The Electric Journal of Adel Gabot

A Writer's Odyssey: Beyond 2001

2008-03-20T05:04:35Z

Arthur C. Clarke died today, at the age of 90.

It’s a bad week for film buffs. Just a few days ago Anthony Minghella died.

I took out my new DVD of 2001: A Space Odyssey and watched it again.

It’s a digitally remastered copy. Clear and clean, with great sound. I don’t really ever remember watching it this clearly. I’ve seen it on TV many times in edited and technically terrible condition. This new 2-disc special edition I got a month ago is about as clear as it’s ever going to be, I guess. It’s wonderful. I’m sure Mr. Clarke had a copy of this before he died, and maybe marveled at the digital remastering himself.

No scratches, no jumps. Complete, restored, perfect video in Super Panavision. And the sound, in Dolby Digital, was as crisp as the day it was recorded. Johann Strauss’ The Blue Danube never sounded so beautiful. And the labored breathing of Dave Bowman in his spacesuit as he took apart HAL’s memory circuits spoke volumes without using a single word.

It was a slow movie, and it took its time. The first three minutes is just music, no video, as is the end of the film. Today’s viewers with next-to-no attention spans would go apeshit and jeer and hoot at the projectionist to fix the glitch. There’s even a five-minute intermission in the middle, it’s that old-fashioned. The first 30 minutes of the 148-minute film is practically a silent movie, and the much of the movie is unexplained, with odd cuts and dissolves, title cards and muted acting. On the other side of the coin, the special effects were ground-breaking, even by today’s standards. It’s an odd movie, one of the oddest.

The storyline was oddly thin: an alien slab is found on the moon, and a secret mission is sent to investigate the signal it sends to Jupiter. The exposition came in big odd chunks, almost four separate short films: The Caveman Ooga-Booga sequence with The Bone. The Blue Danube/Heywood Floyd Goes to The Moon sequence. The HAL Goes Bonkers sequence. Then finally, Dave Bowman’s Light-Show Trip. If you’ve seen it before, you can just skip to the chunks you liked (which for me was the HAL Goes Bonkers part) and the film still works.

For the movie-centric fan, it was a Stanley Kubrick piece. For the book-centric ones, like me, it was more an Arthur C. Clarke piece. But for both men, 2001: A Space Odyssey looms large in their legacy, the biggest spike in either man’s creative timeline.

I remember watching it when I was seven or eight years old, when it first came out sometime in the late sixties, in an actual Cinerama-equipped movie theater. (Yes, I’m that old.)

It was Nation Theater in Cubao, near the old C.O.D. Department Store where we used to watch the animated Christmas display every year. Nation Theater was one of two Cinerama-equipped theaters in the city. The other was Cinerama Theater itself, on the corner of Avenida Rizal and Quezon Boulevard, just before Plaza Miranda. It was the moviehouse that was on the corner right above the underpass, and is now a mall. Where Nation was is now literally a large hole in the ground in Cubao.

Cinerama is a special movie projection system that uses three screens for an extra large format. Three separate projectors in sync are required to project the film. Even more interesting is that the three screen-wide projection area isn’t flat. It’s curved, concave from left to right; it’s like you’re watching from inside a can and the movie is being projected on the inside wall of the can, half-surrounding the viewer. Today, without the curved screen, it was just Super Panavision.

It’s cool, but mainly a gimmick. Saw a few more movies in the format – a western, some war movies. War and Peace. After a few years it died a natural death, but Nation kept showing regular movies in Cinerama mode. I saw Close Encounters of the Third Kind there on that big, curved screen, and even if it wasn’t made for the format, it added a certain epic look; imagine the Devil’s Tower sequences on that gigantic screen.

2001 was made for Cinerama, and I was fortunate enough to experience it the way Clarke and director Stanley Kubrick composed the film and meant for it to be seen. Watching it now on a large TV from a digitally remastered format, the movie stands well without the Cinerama gimmick.

But I do remember how marvelous that gimmick was, especially to a seven year old. That scene where Gary Lockwood jogs and exercises in the spinning circular room that uses centrifugal force to create artificial gravity looked fantastic in Cinerama. Kubrick’s camera angles and composition was made for the Cinerama format and it burned into the mind of the kid that was me. Seeing it again brought back strong memories. Like seeing that breathtaking, totally unexpected three-million year jump-cut from the twirling femur to the gliding spaceship with the Strauss music.

