Hey BF, Istatue?

This is a statue near the Marikina Public Market. What’s being depicted, I have no idea. What is the doctor doing to the kid, cleaning up his ass or getting ready to collect a massive amount of his stool sample? (FYI, the kid was sculpted anatomically correct. I checked. Twice.)

This, along with other statues, was erected all over Marikina when BF’ was still mayor. Paging BF, paging BF, what in heaven’s name is this?!

What If Destiny Had A Wicked Sense Of Humor

In my last “Woe-is-moi!” episode, John Halcyon Von Rothschild commented, “I think we’re all destined for something better.” Notice that the statement said “something” not “someone.” Perhaps John meant a more general “could be something or someone” but I’m going to go with a more literal interpretation of his comment.

To be honest, that thought first crossed my mind back when Marcos was just about to flee Malacañang to go to what he thought was Paoay but turned out to be Hawaii. Yes, the song “State Of The Nation” by Ministry was still blaring on the Pinoy airwaves when I first entertained the notion of, “Hmmm, maybe I’m not meant to be with someone.” Even that early on—me still in third year college, so I have no right to be uber-cynical; I only have the right to pretend to be uber-cynical and put on the trappings of cynicism—I decided to broaden my mind a bit and actually stare into a scary abyss: a life of solitude.

So I asked myself: “What could possibly be better than being always a bridesmaid, never the bride?” This is an exercise in positivity, so bear with me.

• A life of solitude ala-Kung Fu—In that TV series, David Carradine’s character is a kung fu fighter destined to move on from town to town, helping the helpless. I’m not sure if he formed any attachments or even had a sex life (this is the 70s, folks) but he always solved the problem within the hour—including commercial breaks. That will be my life: Do good without “doing” anyone. (Gulp.)

• A guru’s life—Well, I have to have teachings to push. And I have to dedicate myself to a life of teaching, monochromatic fashion, and a lack of hair products. But I promise to avoid speaking with a tiny voice, a silly accent, and the sentence structure of Yoda.

• The favorite bachelor uncle—Ah, the numerous nephews and nieces will be expecting the biggest gifts from me during birthdays and Christmas. If not the biggest, then The Gifts Mommy & Daddy Cannot Afford. I should work up to vice president level if I want to keep those leeches happy for approximately 12 years while having some Puerto Galera money for myself.

• A politician—Okay, so I have to enter into a sham marriage to enter the political arena, unless I’m content to stay within the local government level, in a position lower than vice-mayor. And I should be more discreet than John O., Ernesto M., and ilk because I don’t belong to a very rich, very established political clan. (With them, money and power speak louder than swish.) But I should support—or if that’s too much of a giveaway, then at least not oppose—any pro-gay rights bill. Otherwise Danton and company will be on my back, Migs will call on his readers to boycott me, and Gibbs will return to gay militancy.

• The rich Papa/beeyotch of needy young things—Aka Central Bank Account. Again, I need to fatten my wallet to be able to reach “rich” level. Technically I won’t be alone—I can practically have a harem, depending on my budget of course. But the tugs I’ll feel won’t be for my heartstrings but for my purse strings. No one will own my heart; everybody’s too busy putting their hands down my pockets and my crotch—as a way to my pockets.

Okay, this is giving me a headache. Did I say positivism? Next episode, please.

Destiny Is A Downer

The premise of the TV series Heroes is as simple as it’s intriguing: ordinary people from all walks of life suddenly find themselves possessed with powers. The premise of my so-called life however is pathetic as it’s sad: the people who I like never like me back and would inevitably end up liking each other instead.

Take Case #1: I like Him but He likes Someone Else. I get to know this Someone Else, and I begin to like Someone Else too. Someone Else, after initially getting interested in me, drops me for Him. He and Someone Else eventually hook up; months later they’re a couple.

