Flashed Before My Eyes

While riding a tricycle across the old town commercial center last week, I saw that a bunch of the old landmarks had been replaced with classy dining places, and more businesses had sprouted on longtime vacant lots. There were a few establishments, however, that remain open after over 20 years. Passing by that area, I’m reminded of the old places--betamax rental shops and comics shops—that I frequented there as a boy. It was a quiet, safe commercial center that I went to alone when I was growing up.

It looks so alien now, more modern and sophisticated-looking, yes, but being in the area still evokes nostalgia. I’ve been looking back to the past these last few months, like I’m at a crossroads, and everything reminds me of things I’ve done, and hoped for, when I was younger. I keep looking at turning points, and I think I'm learning to appreciate the good things more.

It’s been over five years since I touched my old notes, conceptual sketches and rough drafts of comics stories. The detailed, handwritten stuff are arranged in a way that only I can understand, as tweaks and later ideas were listed as they materialized in my head, accompanied by questions that, likewise, would only be understood by myself when read. I sifted through them again, just so I could get a feel of ideas that I’d forgotten about. What I found, surprisingly, were some things that made me excited again.

Going through that stack of papers, I realized how much time I had back then to actually sit down, research, and compile facts that were relevant to what I wanted to do. And what I wanted to do, and still want to someday, is something big, ornate, sweeping, and maybe something that’ll get other people excited too.

As I was re-reading them, I came across a page that didn’t have anything to do with the concepts. It was only a few lines, a very journal entry-like piece that, without getting really specific here, expressed how bad I was feeling during the time. And it was stunning, the way it was so honest and sad, and I’m flooded with memories of that specific period in my life.

That was a dark, bad time. I think, to distract myself, I had to keep writing and drawing things that would appeal to me. I had to create separate fragments of a bigger picture, and I kept hoping that one day, I’d be able to tell stories through a synthesis of my own thoughts, words and pictures. Not to prove to anyone that I could. Well, at least not anymore, now. It’s more of sharing what’s in your head and hoping in the process that people would connect with your questions and understand what you wanted to say.

It’s really nice to see that people have pursued telling their own stories, and they’ve improved tremendously through the years. Comics-creating friends like Arnold Arre, Budjette Tan, Carl Vergara, David Hontiveros and Gerry Alanguilan, as well as newer colleagues, have conjured up and shared worlds and continue to tell different stories through the medium. I’m glad that a lot of them are inspiring others to do their own thing.

After Lexy, Nance & Argus, which, thankfully, continues to appear in people’s “favorites” profiles, I’ve been repeatedly asked what the next comic book project will be. To be honest, that’ll depend on my work and financial situation. But I want to work on my old action-packed ones now. Really, I do.

With Every Beat of My Heartsong

To Mumble be the Gloria. Brittany Murphy and Elijah Wood as penguins in 'Happy Feet'

After her two postponed phoners early this month, I was finally able to interview actress-singer-producer Brittany Murphy last Wednesday. The article came out yesterday in the paper, so again, thanks to editors Pam and Tim for that.

Interesting coincidence, over the course of the interview, there were three different Millers mentioned: George the director, Frank the graphic novelist, and Arthur the playwright. Hmm, nice coinkydink. Anyway, Ms. Murphy, she sounded sweet and was very accommodating during the phoner. She talked a bout a few things, including her work in The Ramen Girl, Sin City and her latest movie, Happy Feet (where she plays the popular penguin Gloria). As we were wrapping up, she told me that I was “such a sweetheart.” Well, it was a pleasant experience, and I liked that she responded to my questions generously.

When Heroes Go Down

A few spoileriffic Civil War # 5 questions: So, Spidey’s tough new armor is now fabric-like and tears like regular clothing? Also, why did the Daredevil versus She-Hulk and Mr. Fantastic battle happen off-panel? How did Reed react to Sue’s letter, because the moment that he read it wasn’t shown? When did Tigra “defect” to the other side? Wait, a lot of important things have happened off-panel so far, and that’s been a recurring serious complaint with this main Civil War title. Back to the questions: Will Punisher kill off anyone other than nobody villains? Did we really need to see a double-pager of the simple-looking Negative Zone jail again? And where does Tigra hide her Stark cellphone? Hrmm…

Lots of questions, but this issue was just okay. Good to see the Secret Avengers roster expand to include the BAD Girls, some Nextwave members and maybe, just maybe, the Punisher. Other comics I recently got… Astonishing X-Men # 18 finally explained Emma’s recent Hellfire Club involvement. Liked that one better. Good dialogue, as always. New Avengers # 25… um, not bad for a single-issue story, but, really now, who the hell is Kenny???

Tenderness

Oh, kewl, there’s a new wave show over at K-Lite as I type this. Just turned on the radio and was searching for a little… tenderness. Ahem. Nice selection of songs, so far. I miss the old BMFM station, which played new wave music all day long. Damn, that was long ago.

Audio Dynamight

I still am not an iPod person, maybe because I’d rather hear music through big speakers than earphones. But, well, I’d still probably get one someday. Okay, stuck-in-an-island music once again. I did a post like this some time last year, and I’d like to add these among my favorites. Of course, I count my friend Gumby’s awesome made-for-me mix CDs among those I’d bring on a vacation or wherever, but these are the albums and compilations that I like aside from them. Some good listening experiences and timeless recordings:

Dido: Life for Rent- I prefer this over her debut album, although this doesn’t have her excellent “Thank You.” Dido Armstrong’s songs in this album are more melodic and lyrically richer, even when they’re all about blossoming and failing relationships.

Sarah McLachlan: Mirrorball- Hearing Sarah perform live is always a treat, and songs that otherwise sounded ordinary (well, for the great singer) in her studio albums became lively and unforgettable renditions here.

Underworld: A Hundred Days Off- Good to listen to when you’re lazing around, but just as permeating when you’re doing something else. I especially liked this pulsating dance album three years ago, when I was undergoing a phase.

Indigo Girls: Rites of Passage- This is their album I listened to first, and I was instantly hooked. “Galileo,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “Love Will Come to You” and the rest of the songs became part of my massive college life soundtrack.

The Sundays: Static and Silence- This album gave words to feelings and thoughts I was experiencing back in 1998. Soothing collection of jangling, melodic songs.

Dar Williams: The End of the Summer- Folk-pop storyteller Williams kicks serious butt. I like that her songs are analytical, and sometimes self-deprecating.

Lemonheads: Come On Feel the Lemonheads- Oh, this brings back memories. One of the ‘90s better-sounding bands, and their mostly playful songs connected with me back then, and still do.

Belinda Carlisle- Runaway Horses- Loved this back in high school, but I appreciate it more now, because I understand what she’s singing about in many of the songs. I heart "Valentine."

Imago: Probably Not But Most Definitely- Still the local band’s best album. This debut showcases Aia De Leon and the gang’s most entrancing, most literate compositions.

The Best of Suzanne Vega: Tried and True- It’s Suzanne Vega’s best. That’s reason enough.

Garbage: Version 2.0- Unearthly, pounding meshing of rock sensibilities with electronica artistry. It’s a distinctly energetic, soundtrack-y album by Shirley Manson and company.

Dashboard Confessional: Dusk and Summer- A recent favorite. It’s a very polished, anthemic album about sentimental summer lovin’, and stuff like that.

John Mayer: Room for Squares- Five years ago, this guy debuted, and you just know he’d go far. The troubadour and this intimate, reflective endeavor easily became my faves.