It was what got me into science fiction in the first place, and a kid could do no better than being tag-teamed by Clarke and Kubrick. I had just learned to read books, and was starting a classic education – Jules Verne, H.G. Wells and the like, when I got to see 2001. That movie jump-started my love and appreciation for the genre, and fast-fowarded my education light-years ahead in the space of a little over two hours. A bit like Dave Bowman’s light-show trip near the end of the film.

That seven-year-old didn’t understand that movie on the bigger than big screen. And to some point today, at 46, I still don’t. I don’t mind, I’m in good company. An added feature on the DVD, some documentaries, had people like Steven Spielberg admitting they still didn’t get a lot of it, but sensed the power and structure behind the cryptic images, and the implications of the concepts. To some extent, the kid did too, which is why he would be caught up by the siren song of sci-fi for the rest of his life.

The movie is called Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, but Arthur C. Clarke should be credited as much, if not more, for the movie. Stanley created the visuals, but the ideas, Clarke’s, stayed with me longer. Kubrick didn’t even like science fiction. Later in life I’d cut my teeth on Clarke’s books. Rendezvous With Rama, for example, boggled my mind and had me thinking for weeks.

Let’s be fair. Beside today’s firebrands and stupendously imaginative, creative and talented sci-fi writers, Clarke is a dinosaur. A slow, often pedantic style of writing, an old-fashioned manner, he’d be a bit unremarkable beside today’s household names with their stream-of-consciousness narratives, their wild, improbable concepts and action set pieces that went like gangbusters. But these household names are what they are because Clarke helped put them there. Serious, thoughtful, intelligent fiction, abstract ideas made concrete, forward thinking – Clarke was there first, and everyone sought to catch up.

He’s one of those folk you’d expect to always be there, a constant presence, coming out steadily with books with mature, thought-through ideas, explained and told rationally and with authority, year after year. Something science-fictiony happens in the news and they all try to get a Clarke soundbite from Sri Lanka, where he relocated, to see what he thinks. But no more. He’s gone now.

Arthur C. Clarke died forty years after the release of 2001, and seven years after their movie stopped becoming forward-looking and became quaintly retro, at least title-wise. While a lot of the tech didn’t come true as he had envisioned, his ideas, on the whole, are still relevant and current, not just for his movie with Kubrick, but for his other stories and novels.

I learned of his death today from a friend, another sci-fi nut, who texted me what at first I thought was just a joke:

Arthur C. Clarke went to heaven. There was a sign at the gates that said “No writers or directors allowed.” St. Peter said, “Sorry, man, but no way.” Suddenly a scruffy-looking bearded man passed him and was let through quickly. Arthur said “Hey! That’s Stanley Kubrick! Why’d you let him in?” St. Peter said “Nope. That wasn’t Kubrick, that was God. He only THINKS he’s Kubrick.” R.I.P. Arthur C. Clarke. March 19, 2008.

It was irreverent, it was disrespectful, but it was apt.

Arthur C. Clarke would have loved it.

Close encounters with the rich and famous

2008-03-02T10:58:33Z

Hey. I'm back.

Been an atrociously crummy couple of weeks after my birthday, and I've been feeling pretty down.

To cheer myself up and conjure up a bit of fleeting esteem-by-association, I tried to remember brief and strange encounters with famous people I've had over the course of my life, while staring at the ceiling at 4 in the morning.

You might notice I'm not explaining who's who. If you don't recognize some names (like, do you know who Ben Burtt is? Shame on you!), google them; I'm not elaborating. Some of these were so brief I sometimes wonder if they really happened; I think they did - I'm not yet that far gone. And yes, I admit it. I'm mababaw and kilig with these things. So sue me.

I've had more, but only these come to mind now. Over the course of the next few months, I'll expound in more detail on some of the following incidents in the occasional post, and the others I can eventually remember. (A lot of them was when I was an FM radio DJ; I don't go around harrassing celebs visiting the country. They come visit me.)

