Thursday, May 29, 2008

The afterglow from the beach trip.

It will be obviously redundant to say that the epic Shift Sarcastic (now Shift Cartwheel...don't ask why) farewell beach trip was a total blast. The elements that comprise it: sun, sand rocks, sea, beer, carcinogen and cholesterol-laden food, and good company already guaranteed that yes, the beach trip was an affair to remember.

It will be hard to forget about it, since I still feel the sensation of the undertow pulling me into the sea even as I type this very blog post, miles away from that beach where we spent our rhetorical last day of summer.

I will not forget about the feel of rocks and bits of shell yielding to each and every footstep that I made towards the beach. I will not forget taking a nap on a cramped bamboo bench, dozing off with the white noise of crashing waves, and Subtersub's guitar strumming (and singing). I will not forget about our star gazing, and the ensuing banter whether that moving, blinking red light was the International Space Station, or just an airplane (it's a plane, dammit XD). I will not forget getting lulled into a half-sleep as I floated on the water.

I will not forget my lengthy talk with him that lasted well into the night, nor the way he always grabbed and held my hand.

And like most good things, it came to an end. One thing didn't, however, and that's...GamerTotoy.

GamerTotoy. So good, it will make you gay.

Goodbye, Shift Sarcastic. Let's go to the Manila Zoo next time and interview the gorillas and giraffes what they think about Metal Gear Solid 4. And you guys can count on me being present in the MGS4 sleepover. PILLOW FIGHT WITH THE PATRIOTS!


Monday, May 26, 2008

Fuu fuu. Nostalgia barrage.

Out of sheer curiosity (and the utter boredom that preceded it) I decided to visit my old blog. Yeah, it's still there. Like what I said, I forget who it was I spoke to back then.

But anyway, I told that person (whoever it was) that reading old diaries is like drinking liquor; you write journals, forget about them for a couple of years or more...and when you find them again, lurking in an almost-forgotten corner of your room, you'll find them a bit refreshing, a tad more entertaining to read.

I got depressed, though, when I found samples of my old drawings posted on that blog.

Yeah, they're not that old, and they're not that remarkable either - my L fanart does sport what could be the CRAPPIEST halftone filtering. I'm just a bit sad that I couldn't draw to save my life these days. I think I already bitched about that fact a few weeks ago. But I really tried to draw again - I sat myself down with my old tools of the trade: an HB and a 2B pencil, gum eraser, my favorite Pilot sign pen etc etc...and tried to draw.

My hand just cramped up just a few minutes into the sorry exercise. *sigh*

Yeah, I'll try again. There's no reason not to. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood. I'll try, try, try again. I want to feel that feeling of accomplishment again. Maybe make myself proud with the fact that hey, I managed to complete a drawing, even if it's not the greatest scribble on the planet.

...and God I hate writing multiple posts per day. Just shows how much free time I have on my hands; or rather, how much of my work time gets converted into free time. See? Injustice, right there in your faces.

You know you're getting too much into the game...

...when you're having dreams about it. But I'm not dreaming about Taiko no Tatsujin, even if the idea is awesome. Even if those Kat and Don hats are TEH CUTE.

But yeah, it sucks to dream about games. As if you needed any more reminding about...myah.

Anyway I'm just busy twiddling thumbs until our Goodbye Shift Sarcastic beach trip rolls along. Yes, sun! Sand! Water. Midnight strolls along the shoreline.

Well, I guess we can cross out the sun from the list of goodies, but damn I hope I can get a sunburn before we get well into the rainy season. Summer just isn't complete without experiencing that familiar feeling of pain while you're drying yourself with a towel.


...I want to say "I'll miss you, guys," but I think its already apparent. Besides, it'll be better if we lessen the emo mood over what happened. Look ahead and never look back. But damn, I envy your kabuhayan packages.

What was I supposed to write about in this post, again? F-- whatever.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Hitback! Hitback! Hitback!

I'm currently indulging myself with playing Final Fantasy Tactics: War of the Lions on the PSP. Yeah, the remake of the original Final Fantasy Tactics for the PSX, not the kiddie-fied Final Fantasy Tactics Advance for the GBA. I'm still regretting buying the actual cartridge, to this day, and from the looks of things I won't even bother downloading its sequel, Final Fantasy Tactics A2: Grimoire of the Rift. It doesn't look like it packs a decent storyline. Bleh.

And then I digress.

I'm also re-reading Alan Moore's famed Watchmen - I'm currently borrowing Ryan's copy (who in turn borrowed almost my entire library of Discworld books). I haven't read this masterpiece for several years now...more than ten years, I think.

