Anyway, from how it looked, it was a fabulous party, hopping from Carlos’ house to Chiqui’s to Dodo Crisol’s to Markus and Richard’s to Apa’s. And Manila’s coolest were there. I think I was able to feel a little of its fabulosity. But there’s something about me the past couple of weeks, like I’m removed from the world, looking at it, observing it while not actually being part of it. Walking towards MH del Pilar, I thought the scene quite filmic---the back of the Malate Church, quiet street, me in my old brogues, black shorts and black scarf, clutching a bottle of red. Like some moody Woody Allen or that terribly old show where the fifth character was referred to as Manhattan. It’s like I’m just watching myself from some camera. My friend, another bloc party virgin said, maybe it’s the hopping from one apartment to another, going up and down the stairs that’s why we didn’t really get into the vibe. We were too busy running around that I forgot to ogle at the cute boys--and there were lots. Like this guy...

We were probably like two kids in a candy store or something. I say 'probably' because I was half-drunk, half dazed, and yet completely conscious of everything around. From the pictures, however, thanks to Devi, I looked like I was having a gorgeous time. Well, I hope I get invited again. Maybe next year I will be completely present, and the drinks will hit the right spots. But thank you very much Carlos for inviting me, and please put me on the list again next year ha.

THE HILLS

Trips to Kalibo are never complete without a visit to the ricefields, which is really just a few steps away from where my cousins and aunts live. This year is especially, well, special because of Ben, that little boy I'm holding. His dad, who might have had worries about me taking his baby to the eanas (bukid), joined us and took this photograph.


Zygie, Thea and Keana joined us for some frolicking in the pilapil, looking at tadpoles. and avoiding ant-infested areas. My cousin said the kids missed me because I'm the only one who makes the trip with them to the field. When we were kids we'd pass by here to go to another lola's house located near the irigacion. I remember Yoyoy Villame playing in the background. We grew up listening to Yoyoy in the vinyl player and dancing to "Mag Exercise Tayo." I love Yoyoy.

It's Ben's first trip to his lolo's hometown, and he was, of course, the superstar for this particular visit.

Very Henri Cartier Bresson lang, di bala?



On our way home, we passed by the still-sleeping perya and the multi-purpose court where my cousin was preparing for an arnis match. Later in the evening...

Videoke, naturally. Bongbong is running for vice-mayor in the neighboring town so we slid bills to his shirt to help with his campaign funds. He gave them back because it was too small.

Dinner was crabs and inihaw na liempo and Gran Matador and Benmore (they have it in Gaisano!), and red wine for the gals. I wish we could be back for the Ati-atihan next month.

LUNES, MARTES, MIYERKULES

Monday Woke up and sat on edge of bed for awhile looking blankly at window. Considering it’s a Monday, my physical self feels fine. You see, I’ve developed this sleeping pattern where I rarely get any sleep Sunday evenings to the next morning. I used to think its anxiety over unfinished work that needs to be passed/submitted/done by Monday. But now I rarely have stressful Mondays, it’s just hassle not to get decent sleep at the beginning of week. Especially if you’ve been made depressed by the laptop situation just the day before. In the afternoon, as I was trying to write about my loss, Carlo was texting to ask how I am. In middle of our exchanges and writing, began to feel like I would burst and went straight to CR and cried as quietly as can. That night, I went to the barangay near my street and reported incident. A stocky older man attended to me and wrote the report on his logbook. He seemed saddened by news and gave the obligatory tsk-tsk-tsk.

Tuesday Was looking for old article from years back which led me to old folder of correspondences. Don’t you miss the days when you write your friends letters, even if they were online and not in romantic longhand and paper? Anyway, here’s an excerpt from a letter to a friend:

“Saw Big Chill last night and while dated na ang angst niya siyempre napaisip pa rin ang lola mo about what it is like to pretend you're enjoying what you do, I mean, do I even have to ask that? When at the back of your mind you know you could be doing something better. And then there's this threat of a war and you kind of think whether it might just be better to do something more creative or fulfilling or substantial than doing pr and fan mag work. Ay, nakanamputa, ayoko na niyan! Sabi ni mr kundera sa "unbearable..." we only live once so you never really know if your decisions in this life are wrong or right kasi isa beses ka lang naman nabubuhay so you don't have another lifetime to compare it with. But then, naisip ko naman, we still continue to do what we think is good otherwise its a betrayal of our wisdom if we don't.”

Kaya mo?

Wednesday Realized Brooks Brothers shirt I bought from ukay was ladies’ shirt because of placement of buttons. Wore it anyway. Attended Rachel and Isa’s twinbill at Silverlens/20Square. Chic crowd: mix of artists and oyes, but none chicer than Tessa Celdran who was wearing very short purple dress in jersey and fuschsia stockings. Very impressive works, actually, and very different from each other. While Isa’s seemed to have involved painstaking work that involved layerings and photograms and micro-explosives, Rachel’s were very minimalist and austere. The Gary Ross painting, which Isa showed me in the bodega, was not what I had expected. True, the diagonal lines were there but this was on paper and framed in glass; the one I had in mind was on canvas and bigger. When I got home, opened my windows and had one last drink. As the November breeze very faintly whispered to my back, I realized I really like my house. Despite the incident, despite the un-chic neighbors. I decide I will commit to more improvements for it. Still, I wasn’t ready to sleep there just yet.

THE WHOA! FACTOR

One rarely gets surprised with magazine covers these days. This is just stunning. Way to go, Michael!

BUT THEN THERE ARE THESE

Seven good things from the past two not-so-good days.


1) Ben. Six months old. Giggles and stomps feet when you hold him up to the sky. Amuses self by playing with his mouth and pretending like cat with furball on throat. Prefers black electric cords to toys. Can be fooled to sleep by playing with right ear.

2) Seeing this picture.



3) And this.




4) Bored to Death. An oxford and corduroy-wearing Jew addicted to weed and white wine in New York. Hopelessly in love writer who can’t seem to begin the next novel. Stylish, funny, charming, real. And Ted Danson plays the white-haired boss who sports an eccentric brain to contrast with his elegant suits.


5)Fierce Pajamas. Can I say that we have some really chic things in the library? In Vogue. 10 Most Influential Magazine Designers. 43rd Publication Design Annual. Sense&Style Magazine. Kidding. The boss’ contribution to the library from recent trip to NY: Fierce Pajamas. An anthology of humor writings from the New Yorker. Woody Allen and Steve Martin write several pieces.


6) Shaun T. Yes, I’m back hip-hop-absing. There’s something very Che-vital about exercise videos but a black man showing you how he works those sweaty abs every few steps or so is worth the price of embarrassment. Watch out for when he walks back towards that guy in the background and gives those pandesal buns just a little pinch. Exhilarating. Oh, and I do the exercise, too.

7)Family and friends, like Maricris who just went on ahead and gave me a scolding over the phone (and she rarely calls kasi kuripot siya). And this: “My wish for you: mapalitan ng job in New York or a boyfriend who can buy you a new one plus the Gary Ross painting.”Well, we just found the kapatid of that painting and I’m going to see it tonight. Will I meet the guy who will buy it for me, too? Come to MoMa!