The Search For The Next Fabcaster

Last Saturday evening the Fabcasters hosted a Pre-Valentine’s Day (or as I called it, “Pre-VD”) Get-Together. Early in the evening, five of us (Gibbs came in late due to work) decided to have fun and instantly mounted an “online reality contest”. We were going to have a lot of our guests go through our “audition process” but unfortunately the party turned so much fun we ended up dropping the “audition” after a few guests.

But still, what was captured was silliness galore. Listen (12 minutes 44 seconds):



Download the MP3 (right click and save)

Tag-Tuyot Sa Blog? Magpa-Tag!

The following “25 random things about me” is brought to you by writers’ block.

1. My favorite fruit is mango.
2. I like orange as a color and as a fruit. I don’t have a favorite color though.
3. My SUV used to be named “Rupert”. Then it was changed to “Orlando”.
4. Only recently have I started trimming and shaving my pubes. It was unheard of when I was growing up.
5. I like cats because they’re not as attention-needy like dogs.
6. I can make my ears move at the same time and one at a time.
7. I used to collect X-Men comics, but that was because my major crush then was into them.
8. I used anti-pimple creams when I was a teenager. But after college I never bothered to put anything on my face, not even soap; I just washed it with water. It was only last year that I started using product on my face.
9. I spit, not swallow. I only swallow for love.
10. I used to pluck my eyebrows too cleanly. Now I only pluck strays.
11. Pizza and burgers are my comfort food and my culinary guilt pleasures.
12. I try and appreciate the unexpected. Survival chances are higher if you learn to roll with the punches.
13. A major reason why I stopped attending mass is the homilies.
14. I’m very open to the idea of ghosts and other supernatural beings; yet, I’ll be the first one to insist on finding the most rational, natural explanation when faced with something unusual.
15. I love corn and malunggay clear soup.
16. My room is the messiest, with stuff all over the place. I know where most of the newer stuff and the ones I often use are, but for the older ones and the ones I rarely use, I’m not sure now where I placed them.
17. I love my family, though I don’t make it obvious to them because I find that cheesy.
18. I am SSB (Single Since Birth).
19. I can freeze melting ice cream faster than one can say “Japan”. (Only one person will get this one. Well, maybe two.)
20. I have a crush on someone who most probably will have reached this part.
21. It took me about a week to fill this list up.
22. This list shouldn’t be taken too seriously.
23. I hate long lists like this.
24. I hate being tagged.
25. I refuse to tag anyone. As far as I’m concerned, this ends here.

Got Milk

Sean Penn’s compelling, Oscar-worthy performance alone is enough reason to watch Milk, although happily the whole movie deserves the nominations it garnered. There were times when I was aware that I was watching the actor Sean Penn execute such a delicate tightrope act; if other Academy members felt the same as me, it may cost him some votes come Oscar night.

But Penn’s transformation as Milk was relentless, and in a couple of scenes his performance was truly moving and totally engaging. The multitude of mixed emotions that flashes through Milk’s face as he sees the gun and realizes he’s about to die was truly a sight to behold, in turn mesmerizing, frightening and most of all, saddening. And in a gripping scene much earlier, Milk and company were agonizing over the ballot returns; they thought they were losing the fight against Proposition 6 (which would mandate the firing of the state’s openly gay teachers). But then they received a phone call that, contrary to what they feared, they had actually won by a wide margin. In that scene, Penn’s Milk is reduced to a giddy, shrieking queer, a vision of joy and euphoria in pure gay abandon. And for that moment I was instantly there in California, 1978.

The triumph of those scenes wasn’t just Penn’s acting, of course. Director Gus Van Sant’s films can be challenging to watch at times, but in Milk he decides to tell his story in a more, pardon the phrase, straight-forward fashion (although he does jump back and forth in time quite effectively). His appropriate use of actual photos and footage as inter-cuts works effectively to ground the film in its milieu while making the portrayed events urgent, compelling and current. I thought he went a little too obvious and heavy-handed with the opera motif, with its tragic ending and larger-than-life drama; but then again, that is opera. Still, it might also cost him and his film some votes on Oscar night.

