Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Keanu Reeves as Spike Spiegel in Cowboy Bebop Hollywood adaptation
I'll put this here before I comment any further:
No, I'm not dissing on Keanu himself, and I think that he's a decent actor. Keanu was great as The Matrix' Neo; he was good enough as Klaatu in the rather bland remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still.
Should they give Spike Spiegel's role to a guy who can only do one facial expression? Particularly, the :| face? I'm all for giving Keanu a chance (can't do anything otherwise), but I got sorely burned with his portrayal of John Constantine, who was still his signature poker-faced man - only with shades of emo and a little dash of snark.
Anyway...sure, let Hollywood do its thing. They already spat and stepped on Dragonball; after a decent Street Fighter movie adaptation with Van Damme and Raul Julia in the early '90s Hollywood decided to shit on the well-known IP properly by making Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun Li. They really can't do any worse than that.
Before you breathe a sigh of relief, check this out:
Tobey Maguire in Robotech film; gets Smallville writers
I'll keep my tongue (fingertips) in check until I see any trailers/screenshots. Oh yes, Hollywood is also planning on doing live action Akira (CUH-NEY-DUUUUUUH!!!) and Ninja Scroll. All's good.
I'll just stare at this gif to give me a little bit of happiness for a change:
Staring at tree frogs, for some reason, make me feel that all's right in the world.
...I think Squirtle would have to say "Hello!" to a froggy neighbor sometime soon.
No, I'm not dissing on Keanu himself, and I think that he's a decent actor. Keanu was great as The Matrix' Neo; he was good enough as Klaatu in the rather bland remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still.
Should they give Spike Spiegel's role to a guy who can only do one facial expression? Particularly, the :| face? I'm all for giving Keanu a chance (can't do anything otherwise), but I got sorely burned with his portrayal of John Constantine, who was still his signature poker-faced man - only with shades of emo and a little dash of snark.
Anyway...sure, let Hollywood do its thing. They already spat and stepped on Dragonball; after a decent Street Fighter movie adaptation with Van Damme and Raul Julia in the early '90s Hollywood decided to shit on the well-known IP properly by making Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun Li. They really can't do any worse than that.
Before you breathe a sigh of relief, check this out:
Tobey Maguire in Robotech film; gets Smallville writers
I'll keep my tongue (fingertips) in check until I see any trailers/screenshots. Oh yes, Hollywood is also planning on doing live action Akira (CUH-NEY-DUUUUUUH!!!) and Ninja Scroll. All's good.
I'll just stare at this gif to give me a little bit of happiness for a change:
Staring at tree frogs, for some reason, make me feel that all's right in the world.
...I think Squirtle would have to say "Hello!" to a froggy neighbor sometime soon.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
So awesome, I couldn't think of a good title.
Dear America,
What the fuck do you have against the letter 'u'?
Sincerely, English speaking countries of the world.
Dear World,
What?
-US
Dear US,
In proper English we use the letter 'u' in words such as 'armour, colour'. When are you going to stop being cunts and embrace English as your language?
- Australia
Dear Australia,
Why do you insist on putting u's where they aren't necessary?
-US
Dear US,
Because we like to speak English, not mongrel.
- Australia
Dear Australia,
That's stupid. We're just making the words more efficient. Same sound, one less letter.
-US
Dear US,
That just means we get more points at Scrabble.
-UK
More in this thread, if it's still alive. Those who throw Rules 1 and 2 at me only show their high levels of retardation. Enjoy.
Monday, January 12, 2009
In which I write about Cold, and mourning the loss of a day.
I always believe that cold is never synonymous to sadness, nor loneliness.
This off the top of my head: Science teaches us that intense cold will lead to stasis, but if it meant that yesterday would never end, then I would have let it eternally preserve the moment when you held me in subzero. Everything will be motionless; but then again those around you will never leave your side.
A trade-off for the selfish.
--
I lost a day yesterday. Yesterday's name was Maki.
Maki was a tiny Birthday Bear made out of black cloth decorated with moon and stars. His limbs were made of floppy felt material, his eyes tiny knots of thread.
Maki could sit comfortably in a small child's hand. Attached to him by a string was his tiny identification card; it stated his name both in the Western alphabet and Japanese katakana. The card also bore the date he represented: January 11. Yesterday. Maki was the January 11 Birthday Bear.
On January 11, 2009 I gave Yesterday to my beloved, and he proudly wore it on his shirt pocket.