If there are any you'd like me to make kuwento first, just holler; otherwise I'll just pick at random.

- Trying hard to explain the tragi-comedy that is Philippine politics to a curious Neil Gaiman.
- Andrea Corr putting her arm around my waist and me putting mine around her shoulders.
- David Pack explaining to me why he's got diarrhea (he had some 'bag-ong' for lunch).
- Noel Pointer destroying a chair in my booth during a radio interview by sitting on it.
- Asking Lea Salonga who this newbie Christina Aguilera was co-opting her Mulan song.
- Saving Earth, Wind & Fire's ass by explaining onstage to 20,000 angry people why their concert was starting 2 hours late - and getting hell for it.
- Telling Shaquille O'Neal to duck his head coming through my office door.
- Shooting the breeze over the phone with Tina Arena long-distance for almost an hour.
- Jewel being exceedingly rude to me in a Taipei hotel room.
- Sir Ben Kingsley brushing off my attempt to get an autograph by saying he had to pee.
- Getting Ben Burtt's autograph.
- Chatting with Patrick Stewart for ten minutes in a mall corridor in Hong Kong.
- Asking Mark McGrath if the breakfast buffet was good at our Kuala Lumpur hotel.
- Running into Quentin Tarantino on the escalator in Gateway in Cubao.
- Asking Sir Richard Attenborough a stupid question at a press conference.
- Pissing off Gloria Estefan with a rude question at a press conference.
- When forced to make small talk with Brooke Shields, asking how she found the weather.
- Asking Lisa Loeb what she looked like without the glasses - and Lisa obliging by taking them off.
- Seeing Stephen Bishop do something unspeakable in a soda glass in Megamall.
- Corinne Drewery holding my arm during their entire interview at my radio show.
- Asking Basia how the hell one pronounces her surname.
- Telling Peter O'Toole we don't normally roll up the sleeves of a barong tagalog.
- Having half a beer with Oliver Platt in a bar in Malate.
- Asking Bobby Brown to have his muscle please leave the booth during our interview.
- Almost choking on Russell Hitchcock's BO and trying not to show it.
- Almost choking on Beck's BO and trying not to show it.
- Shaking David Coulthard's hand.
- Angela Chow co-hosting an entire episode of my radio program.

Just because

2007-12-29T15:43:41Z

My wife had planned a dinner with a friend, Eliza (who's here for the holidays from China) at a little Italian place in Cubao called Bellini's. Mano and Eli decided to bring me along.

While we were at it, we thought to invite a couple of other friends - Carlo and Nina.

And our other friends thought to invite our other friends, and they in turn called other friends, and pretty soon we were surprised to find our intimate little dinner was a now a virtual party potentially almost two dozen strong.

Most of us got to know each other through our Mac user group many years before, and we used to hang out in that context. But last night I was pleasantly surprised to realize that we were friends now separate from that old connection, and hardly any of us even made that association any more.

We were all just plain friends. None of us were related to each other, which is the usual framework for these groupings (except for the married couples - some spouses had been willingly assimilated into the group, like Mano), and we were a group of friends basically because we just liked each other. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, Eliza was my friend first - she just got to know my wife through me, and now the two are even closer to each other than I ever was to Eli.

Even some friends I hardly see had made it - Kelvin the musician was there, Gabe the comedian, my namesake Doc Adel, photog-turned-ad-guy Miguel, sometime-neighbors Brian and Kris.

Four couples didn't make it in the end - Ditoy and Iya, Vic and Cyn, Toto and Pierra, and Myles and Ria, but we had a nice time anyway, and closed the restaurant down last night.

In the intervening years since PhilMUG some of us got married to each other (or will be), and some of us even got to work with one another. I used to edit a US-based magazine and worked with Carlo who was our art director. My wife, who edits a magazine too, has used pro photographer Kai for some shoots. Kai's girlfriend Sharon has used my wife as a voice talent for some radio commercials. I used to work with Liza, Elbert's wife, in a big publishing company. I've traveled with Elbert out of the country a few times - the last time was when we watched the F1 Race together in Malaysia earlier this year.

We don't see everyone all at the same time though the year, and at that, we see some more than others, but somehow we all gravitate towards each other during Christmas, for several years running now. Like last night.