Moby Dictum

My thanks to Tricia of EMI for giving me CDs last week. Go-the very best of Moby is, of course, very listenable. The 15-track CD doesn’t include the techno artist’s “South Side,” though, but it’s still a good compilation of some of his major and minor hits (and probably some choice cuts from older albums). The new song, if I’m not mistaken, is "New York, New York,” which features Debbie Harry on vocals. I saw the video of that recently, and it actually looked like a Spike Jonze-directed Fatboy Slim one, in that it had four goofily dressed people dancing to the song outdoors. Hunh. But as far as the compilation is concerned, not bad, for someone who never expected that he’d be a successful, full-time musician one day. No, not bad at all.

KaBoratan

Puro kagaguhan ang Borat, pero kakabagan ka sa kaka-halakhak. Si Sacha Baron Cohen ang gumanap na reporter mula sa bansang Kazakhstan, si Borat Sagdiyev, na pumunta sa America para gumawa ng documentary tungkol sa kultura. Panay kabastusan at kalokohan, pero mapapaisip ka rin ng malalim dahil ini-examine nito kung ano ang mga attitudes na acceptable at hindi sa magkaibang kultura. Grabe, kakaiba itong pelikulang ito.

Nakakatawa rin ang guesting niya kanina sa Leno (in-character pa rin siya), nag-extend yung segment niya hanggang kay Martha Stewart, at nasapawan pa niya ito.

Panoorin ninyo ang movie sa Nov. 22!

Sprawling Synaptic Squigglings

The mind realigns itself for the waking world.

I feel fine, generally, but now I’m hungry for something salty and heavy, maybe something with cheese and bread, and I’m reminded of how it was back in the nineties, when value meals became depressing, when money was a holy grail, not that it isn’t now, but anyway, I was mistaken for a whore a few times, not that there’s anything wrong with that, because I probably looked like a directionless mallrat, even though I always went to the bookstore and read away like it was my personal library, singling out books that I wanted to buy, but always waiting for a sale so that I could buy them, and I would read them later while eating a fleeting, sickening burger combo, but you were there with me, your thoughts were leaping off the page and encouraged the voices in my head, voices that needed to say their piece before they held their peace, and I felt hungry again, and I wondered if there was something to eat at home, because I can only do the things I can, and I respect the whores because they don’t seem to whine, and they have the guts to stomach whatever it was they needed to do to eat.

The body knows.

Trying to make sense of the world was never easy, I discovered long ago, and I count myself lucky because others have it worse, although that doesn’t make my complaints less valid, and I do feel sometimes that I’ve been here before, that I, like everyone else, didn’t exactly ask to be born, that’s why I wonder about birthdays, but since I’m here, I’ve nothing but gratitude for those who make my stay memorable, who make me glad I’m alive, but clichés aside, I sometimes stand back and look at what’s happening, and yes, I do feel blessed, like I found my place and purpose for now, but I still keep wishing that people talked about things more, that parents listened to their children more, that children were more aware of their parents’ imperfections, that people didn’t judge others while brandishing their gods, that things were easier, because the world is harsh from time to time, that healthy food didn’t look and taste like crap.

Ooh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.

The whirling becomes addictive, and we take time to know each other again, and again, and again, techno playing, pulsating, pounding in my head, hands and flesh moving on instinct, and I wonder if married people ever fantasize about things that they can’t have anymore, or are having behind their spouses’ backs, the hot non-committal bed-buddy activities that you think about every few minutes, and you daydream about doing it with everyone you like, the heaving, licking, clasping and whatever else, and I wonder if other people think this way, and I wonder how you look underneath your clothes, even when I’ve seen it before in my dreams, and you’re so hot, and I’m so stoked, and you’re doing it like a star, like it was your calling, because boys do fall in love, love moves in strange ways, it was a rainy night, I’ve been waiting hours for this, and you just live for that connection, that release, that magic moment, that rapid beating of the heart, that heavy breathing, the well-timed bursting and moaning to the heavens before our happily locked bodies go limp.

Penultimatrix

Frack, it’s November. That’s about nine weeks left for the year. I need to rush things that had to be completed a long time ago. I must, for the nth time, reorganize and begin doing things that I kept postponing these past few months. I also need to cut down on toys and fast food meals for the nonce—waaahh!—because I really need to, now. I wish money grew on trees.

Adarna has announced that they’ll be publishing new graphic novels again under their Anino imprint, and that they’ll be looking over submissions and proposals. Three friends, really intelligent writers I respect—Oscar, Adam and Benedict—are hoping that I can draw their stories for them. Told them I can’t promise anything yet; I’m really deep in stuff right now. Also, I was thinking that I should also finish the story I began illustrating months ago. I dunno. Maybe. We’ll see. Thank you, guys.

And the Doctor is Out

Doogie’s style (pic from yahooTV)

Theater and television actor Neil Patrick Harris, who portrayed prodigious doctor Doogie Howser in the early ‘90s series of the same name, recently told People Magazine, “I am happy to dispel any rumors or misconceptions and am quite proud to say that I am a very content gay man living my life to the fullest and feel most fortunate to be working with wonderful people in the business that I love.”

Hmm, you know, this gives new meaning to an episode where his character postponed sleeping with the girlfriend character (Wanda?), for the first time. Heehee. That’s the episode I can remember most from that show. They did do it eventually in a later episode, I think, but by then, the sparks, and my interest in their pairing, had waned. It was timely, though, because back then, very few shows were on that tackled the problems and situations of teenagers (he was pretty normal, angst- and lovelife-wise, beneath his medical genius). It’s not that 90210 wasn’t trying, but that show felt alien and unreal to me.

This was pre-cable and pre-‘net, too, so you can imagine that TV viewing back then was, come to think of it, strange and very limited. Doogie was kinda ahead of his time, too, in that he kept a journal in his computer. He’s a pre-blogger blogger, if you will; his thoughts and lessons learned were quietly shared to the literate viewer at the end of every episode.

Well, I’m glad that Mr. Harris is brave and honest about it. Not that celebrities have an obligation to disclose their sexual orientation or preference--forced outings are just not right--but this voluntary revelation sends a message to young and confused gay people, heck, even older ones and those who identify as straight persons that, yes, it’s all right to be different.

This Is It Boys, This Is War

Weeks ago, I bought a copy of the Secret Wars trade paperback, a compilation of one of Marvel’s early crossover events. Back in 1984, I was only able to read a classmate’s random copies, which included the last few issues of the 12-parter. I always wondered how Spidey got his black costume, who Zsaji the alien healer was, and how the big hero-villain battles went. I got the first issue in 1987 for P 25 (at the school's bookstore!), but I think I swapped it for a couple of X-Men issues that a neighbor had.

Reading it now as a whole, well, it was underwhelming. The narrative feels dated; there were repetitive recaps sneaked into dialogue every issue, and the art was uneven. It’s hard to figure out what was happening when the artists, the regular and fill-in pencilers, would compress really tiny figures--indistinct scrawls!--into small panels. That was too bad, because I liked the covers. They were detailed and were, by far, better-looking than the interiors.

As far as the story goes, it was a drawn-out event that had only a few real and memorable slugfests. And come on! It was really unbelievable when Spider-Man and the Wasp each took the X-men by surprise and beat them in quick battles. Also, I don’t get Magneto’s weird abduction of the Wasp and their subsequent makeout session.

But I liked how ex-villain Molecule Man was re-established as someone who was a nice enough guy, and had powers that dwarfed the Marvel Universe’s mightiest cosmic-level characters. The X-Men-Avengers rift was also interesting to see, as well as Dr. Doom’s driven series of attacks against Galactus and the Beyonder.

