BEFORE THE 15th of next month, I need to have a submission-worthy story written down. I am not yet in panic mode as I do have a story written down that just need a major overhaul. I have unwrapped a Moleskin notebook just for this effort. All the characters, all the scenes are there, it is just the telling that needs some work. Maybe when I do panic, it will come. But anyway, yes, a new short story.
THERE IS nothing like bottle of Rioja and jamon Serrano to speaks very eloquently that life is worth living.
IF YOU know where to look, I just debuted my copywriting skillz in this side of the globe. Pun-loving hipster approved no less.
THIS MIGHT just be the summer that we go sequel-less. The appeal of blockbusters have started to fade since last year and we plan to avoid every single blockbuster film most especially sequel except for Mission Impossible. We plan to compensate by spending money on independent films and the dinner that comes after.
NOW ON to the communal table thingy. This thing is premised, of course, on maximizing profit. And I am all for profit. Except that Americans are the least sociable person on earth. Yep. Remember, being sociable is vastly different from being talkative. Now this is very disturbing indeed because eating in a high priced restaurant needs all the comforts that you can have. If you are paying for a 50$ bone marrow, you should at least be able to slurp the goodness out of that bone with total abandon. But try doing that with 19 other people looking at you. I witnessed this phenomenon on our last trip where the said lover of bone marrow have to surrender and have the thing wrapped (pray, what will you do with a coagulated marrow but throw it in the bin?). Thankfully, me and the missus have a strategy when faced with communal tables. First, if possible, we request to be seated at the bar. It is quick and yes, more private. Sure the bartender is there but there is nothing like offering him your food to make him go away. Two, if communal table is the only way to go, the best way to go about it is to be communal. Share the fucking food with everyone. Believe you me, this will put you in control of the situation. One, the unsociable will politely decline and leave you to yourself. Two, the really sociable will partake and you will be put at ease. And three, the really sociable will also offer you a portion of their food. And viola, communal table as it should be. And oh fuck yes, we did this at the Publican in Chicago with a lovely German couple (not married to each other, but the girl, it turned out, was married to a Pinoy. She is the boss of the other German and it was a business lunch).
TO THE two people in Manila reading this, I miss you.