Guess what these are?

Two tickets to the gala production of Hairspray! Yay!

I also was able to get my hands on some press photos showing the cast--unfortunately, Michael de Mesa is not in his fat suit, and apparently Corny Collins is not considered a big role, since I don't know who's playing him or what he looks like. The guy doing Link, despite his name being the same as mine, looks suspiciously gay, and Nyoy Volante is cute in his Seaweed outfit--I have high hopes for him. I do hope newbie (in the tradition of all who played Tracy) Madel Ching pulls it off--she looks REALLY out of breath in this interview by ClickTheCity--she'll need a lot of lung power for those high notes. Again, where the heck is Corny?!

Corny Collins--missing in action.

Penny and Seaweed--pwede!

I'm set to watch Hairspray on November 13, with Jeremy and Avi. My thanks go out to Joseph, who supplied the free orchestra seats. Can't wait! Wheeeeee!!!

Last week it was 'Without Love' from Hairspray, right now it's Gary Granada's 'Mabuti Pa Sila'.

===============

Mabuti Pa Sila
Gary Granada

Mabuti pa ang mga surot, laging mayrong masisiksikan
Mabuti pa ang bubble gum, laging mayrong didikitan
Mabuti pa ang salamin, laging mayrong tumitingin
Di tulad kong laging walang pumapansin

Mabuti pa ang mga lapis, sinusulatan ang papel
At mas mapalad ang kamatis, maya't maya napipisil
Napakaswerte ng bayong, hawak ng aleng maganda
Di tulad kong lagi na lang nag-iisa

Ano ba'ng wala ako na mayron sila
Di man lang makaisa habang iba'y dala-dalwa
Pigilan n'yo akong magpatiwakal
Mabuti pa ang galunggong nasasabihan ng 'mahal'

Kahit ang suka ay may toyo at ang asin may paminta
Mabuti pa ang lumang dyaryo at yakap-yakap ang isda
Mabuti pa sila, mabuti pa sila
Di tulad kong lagi na lang nag-iisa

Mabuti pa ang simpleng tissue at laging nahahalikan
Mabuti pa ang mga bisyo, umaasang babalikan
Mabuti pa sila, mabuti pa sila
Di tulad kong lagi na lang nag-iisa

Pigilan n'yo akong magpatiwakal
Bakit si Gabby Concepcion lagi na lang kinakasal?

Mabuti pa ang mga isnatser, palaging may naghahabol
Ang aking luma na computer, mayron pa ring compatible
Mabuti pa sila, mabuti pa sila
Di tulad kong lagi na lang nag-iisa

===============


You just gotta love the originality of OPM. Nothing like it anywhere else in the world.

One of the things I've been looking forward to in 2008 (besides 13th month pay) is Atlantis' local version of Hairspray, the hit broadway musical--which was also made into a movie starring Zac Efron, James Marsden (t3h m4n!),  Queen Latifah, Christopher Walken, Amanda Bynes, Michelle Pfeiffer, and John Travolta as a woman.

Anyways, I've just run across news about the cast--beginning with the legendary Dulce as Motormouth Maybelle, Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo as Velma, Nyoy Volante as Seaweed, and Michael de Mesa in John Travolta's female role. The original article, from the Philippine Daily Inquirer, is here. Just ignore Sam and Anne, scroll down a bit, and you'll see it.

I am beside myself. Nyoy as Seaweed! Holy crap! How cool is that? I just hope he can dance as well as he can sing. And although I originally hoped Lyn Sherman would be playing Velma, I'm quite confident Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo will do one hell of a job as the musical's main antagonist and resident bigoted biatch. I'd also like to see what'll happen when Michael de Mesa dons a fat suit and a wig, plays a woman (especially when one of his most memorable roles for me was 'The Boss' in "Big Time") , and shakes his booty to 60's tunes. And while I'm hoping that the guy who'll be playing Corny does his bit well, I have no worries about who'll be playing Link, because Zac Efron is not a hard act to beat. LOL. At sana kasing kapal ng mukha ni Nikki Blonsky yung gaganap na Tracy. 

Hairspray is scheduled to run from November 14 to December 7, 2008 at the Star Theatre at the CCP Complex.