I really don't know why I'm compelled to write about this, other than the fact that I am just happy that in this crazy and impersonal world, some nice and personal things still happen, just because.

Pic courtesy of Eliza Santiago

Grocery Hell

2007-12-29T14:52:09Z

It's always a pain doing the holiday groceries - getting the fruit cocktail and cream, the grapes, the ham, the soda...

Everyone figures the day before Christmas is the best day to go, and as a result supermarkets become virtual sardine cans on these days.

We've repeatedly suffered through a few years of this agony, so this year we figured we'd go first thing in the morning, even before the supermarket opens, so there'd be ample parking, and we can enjoy the calm that comes before the storm.

The rest of the world seemed to figure this out this year too.

At 9 am at the grocery near the house, the parking was already full, and there was a mob waiting for the doors to open. And when the doors did open, the mob rushed in and made a mess of the shopping cart bay, where no one could move because the ones who got there first trying to pull out the carts were trapped by the slower ones crowding behind them. Later, the checkout lines would be two dozen deep.

Jeez. There is no winning.

Here's a pic of the "calm before the storm" at 9:30 am:

Such fun. We'll be doing it again in a couple of days.

Sweeney Depp

2007-12-19T11:05:15Z

Am listening to the Sweeney Todd movie soundtrack, and I'm conflicted about liking it or not.

Since the early 80s, I've listened to a half dozen Sweeney Todds, including George Hearn (twice, a 1982 performance and a 2001 re-do), Michael Cerveris, Len Cariou, Junix Inocian and a couple more whose names escape me, and with their performances and the libretto imprinted into the folds of my brain, I am incapable of listening with complete objectivity to the Johnny Depp version. I catch myself too busy being too critical and comparative rather than just sitting back and listening to the damn thing.

Not having seen the movie yet, I'll have to settle for the album for now. Initial impressions - lush orchestrations, some liberal cuts and jumbling about that I'll save judgment on until I see the film (hey, it might improve the movie - or not); Jayne Wisener does an arresting and haunting Johanna; Sacha Baron Cohen did better than I expected him to as Adolfo Pirelli (but he still sounds like Borat); Alan Rickman's Judge Turpin needs a bit more voice lessons and his Severus Snape will be the death of him, and Helena Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp lack a considerable bit of weight and gravitas. Audally anyway. And while we're on the topic, is it me, or does everyone have thin voices these days?

My album is just the highlights (US$17 on iTunes - at today's rates, not too bad), so I'll wait to hear the rest of it before I say anything definitive.

All I can say is, I'm enjoying this immensely, and I can't wait for the movie.

Revisionism Tourism

2007-11-01T15:58:34Z

I had the chance to visit Vigan last month, and I made a trip to Calle Crisologo to see the famous Spanish era street. Did the the touristy thing and took pics.

Then on the way home I passed through the PAL airport in Manila and saw a wall-sized poster of where I just was.

Dunno, was a bit disturbed by how different the two places looked. See for yourself:

Airport Poster:

My Pic:

No words needed II

2007-09-25T02:44:53Z

No words needed

2007-09-11T16:02:21Z

Raping Harry Potter

2007-08-11T12:15:07Z

I was rooting around in Powerbooks Megamall Friday night, and passed by the display stack of the new and final Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. For each of the five times I walked by that table, there was at least one person reading the last few pages, trying to find out the ending without reading - or buying - the novel. At one point there were even two, a woman and a teenaged girl, both turned to the last few pages of the hardbound.

What the hell?

I normally wouldn't care, but each time I passed by I got more and more incensed. What kind of people would do such a thing? Barbarians. Or, as Captain Haddock puts it more colorfully, Bashi-bazouks! Pithecanthropuses! Diplodocuses! Odd-toed ungulates! Visigoths!

I speak from a writer's point of view here, from the perspective of someone who writes for a living. I know how it feels to craft a story, put effort into the plot and stucture and buildup, all for that wonderful frisson at the end, that cathartic conclusion all writers work for and care for and lead up to. But jumping to the end just negates all that blood, sweat and tears. It's like coming without any foreplay or preamble.

More to the point, what it is is rape.