Its sequel, Secret Wars II, for all its infinite tie-ins and messy art, had more substance and direction. I re-read that again a few months ago, and while the big conflicts in that second series were lacking in oomph, it was philosophical and probing from time to time. I couldn’t really get into it when I was a kid, though, which is understandable. They were two entirely different things altogether. I wonder, though, if kid readers today will find Secret Wars entertaining. Hmm.

In Love With Your Ghost

Archangel Lexy, Queen Nance, and The Great Argus

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

‘Tis the season for spooks, scares and, of course, dressing up and role-playing, once again. I drew the picture above two nights ago. Actually, I wanted Argus to dress up as a billboard. I sketched it; it could’ve worked, but it felt right and much easier to draw him as a trendy prestidigitator, instead. That's a magician, but you already knew that. Drawing these old “friends” again felt nice.

I like the candy-and-costumes season, even when I’m not into attending masquerade parties or creating costumes. The idea of designing (and maybe constructing) masks and accessories is interesting, though. I think I can do that, and maybe I will, if time and money allow it some day. Back in high school, I had to create papier mache masks for the entire class. Those were for our Speech and Drama subject. In that special group project, we had to, you know, perform an excerpt of a literary piece on stage. The masks looked crude and hideous; they were supposedly tribal, but I felt good doing them. I hand-painted each, and… waitasec, I did that all by myself, if I remember correctly. My classmates didn’t help me. Crap. Maybe I wanted the work all for myself, but I dunno now for sure. We had fun while performing during the play, anyway. At least, I think so.

Well, back to Halloween. I’ve always loved the short vacation season. I’m not an active participant of the revelries; I’m just fascinated with the whole thing: trick or treaters, the scary stories, the festive atmosphere, the crazy costumes. Over the years, the different holiday customs have meshed and mutated, and it’s quite a spectacle that people are celebrating it, and quite creatively.

Anyway, be safe, everyone, and have fun! By the way, to those who texted, messaged and called about you-know-what, thank you so much. :)

What’s In Your Head?

Yup, some of the scariest things on earth are people. Take Rep. Bienvenido Abante, congressman of the 6^th District of Manila, for instance. This ultra-conservative pastor turned politician is one of the most homophobic people I’ve had the displeasure of seeing and hearing on TV. He’s likened homosexuality to pedophilia on different occasions. He overzealously cites damning verses from Leviticus (the one that says, to paraphrase, no man shall shtup his fellow man, yadda yadda, or something), and deliberately ignores verses in the same book that are sexist, cruel, and similarly discriminatory. And guess what? He’s the Chairperson of the House Committee on Human Rights, for crying out loud.

He believes that gay people are, get this, “morally reprehensible.” Abante, contrary to his duties as committee chairperson, is also bent on blocking the Anti-Discrimination Bill, which was designed to protect the GLBT community. Well, the guy’s got issues, like a certain aging bigot newspaper columnist. How sad. Not to mention, idiotic and horrifying.

Please read Fullman’s post about the issue, and Lagablab’s report. They have the congressman’s contact numbers and email address; please protest his lack of sensitivity, among other things. Also, Speaker Jose De Venecia’s contact information is in those posts as well. Please find time to call or write, even just a short note, and express your dismay over Abante's self-righteousness and hatemongering. It’s just wrong on so many levels.

Candy, Candy, Candy, I Can’t Let You Go

“Missing You Like Candy” (Mixed Media, March 2006)

Got to Bogey

Here are a few of my favorite TV, comics and film bogeymen, monsters and villains. They’re some of the fantastic, shocking menaces that I genuinely dreaded these past couple of years.

Cassandra Nova- She’s relentless, insane and genocidal. She killed millions of mutants residing in the island nation of Genosha using some old, unused Sentinels. She's Professor X's evil twin.

Kang- I hate his extra-muddled time-traveling history, but his villainy was defined when he mercilessly destroyed Washington, DC. The attack killed thousands and forced the Avengers, and the rest of the world, to surrender. He actually ruled Earth 616 for a few weeks, if I remember correctly.

Angelus- Perhaps Buffy Summers’ greatest enemy is her murderous ex-lover, a centuries-old vampire who caused much damage when he lost his heroic soul. Season 2, where he cuts loose, is the best, in my opinion.

Nina- Jack Bauer’s ruthless arch-enemy was one of 24’s most unpredictable, most evil characters.

Gamemnae- The JLA villainess, a sorceress from the past, hatched a plan that killed the Big Seven heavy-hitters.

Palpatine- He’s patient, duplicitous, and he knew just how to manipulate the love-struck and whiny Chosen One. Plus, he can give Yoda a proper beatdown.

Ozymandias- His schemes were broad, diabolical, and almost perfect. Loved it when he was explaining them to the Watchmen.

TAO- WildCATs combat strategist TAO is another of Alan Moore’s smart, calculating and forearmed bad guys. Loved that issue when he was being chased by the team, and he was outsmarting them all.

Bullseye- He killed two of Daredevil's ex-girlfriends. Really horrible guy.

Bob- Twin Peaks’ mysterious entity looked creepy, and was involved with a number of heinous crimes, including the murder of Laura Palmer.

Ultima- She’s a super-powerful junkie. And she’s openly racist, too. Good thing the Top Ten cops exposed and beat her. Too bad for one of them, though.

Ghostface- Probably the only slasher flick villain I consider intriguing. Secret motives and shared histories with the Scream series’ protagonist have always been tricky puzzles to solve.

The Marauders- Mr. Sinister’s superpowered assassins were unrepentantly evil. They took pleasure in killing, as shown in the X-Men’s Morlock Massacre event.

Dire Wraiths- The female Wraiths were violent. They spooked me as a child, but I couldn’t look away whenever they attacked. Loved those dark and moody issues of Rom.

Drusilla- Crazy psychic vampire lady. You just don’t know what she’ll do next. One of Buffy and Angel’s toughest, most entertaining foes.

T-1000- Unstoppable robot. Almost. Cutting-edge effects helped a lot.

Magneto- Ironically, the Holocaust survivor became a mutant extremist that wants regular humans enslaved. He was a mass-murderer, too, if you count the Xorn-Magneto issues of New X-Men.

The Governor- This guy is a damn creep. Just read recent issues of Walking Dead. He makes me sick.

Joker- He’s interesting, but only when he’s written right. He’s humiliated a lot of Gotham City’s protectors, and he’s still around.

Sweet Madness

They are family (pic from wikipedia)

I'm finally finished with the last season of Queer As Folk. I miss the series already; very few shows have had such an impact on me. It was a treat to see these disparate gay people grow and change through several seasons. It’s always been a smart, uncompromising and honest examination of gender identity and gay relationship topics, even when certain storylines’ conflicts were easy to predict and figure out sometimes. But it consistently showed that gay people can be as flawed and as human as straights. If you haven’t seen it, and plan on watching it one of these days, I’m gonna be talking about spoilerish stuff, so kindly skip the next two paragraphs.

The series finale (episode 13) was quite toned down compared to the episodes that preceded it, but it’s still meaningful. Episode 10 of season 5 was a big surprise; that was when I realized, even after considering each of them interesting in different ways before, that the characters meant a lot to me. When the unexpected happened at Babylon, I stopped, put down my food (I was eating leftover cake at that point), and got teary eyed. That was the impetus for every plot point in the final three episodes. Each of them had a different reaction to the tragedy, and it became the wakeup call for newer characters like Hunter and Drew, as well as older ones like good ol’ Brian Kinney. Also, I can sympathize with “Zen” Ben’s reaction during the vigil. It was great to see most of them recover from such a despicable attack, eventually. Good thing that Cyndi Lauper survived the ordeal, too. Whew.