I love musicals.

Yes, I'm gay like that. LOL.

========

WITHOUT LOVE

LINK: Once I was a selfish fool
Who never understood
never looked inside myself
Though on the outside, I looked good!
Then we met and you made me
The man I am today
Tracy, I'm in love with you
No matter what you weigh
'Cause...

LINK - TRACY(ENSEMBLE)
Without love
Life is like the seasons with
No summer
Without love
Life is rock 'n' roll without
A drummer
Tracy, I'll be yours forever
'Cause I never wanna be
Without love
Tracy, never set me free
No, I ain't lyin'
Never set me free, Tracy,
No, no, no!!

SEAWEED
Living in the ghetto
Black is everywhere ya go
Who'd 've thought I'd love a girl
With skin as white as winter's snow

PENNY
In my ivory tower
Life was just a hostess snack
But now I've tasted chocolate
And I'm never going back

PENNY; SEAWEED; ENSEMBLE
'Cause without love
Life is like a beat that you can't follow
Without love
Life is Doris Day at the Apollo
Darling, I'll be yours forever
'Cause I never wanna be
Without love
So darlin' never set me free

PENNY; SEAWEED
Oh, I'm yours forever
Never set me free

PENNY; SEAWEED; ENSEMBLE
No, no, no!

LINK
If I'm left without my babydoll
I don't know what I'll do

TRACY
Link, I've got to break out
So that I can get my hands on you

SEAWEED
And girl, if I can't touch you
and I'm gonna lose control

PENNY
Seaweed, you're my black white knight
I've found my blue-eyed soul

SEAWEED; ENSEMBLE

Sweet freedom is our goal

LINK
Trace, I wanna kiss ya!

TRACY
Let me out at the next toll!

ALL
'Cause without love

SEAWEED
Life is like a prom that won't invite us

ALL
Without love

LINK
It's like getting my big break and laryngitis

ALL
Without love

PENNY
Life's a '45' when you can't buy it

ALL
Without love

TRACY
Life is like my mother on a diet

ALL
Like a week that's only Mondays
Only ice cream never sundaes
Like a circle with no center
Like a door marked "Do not enter!"

Darlin' I'll be yours forever
'Cause I never wanna be
Without love
Yes, now you've captured me
without love
I surrender happily
without love
Seaweed never set me free
no no no
I ain't lying
never set me free
no no no
no I don't wanna live
without love
Darlin' you had best believe me,
never leave me
without love

I set out on a narrow and broken road long ago,
and now I hope I'm nearing the end,
nearing home.

"Realize, then, that impoverishment is also a teacher, unique in its capacity to renew, and that its yield, when it ends, is a passionate openness which in turn re-invests the world with meaning.” - Louse Gluck

I found this quote in Naya's blog, which I visit from time to time, because she is a writer I have great admiration for, and reading her entries shows just how much more of my writerly self I have to improve. Along with Dean and Andrew, these people write about daily life like poetry. I, on the other hand, don't even know if that last sentence even made sense. 

Anyways, I found this quote extremely appropriate for my situation now, even though I have already graduated and have a stable job (the quote is from a graduation address). But it is exactly those things, I think, that made it resound with me so strongly; that despite having a job, I still find myself helpless against the travails of life (to which, most often, the solution is MONEY), struggling to keep up with the ups and downs and requirements of living, of loving and being a lover (albeit a faraway one), waiting for bad times to end, hoping that that end is soon and find myself saying that it was all worth it.

I also think it's true, that coming from the bottom gives you a better appreciation of the things you have and the things you receive, provided that it's not too late. Because it is not unheard of for us, flawed and ungrateful humans that we are, to take the truly good things we have, become used to them in time until they become relegated to the background. It happens, more often than it should, that we fail to see the meaning and value these things (and people) have; and it is often at a fleeting, final moment from which we can never go back--that because of our pride or selfishness or just plain old stupidity, we are again thrown back into the old cesspool we once were in--we truly realize just how much we took it, him or her for granted, how much time we spent chasing after things we thought we needed but really didn't, how much we had.

And how much we lost.