Case #2: He and I have been flirting online. Eventually we go out on a date. He changes His mind and decides we’d be better off as friends. One day at a party I introduced Him to a guy I used to like. I was just being polite; they were just being flirty that night. Within the week I found out they were already a couple.

Case #3: I told Him of my feelings for Him; He just laughed it off, saying, “But we’re sisters, aren’t we?” Unable to convince Him of the joys of incest, I backed off and started that torturous process of carving Him out of my heart. Months later I meet and immediately liked Someone Else online. But then I find out Someone Else and He have been flirting online with each other since months before. Now it looks like they are the ones who will be hooking up, not me.

Case #4: Oh, you get my point.

Sometimes I wish I were Hiro and teleport myself somewhere else. Sometimes I wish I were Hiro and have my way with Ando. (Woo-hoo!) One of these days I wish I can just turn radioactive and blow up.

Destiny has decreed that the folks in Heroes will play a part in saving the world; here, I’m suppose to play the solo part, a monologue. Sure, it’s a bump up in the billing, but the script says you have no love scene at all.

It’s not that I’m dying to be in a relationship; in fact, I already swore off romantic love. It’s just that it’s so f**king unfair. It’s unfair! Unfair! Unfair! Unfair! Unfair! Unfair! In the Cosmic Crapshoot of Love, Cupid’s rigged it so that I’m a Loser with a capital “L”. I’m just asking for a little cosmic consideration. Why do they have to end up together? Why can’t all three of us end up miserable and unattached? Misery loves company after all. Hmmm, a miserable threesome, perhaps?

Sometimes I think it’s my destiny to be made fun of by Fate. If Life’s a comedy, I’m the punch line.


* * * * *

Don’t mind me. It’s just the weather. Here comes the rain again. An increase in precipitation means an increase in melancholia and self-pity. So far this never turns into a flood. I don’t need to stand under someone’s umbrella; I just need to get my own and I’ll be fine.

Part 3 of 3 (and an addendum)

Part three of the second podcast of the Troikabloggers, or Troikasters, comes out. Plus a wrap-up by Migs, doing his best Ate Luds or Joe D'Mango impersonation (which one of the two is it, you decide).

Click here and enjoy!

Part 2 Of 3

Part two of the second podcast of the Troikabloggers, or Troikasters, comes out. Click here and enjoy!

"Coming Out, Part 1" Comes Out

Part one of the second podcast of the Troikabloggers, or Troikasters, comes out. Click here and enjoy!

Powered by ScribeFire.

Play Time

My first time to perform at the CCP stage was at the Little Theater in 1989. I was a staff assistant to Nonon Padilla, then director of the Coordinating Center for Dramatic Arts. Tanghalang Pilipino was staging his Larawan ng Pilipino Bilang Artist(a), his loving spoof on Nick Joaquin’s classic “Portrait of an Artist as Filipino” with Nonon’s good friend Paul Dumol (he of the “Paglilitis Ni Mang Serapio” fame) directing.

They needed a young guy to play Bititoy, the son of Bitoy Camacho. They had already invited several young known actors for the part, but most of them were too busy. Rehearsals had already started when, in desperation, Nonon turned to me and said, “O Joel, hindi ba nagteatro ka sa school? O, you play Bititoy.” And that was that. Months afterwards I found out that their original choice for Bititoy was Herbert Bautista. I had replaced Bistek.

They assembled an impressive cast: Armida Siguion-Reyna and her real-life sister Irma Potenciano as the sisters Candida and Paula. Ricky Davao and Carlitos Siguion-Reyna, fresh from abroad and not yet the director he’s to become, as the sons of Candida. Mario O’Hara, Pio de Castro, Gigi Dueñas, Sharmaine Centenera, with the special participation of Jackie Lou Blanco and Lou Veloso. And a surprise appearance of Ado Escudero, Mr. Villa Escudero himself. A fellow cast member who played one of Bititoy’s friends was a pre-Kuya Kim Atienza, who was quite yummy then because he was still very buff and trim at ambait pa niya.