These characters were like friends and family, and it was hard to see them suffer. But it’s reassuring that, in the course of the series, those who’ve made grave mistakes were able to turn their lives around. It was rewarding to see those that desired to start their own family were able to finally get that by the last season. It was defiant too, that another family had to leave their country to start afresh in a gay-friendlier one. I felt happy for a character when he finally ended up with someone that loves him unconditionally. It was tough seeing others move on, but it was also true to their natures that they do so. Justin, Mikey, Brian, Em, Ted, Hunter, Deb, Ben, Linz, Mel, Vic, Carl, Drew, Blake… they’re great people. Each has heroically sacrificed much at one point or another, and I’ve learned much from their exploits, victories and tribulations.

Glorious Sadness

Gale Harold as promiscuous, hesitantly heroic Brian Kinney

He’s sarcastic and seemingly heartless, but he’s actually the most truthful and secretly the noblest among the Liberty Avenue gay boys. There are times while watching QAF’s later seasons that I just had to write down some of Peter Pan-ish Brian Kinney’s best lines:

1. We fuck who we want to, when we want to. That is our God-given right.

2. Fags are no different than people. You tell them you can’t have something and it’s all they want. And they won’t give up until they get it.

3. They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but in this particular instance, it’s a dish best served hot, hard, and as many times as possible!

4. Fags and dykes can fuck up their lives just like the rest of the world.

5. Nothing will kill a marriage faster than monogamy.

6. Whoever told you that was dead wrong. I’m the most successful gay businessman.

7. The way gay men are obsessed with youth and beauty! An entire subculture convinced that the meaning of happiness is no love handles. How pathetic. How tragic. How profitable.

8. He’s a big boy. He should be allowed to make his own mistakes.

9. Despite these conservative times, it’s still all about sex. And it always will be.

10. I’m queer! And to anyone who takes pity or offense… I say, judge yourself.

Drum Beats Out of Time

Ow, my body hurts. But it hurts so good. Benedict gave me his Fitness First gym guest pass, which he won in the Amazing Race-Mall of Asia series of contests last month, and I was finally able to use it yesterday afternoon. As I haven’t really gotten any gym membership, and relied solely on my exercise regimen these past few years, it felt really great to use some fancy schmancy equipment that I’ve only seen in brochure photos or in infomercials. It’s a far cry from the old and semi-rusty dumbbells, and that el cheapo arm exerciser pulley thing that no one else was using at the house.

I spent some time lifting weights. For fear of overly straining myself, I kept to lifting the lighter ones. It was okay, because I did several repetitions anyway. It wasn’t long before my arms and shoulders felt leaden. I was able to use the pull-up chord thingie with the rectangular weights. Heh, I dunno what they’re called but I tried equipment that looked and felt safe enough. Spent an hour and several minutes at the treadmill too; the hi-tech readings on it say I burnt a few hundred calories, or at least that’s what I think it’s saying, and that I walked about a few kilometers during that span.

They had twelve TV screens at the treadmill area that were showing six cable channels (HBO, Animal Planet, AXN, etc.), whose sound was muted by the loud, thumping dance-pop music. Benedict later told me that you can actually ask for headphones for that. Huh. Cool.

Went back to the other area to lift some more, after that. There was a barbell that had a cool-looking handle bar (or whatever you call it). I’m only acquainted with the straight, cylindrical bar, but there were those that looked like Jack Kirby-designed zigzag ones. I think the design was meant for a better grip, and it was kinda strange at first but I took to it in no time at all.

The place had a clean locker area, decent enough shower cubicles (which had gel soap and shampoo dispensers) and other amenities. Maybe I’ll join up one day. It certainly is tempting. I just don’t know when I can fit that into my not-so-stable schedule. And I need to save up for it, if ever. But while the workout yesterday was good, it did build up my appetite soon after. I guess that’s to be expected. Acchh, my arms and thighs hurt.

Batman and Jackman

Bahala na si Batman… at Wolverine (pic from yahoomovies)

You know, talking with celebrities is pretty cool, but it’s always been a job for me. I don’t really get excited or nervous about doing it, as I’ve mentioned here before. I just need to squeeze out stuff from them and I’ll be on my merry way. Soon after, I think about sentence and paragraph structures that should fit the subject, and how the piece will be readable, coherent and interesting enough. But there are a few people that, I have to admit, I’m intrigued by, and I do feel a little excited and/or nervous prior to doing certain interviews with them sometimes.

It’s actually great to be able to talk to showbiz people I admire, who have, somehow, however briefly or minutely, affected me positively through their performances on-screen. Thanks to Warner Bros., especially Jay and Sionee, for arranging a special pair of surprise interviews in the last few days. I didn’t expect them last week, but I was able to speak recently with Wolverine and Batman in two separate phoners.

Well, make that Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale. I interviewed Mr. Jackman last Sunday morning, and Mr. Bale early Tuesday. The exclusive phoners were short (but fun to do!), so I actually had to ask the most important questions, or at least, those that mattered most to me. It felt like I had less than ten minutes each time, but I was able to get generous enough responses from them. Actually, they’re together in a movie called The Prestige, where they play two rival magicians. Saw that awesome Christopher Nolan-directed film last Saturday at MyCinema, thanks again to the Warner people. I think I’ll watch another preview screening again.

So there I was, waiting for the phone calls, dressed in swaddling, hungry artist’s clothes, my head slumped on my scrawly notebook both times. The nice lady from Warner’s Burbank office rang me up a few times to see if I was up and, soon enough, helped connect the calls. They were quick but painless. Taking down quotes has gotten easier, but I sometimes wish that my brain didn’t dump the shorthand writing lessons that we were taught back in second year high school. There was even a point when my hand felt numb and stiff after writing so fast. But doing it is still fun (yeah, there’s that word again). I just talked to two guys who helped bring two of my childhood comics heroes to life. Giddy, giddy.

Pool’s Gold

Just finished the nice Joe Kelly-penned Deadpool run from the late ‘90s that I borrowed. That’s about 37 issues (including special one-shots). When the character first appeared in Rob Liefeld-Fabian Nicieza’s X-Force run, I thought he was one of the most uninteresting, disposable ones that I’ve ever seen (and I’ve seen plenty of ‘em). Now that I think about it, he was like a Bizarro Spider-Man to me back then, in that he was very yappy and the red tights looked like a parody of the hero’s costume design. The “merc with a mouth” looked pretty generic, especially back then, when heavy guns, belt pouches, and kickass attitudes were all the rage.

Kelly’s nearly three-year run redefined him, and actually made him a funny anti-hero. This panel is from issue # 11, where Deadpool and his old housekeeper-hostage Blind Al accidentally went to the past, and disguised themselves as Peter Parker and Aunt May, respectively. Check the panel out. Pete Woods redrew some figures in John Romita Sr.’s style, as the issue largely parodied existing material from Amazing Spider-Man # 47. Exceptionally hilarious issue, that.

Kelly has impressively done monthly runs on Action Comics, Superboy, JLA, and Justice League Elite. I’ve read a few issues of Cable and Deadpool (the Civil War tie-ins), and his (Deadpool/ Wade Wilson's) monologues have grown on me, because Nicieza has improved, too. ‘Pool continues to be a rare, funny character, joking around and speaking his thoughts while bashing some heads in.

I think I’ll be looking for a loose old Marvel Legends figure of him now.

Razor Wire Shrine

While typing this entry, John texted to tell me to watch Tyra Banks’ talk show over at ETC, as the episode was about hate crimes. Tyra was talking to a guy whom I thought was drag queen RuPaul at first, but I found out soon enough that it was Kevin Aviance, the trannie who got beaten up by four men a few months back. After his interview segment, three openly homophobic women—an aging lawyer and her two young adult daughters—talked about their happiness (!) over the 9/11 attacks, the devastating tsunami and hurricane Katrina calamities, and why their family proudly carries “God Hates Fags” placards. One of the young women called the puzzled Tyra a “fag-enabler,” because the model-host openly sides with gay people and “the agenda.”