Without going into specifics, I'd say I've found quite a pleasant diversion in Bones, a CSI-like series with a dash of humor thrown into the mix. All the characters are lovable and extremely unique, the dialogue is fast-paced and clever enough to keep me occupied temporarily. Of course I hardly understand any of the scientific jargon they regularly throw at me, the hapless viewer, but it's really just like House--you don't watch primarily for the nerdiness of it, but for the way it's all presented in one unique package. All those high-sounding terms simply lends an air of authenticity to it.

It's a great show, really. The way the relationships and tensions between the characters are portrayed provides a stark contrast to the gravity of the cases they take. I realize some might have a problem with this, but not me. Lightness is a welcome feeling. And I've always liked David Boreanaz ever since his Angel days. It's now officially one of my favorite TV series.

But of course, just like any other drug, when the high subsides, all the shit comes pouring back in, and you realize you can't ever escape the real world.

It's hard to put down something profound, something decent on paper--digital or otherwise--when there are things (read: thing; read DEEPER: PERSON) that just bleeds you dry.

Still, here are some tips that might help that I hope she/he (there's a clue right there) never reads and remains oblivious to for the rest of her life that I hope somebody richer and more powerful will tell her to her face and she will consequently melt (very painfully) in embarrassment or subsequently resign and live on a deserted island like the one in Lost and then find a hatch then be killed by a giant snake-type monster that's always surrounded by smoke.

- learn to Google. Just type the letters w-w-w-.-g-o-o-g-l-e-.-c-o-m
- do not click on things like the world is ending.
- the scroll bar is on the right side of your screen. The arrow pointing down, which also looks like an inverted triangle, means DOWN. The arrow pointing up, that looks like an upright triangle, means UP.
- stop lying to your relatives.
- stop having other people who have no choice to lie for you to your relatives (and other similarly unpleasant people who know how to get in touch with you).
- you are OLD. Dress your age.
- I know that Mango racerback was on sale for 200++, and it suits you the way a suit looks good on a pig.

I'm sure there will a fair share of people who think I'm being to harsh, or that I'm exaggerating. I can only say to you that I hope you never find yourself in my shoes.

...and attractiveness.


But there is! 110 pesos to be exact (prices based on SM Cinema deluxe seats). Still, it was well worth the price to catch Kung Fu Panda with my brother Jemoi last night, which now tops my favorite animated movie list, displacing The Incredibles. Sorry Jack-jack.

Kung Fu Panda tells the story of Po the Panda (Jack Black), a big, fat and clumsy panda who dreams of learning kung fu while tending shop at his father's (who happens to be a goose) noodle restaurant. The world as he know it changes when he is chosen by ancient master (tortoise) Oogway (Randall Duk Kim) to become the 'Dragon Master', the powerful hero destined to defend the village from Tai Lung (Ian McShane), the evil snow leopard determined to learn the secret to limitless power. Of course, he has to contend with varied degrees of discrimination and ridicule from the legendary Fearsome Five--Mantis (Seth Rogen), Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Monkey (Jackie Chan), Viper (Lucy Liu), and Crane (Cross)--and their master, Shifu--who is a Red Panda, if you were wondering--voiced by Dustin Hoffman.


It's basically a story of an unassuming hero who learns that the key to achieving great power lies within himself. Don't go all pouty and tell me that I've spoiled the movie for you, because it's a premise we've seen countless times, the most recently in the Forbidden Kingdom, where protagonist Jason Tripitikas (who is as much a kung fu fan as Po) rises above all odds to save the world. Really, it's a theme that's probably older than the Karate Kid.

The true fun in watching Kung Fu Panda isn't so much in the story, it's in the telling. Laden with good plot devices--not too obvious, but not too subtle either--and really clever (and geeky, in the case of Jack Black--geek extraordinaire) and witty dialogue and punchlines, the movie is one of the best I've seen this year (and in the case of western animated movies, the best ever). The jokes have just the right amount of corniness and slapstick and everyone is guaranteed to burst out laughing more than once.

Besides not being able to notice Jackie Chan (since Monkey so few speaking lines), I have no complaints with the voice acting, and needless to say, the animation was really cool, the highlight for me being the quivering of Oogway's neck whenever he spoke and the groaning of the thousand souls (you'll know what I'm talking about when you see it). There's also something after the credits, so don't leave immediately.

