women i love




























But this had to be said. I'm not into the "L" word - I can only go as far as Katy Perry's glammed up smoochers can take her. Okay? Good. Let's proceed with the drama.

They are icons, women who, despite the constraints presented by the world around them and the medium they chose to express themselves in, have been in our collective cultural awareness for the longest time. They are all pop, mainstream and familiar yet different.

I first came to know about Greta Garbo when I read in Time magazine the correction she made to the "I want to be alone" remark she allegedly had said. According to La Grabo, she never said that and that what she actually said was "I want to be left alone". And according to her "...there is all the difference". And I agree. After reading that article, and seeing the black-and-white in-your-face closeup picture that accompanied it, I found myself intrigued and viscerally interested. Since then, I have seen most of her movies, Ninotchka, Anna Christie, Grand Hotel, Camille and a slew of other starrers including those made when sound was all orchestral music. In all of them, the great Greta never failed to enchant with her thick Swedish accent and curious manly demeanor. And now I think, how can she possibly be beguiling in all of those monocrhomatic opuses when deep inside she shunned the lights that set her sailing from Sweden all the way to the US?

Bette Davis was another actress on a different plane. She was not considered a great beauty by Hollywood standards then but she made up for it with tons of talent and, of course, those eyes. In the movies I saw, Ms. Davis was almost always on fire. The roles she essayed were mostly never leading-lady-types, never sweetheart-y and definitely never boring. With her, it's almost always a love me or hate me situation. In All About Eve, she floored me with her often acerbic delivered with such bravura and speed and sass that you'd think there's no script and the lady was just speaking her mind out. In her other movies, like Now, Voyager, Jezebel and The Little Foxes, her roles bordered on villainy but laced with just the right amount of star power that you'd still end up liking her. And speaking of that star power, she had it in gargantuan scale that it's no wonder then that Warner Bros. at one point paid all the legal expenses she incurred in a suit she brought against them. They even gave her movies that earned her Oscar nominations. And to think that the suit stemmed from her diva-esque demands (we expect no less( that she be given "stronger" roles! Ah the irony! The drama! And this I wonder, would she have made a better Scarlett O'Hara - a role she so coveted but lost to Vivien Leigh. Did Margaret Mitchell had her in mind when she was writing Gone With the Wind? A delicious thought.

And then there's Madonna. Like the two ladies above, she's championed cause celebre as weapon in the business of entertainment. And why not? She's yet to be generally accepted as an actress despite a Golden Globe for Evita. Her singing alone, as is commonly highlighted in many a review, would not sell concert tickets like, say, Dame Streisand.  would. And her terpsichorean skills will never be enough to have her name written alongside that of Martha Graham's. Not even in the same paragraph. But despite these shortcomings she has managed to become more than just a flash in the pop culture pan. She had been written off and vilified at various stages of her career but at 51, and two divorces later, she is still selling out stadiums everywhere, still a media darling and still the benchmark by which up and coming musical starlets are judged.

So what propelled these women to the summit of iconoclasm? In my opinion, not that I matter, I think its their rejection of compromises and sticking to their guns and games that made them distinct. By refusing mediocrity and living outside of the proverbial box of conventionality, they have proven that the middle of the road is not always the best way to go.


"Be an individualist-and an individual. You'll be amazed at how much faster you'll get ahead." - J. Paul Getty (1892 - 1976), oil magnate

Amazon:
Greta Garbo - The Signature Collection (Anna Christie / Mata Hari / Grand Hotel / Queen Christina / Anna Karenina / Camille / Ninotchka / Garbo Silents)

The Bette Davis Collection (The Star / Mr. Skeffington / Dark Victory / Now, Voyager / The Letter)

(Madonna) Celebration: The Video Collection
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revisiting brokeback mountain





















I remember reading the short story first before seeing Brokeback Mountain  the movie (view trailer).  A friend of mine gave me the book Close Range: Wyoming Stories by Annie Proulx (pronounced Pru) as a birthday present. It's probably because of my incessant gabbing about the film adaptation - which was still in production then but already receiving all the buzz and hype you can imagine - that she decided to get  a copy to ram down my throat. She Ebay-ed it since the book, I think, never saw light in the Philippines. Reading the short story, a recipient of a 1998 O Henry Short Story Award and a National Magazine Award, all the more got me keyed up on how the film will turn out.

Although the short stoty was great, and I'm sure deserving of the awards it received and the critical acclaims it merited, I remember that it somehow left me longing for more meat to chew on. But before you arch an eyebrow to what I have just said, let me explain. It is generally accepted that Miss Proulx writes densely evocative literature, holding master classes in describing landscapes and atmosphere. That her narrative has a poetic quality enhanced with just the right amount of humor sprinkled here and there (check out the names, of her characters, if they're not curious, they're strange). All these elements and much more are in glorious display in the short story. But that's exactly where my insignificant disappointment comes in. You see, good things are hard to come by and so when they do, you want to experience them for a longer period of time. And in this case, 500 pages more would have made this writer smugly satisfied and move on with her life but which, in retrospect, turned out to be a good thing for the movie as it (the short story) served as the cherry to a cake of a movie. So everybody who craved for the whole serving flocked to the theaters when the movie finally opened. I did. With my generous friend of course.