Yes, that's precisely what it is. Raping a book. Getting what you want by brute force, instant gratification without deserving it.

I don't think it'd be so bad if you bought the book, took it home and just read the epilogue. Who cares, you paid for it, it's yours now to do with as you wish, and if you wish to trash all that work JK Rowling put into it, all the thousands of pages in seven volumes just so you can satisfy your curiosity, then go ahead. But this?

Worse yet, these people walk up to a public display in a bookstore, brutally rip the plastic off, crack the book open to the end and forcibly take what they want quickly, roughly, brazenly standing right there in the store, in public. And then, sated by their illicit quickie, they put the book back on the shelf, walking out smug and shameless.

Rapists.

Grrr. A pox on you! May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits! May Dementors give you a big wet one! May you forever languish in Azkaban with only a phone directory for reading material - you can read that ending over and over for all I care!

Tarantino

2007-08-11T10:34:49Z

I was within two feet, in the flesh, of one of my cinematic idols this afternoon. Another small life goal done. My one regret is I didn't get a picture taken with the man; my memories will have to suffice.

I just find it so mind-numbingly surreal to have met filmmaker Quentin Tarantino ...in Cubao.

Truth is really stranger than fiction sometimes.

Something I Would Love On My Wall

2007-08-05T07:50:05Z

Year One

2007-07-10T16:23:22Z

It was rainy too when we got married a year ago today.

Love you, Sweetie. Happy Anniversary!

Quote of the Week: Paris

2007-06-13T00:26:29Z

"I was severely depressed and felt as if I was in a cage."

- Paris Hilton on what jail is like, to Barbara Walters on the The View, June 11, 2007

Peeve of the Week

2007-05-24T16:08:08Z

I don't know if it's just because I've been in a blue funk for the past few weeks, but damn if I'm not picking on everything in sight.

My top peeve at the moment is listening to Atty. Katrina Legarda on the radio.

I mean, she's smart and all, and no reflection on her as a lawyer or what she's saying - is it just me, but doesn't she sound so off-putting on the air, voice and delivery-wise?

Hey, I'm all for manly, deep voices, even for certain women, but when I hear her on Legal Log, her 5-minute program on 105.1 Crossover, I can't help but focus on how she sounds like a man trying to sound like a woman. It's creepy. Nothing personal now, but there are really some people who should never be put on the radio.

She's on Mondays to Fridays at 7 and 9am, 12nn and 5, 7 and 9pm, on DWBM-FM 105.1.

And please don't get me started on Manny and Pie Calayan.

Serendipity 2

2007-05-08T15:24:03Z

Man, it gets creepier.

In the last post I casually mentioned I was a finalist in the Metropop way back when.

This afternoon in the comment section for the post, my friend Karen asked which song it was in the competition, and I gamely replied which one it was - Out In The Open, co-written with my friend Bob Serrano of Tux, sung by Zebedee and Angelica, back in the 1996 Metropop Song Festival. It was a finalist, and even if it didn't make it to the top 3 spots, it was in the CD that year, and it got a bit of radio airplay after that. People sort of liked it, and then it quietly faded into oblivion, as pop songs are wont to do.

I hadn't thought about the song for quite a while now (it's ancient history, and from another life), but it was pleasant to relive the memories of being on stage at the Araneta Coliseum and being on TV and all that, all because of Karen's curiosity about it this afternoon.

The song didn't win but my personal satisfaction lay in just making it to the finals - that, and judge Ryan Cayabyab taking me aside backstage and commenting that he loved the song. Ryan said that the competition had sort of taken a different turn and had become partly a singer's competition, not a song-writing one, and if the contest had stayed true to its intent, we should have at least placed.

I don't know if he was just trying to make me feel better, but hearing that coming from THE Ryan Cayabyab, and the very slim possibility that he was at least half-serious, was good enough for me; it was as if we had already won.

But back to the present.

As I said, like the Hajji thing, I hadn't thought of the song for ages. And then I mention it in the blog last night, and in a bit more detail in the comment section this afternoon.

Tonight, mere hours later, I get this in the mail, from out of the blue:

Hi there, Adel.