Of course, if you're looking for a thought-provoking plot that makes you bleed out of your nose, this isn't what you're looking for. But although Kung Fu Panda is light, it isn't too light to the point of being stupid and inane; it's the perfect thing to sit down in front of after a week of busting your ass at the office.

I.
Last night I dreamt of her dancing the boogie with me at a local dance club in downtown I vaguely remember my parents bringing me to one night when I was a kid.

We were the only ones below thirty there, she and I—everyone else seemed to be these tired couples who looked old enough to have kids out of college, longing for the good old times. I had asked her to dance and to trust me, and she said yes, and we took the house down. We were absolutely great. I felt absolutely great; she was smiling and holding me tight and telling me that that was the best time she ever had in ages. And we never danced, ever—it was of those things I had just thought of doing on the spot, and she was good enough to humor me.

But as we walked back to our seats, I wanted to stop time, suddenly seeing all those aged faces looking at us like we had been just the thing they wanted to be again, all aglow in the nostalgia of remembered youth and years long gone.

II.
The other night had me seeing all the familiar places we had been to, the restaurants and cafés and movie houses and parks—but I was always alone, like she had gone some place so far away and I couldn’t see or talk to her again. Remembering that, in the waking hours after that, I asked myself where she could have gone off too; had she died? But I did not ask these questions in my dream; I just walked and walked, one foot in front of the other, through restaurants and cafés and movie houses and parks, through the crowds, without destination, searching the faces for her.

III.
In the night before that, I was watching her as she slept, her chest rising and falling as she slowly breathed. I had never seen something so beautiful and peaceful in my whole life. I was afraid to kiss her or touch her, lest I wake her. So I just looked at her all through the night, until neighbor’s roosters called out their morning squawks and the sun started flood through the windows, in easy, gentle rays.

Denial is the most predictable of all human responses. - The Architect, The Matrix Reloaded

For months now, I've consistently avoided coming face to face with the fact that the day will come when she has to go away, that there will come a day when we will be thrust into the uncertain and topsy-turvy world of inter-continental relationships. I guess something inside me wanted to believe that there'd be an easier way for us, that some sort of bizzare miracle would occur, and everything would be fine; no more hurdles, no more difficulties--only bliss. And only recently has reality--like it always does--punched me in the gut so hard that I am left gasping for air.

How does one deal when someone goes away? Death is easier, I think (although more painful), with its finality and definiteness; what do you do when someone is there but not there at the same time? Some people treat SOs as if they were accessories; there's that longing too, of course, that hankering for its presence, for its nearness, but 'things' are always easily forgotten, easy to live without. When it's gone, you grieve for it a little (sometimes even not at all, when you have something better to replace it with), but in the end, it's just something you once had but don't have anymore.

I, on the other hand, feel like I'm going to loose an appendage.

But like every journey that's set before me, I have to take it and walk on it until I get to where ever I'm supposed to go. It's part of of life, part of moving forward. Only the dead are left behind.

My breath smells like sisig now, that delectable mix of diced pork ears, pork liver, onions, and chili peppers served sizzling on a hot cast-iron plate. If only I had a bottle of Pale Pilsen to go with it, and the company of someone particular, ah, that would have truly made my day.

=============

I’d really like to rant about work—well, not really work, but one fantastically idiotic person at work—but that wouldn’t be right. I just get really burned out sometimes, sitting in my workspace right beside her office, hearing snatches of conversation ("Ay, Mother! Chika chika chika! Blah blah blah!") that have nothing to do with work—this coming from someone who tells everyone else to stop talking to each other while working—and saying robotic yes-es to senseless and utterly stupid demands.

I keep telling the people here who have a like mind that I am slowly evolving into some synthetic polymer product. I keep remembering last Christmas, where she kept telling anyone who cared to listen (or at least pretended to listen) that she was such a spectacular and fabulous impromptu interior decorator when in fact all she did was spend a butt load of moolah on decorations and stick them everywhere around the office. One particular night though, she singled me out and thrust an old wreath in front of me, supposedly spruced up by some décor from the neighborhood SM.