My best memories: [1] The audience laughing out loud whenever I execute a perfect double-take when I discover the body of a victim inside a baul. [2] Gigi Dueñas—best supporting actress nominee for “Himala” no less—praising me in front of the others during a company call for being consistent in pulling off that double-take. [3] Armida slapping me unexpectedly onstage during one performance; it was no fake slap, but a full-palm bitchslap. Needless to say, my shocked reaction to that was not an act. When the stage-manager asked her afterwards why she added that slap to her blocking, she replied, “I felt that my character should slap him.” The stage-manager gently reminded her that she should have warned her co-actor beforehand. (She retained the slap in all the succeeding shows. I learned how to anticipate it and move my head so that the slap wouldn’t smart as much.) [4] Singing “A-tisket, a-tasket, a red and yellow basket” without knowing what the hell that song is all about. [5] Acting high and drugged out after my character “eats” marijuana-laced brownies, then executing a perfect pratfall. I swear, physical comedy may be unsubtle and lowbrow, but man, I did it so well—back then when my bones were a lot stronger and my body more flexible. [6] After one performance, guess who went backstage and congratulated me? Herbert Bautista. Wow, I actually shook Bistek’s hand!

My worst memory: at the end of the play I deliver a one-and-a-half page monologue to the audience while the whole cast is frozen in a tableau behind me. In the middle of the seven-minute plus monologue, the living room set slowly and magically transforms into a night time garden complete with twinkling stars (Christmas pin lights, actually). There I was, fresh from college, in my first ever experience on a CCP stage. With every performance I struggled to keep the audiences’ attention on what I was saying; and every time I hit the middle part of my monologue, I could actually see their bored eyes shift away from me and the audience would stare in wide-eyed wonder at the astonishing set change happening behind me. The whole set change took about a minute-and-a-half to finish; those were the most excruciating one-and-a-half minutes of my life. To be upstaged by (the late) National Artist Leandro Locsin’s sets during every performance is both a privilege and sheer torture.

Years after I was in a brainstorming session in my previous ad agency when I casually mentioned Larawan. Our executive creative director turned to me in surprise. “Ha? Nandoon ka? Sino ka doon?” he asked.

“Bititoy,” I answered. “I had that seven-minute monologue in the end.”

His eyes widened further. “Ha?! Ikaw yun?” he said, with a smile.

I thought he was going to say something like, “I didn’t recognize you!” or something positive.

“Ang laos mo doon!” he said, as he shook his head and laughed out loud.

Ka-blag!

* * * * *

I still have yet to set foot on the CCP stage again. But at least I’ve had better reviews in other performances after that.

We’re Giving Heads…

…up! The second podcast of the Troikabloggers, or the Troikasters, coming out soon. As in very soon.

Abangan.

Tagged By Gibbs

I rarely bother myself with tags, but since it was Cadis I decided to Gibbs in to his request. Hoy Gibbs, ang hirap nito ha! Maybe because what people consider weird, I don’t.

O sha, ZsaZsaaaaahhh!

* * * * *

[1] I dance when I’m alone in the elevator. After I make sure there’s no security camera, of course. And I try to prolong the dancing until the very last nano-second, as the doors are opening and the people outside are about to catch you in the act. It’s all a game I play with myself. The CCP service elevators were my all-time favorite; lower basement to the fourth were my dance floors.

[2] When I’m alone in my car and I approach a security checkpoint in one of Metro Manila’s streets during the wee hours of the morning, to ensure that the police don’t bother me unduly I make sure they see me picking my nose absent-mindedly. So far they just wave me on.

[3] I also eat corn methodically, but not row by row. Instead I take a bite starting from the “top” end then I rotate the cob and bite on the next row until I clean up one round. Then I take a bite off to the right then rotate again. Usually each bite takes off four kernels by three rows, or about 12 kernels all in all.