We went off our merry way to celebrate January 11 in a theme park. Our cherished Maki bore witness to our precarious yet amusing moments when our eyes betrayed our irrational fears (his fear of heights, my fear of plummeting several feet into the water), and those sweet, wondrous moments when we braved the immense cold in an artificial winter almostwonderland, my hand in his.
When the day ended, Maki was no longer hanging from the button on my beloved's shirt pocket. He was nowhere to be found.
Maki, January 11, was gone. Yesterday came, and went, literally.
I still cry about it. It must be a bad omen, I told my beloved. Would this mean that we will no longer have another January 11?
To anyone who reads this: if you somehow find a tiny cloth bear, please pick him up regardless of the dirt obscuring the wonderful moon and stars on his small body. Consider him auspicious; after all, Maki - our January 11 - is the culmination of a year's worth of confusion, helplessness, and eventually bittersweet happiness.
I hope you're well, Maki. I hope that next year, on your day, you will bestow happiness on someone who needs it.
Rain will always be a gift of joy, a nourishment of the soul, be it benevolent or violent.
This off the top of my head: Science teaches us that intense cold will lead to stasis, but if it meant that yesterday would never end, then I would have let it eternally preserve the moment when you held me in subzero. Everything will be motionless; but then again those around you will never leave your side.
A trade-off for the selfish.
--
I lost a day yesterday. Yesterday's name was Maki.
Maki was a tiny Birthday Bear made out of black cloth decorated with moon and stars. His limbs were made of floppy felt material, his eyes tiny knots of thread.
Maki could sit comfortably in a small child's hand. Attached to him by a string was his tiny identification card; it stated his name both in the Western alphabet and Japanese katakana. The card also bore the date he represented: January 11. Yesterday. Maki was the January 11 Birthday Bear.
On January 11, 2009 I gave Yesterday to my beloved, and he proudly wore it on his shirt pocket.
We went off our merry way to celebrate January 11 in a theme park. Our cherished Maki bore witness to our precarious yet amusing moments when our eyes betrayed our irrational fears (his fear of heights, my fear of plummeting several feet into the water), and those sweet, wondrous moments when we braved the immense cold in an artificial winter almostwonderland, my hand in his.
When the day ended, Maki was no longer hanging from the button on my beloved's shirt pocket. He was nowhere to be found.
Maki, January 11, was gone. Yesterday came, and went, literally.
I still cry about it. It must be a bad omen, I told my beloved. Would this mean that we will no longer have another January 11?
To anyone who reads this: if you somehow find a tiny cloth bear, please pick him up regardless of the dirt obscuring the wonderful moon and stars on his small body. Consider him auspicious; after all, Maki - our January 11 - is the culmination of a year's worth of confusion, helplessness, and eventually bittersweet happiness.
I hope you're well, Maki. I hope that next year, on your day, you will bestow happiness on someone who needs it.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Why reading Cosmo is a bad idea, Part 1
Me: jesus. The things written in the Cosmo datebook
Him: Myah? What's written innit? D:
Me: there's a page dedicated on how to "get nooky-naughty"
Me: basically its tells the owner of the datebook to get screwed in the following places:
Me: not sure if want :[
Him: Obviously the writers never made love in those locations D:
Him: Sauna would be like having sex in HELL
Him: The author does not know how fucking hot a sauna can get
Him: And "fucking hot" is used in a way to convey temperature.
Him: Oh, and also, there's the risk of naked old men coming in.
Him: NAKED OLD MEN
Him: Yeah it'd be fucking romantic if you were trying to get the action going in a hellish sauna, and with wrinkly old dudes walking in and talking about their prostates.
Him: Myah? What's written innit? D:
Me: there's a page dedicated on how to "get nooky-naughty"
Me: basically its tells the owner of the datebook to get screwed in the following places:
- The Wild Outdoors
- On a Hilltop at Sunset
- The Beach
- The Sauna
- Behind the Waterfall
- The Library
Me: not sure if want :[
Him: Obviously the writers never made love in those locations D:
- Wild Outdoors = wild animals. Do not want.
- Hilltop at sunset = danger of falling. Do not want.
- The beach = sand. horrible sand. Do not want.
- The Sauna = too darn hot. Do not want.
- Behind the waterfall = bugs, dirt, infections, dirty water, the unknown. Do not want.
- The Library = high chance of being caught and getting banned from it. Do not want.
Him: Sauna would be like having sex in HELL
Him: The author does not know how fucking hot a sauna can get
Him: And "fucking hot" is used in a way to convey temperature.
Him: Oh, and also, there's the risk of naked old men coming in.