“O, hindi halatang luma ano? Ako’ng nag-decorate nito eh.”

My reply was instantaneous: “Ma’am, akala ko nga bago eh.”

She left, obviously overly pleased with herself for being able to fish out a complement out of someone. I, on the other hand, felt sick to my stomach. Becoming some cretinous suck-up wasn’t something I aspired to be, and yet there was I, shocked at the realization that I was capable of dishing out ridiculously insane (not to mention absolutely false) complements at the drop of a hat.

Such things do not bode well for my character development.

I guess I just grew accustomed to the practice, seeing everyone else around me do exactly the same thing—although most often in lesser, more measured degrees; so much for trying to be excellent at what ever I do.

After all that, I guess I can thank God for days like this that make me realize all the sordidness one can be capable of when one is not careful. I should make a list, I think, of all the things I have to avoid as I continue to grow up—one of the things I least want to be in the future is some condescending moron who thinks he knows everything but really doesn’t, except that he doesn’t realize it precisely because he’s a brainless imbecile.

=============

Now look what I did. Ah, crap, I just did what I said I wouldn’t do. Oh well, at least I took it easy on the details. Believe me, I really did.

Before I forget, I have to go brush my teeth now. And go back to work. Whapish.

I am here,
microscopic dot on microscopic dot
without any fairy cake.


from the wisdom of Wikipedia:

The Total Perspective Vortex, in the fictional world of Douglas Adams's The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, is the most horrible torture device to which a sentient being can be subjected. Located on Frogstar World B, it shows its victim the entire unimaginable infinity of the universe with a very tiny marker that says "You Are Here" which points to a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot.

The machine was originally invented by one Trin Tragula in order to annoy his wife. Because she was forever nagging him for having no sense of proportion, he decided to invent something that would show her what having a sense of proportion really meant. Unfortunately the shock of being placed in the Vortex destroyed her brain, but Trin Tragula's grief was tempered by the knowledge that he had been right and she had been wrong. The Total Perspective Vortex had proved that in an infinite universe the one thing sentient life cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion.

The machine produces a virtual reality model of the entire universe by means of the axiom that any piece of matter is affected by all other matter. The Vortex reconstructs the universe through computer processing of a high-resolution scan of a small object. In the words of the Hitchhiker's Guide,

"...since every piece of matter in the Universe is in someway affected by every other piece of matter in the Universe, it is in theory possible to extrapolate the whole of creation - every Galaxy, every sun, every planet, their orbits, their composition, and their economic and social history from, say, one small piece of fairy cake."

Only Zaphod Beeblebrox is reported to have survived the Vortex unscathed (and to then have eaten the small piece of fairy cake). When it showed him the "You Are Here" marker, Zaphod correctly interpreted the Vortex as simply telling him that he was the most important being in the universe. This is due to the fact that he entered the Vortex in an artificial universe, which had been specially created for his benefit (thus making him the most important being in it) by Zarniwoop. After emerging from the artificial universe's Total Perspective Vortex, Zaphod ate the piece of fairy cake, saying "If I told you how much I needed this, I wouldn't have time to eat it."

It’s been awhile since I’ve put down anything that can even be remotely described as concrete, much less sensible. So, in lieu of the just-barely-so-new year, I’d like to say the following:

Last year was great. Sure, it was also one of the saddest and crappiest years I’ve ever had, but there were good things too, and I’d like to thank God for that.

Sorrows aside, it was a year of finding love again, overnights and New Year’s Eve in Tarlac, meeting families old and new, surprising generosity and the subsequent Mr. Pookums, watching Into The Woods with a good friend, watching Avenue Q with my best friend and favorite person, and smatterings of small good things scattered in-between. It was a year of a lot of good books and (still) trying to write; a year of realizations and lessons learned.

=========

Moving on.

I wish I had something massive to write about. Not love, because I love for me (and her, of course), and it’s nobody else’s business—I think I’m past the stage and age where I like to publicly gush and whine about mushy-mushy stuff (well, not outright at least). Not my job, because it’s crappy, and so are the jobs of a lot of other corporate drones out there who work for bosses who, despite being so amazingly stupid, enjoy the bigger end of the stick because life is unfair that way. I want something important, fun, meaningful, and filled with lots of nice and raw literary, uh, stuff—like awesome sunsets and delectable tasting food—that maybe, just maybe, I can manage to draw some good words from.

