Back to blog. In a bit. I think.
Why Watching Movies in Cinemas Now Suck or Five People Who Should Be Banned From Cinemas
My first time inside a cinema was in 1992, I think. I was 5 years old then and we were going to watch Jurassic Park in Megamall. I distinctly remember that Jurassic Park was PG-7 so we had to fib a bit and pretend that I was a scrawny, malnourished 7-year-old boy. The ushers bought it! Most probably, though, they knew I was 5 and didn’t really give a damn.
Flash forward, a couple of decades. I was a sophomore in high school and I was about to watch my very first movie without adult supervision. A friend suggested we watch Pearl Harbor because it was about war and fighting and *snicker* it had a love scene! With parachutes! Thinking about it now, my friend, who is male and I no longer hangout with, is probably gay. With no reason other than Pearl Harbor is gay and he suggested we watch it even though he knew there was only the two of us watching. The parachutes were titillating, though.
See there’s something really magical about watching movies in the cinema house. Something nostalgic. More often than not, the films we watch will suck. But it’s the experience of watching it on 900ft screens with dolphy surround s-o-u-n-d that will blow our minds forevah.
But then, we grow older and cinema houses feel more and more ancient. A lot of us tend to forget how cool a trip to the cinema is despite the expensive price of admission and so, become assholes. Yes, movie-going assholes. Let me elaborate.
Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow: A Post Honoring My Favorite Hairs
-in memory of my hair-
Hair is a many splendid thing. It gives joy, life and reason to an otherwise dead body parading itself around as a human being. Yet only when we achieve full hairgasmo do we realize what we truly are: mere vessels for the glory that is our beloved hairs. From the Biblical to the Rock n Roll, here are some of life’s greatest hairs.
The Beatles: They started as mopheads and turned into hippies. Only the Fab Four can pull off such a myriad of hairstyles.
When Sci-Fi Geeks Fall in Love - REVIEW: The Adjustment Bureau
BASICALLY: Nobody will love The Adjustment Bureau (TAB). But, both sci-fi geeks and your girlfriend (of, at least, average intelligence [not a sexist remark, really]) will appreciate what TAB sets out to do: marry Philip K. Dick with Nick Sparks. Whatever that means.
David Norris (Matt Damon) is a Congressman running for senate. He’s not your typical politician, think Chiz Escudero with balls to rave party and moon. So as you’d expect, he loses. But on his way to his thank you/losing speech, he meets a woman in the men’s comfort room. Gasp. She’s quirky and fun and hot. It’s Ellis Sallas (Emily Blunt), which unknown to him (or her) is/was/is his destiny. Sort of.
They kiss but leave it at that because they are interrupted by Norris’s campaign manager. So, no names, no numbers, just a kiss.
After their brief tete-a-tete, he is somewhat inspired and delivers a not-so-typical, honest speech that excites the crowd and catapults him to the top of the leaderboard for the next senate election. Clearly, they are meant for each other.
If this were a romance movie, David would somehow, probably by mere chance, meet Ellis again. Probably on a bus that, by some weird coincidence, they ride on the same occasion.
But this is part sci-fi/thriller movie. So though they meet in a random bus, smile at each other, flirt and finally exchange numbers, it is not without complications. Because as he is entering his office building, David witnesses several shady men in suits, adjusting his now time-frozen officemates.
A chase ensues and thus, we are introduced to the adjusters of our fate: The Adjustment Bureau, who inform David that Ellis and him are not meant for each other because they are destined for bigger things. Oh no!
What follows next is the general theme of us not being in charge of our own destiny. The chairman writes our fate and the adjustment bureau makes sure it happens according to plan.
But then, love is a tricky variable and you can probably guess what happens in the end.
Word to the wise, you won’t watch TAB because of the ending. That part’s just a bore. What you’ll really enjoy about TAB are the ideas presented to us. Is there such a thing as free will? Are we being controlled by these snappy dressed men? Is God the Chairman? Is the Chairman an alien? Why are we doing what we’re doing? And more importantly, why aren’t more PKD movies being made?