All throughout the movie, you can hear lonely strings and slide guitar in the background. All throughout the movie, you will be confronted with the quietly majestic Wyoming panorama. All throughout the movie, you will witness the coming to life of every wound-inflicting lines and poignant moments described or implied by Proulx in her story. But all these, as in the short story, are not overwhelmingly staged. Director Ang Lee shied away from infusing high-voltage drama possibly because he realized that the appeal and weight of the original narrative was its muted grace. And possibly too, he recognized that his actors were such forces of nature that to choreohraph their every move will result to daytime soap. Which brings me to the late Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal. Though their physical attributes differ slightly from how Proulx profiled Enis del Mar and Jack Twist, they consummately breathed life to the characters. They walked, talked and moved exactly like how one would imagine their counterparts in the short story did. And of course, they added more. By virtue of their talent, things which written words could only limitedly express. they magically made you feel and see. Things like Jack's nuanced glances toward Enis even before "it" happened, or the strange, telling flicker in his eyes. Or the subtle changes in Ennis' body language when Jack is around, or the pain he must be feeling when he could not look him straight in the eye. All these added an extra special dimension to the story making it more vivid and almost tangible. To my mind, it is one thing when a film adaptation like this expounds on an original material and its another when artistic license is taken too seriously, specially for commercial purposes.

In retrospect, now I believe Miss Proulx could not have written Brokeback Mountain any differently. That any surrender (if there was any) to an impulse to "prolong" the bittersweet tale of Enis and Jack could have blunted its intensity. And if intense, deep-seated ache lasting 20 or so minutes (or 60+ pages) is not enough
for you as with this writer, there is the movie for the kill.

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ka-aura

Aura is described by Encarta Dictionary as "distinctive quality: a characteristic or distinctive impression created by somebody or something" as in an aura of mystery. It's that gut feel provoked in us by an individual that is oftentimes inexpressible. But ironically, this same beyond-words quality can be used as an adjective and interestingly not just to describe but to compare. And the funny thing is, we often understand the context in which it is used as a qualifier. And like I said, it goes deeper than the tangible image or similarities in physical attributes, say Lady Guy and Ate Guy's mole - the resemblance is striking and yet you can't describe them as mag ka-aura (dahil sadya bang there can only be one Superstar?).

As in the example above, celebrities are oftentimes the 'copy' we use to describe somebody's aura. Ang taray ni Luzviminda nung Christmas party, ka-aura ni Manay Celia (Rodriguez)!. Oh I'm sure by now you get the picture. No? Okay, try this:

La Imelda Papin, Yeng Costantino, Charice Pempengco



O ang tarush dava?!

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bulalakaw



nakukutuban mo ba tuwing
hahawiin ang kurtina para
sumilip, sumilay
kung nasa tapat ng inyong
bahay ang iyong motorsiklo?

kung hindi, bakit di mahuli
ang iyong pagkukumpuni
o pagdating at
paglisan? pati anino mo'y
pinagmamaramot ng sadya

daig mo pa ang bulalakaw
sa bilis ng pagiwas sa mga
matang uhaw
na walang sininta kung di
ang langit na para sa iba

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what a decade it was!



































What a decade it was! Yes, was. I know we have more or less a fortnight before we usher in 2010 but things happen to me in light years so two weeks is well actually a wink, and perhaps a nod. It's virtually over for me even before I finish writing this. So maybe I should rethink the title for this post as it connotes something fantabulous had happened, like "what a party it was, if only people did not mistake me for a wallflower! " or "thank God for the Jonas Brothers that skinny jeans for men happened!". Or maybe not. But first, let me take my pink pill before I start pulling on my hair - I always do that when I get a trifle indecisive. Anyway, here are some things that happened (or I made happen, I have no clue) to me "in the decade that was". You be the judge whether they are to be considered majors, ie signposts of life that should be included in my would-be memoir, or not. But don't give me that I've-done-that-twice-over-is-that-all attitude! Or I'm gonna have to take the purple pill - and purple is never my color!
  1. I went south for the first time, and I don't mean geographically.
  2. I went to ukay-ukay several times and at one time downplayed the value of an LV bag with the tindera - I almost suffered a nervous breakdown keeping my emotions in check. And to my mind and yaya's, I can do a better Jaclyn Jose indifference than Jaclyn Jose.
  3. I bought every issue of Vogue and Cosmo, and followed all the fashion dos and donts albeit 10 months late. Don't look at me funny, Booksale does not sell current mags.
  4. I cuckoled a foreigner boytoy who's a Rafa Nadal dead ringer, ass included, because I don't settle for the next best thing for long, especially when the wives get in the mix.
  5. I returned to writing poetry and realized you just can't shake pure unadulterated talent like feathered bangs. The words just tumble out my fingers and I seem to just continue from where I stopped in grade school. I am so excited I'll post some on here! Like right now, a title has just formed and it's "Untitled" (but I might change it to something more profound).
  6. I've made the effort to become less soshal and maarte about many things. Like I now enjoy 3-in-1 anything - coffee+sugar+cream, shampoo+gupit+kulot, you name it!
  7. I've contributed to environmental protection by planting lots of Chinese bamboo in our backyard. I love them dearly but they puzzle me. Like how on earth do you make bahay kubo or even a parol out of them? Hmmm I'll check out my neighbor's 75-volumed, mold colony Funk and Wagnalls encyclopedia later to find out. Ooops, there goes the secret behind my amazing brains HaHaHa
  8. For the second time in my life, I walked out on a movie screening. It was One True Love with Marian and DingDong. Don't get me wrong, I like Marian but the movie was a 1 and 1/2-hour blonde moment.
  9. I got myself into social networking finally. I spend hours playing Mafia Wars although I'm a bit confused by it. I mean how can you network with dead people? Aren't they suppose to like you and how can they like you and if just erased them virtually.
  10. I have become a Glee fanatic as they are so out there in terms of social relevance. It's high time they show men as sensitive animals, the way I like them, and not the archetypal shoot-em dead sort. Music over football - now how real-life is that?
And oh, this might help you benchmark your life in the decade that was Rolling Stone's 100 Best Songs of the Decade.
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