Playing the original Final Fantasy Tactics and reading Watchmen gives me a nostalgic kick, because I first encountered and experienced both things when I was still in high school. I clocked in numerous hours playing FFT, during those days when I and my siblings were left alone in our house and given free rein over the family castle (and the murky moat), consequently being able to play well into the wee hours of the morning trying to train freshly-recruited Squires into Dancers.

As for Watchmen, I filched my brother's friends' copy so I could devour it by myself. The man didn't let me, his friend's annoying kid sister, get my hands on it (and I blame the kid sister stereotype that's rampant in media), let alone keep it in my horrendously PINK room. Of course, I surreptitiously returned it. Shit was expensive in those days, even now.

But yeah, I managed to steal it while my he and brother were engrossed with whatever was the current Marvel VS. Capcom (or X-Men VS Capcom) PS1 port during those days. I got introduced with Rorschach, the stupid-looking-but-awesome-in-his-own-way Nite Owl, Laurie Jupiter (or Juspiblakqwerl something), and yes, the tragic Comedian.

And got blown away with such epic storytelling.

To some extent, I got the same effect with playing FFT. After getting steeped with games such as FFVII, my first RPG, and other JRPGs, getting into a nitty-gritty strategy RPG with a bleak, dark storyline was certainly a breath of fresh air. Oh Delita, Delita, such a tragic one.

I'm quite happy that I've encountered Watchmen and Final Fantasy Tactics. Yeah, I had quite the unremarkable highschool life (barring a few relationships here and there, the occasional geekdom rivalry, etc, etc), but among my high school memories, they're one of the things that shine the most.

Yeah I know. I'm geeking out to some extent. I'm just doing what I do best. XD

Sunday, May 18, 2008


"Mind yourself now," his wife called out when he slowly pulled out the car from the garage. "And take care of yourself!"

"Yeah, I will," he answered through the rolled-down car window. As soon as the car was properly positioned by the road outside, he beckoned to his wife for a good-bye kiss. "Take care, too. And thanks for the present. I'll use it. My word."

"And control yourself, beloved," she whispered against his ear.

"Yeah. I promise." He drove off happily, and in slightly good sprits. The present in question, an unopened pot of peppermint-scented potpourri taped to the leather dashboard, waiting to be given proper acknowledgement. The man turned on the radio and listened to his MP3 player, whose playlist was altered by his wife, who deemed the song selection as too 'provocative'. His lip slightly curled in distaste when he found out that his wife had inserted a couple of Simon and Garfunkle songs, which he promptly skipped with a deft flick of his finger.

"Goddamn b...graah," he groaned and gritted his teeth in a great effort to stop himself from cursing loudly. He promised his wife. I promised. "Emo of the sixties, they are," he grudgingly blurted out, frustrated and at the same time relieved that he was able to voice out his aversion without breaking his word.

The traffic started to slow down, with his car stopping near the center of the intersection, where he could clearly see the traffic enforcer wave and dance like a lunatic in an effort to tame the flow of automobiles.

Wanting to distract himself from the cloying music wafting through the speakers, he removed the scotch tape that fastened the peppermint potpourri pot to the dashboard, and peered at it closely. Hmm. Mood uplifting, helps relieve mental fatigue, improves mental clarity, alertness, concentration, and memory...I can see why she chose this one for me, he thought. Well, I'll open the can and put it to good use once I get to park in the office. He then shifted his attention to the traffic enforcer, who was still motioning to the other wave of cars to pass through. He closely watch the steady stream of traffic pass by him, waiting for his lane's turn to move.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed.

He was clenching his fists by then. Other cars in his lane were already honking their horns impatiently, unheeding by the traffic enforcer who was still merrily waving and dancing his way to let the other lane pass by. What the fuck is this guy's problem?! he screamed in his head, his anger causing him to rage and tremble and go red in the face all over again, just the very thing that his wife cautioned against.

Reason still winning over his consciousness, he decided to give the traffic enforcer three more minutes before he got out his car to confront him. Three more minutes. Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to let us stew for three more minutes! He struggled to rein in his anger. I promised. I promised.

Three minutes passed.


The passing of those final three minutes saw the man slamming the door behind him, walking towards the traffic enforcer in great strides, effortlessly avoiding the incoming traffic despite his rage.

The traffic enforcer, upon seeing him walking towards his direction like a beast to a prey--holding a wrench--wisely motioned for the man's lane to move--but not quite.

Despite the fact that it was already their turn to cross the intersection, it was too late; he was already blinded with rage.

As the man saw red and flesh and blood, the pot of peppermint potpourri was still sitting patiently on the leather dashboard, waiting for its master to make use of it, to serve its purpose.