Sorry to barge into your inbox univited. I'm wordering if you have a
copy of Out in the Open. The first time heard of the song was during
the 1996 Metropop Festival, and somehow it stuck with me. I searched
the major record stores the last time I went to Manila, but came up
with nothing. Of all the songs in the album, this is the one I had to
have.

Now after some (extended) searching on Google, a 2003 PhilMUG post
identified you and Bob Serrano as the songwriters. I can't find Mr.
Serrano, so I'm really hoping you would still have a copy of the song,
and willing to share it with me. Thanks. (Actually, if you happen to
have the album, I wouldn't mind having the others, too.)

Cheers,
Albert Ching
2007.05.08

I was again dumbstruck. I could not believe it. Coincidence again?

He must have read my blog today and thought to write me for a copy. Yes, that must be it.

So I write him back immediately to ask precisely that.

Mr. Ching wrote back right away: I found the info via Google, specifically this link:
http://www.philmug.com/forum/viewthread.php?tid=4329&page=2

I ask you, is that weird or what?

Of all the days to get an email about a song I wrote more than a decade ago and haven't thought of much in the intervening time. And on the heels of the previous coincidence with Hajji Alejandro, this is a bit much.

Needless to say, I sent him a copy right away (which is perfectly legal since Bob and I own the song and I can do what I damn well please with it.)

I guess these kinds of coincidences happen, but twice in a row? And is it serendipitous? I don't know what God is trying to tell me. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around it. It's an understatement to say I'm thoroughly creeped out by all this.

Serendipity

2007-05-08T00:32:29Z

It's another word for coincidence, but the nice kind. I'm not sure what the word is for the bad kind. I'm not quite sure how to categorize this one I just had, but just the same, serendipity was the word that popped into my head.

During dinner at home Sunday night, the TV was blaring in the living room, tuned to Sharon on ABS-CBN by the maids. They were doing a musical feature on the Metropop on the show, and my ears perked up because once upon a time I was a finalist; otherwise it's usually pink noise to me. They got some of the original singers to do the songs they originally did for the Metropop, and one of them was Hajji Alejandro, the original Kilabot ng Mga Colegiala from the 70s, doing his old classic Kay Ganda ng Ating Musika.

My attention was diverted from the chicken because Hajji was singing spectacularly off-key, and I took notice even more closely. I can't sing to save my life, but I can tell if someone was pitchy, even if he was off by just an eighth of a note. He was struggling with his own song, and I remarked to my wife, "Listen, Sweetie, he can't even sing his own song anymore. Either he's lost it, or he doesn't care anymore. They should've gotten someone else to do it. Tsk tsk," and went back to munching on my chicken.

Fast forward to two hours later. We were at our usual weekend evening haunt in Eastwood, coffee and surfing at Coffee Bean, with Rico, Mano and a couple of our friends. Mano and the girls chat up a storm over this and that, so I plop myself at a separate table with Rico so I can surf on the T43 in peace.

The wifi was flaky and I had trouble getting online and staying on; the signal dropped often, and it was a struggle getting it back. So my mind wandered and among my idle thoughts I thought about listening to Hajji Alejandro on TV back home earlier and wondered about how he felt about how he's turned out, what he's become today compared to how he was in the seventies. If he's unhappy doing these retro things on TV shows and singing the stuff that he's probably sick of doing all his life. And then I thought about myself and what I've done with my own life, that sort of thing. Then the wifi came back and I promptly forgot all about Hajji.

Close to midnight, the place is almost empty, and in walks a couple.

The guy walks over to the counter to order, and the girl comes and sits down at a table near us. She looks familiar but I couldn't quite place her.

Rico, friendly dog that he is, saunters over and starts being his friendly self. The girl is delighted and pets him, gushing. She starts to chat me up and talks about how Rico is probably smelling her dogs on her which is why he's overly friendly. They have two big dogs, she says, and five poodles, blah blah blah. Pleasant pet owner talk.

The guy finishes ordering and goes to her table. The girl introduces him to Rico, and then to me. "This is my husband, Hajji."

I am momentarily speechless. I mean, what were the chances? Man.

I mumble pleasantries, still flustered at the coincidence. We chat a little, and then Mano and the girls motion to us that it was time to go home. Rico, who understands human speech more than I give him credit for, runs to the door; he'd been wanting to go home for a while already.