And the mother kind of wondered aloud why they have no friends. Jeez. It was frightening to actually see and hear people who are proud of their gay-hating ways.

“Language incites violence,” Tyra told the lady, who was adamant in the belief that God hates homosexuals and those who side with them, and is punishing them for their “evil.” There was an ex-racist guest after them, who very briefly talked about his discriminatory “hunts” when he was young, but his epiphany wasn’t elaborated on (unless they talked to him earlier, but it sounded like it was the first time he was introduced). He did say that the previously interviewed mother and her daughters aren’t evil people, per se; but what they’re preaching is, indeed, evil.

The Blue Sky to the Deepest Ocean

I haven’t been busy with real estate and pesticide-related work these past few weeks. Took a break from that for a while, but I’ve been preoccupied with other things. I was only able to catch up on sleep early today.

The past week or so, I was able to watch Talladega Nights, The Banquet, Barnyard, and World Trade Center. I’m now watching the third season of Queer As Folk (good god, I felt sorry for Brian in the first few eps, but that didn’t last because he later proves that he’s still a creep). I also saw the first episode of the new drama Heroes, about seemingly random humans who discover that they have super-powers. That looks really interesting. Was able to catch part of Harold and Kumar on cable (I really enjoyed the part where they stole some skater-boy bullies’ car, played a mix tape that, whoa!, contained a dance remake of “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” Amy Grant’s “Baby Baby” and Wilson Phillips’ “Hold On.” Hehehe…).

Finally read the Secret Wars compilation, the ‘80s Marvel series, and was disappointed by several things (maybe I’ll talk about it later). Wrote stuff. Drew something (more on that below). Thought about the future. Ate like mad. Had orgasms. Typical busy week, yeah.

Hell Hath No Fury Like Alexandra Trese Thorned

Pencil and ink drawing. Budjette Tan asked me and a few others to do pinups of his magic crime-solving character, protagonist of his ongoing horror-adventure comic book Trese. Drew this early this week. She’s a promising character in a promising series, and I hope Budj and Ka-jo keep making it for a long time.

By the way, thanks for resizing this, Benedickie!

Visions Dancing

I’m fascinated by a number of visual artists, mostly by a couple of fantasy-inclined ones. This isn’t a complete list of my favorites at all, as I can’t name every talented illustrator that influenced or entertained me at one point or another. But here are a few awe-inspiring ones off the bat. Will name more in future blog posts. For now, in no particular order:

Bernie Wrightson- His popular Frankenstein book from three decades back remains a striking and indelible collection of finely illustrated fantastical pieces. I was in college when I first saw that, and after graduating, it was one of the books that I just had to own. His consistently strong linework and use of sharp light-and-shadow contrasts make the black and white drawings some of the more memorable images that I’ve ever seen.

Travis Charest- After ditching a Jim Lee-Art Adams hybrid look, Charest adapted a penciling style that’s fresher, that explored his own aesthetic capabilities. He’s not necessarily a great storyteller, but this later style, which possesses a more static mix of realism and stylized imagery, became a widely imitated one. Without him and his brief but influential comics runs, it’s possible that today’s mainstream comics stars like Steve McNiven and Jim Cheung wouldn’t have been as popular. The former Wildstorm artist is also an excellent painter with an eye for intricate detail and composition.

Nick Manabat- Late great Nick Manabat had some of the most solid, most viscerally attuned character designs that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing; his published work and conceptual sketches are mostly dark and dreary but still very enticing to look at. But he was also very capable of doing cute designs, like the Santa Claus head he sculpted and painted for his family’s business, among other things.

Carlos Pacheco- While I wasn’t a fan of his early Marvel work (circa 1994), he’s improved a lot in the Kurt Busiek-written Avengers Forever in the late ‘90s. His anatomical structures have become more fluid, his characters more dynamic in their movements, and his uncluttered layouts (well, those that don’t require massive lineups running around) are easy and enjoyable to look at.

Albrecht Durer- This German artist’s meticulous religious illustrations and portraits have an almost mystical quality to them. I discovered this 15^th century artist in the family’s old art history encyclopedia. It’s easy to see the hard work in his engravings and versatile use of different media.

Bill Sienkiewicz- His New Mutants work is still very impressive. He knows anatomy and clear storytelling, but he’s created an offbeat look that broke many rules and spawned a legion of imitators. He’s an exceptionally talented painter too, and has embraced digital artistry for some colored pieces in recent years.

George Perez- Crisis on Infinite Earths and JLA-Avengers. Good, good stuff.

Gene Ha- I like his consistently detailed, distinct art in Green Lantern, Adventures of Cyclops and Phoenix, Askanison, Top Ten, and Forty Niners. Looking forward to his Authority issues, with writer Grant Morrison.

David Mack- Now this guy can really tell a damn good story (and he can write them, too!). His Kabuki compilations show a deep understanding of the comics medium, his concepts and techniques coalescing into some of the more hard-hitting yet poetic tales that have their own cultural flavor. His transition and symbolism techniques--and his nice repetitive photocopying of his own work to advance his plots—display cinematic sensibilities, and a propensity to explore his work’s deeper sides.

Frank Frazetta- He’s one of the most imaginative fantasy artists ever. Frazetta’s exhibited mastery over different subjects and materials in his many paintings, pencil sketches and inked drawings throughout the decades. I got into his art, again, back in college, when I saw his trading card series. It documented his career, and compiled some of his most energetic and most sensual sword-and-sorcery imagery.

Talk About Folk Music

Suffering Sapphos: Lindsay, Gus, Melanie

Just finished Queer As Folk season 2. Still pretty good, but it did resort to some shark-jumping in some parts, especially near the end. It was, however, good to see the Brian-Justin relationship evolve, and the Michael-Brian friendship grow deeper and more intimate (without getting really groiny). But Brian is still an ass. It’s a weird triangle of sorts after Michael and Justin became closer friends because of their comic book project. Emmett and Ted’s separate arcs were okay too, although their shared cliffhanger felt rushed and came out of left field. The lesbians, Mel and Lindsay… I love them. They’re still hot, and still some of the smartest-written people on the show. The new love interests… among the six or so recently introduced characters, I find the violinist kid (I forget his name right now) the most interesting.

It’s great to hear songs by The Cure (“Love Song”), Abba (“Chiquitita”), Sarah McLachlan (“Touch” and “Plenty”) and EMF (“Unbelievable”) during key scenes. They stand out among the more generic-sounding, electronica-dominated soundtrack, mostly played during the hot-‘n’-heavy club and sex scenes. I wish I knew the titles of the lesser-known ballads; they enhance some of the more tender moments. Its eclectic soundscape is still very integral to the senses-overloading series, which, while not as powerful as the first season, still makes me tear up a little whenever its characters go through the wringer.

Six Deep in the Grave

Saw the first two eps of Six Feet Under last week in a preview screening organized by the firm handling the HBO-Asia account. Well, it’s still damn depressing! Don’t get me wrong, I love the show, it’s brilliantly bleak, but I’m glad that it’s finally ending. People have written about how this last season is more meaningful and tragic (and I have read spoilers, as well), so I’m looking forward to how the series’ final storylines unravel. I really feel for Ruth Fisher, this time. Two episodes will air on Tuesday, Oct 10, 10 p.m., to be followed by single episodes in subsequent weeks.