[4] I also have a high physical pain tolerance. (Emotional pain? Uhmmm….) Whenever I get my teeth cleaned my dentist asks me almost every five minutes, “How’s this? Ok lang? Does it hurt?” and I always have to assure her no. As if she doesn’t believe me, and that I’m just putting up a brave front for her. Heller?! Hindi ka kaya cute male dentist, ano? Sayang ang effort kung pakitang tao lang, noh? Needles don’t bother me as much anymore after I realized that the anticipation is scarier than the injection. So I just look away just before they prick me. (That’s the only time I look away from a prick. Ehehehe.) And it’s always, “Huh? That’s it?” afterwards.

[5] I actually relish eating alone, especially in fastfood joints. It don’t mean I prefer eating alone all the time, but there are times when I fancy more going solo. All the choices are mine and mine alone. And you take that time to reconnect with yourself once again.

[6.a] Related to the previous number: I also take my solo lunches and dinners as my reading time. The more toxic the workload, the more I need my alone-time. And that’s when I catch up with what’s happening, thanks to Entertainment Weekly, Time or Newsweek. Or I finish off a chapter or two of whatever books I’m reading.

[6.b] I choose to read more than one book at a time. Not read them simultaneously, of course. I read a chapter or two of a book one day, then a chapter or two of another book the next day. I decided to do that to challenge my ageing memory. Reading that way forces me to try and remember what I read a night ago; memory stretching exercises, if you will. I don’t know if it’s working or not, though.

What was I just talking about?

* * * * *

Done! Plus one extra number pa, o sey? As usual I refuse to tag anyone. You’re all grown-ups; you choose whether you want to do this too or not.

Reminiscing

Oh my god.



Kilala ko ang mga salarin na gumawa nito, ahahaha!

Oh my goodness. I remember when Alice Dixon, “I can feel it” and her roll-left-shoulder-twice-then-head-twist-to-the-left-with-matching-big-smile! movement was all over the pop-o-sphere when that came out. (It also drove up the sales of Palmolive Soap, but why talk about that?) No self-respecting gay man at that time would want to be caught not knowing that shoulder-and-smile move.

We can laugh now at how cheesy the whole thing is, but at that time it was groundbreaking. And our client laughed all the way to the bank on that one.

McWord For The Week

Evulva: (a cross between “evolve” and “vulva”) (verb) The process of undergoing a sex change operation so that a man becomes a woman.

Tenses: evulvad / evulvaeing / will evulva

In use: Thanks to Dr. Smith’s skilled hands, Robert evulvad into Roberta.

I Need A Heroes!

Your Score: Isaac Mendez

You scored 33 Idealism, 50 Nonconformity, 62 Nerdiness

I need painting supplies.
Congratulations, you're Isaac Mendez! You're a talented, creative, artistic soul with a few demons you've been working to overcome. You are really passionate person and you are not afraid to express yourself or your emotions.

Your best quality: Creativity and artistic talent.
Your worst quality: A possibly addictive or indulgent personality

Link: The Heroes Personality Test written by freedomdegrees on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Innocence And Hope

“Alalahanin, gunitain…
Kahapon natin, sariwain.
Nang kay lumanay, agos ng buhay.
Alalahanin, gunitain.

Nang puso nati’y wala pang galos,
Pangarap nati’y wala pang gapos.
Alalahanin, gunitain…
Kahapon natin, sariwain.”

— “Alalahanin, Gunitain” from the musical Sinta

I grew up with the musical Sinta. In high school I joined the theater group that staged it every Valentine’s Day, and every year I got to watch it. Sinta was Onofre Pagsanghan and company’s transplantation of the Broadway musical The Fantasticks. Transplantation is more than just translation; Mr. Pagsi changed the American elements into Pinoy references that will immediately connect with Filipinos.

Sinta is a bittersweet ode to innocence lost; growing up involves both lessons and losses. It is also about the duality of the world, where there exists both night and day, love and hate, excitement and boredom—and how one actually becomes more meaningful because of the other.