So I say goodbye to the couple, nice meeting you, and leave. Walking away I wonder if I should've talked to Hajji somehow. But about what, exactly? I wondered what I would said: "Hey, you'll never believe this, I was just thinking about you thirty minutes ago, and in you walk through the door. What is that about?" Or maybe, "Caught you on TV tonight. Did you know you were spectacularly sintonado?" Hmm, I don't think so.

It's baffling - you never think of the guy, you practically forget about him, you've never met him before in your life, you're even indifferent about his music, and then the one day you hear him on TV and make a snide comment, he shows up on that very day, hours later, to meet you, apparently apropo of nothing at all. Baffling but true, and totally useless. Couldn't I have just won the lotto?

I don't know what this was supposed to have meant, but you'll have to agree it was a hell of a coincidence.

Coming out

2007-05-06T11:11:57Z

If you've been reading my Mac blog (Mac-A-Doodle), you'll know I'm dabbling in the Dark Side and using an IBM/Lenovo ThinkPad T43 for work. Mostly I leave it in the office and just bring it home on weekends, and my reputation as a Mac User and Terminal Apple Fanboy would generally be safe because if it's not in my office it's in the bag.

Now though I'm writing this entry on the T43 in public, at a branch of Starbucks on Katipunan. Mano usually does the groceries here while Rico and I chill in the coffee shop and I just surf on the Mac. Today it's different; I left the Powerbook at home. I feel distinctly ill at ease doing this. Then again, I know intellectually that no one would notice or care, but being a proud fanboy I feel I have a reputation and an image to keep up, even if it's all in my imagination.

Stupid to feel this way, I know, and you'd be right a thousand times over for calling me an ass about it. But I can't help it. I guess I'll get used to it. Just taking time out to mention it here. Now back to work. On a Windows PC. In public. *shudder*

Ronin!

2007-05-02T17:23:53Z

Oh for joy!

They finally wised up. Variety reports that Warner Bros has optioned one of my all-time favorites, Frank Miller's Ronin, to turn it into a 300-style potboiler/samurai/sci-fi epic.

I. Can't. Wait.

Can The Dark Knight Returns be far behind?

Filipino Cultural Exchange

2007-04-28T06:25:50Z

I found this picture on my cousin Manny's blog today. He took it himself in Virginia, so it's authentic. Proof positive that our culture is well on its way to dominating the planet.

Kids & Critters Summer Camp

2007-04-25T13:23:53Z

I'm normally a grumpy no-fun old coot, but when it comes to my pets and animals in general I'm just a softy. (At least I've become a softy - before I met my wife, I was indifferent to dogs and pets as much as the next grump.)

So I'm taking time to help out an organization I have the highest respect for: PAWS, which stands for Philippine Animal Welfare Society. This and next weekend they're holding the Kids & Critters Summer Camp at the Eastwood City. Two Sundays, April 29 and May 6, from 3:30 to 5:30pm. There'll be pet care demos, interactive games, and a whole lot of things for kids and their pets. There is a fee but that includes everything but the kitchen sink. Those who participate will get lots of long-term benefits like discounts in PAWS-affliate stores, etc. Proceeds go to the PAWS Animal Rehabilitation Center.

Only 30 slots are available, so register already. Info in the poster, or you can email philpaws@yahoo.com, or call direct at 475-1688 or 0922-7135828.

Rico The Stealth Dog, my Golden Retriever, will be there as a special "guest", and I guess my wife and I'll be his chaperones. Hope to see you, your kids and your pets there.

Sandbox

2007-04-21T12:10:32Z

After a not-so-stellar experience problogging at The After Mac, and to avoid the sniping from anti-Mac-fanboys at P.W.I.T. (yes, this means you, Howard Paw), I just decided to start a new Apple/Mac blog, written by, and for, myself, and anyone else interested. Actually, been doing it for a week or so, but this is the first time I'm making it public.

Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Not another one. Hey, no biggie. Just one of those things. Gives me a chance to work out my Mac demons outside of Mobile Philippines, PhilMUG and PWIT. (No, this doesn't mean I'm never writing anything Apple-related in these other sites; maybe just a little less now that I have my very own sandbox to play in.)