Sometimes I do have stories in my head though, good stories, if I may say so myself; stories with murder and magic and angst and love and all the things that are supposed to make a story idea great. Having the idea leap out into paper however—virtual and otherwise—is another matter altogether. The adage ‘An idea is not a story’ is becoming quite worn in my head, and me being me, I always find myself dispossessed of time where I can sit down in peace, organize my thoughts and just (try to) write away.

Still, I try to keep a relatively hopeful outlook without compromising my realization of the possibility that I will always be this trying-hard mediocre.

So much for hopeful. Heh.

I’ve always been a big fan of the play—the way it is dynamic and alive (both figuratively and literally), the way it involves the audience in every step and song and dance and line, the way the actor’s voices aren’t just from speakers (Dolby or not, real life is still the best), and the way the scenes aren’t just the best parts cut out and put together in editing from a long timeline of takes one to one hundred.

That being said, I must confess that I haven’t been to a play in ages—the last one, if I remember correctly, was way back in college, and was about a closet gay stuntman whose number one idol in the whole world was Ariel the Little Mermaid. After, academics, girlfriends, breakups, heartaches, Ragnarok and DOTA, and a part-time job got in the way, so I never got to watch another.

I was able to finally rectify that last Friday, thanks to the indomitable Conrad, cartoonist and graphic artist extraordinaire (albeit a very frustrated one), who was kind enough to supply me with a free ticket to ‘Into the Woods’ at the Music Museum.

Of course, Philistine that I am, I had never heard of Sondheim or had even watched a live musical (I saw Rent and Phantom of the Opera on DVD, and Avenue Q on a YouTube bootleg) in my entire life. Of ‘Into the Woods’ I had heard only one song, ‘Last Midnight’—and which was only at the urging of a very excited Conrad, who was ecstatic to know (sometime in September, I think) that his good friend Lynn Sherman would be playing the witch—and well, I wasn’t really impressed. It was sing-song-ish and complicated, and it sounded really old school. But still, a play was a play and I tried to keep an open mind. After all, the ticket was free, and with my job and all, immersing myself in a little culture wouldn’t hurt.

It is human nature, I guess, that we are constantly dissatisfied with what we have. Even during the times fate does give us better circumstances, it is not uncommon for us to see, much less appreciate, how better off we are. It’s always the “should have been” and “what could be better” things that preoccupy us. We are hardly ever satisfied.

I guess there’s something in that phenomenon that explains the increasing callousness and lack of attention we have for the people around us as time goes by. We constantly mull over their mistakes, weaknesses and shortcomings, and it is only when they’ve gone—oftentimes for good—that we say wholeheartedly that he or she was a good person, that his or her heart was without peer in its purity and kindness. Only then we say that we wish we were more understanding, more accepting, more adjustable, more loving. Only then do we apologize for our insensitivity, only then do we realize how we’ve failed them, how WE could have done them better, and only then do we truly apologize.

It’s always the small things that we allow ourselves to be plagued with, things we wouldn’t have noticed under worse circumstances—which are, ironically, the things we would much rather have had when we were still under worse circumstances. We’d say that if only he or she wouldn’t be like this, I’d be happy, if only he or she would change this, I’d be content—only to ignore all these things and embrace a renewed, but different kind of discontent once again when better times do come.

It’s easy to say that it’s all in the mind, but nobody does use his or her mind the exact same way the person next to him or her does, after all. Changing a mindset we’ve had all our lives is easier said than done.

I guess that’s the way things will always be. No matter what we do, no matter how much we change for the better, we will never be enough; we will never be enough to make someone truly happy with the way we are. We will always have some flaw, some irritating habit, some annoying quality, some uncomfortable characteristic, or some unacceptable trait that definitely has to go, while whatever improvements we’ve accomplished, while possibly noticed, still ends up largely unappreciated.

As if knowing that we’ll never be perfect isn’t enough.