It is a story of two childhood friends, Sinta and Narding. Their fathers, pretending to be fierce rivals, forbade them to see one another. Knowing the rebellious nature of kids, the fathers wanted the two to do the opposite and fall in love. So they did, and the first act ends on a happy note. But in the second act, Sinta and Narding find out that togetherness isn’t at all the stuff of romance novels. They get on each other’s nerves and long for freedom. Sinta goes off with another guy who eventually leaves her, while Narding experiences the harsh realities of life. Defeated, both return to each other a little older, a little sadder, and a little wiser. They also learn to forgive each other; in the Broadway version, the lyrics go, “Without the hurt, the heart is hollow.”

I even joined the cast for one performance. I played the mute “stage hand” (in the play he’s just billed as “Bakod”). It was a privilege and a thrill and a terrifying experience.

The line “without the hurt, the heart is hollow” has been echoing in my mind these past few days. I’ve heard that line so many times before, and yet it’s only now that I appreciate its implications.

When I was young and disappointed, it was so easy for me to take the cynic route. Been there, done that. Whatever. Life’s a bitch. Love hurts. There’s no such thing as a soul mate. At that time it was easy to think that way because I felt that I still had my whole life ahead of me. I was practically daring Fate to prove me wrong. Because if I were wrong, then life would be rosy, love would be sweet and I’d have a soul mate. And for the longest time I boxed myself into a peculiar comfort zone where fear of rejection defined the four corners.

But now that I’m older the words “finish line” gain new meaning and relevance. I had to question the comfort zone I’ve created for myself. Of course I still believe that life isn’t always rosy, love isn’t all sweetness and light, and there is no One True Soul Mate. But I also see more the value of hope. I can never go back to the innocence I’ve already lost. But I can hope that life can still be what we make it to be.

I really don’t know why I’m talking about this. I don’t even have the soundtrack to both musicals. I’m not even in love.

Must be the sight of all that Aji-No-Moto on the highway—the vetsin’s gone to my head.

(P.S. Thanks to Bong and Anonymous [XanderKhan, was that you?] for pointing out several corrections.)

Another Tak-Tak-Tak Attack

The first one was in NLEX. The one below is in Star Tollway. I don’t remember now if SLEX has one; is there?

Sweet Branding

Leigh just came back from Florida, USA (not Pampanga) after receiving the Clio for one of our print campaigns. But who cares about that, right?

What was interesting is her pasalubong for me: two boxes of candies, one natural cherry tarts and the other natural raspberry tarts. But who cares about that either.

What’s really interesting is the packaging.

Cool, huh?

At the back is the packaging rationale. “HOW TO USE YOUR BOX: It’s a harsh and judgmental world we live in. Every day, people are wrongly labeled before they even have a chance to explain themselves. To operate “I’M NOT STRAIGHT” candies, simply place your box in a highly visible area while sitting at a bar, restaurant, or social event to combat what others are probably thinking about you, without ever saying a thing.”

The candies are a product of Blue Q. On their website at www.IMNOTCANDY.com are other hilarious “I’m not” choices.
(P.S. – Hay naku, the first two pics are a reminder of why I never really liked cameras in phones in the first place.)

Why You Must Listen To The Dan & Rye Show Podcast

This is addressed to Filipinos of all persuasions—boy, girl, bakla, tomboy, asexual, bestial, whatever!

Of course I have to write again about their fantabulosaexpialidociousnessezzes podcast. You ought to be listening to them. Super entertaining ever ang tambalan nila. Iba talaga kung may chemistry ang mga nagpapalabas, and in fairnezz hindi lang chemistry meron silang dalawa, but psychology, physics, botany, PE, bio(t)logy at Home Economics! That rare chemistry will ensure that it will be a long, long time bago ka magsawa sa kanila.

