Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

ost

the first time i heard muse was from blue's itunes because that's what he'll always play when the gma7 gang hung out at his place but since we were drinking ourselves out those times i barely paid attention to the band. however, the music was probably embedded in a part of my ear since then. last weekend i saw this dior ad on some website which was directed by wong kar wai and starred eva green and the score was very familiar. a couple of clicks later, i found out it was a muse song entitled space dementia. and so i met my new favorite band. i know im pretty late but at least i didn't "steal" them from someone. you could even say that in a way, muse found me.

my top three favorite muse songs in random order are: thoughts of a dying atheist, assassin, and, starlight. heck, i like all their songs. (but i will not post lyrics. never.)

so now i have bright eyes and muse playing the soundtrack to my life. i got conor oberst to share my frustrations in love with and matt bellamy to discuss anarchy and the end of the world. them and my future wife, marie digby. here she is with a mesmerizing cover of maroon 5's makes me wonder. give em heaven, love.



responses:
acey: very lucky. if i had stayed there a few minutes longer, you're reading a ghost's post.
wena: you're welcome to hop by any time you like. take care.
bea: i'm not a fan. i'm her (imaginary) lover.
nadine: good for you for doing well on the test. and thanks for the kind words. owe you a beer.
angie: ditto.
gervic: hello.
aleli: likewise. again, i really like your name. please allow me to borrow it for a future story. thanks.

blog post ends here. fare thee well, friends.

p.s. katia, if you're reading this, thanks a bunch for the trivia book. wonderful way to waste time.
p.p.s. randell, if you're reading this, you can read.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

HATCHET by jaiskizzy

the gist: while freddy and jason went on hiatus to recuperate from their fright fight and mike myers did some shit with rob zombie, a new mad murderer manifests from the mucky muck. his name is victor crowley (any relation to aleister?) and as the folktale goes, he had a disfigured face and when some kids burned down their house in the swamp while he was in it, his dad killed him in trying to save him: he was pressed against the door when daddy-o used a hatchet to break it down. believing his existence is a myth, a bunch of folks go on the infamous haunted swamp tour for some cheap scares. pretty soon they realize that victor is in fact alive and kicking/killing and he gives the visitors a bloody warm welcome. yay!

the reaction: a few days ago, katia and i were discussing horror movies. she doesn't like them, i crave for them. she pointed out that she does not want to pay money just to get scared. so i told her, you should pay money to get scared because it's the feeling/emotion we get the least. you laugh every day, cry sometimes, but very rarely get scared shit. unless you're a complete paranoid freak. anyways, that's the primary reason why i love horror films (and riding roller coasters too). the rising tension and then the sudden surge of surprise. (nudity is secondary) nowadays, the surprise though is that the recent horror movies aren't that scary anymore. well, except for the awesome asian ones, which they would then make lame remakes of. like a true terror icon, hatchet crept up behind the pack and attacked when least expected. while everybody else was looking far and ahead, the writer/director, adam green, an obvious 80s horror buff like myself, was looking back and probably thought maybe it's about time to go back to bloody basics. so he had a gangbang with the masters and in 2006, gave birth to victor crowley, a baby we've all been waiting for.

a flick that will probably never see silverscreen light in this conservative country, hatchet is a big nod to the classic american horror my generation had loved and missed. sure, it's another mean, lean, killing machine on the loose hacking and slashing humans here and there but isn't that a good thing? hordes of horror films have hopped out but only a chosen few actually lived up to the genre. now here comes a newcomer requesting your attention. not smart, no twist ending needed, no killjoy cutaways and no tear-jerking. just pure bloody goregasm. if it does get released here, it'll surely suffer from the heavy editing under mtrcb hands, hence, losing the very essence of what slasher films are about.

i like the methods of kills, especially the one were victor emulates on a human what king kong did to the t-rex in peter jackson's version. never seen that before! i also dig the stylish slow-mo splash of blood and entrails. that's a trademark in the making. plus, plus points for getting robert englund and kane hodder. still, this movie is beyond perfection. and that is probably the fault of victor crowley (or at least the guys who designed him). he simply isn't that memorable. he's one ugly bastard with a big slice on the face. that's it. i don't know if this would spawn sequels (i do hope so though) but if it does, then victor better work on his identity if he wants to stand amongst the giants. also, the huge amount of tit-flashing is great and all, but please employ some really hot, gorgeous girls next time. it will be a big difference. very big. other than that, hatchet is great horror movie to watch, especially with a girl who scares easily. wehe.

i am pretty certain that this will turn the current trend around and more films like this will get made, vying for that spot in to be the next horror icon. victor crowley aint there yet, but he is one tough conteder.

the good: the blood
the bad: the beast
the ugly: the babes
the verdict: 8 shovel handle impalings


jai the ripper.

short story: detroit

*originally posted in penster. again, written during work hours. comments appreciated. thanks.


detroit

when amber came inside the bedroom, her husband, alex, was still hunched over in front of the computer.