The obvious-intolerant moviegoer may not fully enjoy taking in Milk, but the rest can just lap it all up.

On Push-Button Publishing

One of the reasons why I fell in love with blogging is that nothing is carved in stone. Welcome to the digital age, folks! Before, if a published author discovered a typo or a mistake that needed revising, he’d have to wait for the second printing—that is, if his publishers decide his book is work reprinting. But with blogging, you can publish now, spot a mistake later, correct it, and viola! Your blog just keeps getting better.

In the digital age, even works of art are not spared of such revisions. Take for example George Lucas’ Star Wars movies. (Okay, okay, except for Episodes Four and Five—the first two that were filmed—the rest of the installments in that saga may not qualify for the label of “works of art”. Anything with Ewoks and Jar Jar Binks will send critics and film historians into an apoplectic fit.) Nowadays Lucas has the technology that allows him to revisit a movie he shot, post-produced and released a long, long time ago and revise shots, replace characters and alter anything onscreen. Easiest to alter are the first three episodes since they were shot digitally.

With almost every episode here in The McVie Show, I’ve noticed a mistake or two, or realized that a word, phrase, sentence or paragraph would read better if rewritten in another way after I’ve pressed the “publish” button. I have no hesitation to click the “edit” button and revise, even if many have already commented on that particular episode. I’ve even added sentences or whole paragraphs in previously posted episodes of the Show.

That’s why if someone were to point out mistakes here in my blog, my first reaction would be embarrassment of course (unless the mistake is quite minor or easily overlooked). But I don’t mind correcting that mistake.

What may get my goat, however, is the manner in which the mistakes are pointed out. If the tone used is arrogant or condescending, I may not even bother correcting the mistake but just let it exist—a reminder that no one is perfect, not even the one pointing out my mistake.

And in the end, how you act towards such criticisms is still very much your choice.

Bale-listic

Christian Bale goes ballistic on the set of Terminator: Salvation against director of photography Shane Hurlbert. The audio recording was sent to the movie’s insurance agency but somehow it leaked out. Below is the almost 4-minute tirade on tape:



Bale’s temper has already gotten him in trouble before. In fact, just recently he allegedly assaulted his mom and sister, though eventually no charges were made.

But of course, what interested me more were the subsequent obligatory remixes on YouTube and MySpace. Here’s one:



But I think the following is a bitchin’ club remix—I can’t help bob my head to the music, and I can imagine it playing in Bed, hahaha!



Moral of the story: If you’re going to freak out, don’t do it is on a TV or movie set, with all the cameras and microphones recording every single f**king thing. But if you do, go all the way to give DJs more f**king sound bites!

MySpace MyOhMy

This morning I read the following message in my MySpace account:

MyReply? Huh? Am I “in particular”… what?

Now, who wants to bet if I’ll ever hear from this person in particular ever again?

Taking A Bed Rest

After more than a month, I stepped back into Bed.

By December my weekend schedule was quite hectic, so I didn’t go to Malate anymore. After coming back from our family vacation in Bohol last Christmas, I purposely resisted going there for weeks. I was busy during the first weekends of 2009, so it was easy to beg off. But by the end of January, my weekend schedule was back to normal. I decided to check out the scene again.

I planted myself in one spot and surveyed the scene. Most of the usual suspects were all there, and then some. There was this barkada of straight-acting, straight-looking guys with several chinoy-ish types—my inner rice queen immediately rose to the surface. And they decided to stay in an area beside me. OMG. One of them, whom I was crushing that evening, kept bumping my arm. I thought of three possibilities: [1] he’s interested in me; [2] he’s oblivious to the skin-on-skin contact; [3] he’s subtly trying to make me give up my position. Before the end of the night it was clearly 2.

So I gave up my position. I ended up not staying in one place, moving from the first floor to the second and back. Walking to and fro, looking at the faces in front of me both familiar and different blurring into sameness, I remembered how just before Christmas I thought to myself: I don’t get lucky in Bed anymore.

And then it hit me: I was going to Bed for the wrong reasons.

After the Epiphany comes the epiphany.