The two aren’t ditsy airheads. May sense when they talk. They can tackle serious subjects like gay marriage and ask pertinent and insightful questions, but at the same time have a super-babaw at aliw na hudapakshet! portion. Kakalowkah! Talk about hanep sa range, ha. In fact, I see a future in traditional media for the two. Maybe start with radio and then, who knows? They may become the first Pinoy gay talk show hosts.

Lastly they gave a shout-out to me, so now I’m shouting back. ‘Wag kayong mag-alala, Dan & Rye. Sa susunod na podcast ng Troikang Migs, Gibbs & moi, I will give a genuine shout-out to you guys. Pramis. (Babaan ninyo ang volume pag makikinig.)

Sa ating mga kafatid sa pananampalataya, anufa ang wini-weyt-weyt ninyo diyan?! Click and listen na evur sa The Dan & Rye Show! Or else magiging straight kayo. Na pagong.

14 May 2007, 8:30 a.m.

There! My right exercised, my duty done.

My dad’s name is still on the Comelec list, though he’s been dead for three years already and my mom had notified them already. My mom’s name is also on the list even though last December she had her voting precinct transferred to Bohol so she can vote there.

(rolls eyes)

Tak-tak-tak Attack

You know you're traveling in a Philippine highway when you see the gigantic Aji-no-moto bottle amidst the greenery of the scenery. For me this ubiquitous sight reminds me of the days when prices were low, politicians were noble, and vetsin was a must in cooking.

Huwell, Huwell, Huwell!

Sigh, I need a haircut. Soon.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-change!

This week we moved from the 20th floor of our building to the 27th floor. Our department is growing, so we needed a bigger space. The whole week has been a hectic mix of adjusting and adapting on top of the usual workload. Still, I always welcome any kind of change. It’s shaking settledness off its fat ass, and forces one to look at things in a new and fresh way.

But it sure wrecks havoc on The McVie Show! So please bear with me; stay tuned for our regular programming once we’ve all settled in.

* * * * *
Our creative area.

My desk is the one in the inner edge; that’s my jacket on my chair.

Our new pantry, more fondly called “Cafeteria Aroma.”

Initial Podcast Is Up!

Ayan na! Naka-upload na ang podcast sa Manila Gay Guide. Go, go, go na to MGG!

Losses

When I was in third year high school, my 94-year old grandmother died of old age on Dec. 26. We all were expecting that; weeks earlier she was talking to people long dead. But a day after, my 4-year old brother unexpectedly died of some liver disease. He was already sick even before Christmas, and my mom had brought him to the hospital for a series of tests to figure out what was wrong with him. The doctor kindly deferred confining him until after Christmas. When we opened his toys that Dec. 25 morning, he was too weak to even smile. Two days later in the hospital his heart failed all of a sudden. And just like that he was gone, his toys unused.

When I was in first year-college, a taxi trying to beat a red light hit my best friend. His head smashed through the windshield; his legs were broken in several places. He died mercifully on the way to the hospital. The doctor said had he survived, he would have been a vegetable crippled for life, given the amount of damage on his brain and feet.

Because I encountered death at an early age I was forced to get a grip on major losses in my life. When my dad died three years ago it was painful. But in a way I was also happy that he was already at rest and in peace.

The more I encountered death up close the more I realize how death is really a part of life. And whether you believe in an afterlife or not, each and every death reminds me of two things.

First, what matters more is not the length of stay in this oh so short existence, but the quality of life. Now, we may have different ideas of what kind of living constitutes a “quality life.” But whatever kind of life we believe is worth living, let us live it as best we can. I personally am not the intense kind of guy, so there are days when I feel like I’m just coasting along on existence. But I’m fine with that. A life is made up mostly of the small, inconsequential stuff instead of the huge, life-changing events.

Second, a very important lesson one can learn is letting go. With detachment comes power and peace. I’m not talking about power as force; rather, it is more of empowering oneself. And there is peace in knowing your place in the larger scheme of things. Detachment doesn’t negate feeling sad that someone died. But it helps one move on and continue living.

