bond VS vampyr

finally got to see *quantum of solace* despite the cold that nearly froze our asses off.

loved this film, the first bond film that was shot with an ARRI cam and a paring knife. finally, somebody had the sense to carve out everything that makes the character laughable. bond’s only gadget is a cellphone that makes international calls, how cool is that? even the villain has no obvious villainess in him, neither tears of blood nor golden anatomy. and the timeliness of it all: that the bad guy is hiding under the green umbrella. this alone is worth the admission, now being the time to expose all astro-turfing corporations pretending to be green this and green that. easily, next to *the living daylights* when it comes to tightness of story (or maybe it’s just because timothy dalton, being the ugliest of the bonds, was given one of the greatest spy stories ever told. smiert spionem!) 

after, we saw *twilight* and the crowd was lesser, way lesser than bond, despite the opening weekend. this, actually was a puzzle since i think everyone is into this. the cinema was about 1/8 full and this was a 5.30 pm screening. really scary. i regretted paying for this, we could have easily slipped inside the cinema without an effort. but. the film rolled in and i giggled like a girl when the vampire’s “intense look” got a close up. this is like jesus of nazareth funny, everytime the vampire would cast what, i think, the book would describe as controlling his desire for bella’s blood and the cam would just zoom into it. and then of course, that hair-blowing-in-the-wind shot when bella first enters the lab and despite the weather, there is an industrial fan blowing her hair for the heroine shot (someone needs to watch a bit of john woo, IMHO). gods! and symbolism of symbolisms, the vampire is sitting with a stuffed owl on a shelf behind him so that for about two fucking minutes, the wings are like his, something angelic and very, very gay (lit 101: take away the subtlety and there goes symbolism too). after that i slept and woke up to the prom scene and the slow dance. fabulous. i’ve never felt more relaxed before.

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picked up *chinese democracy* from best buy today. turns out that all we need, after 15 years, is a little patience.

signed (but not in blood)

christmas came early for me. the stella was as cold as the night outside the bar and the reading and the signing was worth the overexpensive beer and the tip that goes with every order.

caitlir r. kiernan, who read with sunglasses after dark inside the dim bar, was taller than most men in the room and her voice was more manly than the rest, at least those that spoke and those i’ve overheard. raspy and heavy and bassy – like the instrument she used to play. the stories read were marvelous, and more important, a light bulb went on in my head.

can’t wait for january, although i don’t know as of yet who will be reading.

i think three other guys, dressed in black of course, had their books signed before me and all have the first edition of silk like mine, brittle and yellowing and blemished at the edges. i wrote my name earlier in a post-it so that the spelling wouldn’t be fucked up with all the noise and the darkness of the bar. it was weird looking at my name again as *elvin* when i’m *jose* as far as delivery boys and postal workers are concerned.

now, back to the oven.

ice cold

joy printed what has been written so far and it looks big, seeing 12 points on paper or maybe it’s just all the time spent not looking at a piece of bond paper with something printed on it. of course, it also her way of getting a copy in her email so that should i decide to hit delete and empty the trash after burning the manuscript in the hour of great misery when i discover that this pile of crap is unreadable, she has a back up. risk managers, a careful lot.

no writing tomorrow but plenty of thinking on how to start chapter 5. beer at the KGB bar, the coolest joint evah downtown to finally meet my jd salinger. live in person. reading. i think i deserve it. but before that, a bit of reading, maybe a trip to the library. if only the cold would at least be kept at bay. the scarves and the gloves and the coat and all the layers of clothes is annoying the crap out of me. the only thing that’s cool with winter is the black color and the doc martens. but who am i to complain?

counting (week 2)

two more scenes in chapter four and then it would be onwards bravely to chapter five where things are going to get even fucked up than they already are. 

if only this frame isn’t too big it would have been perfect, but then again, american apparel, purveyor of american kadyologan wouldn’t be carrying this.

another surprise in the library. this, i have to read as this have a return date. 

counting down the days, counting up the words (week 1)

in 30 days i’ll be in manila drinking san miguel beer.

but that’s not easy as it sounds as things must be written and the self-appointed deadline is the day we leave for the airport.

i call the project “waifs”, which could very well be the title of the novel (a chick lit, i shit you not, only a perverted one) come december 8.

i’m starting a word count sort of thing to remind myself that i need to write more and not lose the momentum. it is like nanowrimo except that i receive no peptalks and don’t have any writing buddies or whatever. a purely masochistic affair, this.

the word count is a bit on the slow side and it’s nice to have icel and kathy and issa to blame but in the coming days, my failure would utterly and unmistakably be my own fault, which make the drinking of the beer all the more meaningful (right now, joy is rationing me with 2 bottles of wine and a 6-pack of stella a week). as i always say, i’m already a misanthrope with a temper, might as well try my failure in writing.

onwards bravely to chapter three.

“i tried to do headstands for you”

halloweather

when guests leave, the cleaning of the apartment is the hardest part and that’s not because of the effort involved, vacuuming is simplicity itself as is the folding up of the sofabed, it is the emptiness when the wife leaves for work and all i have is the internet, the dishes waiting to be cooked for lunch, and the blank page that must be faced, always the blank page.

i just wish people would stay longer. this new york thing is a blessing that needs to be shared as this may not last forever. not to mention i get to have a break from writing. and i get to speak pilipino out of the house. and do the “pssssts” and the “hoys”.