Thus, what could have been a great sci-fi flick, merely becomes a not-so romantic love story with interesting ideas inserted between point A to point B.
All in all, Matt Damon was good. Emily Blunt was the black swan. The fedoras were an odd choice. Most details were on point (note: not ignoring the ripples caused by Norris’s actions). Chase scenes were not Salt-like. The Adjustment Bureau were probably our asexual alien overlords. And Morgan Freeman was the chairman. Jokes.
Interracial FIL-Blank Baby Invaders from Planet Gutom AKA I Will Probably Regret Posting This 5AM Post of Political Incorrectness
The way I see it, in 17 years or so, the Philippines will either be overrun by beautiful people or hungry, ugly babies or both.
READ 1: Just a personal observation, (and yes, probably a politically incorrect one) more and more foreigners are dating Pinays via the internet. Now, GMRC aside, the word exotic-looking instantly comes to mind when seeing these interracial couples walking down malls, shopping at the not-so-cheap stores, riding jeepneys while holding hands and talking in thick accents that are clearly from different dimensions, laughing uncomfortably about balut the other exotic Pinoy export…well, you get the point.
I think everybody has noticed this, noh? See, even the fabulous Long Mejia has made a quip about these interracial love affairs. Paraphrasing Mr. Mejia talking to Tuesday Vargas who was cuddling an exotic bebot in a scene, “foreigner ka ba?
Ha! Pinoy Political Incorrectness at its best. I love it.
Anyway, here’s what will happen. Foreigner guys marries Pinay. They fuck. Pinay will either die from suffocation similar to sand being crushed by a beached whale or she will get pregnant. If pregnant, Pinay gives birth to a future hottie artista.
What?! How?! Why?!
CATCH 22 a.k.a. COULD THIS BE BLOG?
When he was 22, Stanley Kubrick was already a staff photographer for LOOK Magazine. Probably honing his film making prowess and dreaming of full metal jackets and clockwork oranges.
Meanwhile, I am starting to blog.
When he was 22, Kurt Vonnegut was awarded a purple heart for being a POW in Dresden, who dodged fire bombs inside an underground slaughterhouse meat locker with Billy Pilgrim. So, it goes.
Meanwhile, I am starting to blog.
When he was 22, John Lennon, along with a band called The Beatles, released their debut album Please Please Me. Decades later, some douche named Justin Beiber copies their hairstyle and witless teens scream in unison.
Meanwhile, I am starting to blog, thinking about this 22-year old turning point thing. Whatever that is. For future Wiki reference, though, let it be known that at 22, I had a published humor book, being blocked by bookstore censors for raciness and such other madness involved by a simple mention of the dreaded four-letter T word, which I only aim to deconstruct because of its sheer poesy. Here’s to hoping that changing it to ITTE will be sufficient to change their innocent minds.
At 22, I am not as happy as I want to be. But fuck quarter-life crisis. Everybody isn’t suppose to achieve success like child stars. Full Disclosure: I have, once or twice or even thrice, asked myself whether I am jealous of certain successful college blockmates who look so damn successful on paper. Sincere Answer: I am not.
Certain things change after college. Reality becomes, well, reality. Some things become harder to achieve, while some are as easy as eating a cold peach mango pie. And I think, this change in the system forces us to look at our lives and it drives us to want to succeed insanely fast. By 22, we hope to get 50k a month. By 22, we hope to have our own place. By 22, we hope to have flourishing careers. By 22, we hope to be famous. By 22, we hope to be somebody.
Sadly, most of us end up like the 22-year-old Adolf Hitler: bankrupt, rejected by his art, and seriously considering racism. But like the fuhrer, you can always bounce back up and achieve greatness through genocide and war. Ok, maybe not through genocide and war. But hells yeah, you can definitely bounce back.
Because like a stupid quote says, “you can only fail if you stop trying.”
At 22, I have no idea what I should be doing and I certainly don’t expect this indifferent world to give me an answer. Though I wish I could be like Matt Groening and Philip K. Dick, finally tasting the first drops of success by age 23. Far-fetched but why not? I still have a couple of months anyway.
For now, I guess I’ll just start blogging.
I will post something significant someday.