Anyway, digression: Benedict says that David Fisher (Michael C. Hall) reminds him of me, minus the bulk. Well, I kinda see it, sometimes… wide forehead and clenched brow… okay. But Camille P. says I remind her of CSI Miami’s Rory Cochrane (he used to be a skinny guy, the goofy cashier kid in Empire Records). Hee hee. Cool.

Darkness and Light

As of this writing, some parts of Metro Manila have yet to get their power back. Hope this massive electricity problem gets solved soon, and never, ever happens again.

Was able to get the Marvel Select Cloak and Dagger last Saturday (Cloak is sculpted and painted impressively, but the figure is so hollow!) from the electricity-less DK. Watched The Departed with John after. Also that day, Benedict, after failing to convince us to join him as partners for the Mall of Asia’s Amazing Race-Asia games, tag-teamed with a stranger and won himself eight prizes (including a shirt, a free gym session certificate, a bandana, a keychain, a Men’s Health magazine, and I forget what else). Congrats, you. Glad that your persistence paid off.

Tickle Me Padre

This photo was taken in Batangas when I was twelve, I think. I’m really not sure. Anyway, months before this picture, a nice old priest, during one of the breaks of the retreat that he was officiating, kept tickling my neck, almost hugging me from behind. In front of the other kids! Nah, he was just being playful. That was just funny and innocent. Although, come to think of it, he wasn’t that touchy-feely with the other students.

Calamity Pain

We didn’t have electricity for almost 24 hours. Those of us in the family who’ve become dependent on the many machines that play big parts in our lives found ourselves somewhat crippled as darkness fell yesterday. Typhoon Milenyo didn’t last a day, but it did its damnedest to leave its mark. Its winds toppled trees, billboards, and road signs. It partially tore our garage roof from its foundations. But nevertheless, we felt safe at home, even when we’ve been cut off from technology and electronic communication until early today. The storm actually did worse in other parts of the country.

Wanted to watch a movie at a nearby mall earlier, but it didn’t have electricity yet and was running on generators. It was stuffy in there, enough to make me a little queasy, so I left after I ate my late lunch and bought things I needed (some snacks, candles, and a flashlight). Back home, the cellphone signal died again. But at least the electricity’s on. There’s no cable yet, but we’ll manage. I’m also glad that my friends are well, even after being incommunicado for a long time. I guess nobody really expected the power failure to last so long, and cell batteries, including mine, eventually died down and couldn’t be recharged. I suppose I can whine about how boring and unproductive yesterday was, but I’d rather not.

Ah, screw it. The terrible weather and all the disruptions it brings majorly suck.

Burning Sensation

Last year’s Serenity makes much more sense now that I’ve seen 15 episodes of Firefly. It took some time for me to like the series, but once I got the feel for the characters and the “space western” conceit, I was hooked. Unlike Whedon’s Buffy and Angel, it had no supernatural elements and metaphors, or even stock SF alien creatures, but it was still about different people (nine of them!), whose exploits bring them from one seedy part of the galaxy to another.

Humans inhabit different planets and are grouped into disparate communities in this particular future, and the ship Serenity’s crew is a reflection of that diversity: Mal Reynolds (the ex-soldier turned smuggler), Zoe (his second-in-command), Wash (Zoe’s pilot husband), Jayne (the thuggish merc), Kaylee (the resident mechanic), Inara (the prestigious courtesan), Book (the mysterious preacher), Simon (the fugitive doctor) and River (the idiot savant-like teenager).

My favorite episodes are, in no particular order, Out of Gas, War Stories, Our Mrs. Reynolds, Trash, Objects in Space, and Ariel. The rest were also good, but those were the ones that really made me cheer. The rescue mission, where almost everyone took a weapon and staged a raid to free Mal from the clutches of a torture-happy crimelord, was a huge defining point. So was the revelation that River was more than just a confused mess; her importance in Serenity is hinted at after all. The oft-uneasy inter-team dynamics and the unrequited affections also made the characters fun to watch.

Casualties of War

Civil War # 4 is finally out. Spoiler warning for those who’ve yet to read it. Was expecting the Human Torch to bite the dust, but they offed Goliath (Bill Foster) instead. Just as big a casualty is Reed and Sue Richards’s marriage (no surprise, there). Together with pro-registration science-types Iiron Man and Hank Pym, Reed created a clone of Asgardian thunder god Thor, who strays from his programming and blasts a hole through Goliath’s chest. Guilt-ridden, Sue abandons her husband and children, and convinces her brother Johnny (off-panel) to join Cap’s rogue Secret Avengers.

Plenty of powerful moments here: Goliath’s shrouded body being craned down to his grave, Sue’s letter to her husband, the defections in both opposing ranks, and Falcon thanking Sue for the save before teleporting away. I liked the issue, except for some parts that don’t make sense: Since the Thor clone overrode his programming somehow, how will the nanite-controlled super-villains (Venom, Lady Deathstrike, Taskmaster, Bullseye, etc.), who’re tasked to hunt down the fugitive superheroes, be an improvement? Also, isn’t it a bit harsh to put the rogue heroes in a Negative Zone prison, when super-villains are confined to Earth jails like the Raft and the Vault? And why is Capt. America so heartless and ungrateful to Stature and Nighthawk? They fought selflessly and are obviously shaken by the War.

I wish they’d shown Reed’s reaction to Sue’s letter, too. But I’m still enjoying the series, and looking forward to the real Thor, who’s very likely to side with Cap’s team, as well as Sue and Namor’s eventual rendezvous (romantic or otherwise). It’s nice to see that Living Lightning, Triathlon, Debrii, Firebird, Monica Rambeau and Machine Man are among the anti-registration group (although NextWave doesn’t really care, according to that hilarious CW “tie-in” cover).

Drive Another Nail In

I'm listening to Tori Amos’ Little Earthquakes CD while typing this. Weather’s getting awful again, and I’m getting a little anxious. Sometimes, when I’m in a mood, I pop in her old, cathartic debut album. It gives words to some negative emotions, and magically exorcises them.

I’ve been an on-and-off Tori-phile through the years (I have her first four albums on cassette tape); she’s done great arty stuff that I don’t get, sometimes. But she still sounds angelic whatever it is she sings about. Still, the songs that continue to resonate with me are her older, angrier ones, like “Crucify” and “Precious Things” (“I wanna smash the faces of those beautiful boys…”).

Way lovely.

And If You Can't Be Good

Brian Kinney and Michael Novotny (image from YahooTV)

I’m getting re-acquainted with the characters of Queer As Folk (US), two years after finishing the first season. I’m way late; the show stopped airing some time ago after five seasons. Well, I gotta say, Brian Kinney, played by Gale Harold, is still one of the nastiest TV bastards ever. I’m ranking him up there with other uncompromising-but-duplicitous small-screen characters that I love watching, including Amanda Woodward (Heather Locklear) of Melrose Place, Jayne (Adam Baldwin) of Firefly, Spike (James Marsters) of Buffy, Mrs. Palmer (Penny Johnson Jerald) of 24, and Andrew Van De Kamp (Shawn Pyfrom) of Desperate Housewives. He’s unique, however, even in this collection of characters I love to hate.

Brian answers to no one, and occasionally hurts people emotionally to prove his points. He’s the heartless prick; he's the kind of guy you wouldn’t hesitate to punch. I really wanted to hit his conceited mug after just a few scenes, but—this has happened a few times—he redeems himself at the last minute, sometimes proving himself the unconventional hero, even. He’s written consistently as a vain, promiscuous and unapologetic cocktease, but admittedly he’s the kind of person that you’d rather have as an ally if he were real.

Uno, Dos, Tres

Meme time, folks!