Speed Racer movie impressions. Yes, it's my own this time.

I'm glad I've regained my brain cells right now, because now I'm able to write my own impressions on the Wachowski Brothers' take on the Speed Racer movie. I think my head got jarred watching the film yesterday, and you know what? I liked it.

It's highly apparent in the first few minutes of the film that yes, the Speed Racer film isn't anything like you've seen before.

But before we delve into that, let's get into the source material first. The original Speed Racer anime is a 60's anime, and as expected from a 60's anime you're going to get funky colors, strange futuristic vehicles, fly-away hair and ultra-cheesy acting.

These elements got carried over to the movie. Heck, even the annoying monkey.

Yeah, they even go so far as to recreate certain recurring scenes in the anime

Not surprisingly, several movie critics didn't like the movie. They were no doubt nauseated by the speed effects, they were put off by the neo-sixties theme of the film, they were annoyed with the anime-flavored acting - you'd be extremely stupid to expect deep, profound plot here - heck, the film even has cheesy sparkling hearts appear on screen in the appropriate moments.

Yes, the film having its horde of haters is to be expected, because the Speed Racer film is, undoubtedly, a faithful live-action recreation of what anime is. And when I say faithful, I do mean faithful. Character costumes, hairdo, the attempt to carry over the cartoony pastel colors in the anime (and it worked)...everything. It's practically the anime itself, skinned with Real Life(tm).

I can go on and on, but he already did the honors (see fanboy review below), so I won't. I'll have to echo my beloved's words though, when he said that the Speed Racer movie is practically a love letter to fans of the original anime and even sixties-era anime in general.

And like love letters addressed to specific persons, other people (who aren't meant to read the letter) wouldn't comprehend its contents.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Speed Racer movie review by guest author, because I can't write a good one right now.

My beloved and I managed to watch the Wachowski Brothers' Speed Racer movie adaptation earlier this afternoon, and needless to say we got blown away enough to decide that YES, this movie deserves a review. A good one. I'm too brain-addled to write a coherent one, though, since I'm still foaming at the mouth after seeing all that orgasmic motion sickness-inducing racing scenes.

So I'm going to give the reviewer's helm to this post's guest author, mai husbando.

His words are in blue font.

This, my friends, is my Speed Racer face.
More importantly, my Speed Racer movie face. Yes, that movie by the Wachowski brothers, that live-action full-feature film on celluloid recently unleashed on the world theatre. Through lots of cajoling, coaxing, bribing and even a few sexual favors here and there, I managed to convince my significant other to give it a shot. She's not as much of a fan of the series as I am - she's a bit more into Dragonball Z, and has been happily stewing in a cesspool of terror and dread about its the upcoming live action movie - but she finally relented, if not to just kill time before this year's Pyro Olympics showing.

Of course, as awestruck as I was about the trailer, as well as the concept that the Wachowski Brothers spin on the series' idea of racing - i.e. TOTALLY CRAZY CORKSCREW TWISTING ROLLER COASTER ON STEROIDS tracks - I went into the theatre expecting something really cringe-worthy and campy. After all, there's a reason adaptations suck, and that's because of the directors choosing to go all Hollywood on an IP's ass. Explosions! Special effects! HOLY FUCKING CRAP A LOVE INTEREST! AMERICAN SAVE THE DAY! (see Hitman Codename 37 movie, Hulk, Forbidden FUCKING Kingdoms, Batman FUCKING Begins, THE FUCKING TRANSFORMERS).

I was pleasantly surprised.

No, strike that. My face was melted right off.

It was that awesome. From start to finish, Speed Racer is a blast. There's the usual origin story here, but it's done in a way that it's kept in the middle of the action, rather than us looking our watches and waiting for the awesome to start. The racing bits, undoubtedly the most awesome parts of the movie, are very nicely spread throughout, so there's definitely not going to be a part you just forward to if you get a copy of its DVD. It's spread in a way that you feel that the entire movie is a treat in itself. Sure, the scenes that aren't quite as exciting as the race bits may not really be your cup of tea - the dialogue is a just a tad on the kitschy side, with a bare amount of cheese to make everything have that anime-ish taste to it - but they do tie up the story pretty well, and is a nice change of pace from the heart-pounding, edge-of-your-seat racing scenes. The comic relief, which consists of a kid and a monkey, actually do pretty good.

The acting and dialogue, while playing second fiddle to the action bits themselves, is actually pretty solid. I mean, they're certainly not acting out the most complex of human emotions, but they do the job in convincing the viewer that THIS guy is Speed Racer, Christina Ricci is the hot and massively fuckable Trixie, and John Goodman as the MOTHERFUCKING POPS. John Goodman is especially good in his role as the MOTHERFUCKING POPS, coming off as a great father figure not only to Rex but to Speed himself. He also fucks up a ninja - strike that, a NONja - all by himself.