"alex!" she said as she walked towards him. "you've been there for hours. what on earth are you writing this time?" she leaned forward to look at the monitor screen.

"oh, hi, sweetheart." alex said and kissed her. "i'm working on a new novel. this one is totally different from anything i've written before."

amber sat on alex's lap. "what's it about?"

"dogs," he said.

"dogs?" amber asked.

"yes. dogs. in this story, dogs talk and act just like us. my main character, detroit, is a detective and his sidekick is his pet human, spike."

"creepy," amber said, "but nice."

"anyways, detroit is a german shepherd. and he's a breedist. he hates poodles. and he's on a case where a serial killer is killing german shepherds. and he believes it's a poodle."

amber smiled. "does detroit have a wife?"

"oh, no." alex said. "but he does have a dogfriend named kirsten." and then, suddenly, alex laughed. "i'm actually writing a scene now where they're about to have sex, humanstyle." alex stared into amber's eyes and winked.

amber giggled. "you are so naughty." she kissed him and stood up. "well, good luck on that. just come to bed when you're done."

"okay," said alex and typed away.

"i'm gonna take a bath," said amber and then began licking her fur...

[end]


first, thank you so much to red, michelle, maria and dhea for taking the time to read the
screaming vagina and sharing their thoughts. you make this struggling writer struggle less. also, apologies for the profane language but it was necessary. i hope you like this one as well.

p.s. the glorietta 2 bomb missed me by minutes.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

mirror, mirror

i'll post my other very short story (or flash fiction, if you will) here tomorrow when i come home to batangas, including the wonderful comments from the other writers. flattering and inspiring. in the meantime, enjoy this nice little video...

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

the screaming vagina

*the following very short story is for restricted readers only. originally posted in penster. written during work hours. comments appreciated.


the screaming vagina


I was walking home when my mobile phone suddenly rang. It was an unknown number.

Hello.

Roy...it's Jen. I'm in a phone booth. I threw out my old sim.

Jen...

Listen, Roy. Just listen. For once, let me talk. I'm breaking up with you. And this time, it's for good because I don't want to see you anymore. So, don't you go doing something romantic, expecting me to change my mind so you could have your after-fight fuck. I'm tired of that shit. I'm tired of fucking you. My pussy deserves better.

Jen?

Yes?

I'm not Roy.

What?

You have the wrong number.


(long pause...) Oh, fuck.

I turned my phone off.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

sugar pills for lithified hearts


...is the former title of a short film script im currently working on. its original title was 5 poems. my prospective lead actress liked 5 poems better so i went with it since in a way she's a co-writer (she'll take care of the poems). but because 5 poems might be too long, im gonna cut it down to four. so for now, it's entitled four poems. still, i like the concept of sugar pills/placebos so im incorporating it in the dialogue instead. the idea came to me minutes after i rescued the said actress-to-be from rats in her apartment. it's been a while since i wrote on paper so i decided to give it another shot partly because gmail (and google documents, where i keep some of my recent shit) is blocked in our office. a small amount of the script was written in a beach in botolan, zambales which i'll blog about as soon as i gather the pics i need from various digital sources.

im a very insecure a-hole and i rarely am proud of my work. but four poems, i believe, is very promising. i really enjoy writing it. it's the most personal ive ever written and it's beginning to feel like it's a coffin for my feelings and thoughts about a past i've yet to let go...

so, there. thanks for reading. i'm just glad to be writing again. my vampire muse must be on steroids. im this ( ) close to walking out of work and going home to write...



p.s. hey, santa claus (you know who you are), i want a digital slr for christmas. i swear i'll be nice.
p.p.s. a sugar pill for a lithified heart, i think, is sex.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

not a poem

film is my religion. theater is my church.

in celluloid, i am immortal.


p.s. it's my new battlecry of sorts, at least the first line anyways. been using it in email signatures and just about anywhere i can. i like it because it defines me perfectly: an agnostic cineaste.
p.p.s. fuck zaido. i bought the complete shaider series and it's way better in all levels.