3 People Who Make Me Laugh:
1 Conan O’Brien
2 Pol Medina
3 Sarah Silverman

3 Things I Love:
1 Comic books
2 Long cold baths
3 Sex

3 Things I Hate:
1 Bigotry
2 Flood water in my shoes
3 People who abuse their kids

3 Things on My Desk:
1 Pens
2 Paper
3 CDs

3 Things I am Doing Right Now:
1 Typing
2 Editing the post
3 Thinking

3 Things I Want to Do Before I Die:
1 Continue doing many things I like
2 Raise a child well
3 Make my parents proud

3 Things I Can Do:
1 Write
2 Draw
3 Talk to people

3 Ways to Describe My Personality:
1 Removed
2 Demanding
3 Pensive

3 Things People Might Not Know About Me:
1 A talent scout wanted to get me for a TV commercial when I was a boy, but I was shy and didn’t wanna do it.
2 I like drawing on those plastic magic slate thingies displayed at toy stores.
3 I drew some Christian comics stories for a local educational magazine a few years back.

3 Things I Think You Should Listen To:
1 Your heart
2 Advice of open-minded people
3 Dar Williams’ music

3 Things I Don’t Think You Should Listen To Ever:
1 Judgmental, bigoted preaching
2 Opinions of people who look down on you
3 Lies

3 of My Absolute Favorite Foods:
1 Pizza
2 Fried Rice
3 Bodhi’s asado fake meat

3 Things I’d like to Learn:
1 How to Cook
2 A foreign language
3 The secrets of the universe

3 Beverages I Drink Regularly:
1 Coke Lite
2 Water
3 Juice

3 Shows I Watched When I Was a Child:
1 Sesame Street
2 Thundercats
3 Paul in Fantasyland

3 People I Tag to Do This Crap:
1-3 The three people who read this blog religiously. But seriously, anyone who wants to, tag yourselves.

Whedon Needs No Education

Runaways creators Brian K. Vaughan and Adrian Alphona’s decision to leave the monthly comic book was surprising and saddening. Vaughan told Newsarama last week that they wanted to leave on a high note, and do other projects after almost four years on the successful, fan-favorite project. But many fans, me included, are happy that Buffy creator Joss Whedon will be taking over. Whedon admitted in another interview that he’s a fan of Vaughan’s, and Runaways is one of his favorite titles. He also shed a “man-tear” over issue # 18, where one of the mostly-teen team’s original members died.

Well, he’s the right guy for the job. His creations Buffy, Angel, and Firefly are evidence enough that he’s capable of different voices and creative character dissection. I also have high hopes for the Wonder Woman movie, which he’ll be directing soon. Wow. Can’t wait to read his take on the Runaway characters; I’m excited for them, and a little afraid that they’ll be experiencing some tough challenges soon. I’m enjoying Joss on Astonishing X-Men too, and I especially like his handling of the now-grownup Kitty Pryde and uber-X-bitch Emma Frost.

Siege Perilous and Life Incarnate

Rachel Summers versus the Beyonder (image from uncannyxmen.net)

Speaking of Marvel’s mutants, I’ve been arranging all my old, yellowing X-Men, X-Factor and New Mutants comic books. Benedict borrowed my Morrison New X-Men issues and a couple of random old Uncanny X-Men’s. He’ll be borrowing the rest of them eventually, so I taped up the tattered, loosely bound ones. Like the Runaways, the X-Men and its extended family were heroes that I really cared about, albeit only during specific eras. Claremont’s long ‘80s run and Morrison’s 3-year stint were mostly exciting for me. The soap opera elements were nicely bound to the book’s themes of alienation and moral debates. There were times when the plots and bigger story arcs got way too muddled, and some subplots were never fully addressed, but the characters stood out nevertheless.

The aging newsprint now has a graininess that feels weird on the fingers, but I didn’t really mind it when I re-read a number of the comics. I always liked the pre-Morlock Massacre lineup (a powerless Storm, Rogue, Wolverine, Shadowcat, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Magneto, Phoenix II) and the martyred “Legends” team (which was composed of a repowered Storm, Havok, Dazzler, Rogue, Colossus, Longshot, Wolverine, pre-ninja Psylocke, and Madelyne Pryor). I was always fascinated with the Jean-Scott-Maddie triangle, which was drawn out for years until it was finally resolved in the “Inferno” crossover. I was shocked at the brash cruelty of the Marauders, which I still consider the team’s deadliest enemies. I’m reminded that I really liked Rachel Summers’ drama (“I’m from a future where you’re all dead and I helped hunt my kind!”) before the whole thing became too convoluted to follow (Cable! Stryfe! Askani!). I didn’t get what Cameron Hodge’s beef with his ex-friend Angel was when I was a kid, until I found out last night that it was an if-I-can’t-have-you-then-no-one-will scenario (X-Factor # 34). Well.

After all these years, the characters continue to experience change. Professor X now has a closet full of retconned skeletons, which seem to get exposed every few months (Cassandra! Danger! Vulcan!). The students are now teachers, but Cyclops is still occasionally messed up, and arguably a consistent ass. After leaving his then-wife Maddie and child to hook up with the resurrected Jean, Scott would later marry and cheat on Jean with Emma.

The X-Men, as characters, will always have flaws, but they make them interesting, if and when done right. The old stories have renewed meaning to me now, especially those that show them at their bravest (the Beyonder was omnipotent, but it didn’t stop them from arguing with him until they made sense to him).

They still champion mutantkind, which, in the real world can easily be the minorities, the oppressed, and the rejects, which is why they’ll still appeal to generations of readers to come.

Remoto Alert

Okay, speaking of mutant champions (hehe), Danton Remoto of Ang Ladlad texted me this announcement: “We’re filing our papers w/ Comelec this Friday, 1 p.m., Intramuros, Manila. Am inviting you to join us and give moral support to this historic moment. Sorry for the late request. Comelec announced deadline only recently. Sana makadaan kayo. Tapos ito in 30 minutes. Thank you po.”

For more info on the Ang Ladlad partylist, please go here.

Aye, Carrabba

(pic from Wikipedia)

I’m resting now and catching up on some Firefly episodes and old borrowed comic books. Also, I’m playing with and posing my new Young Avengers action figures (an awesome foursome, but Patriot’s left wrist is super-limp). The Marvel Monsters set has arrived, too. They look great, although I don’t really care for the characters, except Dracula and Jack Russell-Werewolf. Crap, I need money; the Mojo–ML set is bound to pop up any time now.

Also bought some old Dashboard Confessional albums. Man, I’m digging Chris Carrabba’s music. I have three albums now (“MTV Unplugged”, “Dusk and Summer” and “Swiss Army Romance”) and I can’t wait to get the one with the special DVD of DC’s live performance with REM. His voice in the older, acoustic guitar-accompanied stuff kinda sounds like Placebo’s vocalist, and sometimes James’ and a little Gene Loves Jezebel’s. He sounds The Cure-ish in some songs in the latest CD; not that I think he’s mimicking, I just am discovering his range, and it’s easier to describe it with points of comparison.

His lyrics contain a youthful energy and almost Lilith-esque sensitivity that captures the poetry of love, heartache, longing and discovery. He’s honest and intimate, but not vulgar. Well, personally, it’s like he’s singing some of the unwritten songs in my head. For me, many of the songs conjure up and flavor ruminations of "wow I’m having sex like there’s no tomorrow and I'm becoming one with the universe and the only thing stopping me for a few seconds is spitting out strands of you-know-what and it’s a contemplative and lifeshaping experience". But that’s just me. Nicey.