The one thing I didn't like is the main villain. Too talky. In fact, a large part of the middle of the movie is pretty much him just talking, as if he likes to hear himself jabber on. But since this is a Wachowski movie, it's pretty much expected.

As for the racing scenes themselves - well, suffice to say you will NEVER see anything like it ever again. Just like what they say about No More Heroes for the Wii or Super Mario Galaxy, the scenes where Speed Racer is in a car and driving the very awesome Mach 5 (6 in the latter part) will repeatedly rape your face with awesome. I'm not going to spoil anything, because that would be criminal, but let's just say that you get to see Speed Racer AND the Mach 5 in the way the anime portrayed him as. Yes, from the blue shirt to the red tie thing. I don't fucking know what that's called, but I'm going to wear one from now on.

If you're a fan of Speed Racer, watch it. If you're a fan of good movies, watch it. If you've ever felt that movie adaptations of ANYTHING is simply a cash-in on a popular IP and only an invitation to get your childhood raped, watch it. This is how a movie adaptation is supposed to be made. One made by actual fans of the goddamn IP, not something you cash on and THEN insert your own goddamn material into it (ARE YOU READING THIS, MICHAEL BAY, YOU FUCKING ASSHAT?) And no, it doesn't have Shia fucking LeBouf in it, so you'll be spared from his witty one-liners and cunty self.

Enjoy it - this is a love letter from someone rich enough and creative enough to do a cherished IP justice. Here's hoping that Dragonball Z
(e/n: it's actually based on the original Dragonball and not Z, but who the fuck cares right? Will still suck either way) turns out the same way, for my wife's sanity's sake.

Spoken like a true fanboy. Not that I blame him. Just...just fuck awesome.

Friday, May 16, 2008

My sad, sad love song.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Smile, smile.

Mini-Armageddon happened in our workplace that day.

We forced ourselves to relax in the local Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. I absently chewed the end of a dark honey stick, while he ate a chocolate chip cookie. Neither of us was willing to speak about anything related to what happened.

An entire division in our office was dissolved, its members (quite graciously) laid off. Several got slammed with the pink slip, otherwise known as the Official Letter of You Got Served.

I wasn't among those who got paid just to stay away from the office, but my other half was. The thought of not working with him again distressed me immensely.

I was deep in thought when he forced the honey stick away from my lips.

I spent the entire day bottling up my emotions, and this seemingly small act of vexation pushed me into the edge. Almost in tears, I quickly excused myself to the nearest toilet.

When I got back I saw him bent over a piece of tissue paper. He used the honey stick to draw an awesome smiley face on the tissue. I laughed, despite myself.

I returned to my seat, and l looked at him from across the table. He looked so relaxed, even content, with his scruffy John Lennon shirt and his Cheshire grin. I started to sip my Ice Blended, with a small smile forming on my own lips.

"Look, I know you're down and all, but hey. Window closes, door opens, right?”

"I'm not sure if that's how it actually goes," I said.

"...Well, you get the point."

Then it hit me: I was too preoccupied in my moment of despair that I failed to notice that yes, things can - and will - look up from now on.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

*UPDATE* Oh dear god no. DO NOT WANT.

Words cannot express the fail that I'm seeing right now.

...don't they have Gatsby over there, where they're filming this shit? Oh, its in Mexico. No wonder.

Officemate #1 - sana hapon na lang yung ginawa nilang Goku.
Officemate #2 - sana di na lang sila gumawa ng Dragonball movie.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

How the next Resident Evil movie should be...or not.

Judging by the past Resident Evil movies, we already know that the next one's going to be the usual snorefest, only clad in the usual red dress and shitty misplaced product placements.

But not if the Japanese can help it.

Produced for a Japanese theme park's virtual reality theatre (the one with moving seats that mimics movement in the film), Biohazard 4D Executor's got gore and violence in spades, instead of whored-out product placements. We're certainly not complaining, but we'd appreciate it if they'd up the ante by throwing bits of pulped tomato and red-colored fruit juice at the audience when the scenes ask for it.

Cockroach POV, and mmm, rat guts. Is this the Resident Evil that we all know and love? I don't know, but that shit's stronger than Nemesis.

Thursday, May 8, 2008


Due to the huge number of spam I get through my old Y! Messenger account, I've decided to close it and opened a new one. My new YM ID is...wait, I'll just write it by hand and scan it (so as not to be harvested by spambots).

I won't be touching my old YM account anymore; you can add my new YM nick if you need to keep in touch with me.