Guilty pleasures

I found a suitable definition of Guily Pleasures on this blog http://dan4th.livejournal.com/575021.html

He defines guilty pleasures as "something that you enjoy that you think you shouldn't enjoy, either for personal reasons or because of the possibility of other's reactions."

My friend James once admitted that he liked watching Oprah. Ming and I let him have it that night. I guess he will never be as forthcoming next time when it comes to his viewing choices.

Anyway, my guilty pleasure is Chelsea Lately. I have found myself tuning in to her daily dose of sarcasm and tirades directed against the Hollywood crowd. She (and her panel) can be downright mean but I admit, I have never laughed as much.

I don't think the subjects of her humour find it entertaining at all. Well, I'm just glad it's not directed at me.

Thank God I'm anonymous.

Generalismo

Yesterday marked the 143rd birth anniversary of my great grand-father. I post a few "modern" images I've picked up from the web to help commemorate his life.

The Man!!

100 Bullets

I've been following this series diligently for over seven years now. Think Reservoir Dogs, Sopranos, Godfather, Wall Street and Maltese Falcon. I was hooked from the outset -- suspense was built with bits and pieces revealed gradually over the years now to culminate in a dramatic showdown in its final 100th issue. It has all the elements I like in stories - crime noir, a plot revolving around an ensemble of characters who are all well-defined, graphic violence, street dialogue, dark, gritty and  more twists and turns to the story-line than a snake in motion. 

There are no proponents of good here. Only people caught up in a whirlwind of shifting allegiances and betrayal. 

One theme is recurring -- that things are not what they seem.  A few of my favorite characters have already been killed off. You cannot get attached to anyone.

Five more issues to go. Can't wait to see how everything falls into place. Yet feeling sad that it's all coming to an end and nothing to look forward to. I cannot rant about it. You just have to pick it up and read it for yourself. It is quite an experience.

(The best resource on 100 Bullets on-line that I've found. The images were taken from this site.) 

http://www.100bullets.sevenpennynightmare.co.uk/100bullets.htm

You and I

This song is a favorite among the Days with the Lord crowd. This was the only "non-cover" version I could find online. We were too attached to this song that we would even sing it during communion at mass although there wasn't any religious significance to it.

Siam

I loved driving to Ayyuthaya. It took an hour and half to get there from Krung Thep, even less if I felt a little more reckless and drove like a man possessed. While it was a tourist attraction, the crowds were generally thin. On weekdays, it wouldn't be surprising if you found yourself all alone at times and the chedis were all yours. There is a restaurant right beside the river which served the best garlic fried soft shell crabs I've ever had in Thailand. Goes well with Heineken.

I miss Siam.

Bladerunner - Time to die

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.

Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.

I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate.

All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.

Time to die.

As time goes by - a not so known tale of romance at AS

Herman was the toast of the AS lobby way back when in UP. All the females swooned but he never noticed. He had this strange relationship with this equally gorgeous lass, Lisa, still with a tomboyish disposition then--untucked long-sleeved polo shirts and sneakers and a knapsack slung over her shoulders. On her birthday, he gave her a baseball bat. Because she asked for one.

She was not to be contained nor owned. Not comfortable with demonstrations of affection. One Valentine's day, she refused to accept a bouquet of red roses from an admirer. She was livid. She was stern. "I don't want it." She had a reputation for shooting them down. And it was a reputation earned, not merely hearsay without basis.

She would tell Herman, "Will you stop pursuing me?"

"Bakit, liniligawan ba kita?" He would retort. That would shut her up and put her in her place.

I could not figure out Herman. Couldn't fathom if he really liked her or he was just playing a game, the way he would efficiently run the point or shoot threes. He came from a family of athletes, more known for their brutish nature than for their sensitivity.

I had front-row seats to this show. Herman had just learned to drive and was not comfortable navigating the streets of Metro Manila yet. I would drive him to Mandaluyong, drop her off at her house and pick him up after an hour or so. It was always the same story, she wasn't into relationships. And it seemed that it never bothered him. He would let her rant and he just prodded along. I never pried. I was just the driver.

One day, he comes up to me while my fingers were gliding over ivory keys and asks if I knew As time goes by. I played the tune for him. Without fail, he would ask me to play it every time a piano was in proximity. Just as I was a willing driver, I also played the role of part-time musician.

"Gusto 'yan ni Lisa." Finally, he admits.

The fox listens to the wind in the wheat, the color akin to the hair on the little Prince's crown. Not surprising. He had been tamed.

Here's to you, Herman and the girl who got under your skin!