Magical Mystery Tour Guide

Budjette Tan and Ka-Jo Baldisimo’s Trese reveals the busy mystical underbellies of Metro Manila and beyond through the supernatural crime scene investigations of Alexandra Trese. I personally liked issue numbers 1, 4, and 5. The third issue was just okay; I kind of figured out the demigod character’s costume design prior to the big reveal. What I’m actually looking forward to is the origin story of the title character, and eventually, her Kambal minions’. The self-contained stories are easy reads, although I’m curious to see an adventure that doesn’t require Trese’s arcane expertise in the regular case-solving structure, but one that proactively puts her in the thick of things.

To the creators, keep up the good work!

Time for Fussing and Fighting

Please read LAGABLAB’s detailed recap of the recent PDI column controversy and media-related gay rights cases from a few years back. Felt sad after reading it.

Learn to Fly All Your Life

It’s been two years since I last saw J.S., an old high school friend. It was nice timing when he texted me early last Monday morning. He wanted to meet me after work because he was feeling a little depressed, and I was feeling similarly weird because I had three consecutive strange dreams earlier. Since I planned to go out to a nearby mall that day anyway, I thought that it’d be a nice chance to talk and maybe help. I brought a couple of comics like he asked. They actually help him unwind, just as much, I’d guess, as the Justice League and Batman animated shows.

Over the years, we remained close friends, which is unusual, because he and I have contrasting personalities and mindsets. While he’s a conservative Catholic up to this day, he’s very tolerant of my liberal opinions. But I’m one of very few people he can freely talk to, while he freely cusses about his problems and people he disliked. It’s a brotherly bond, except I don’t think that a lot of siblings can be open about their personal problems and discuss respective love lives with each other. We’re both escapist geeks, so I guess we do have some things in common. I’ve seen him struggle through problematic periods years after college, and he’s seen me go through a dark period as well.

It was a nice fast food dinner; we talked about how we love our occasionally stressful jobs. We talked about how hard it is to make and save money. We laughed over long-forgotten high school inanities and embarrassing misadventures. We talked about other old friends and batchmates we ran into in the past few months. But we also discussed how serious some family matters have gotten, and how bummed out we feel about them.

The conversation shifted to reminiscing about high school times again, to details about teachers that we never mentioned before, and to how the old McDonald’s in the area that our small group used to frequent when it just opened is now about 18 years old. We walked to the place, where we sat for a bit and talked some more. It was cool hanging out with him, and interesting to learn how we’ve changed in the past couple of years. We may not always see eye to eye when it comes to certain beliefs and issues, but he’s still that old friend from simpler times, that person whose elephantine memories remind me that that certain stage of our lives was actually quite okay.

You Lose, You Learn

The Sunday edition of PDI had a short article about the ten teachers that were awarded the most outstanding in the country. Metrobank Foundation gave the chosen ones P250,000 and a trophy each. Congratulations to all of them; may more of their hardworking kind help educate and challenge youngsters to become better, more enlightened persons. It’s good to know that there are still those that possess, to quote the criteria, “personal integrity, character, instructional competence, and professional and community involvement.”

Looking back at my sixteen years of school, from kindergarten to college, there’d be very few of my teachers who’d pass such a tight list of requirements. But the few that do, they were very selfless and motherly (or fatherly, depending), and have given me fond memories of learning and the classroom. School is tough for students and teachers both, but those instructors that don’t crack under pressure really have to be commended.

Still, the bad ones really leave scars that aren’t necessarily physical. This brings me back to grade school. One time, if I remember correctly, I was approached by a school official, a kind woman who was Prefect of Students during the time, outside our classroom. She asked me why my pants’ left knee was torn. I told her it just got that way naturally; my pants were old and worn out, and the tiny rip grew in time. I told her that I didn’t tell my mother about the hole because she was busy taking care of my little siblings. I thought that it was clear that it wasn’t a big deal, that I didn’t get that way because of any accident, and she let me be. I thought that’d be the last time I heard of it.

Apparently, she told her friend, our section’s class adviser, who was also our Language teacher. In front of some classmates between subjects, she sternly reprimanded me that my fashion faux pas was, to paraphrase her idiotic monologue, a sign of “rebellion.” She muttered stuff to herself that was too fast to comprehend. I was dumbfounded. What a horrible bitch! She took another opportunity to embarrass me, like when I approached her to apologize for forgetting an authorization letter. She yelled, “It’s your responsibility,” saliva spewing out of her disgusting mouth. Failing to reason with her, I just went back to my chair, stunned.

Now that I think about it, I probably rubbed her the wrong way, maybe because I didn’t participate in her deathly boring lectures about language, unlike her favorite students. Maybe it was because I’d rather read comics after class with some of my classmates, and she didn’t believe that they’re reliable educational material. Well, news flash! I learned more about the English language through comic books, the radio, cartoons, and books in the library back then, than by attending her classes. She had god-awful pronunciation and diction; I’m sure the other students knew this but were too afraid (or too bored) to talk about it.

I didn’t feel like going back to school after those incidents; I felt that I had no energy for it even when that adviser left to take over a vacant position in the school administrators’ board or some such. I was absent for long periods at a time during that school year. My parents kept asking me if I had enemies, because they were on to me that I just wasn’t interested in going back. I tearfully said that I had none. I couldn’t really tell them that I found it boring, that I didn’t really feel like I belong there, that I felt like dying a slow death there because I don’t really talk to anyone.

I passed it anyway, pasang-awa in some subjects, but I didn’t care. The next year, I didn’t feel like a freak anymore, partly because of the fact that there were many new students, and new teachers that were surprisingly kind to me and everyone else. They were seeing potential in me, and encouraged me to write more, to draw more, to communicate more with others. There were those that were fascist, with thundering voices or a propensity for chalk-throwing. There was even one who carried a walking cane for furious chalkboard–slamming, whenever even just one person showed a sign of misbehavior. In college, there were those lazy professors that rarely appeared; they’re a different disappointment from the kind that only popped up to give assignments, and never taught. And there were some that, alas, lectured robotically without ever elucidating their points in any relatable way. Of course, I can only look at it clearly now, because we were too preoccupied back then to really care.

I heard, years later, that my ex-adviser remained unjustly accusatory until she terrorized the wrong student, whose father gave the aging woman an angry lecture about her own notorious temper. She was, I’m told, quiet and restrained while taking her own medicine. Owned!

Many years after finishing school, I still learn, because life really doesn’t let up, and it’ll bombard you with all the tests that those teachers, the good and dedicated ones, repeatedly hinted at. And now that I’m grown up, I’m learning that understanding new knowledge is never-ending, as long as you’re receptive to it. Real life demands, sometimes, that we become substitute teachers ourselves, and not necessarily in the confines of the classroom.

You Choke, You Learn

Also in the Sunday issue of the Inquirer is Isagani A. Cruz’s latest column, another one that defends his “right to criticize.” The retired judge laments that he’s been getting letters that resort to name-calling. I’m surprised that he’s surprised. He did write a column that, despite his claims that he apologized to the “decorous” members of the gay community beforehand, nevertheless scathingly generalized and warned the populace against those that don’t prescribe to his standards of “macho” behavior. He is now saying that his opinions, “while provocative, are never evil-minded or discourteous.”

Please. Mr. Cruz, you wrote about your homophobia! You openly ridiculed gay people as a whole, and you even opined, quite wryly, that a fey kid would’ve been beaten up at the school where your five, ahem, “macho” sons studied. You also called gayness a "condition." That was VERY discourteous and very irresponsible, not to mention ignorant. You know what you wrote. It went beyond free speech. Now you’re saying that you’re just voicing out what the “silent majority,” is too afraid to say. Come on!