Him: NAKED OLD MEN
Him: Yeah it'd be fucking romantic if you were trying to get the action going in a hellish sauna, and with wrinkly old dudes walking in and talking about their prostates.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Year's Eve was serious business, back then.
A few hours ago I fought off sleep in the middle of Mall of Asia's Seaside Boulevard, hoping to get my retinas burned with dazzling colors of fireworks against the night sky. Yes, watching the fireworks in the midnight sky was fun (the highest point being the presence of the Hare Krishnas, but that's another story), but it was a highly commercialized, watered-down, good-for-all-ages kind of fun. The whole 2009 countdown event even bordered on slightly disappointing, despite the purty colors.
What happened to New Year's Eve? Several years ago, the holiday was most vividly defined with loud explosions and the rashness (and stupidity) of both the youth and the drunken elders. This particular celebration, for my younger self, was mainly a test of utter endurance: I would cover both my ears with my hands immediately upon nightfall, and not take them off until media noche. My elbows would be slightly numb by then.
The New Year's Eves of my youth were no laughing matter, especially for young men. It was a rite of passage of male teenagers when contests of who can hold lit up rebintadors for the longest length of time ensue, usually with bloody results and free media mileage courtesy of Noli de Castro and the New Year's special of Magandang Gabi, Bayan. The graphic images of firecracker casualties aired in free television was a non-verbal statement that the government back then condoned such acts of sheer stupid, yet macho, bravado.
The turn of the year back then was serious business. Serious, visceral business. The actual festivities and midnight meals were only second to the then-honored ritual of lighting powerful firecrackers with bare hands, playing dangerous Filipino street versions of Russian roulette where kids get a rebintador instead of a gun, and a handful of seconds to serve as odds between getting their fingers blown off or have them intact for another day (or hour).
The practice seemed like natural selection done half-assedly, but it sure did deliver some permanent lessons swiftly and surely; lessons like the fact that there's really no reason to hold the goddamn firecracker for more than two seconds after lighting the fuse.
But those days are long gone. Thanks to coddling by the media and the authorities, most of the today's kids are left with lighting a few sticks of roman candles, fountains, and lusis. Firecracker explosions are not as noisy as before; people don't light as much firecrackers as before. Filipinos have gradually taken to adapting a safer, yet boring and non-committal way of ushering in the New Year, usually by watching elaborate and colorful lights in the sky for free courtesy of a certain big mall chain. Wonderful, yes, but nothing that quickens the blood or invites the spirit of schadenfreude.
Tl;dr, New Years Eve celebrations aren't as hot-blooded as before. Now excuse me while I tend to my burnt finger.
What happened to New Year's Eve? Several years ago, the holiday was most vividly defined with loud explosions and the rashness (and stupidity) of both the youth and the drunken elders. This particular celebration, for my younger self, was mainly a test of utter endurance: I would cover both my ears with my hands immediately upon nightfall, and not take them off until media noche. My elbows would be slightly numb by then.
The New Year's Eves of my youth were no laughing matter, especially for young men. It was a rite of passage of male teenagers when contests of who can hold lit up rebintadors for the longest length of time ensue, usually with bloody results and free media mileage courtesy of Noli de Castro and the New Year's special of Magandang Gabi, Bayan. The graphic images of firecracker casualties aired in free television was a non-verbal statement that the government back then condoned such acts of sheer stupid, yet macho, bravado.
The turn of the year back then was serious business. Serious, visceral business. The actual festivities and midnight meals were only second to the then-honored ritual of lighting powerful firecrackers with bare hands, playing dangerous Filipino street versions of Russian roulette where kids get a rebintador instead of a gun, and a handful of seconds to serve as odds between getting their fingers blown off or have them intact for another day (or hour).
The practice seemed like natural selection done half-assedly, but it sure did deliver some permanent lessons swiftly and surely; lessons like the fact that there's really no reason to hold the goddamn firecracker for more than two seconds after lighting the fuse.
But those days are long gone. Thanks to coddling by the media and the authorities, most of the today's kids are left with lighting a few sticks of roman candles, fountains, and lusis. Firecracker explosions are not as noisy as before; people don't light as much firecrackers as before. Filipinos have gradually taken to adapting a safer, yet boring and non-committal way of ushering in the New Year, usually by watching elaborate and colorful lights in the sky for free courtesy of a certain big mall chain. Wonderful, yes, but nothing that quickens the blood or invites the spirit of schadenfreude.
Tl;dr, New Years Eve celebrations aren't as hot-blooded as before. Now excuse me while I tend to my burnt finger.
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