At Eaglepoint

Last Friday we had a company workshop-slash-outing at Eaglepoint Resort in Anilao, Batangas. We arrived early in the morning but stayed the whole day indoors for the workshop. Bummer. But after the workshop it was fun, fun, fun all the way. Bright and early Saturday morning we left for Sepok Beach. Eaglepoint is situated by a cliff; the water around it is all rocks and coral and is more for diving. But there’s an island 20 minutes off the resort where there is a white sand beach inside a cove.

Here we are boarding the boat that will take us to the island of Dr. Moreau.

The boat was too big to land on Sepok Beach; instead it docked at the side of the island behind the beach. We had a short, less-than-two-minute walk...


...and then there it was.

The beach! Woo-hoo!

Finally, I guess they called it Eaglepoint because of the eagles found in cages throughout the resort.

And also in tacky motifs on their pillars and stairs.

Threesome

At last, we did it! Migs, Gibbs and I had a threesome last night. Oh boy, was it fun! Gibbs was very gentle, Migs was as usual very low-key and super-supportive, while I entertained myself with an ejaculation every so often.

What’s more folks, you can listen in on our threesome! Watch out for the upcoming MGG podcast featuring Gibbs and I as guests. It will be up in MGG site either tomorrow or Wednesday, so check it out. (As if MGG needed more viewers visiting his blog. Sniff!)

Oh, and I use the term “ejaculation” in the first paragraph in its literary meaning, which is “a sudden, usually loud or forceful exclamation.”

Sing A Long!

Song number 4046 goes, "If you wanna ride, don't ride the cock horse." But of course. You should ride the horse's cock.

Shameless Plugging!

It’s not every day that I plug someone else’s website in The McVie Show, but I have to introduce you guys to this wonderful duo.

Introducing The Dan and Rye Show!
Dan & Rye are two fabulous Filipino performers working in Hong Kong Disneyland. Yes, OFW po sila, pero bonggang OFW. Yung tipong hindi nagpapadala ng audio cassette sa pamilya para magkamustahan. Excuse me, naka-podcast po sila. Their podcast is really about anything and everything and even nothing, yet the chemistry of the two is what makes their podcast so entertaining. Just listening to them is hilarious, dedma na sa topic.

They are only on their seventh episode, and they’re obviously still finding their way as to what the show will be all about. But I’m fairly confident that their show will evolve. Hopefully it becomes a tighter, more focused show. The fact that they can sustain their chatter for minutes without a lull is a good sign that they can sustain their show on this kind of format for a long time.
For more Filipino fag fabulousness online, listen to The Dan & Rye Show. Support our sistahs!

Fawning Over The Faun

Pan’s Labyrinth (the Spanish title actually means “The Labyrinth of the Faun”) is actually not an easy movie to sit through. It’s rightfully called a fairy tale for grown-ups because even the happily-ever-after ending is soaked in melancholy, loss and—spoiler alert!—blood.

The setting is post civil war Spain in 1944, and a young girl and her mother arrive at a country house where she meets her new stepfather, a cruel fascist general who’s waging war on the rebels in the countryside. What follows next are two parallel stories, one in a war-torn world of barbaric generals and desperate rebels, and the other in a magical underworld filled with fantastic and fearsome creatures. In both worlds pain and sacrifice abound, as well as love and acts of kindness and beauty. The movie works on several levels, and the great thing about it is that both worlds are as compelling and as disturbing as the other.

While watching it I realized I was drifting in and out of the movie, that there were moments when I was aware that I was watching a movie. Usually for me it’s a disturbing sign, that the movie did not successfully grab my attention and hold it. But I realized I was unconsciously stepping back from it. I think I was afraid to get too sucked into it and be more disturbed and saddened. Partly it’s also because the shifts between worlds were, at times, not as fluid and effortless.

Still, minor quibbles to a major achievement by Mexican director Guillermo del Toro. Watch it now before it disappears from the movie houses.
“Sabi na, watch it nga eh!”