So, I'd like to invite you kind folk to drop by Mac-A-Doodle and check it out when you have time, and maybe drop some feedback or participate in the discussion now and then.

F1 ka dyan!

2007-04-09T07:52:12Z

I’ve been in Sepang for the Malaysian Grand Prix since Maundy Thursday.

Crazy trip. For one thing, it’s a six-day thing, and lots of stuff, good and bad are happening to me. On the bad side, no net, and I can’t get online much. I got some right now, but just because we happened on a weak, erratic signal on my floor. Then Friday my wallet with cash (and my Smart SIM - I just changed to a local one and kept my old one in my wallet) got picked on a quick trip to see the King’s palace. Put a gigantic crimp on my plans, but I’ve been through a lot the past few days already and I was determined not to let it get me down. Today my room's safe box tanked and I can't get my travel papers and other things. Jeez.

On the plus side, I’m really immersed in F1-nnery. Got a front row seat at the Circuit and I get really up close and personal with the cars. Picture-wise it's heaven for an amateur photog, but it's damned hard to catch the cars, they're so freaking fast. Took a while to get the hang of it during qualifying, but by race day I was ready.

Here’s Felipe Massa, driving hard for his pole position, taken by yours truly:

And I got to try out how it feels to be part of team with BMW Sauber, and they taught me how to change a tire like a member of their pit crew. I got to learn how to use the hydraulic jack, and my friend Elbert Cuenca from Jetset Mag was the one took the old tire out and jammed a new one in. For an F1 fan it doesn't get better than this (short of actually driving a car). Look:

More later. If there’s internet anyway. (It’s RM57/day here in the hotel, man. About P750. And me with no cash. Pshaw.) Thank God this thing is holding up.

Harry Potter 7 Covers

2007-03-28T18:00:14Z

Just thought I'd slip from the shadows and pop into the light quickly to post this.

Scholastic and Bloomsbury just released the final cover art for Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, the 7th and final installment in the series:

US Edition dust jacket

UK Edition

The Bloomsbury edition runs 608 pages, and the inside flap summary reads:

Harry has been burdened with a dark, dangerous and seemingly impossible task: that of locating and destroying Voldemort’s remaining Horcruxes. Never has Harry felt so alone, or faced a future so full of shadows. But Harry must somehow find within himself the strength to complete the task he has been given. He must leave the warmth, safety , and companionship of The Burrow and follow without fear or hesitation the inexorable path laid out for him…

In this final, seventh installment of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling unveils in spectactular fashion the answers to the many questions that have been so eagerly awaited. The spellbinding, richly woven narrative, which plunges, twists and turns at a breathtaking pace, confirms the author as a mistress of storytelling, whose books will be read, reread and read again.

Arthur Levine, Harry Potter book editor, said on Today that he only wasn't in tears at the end, he "sobbed."

Man. Can't wait.

Happy Doggie Day!

2007-03-14T01:11:46Z

It's our Golden Retrievers Rico and Bobby's birthday today!

Our two big boys turn five years old. Came from a litter of eight cuties from a nice couple in Pasay who had more puppies than they could deal with. We got Rico at four months, Bobby at 13 months. (Yes, they're named after the Yan brothers - it's the late Rico Yan's birth anniversary today too. Bobby, Mano's former co-host at ABS-CBN Global, is ticked pink he has our dog named after him - they even have the same personality.)

Happy boitday, you big lugs!

At least I can fly

2007-03-11T03:54:40Z

Just took The Heroes Personality Test.

Apparently I am Nathan Petrelli.

Nathan Petrelli
You scored 16 Idealism, 20 Nonconformity, 37 Nerdiness

Congratulaions, you're Nathan Petrelli! You've got all the qualities of a stereotypical politician. You're ambitious, practical, and you've got more than a healthy sex drive. Still, as much you want to succeed in your field, you don't enjoy the attention that comes from being "different", and you are willing to lie to fit the image you want to present. Your worst quality: Ambition--you will make your way to the top of any career. Your worst quality: Anything for the votes--you will do whatever it takes.

Nathan. Woulda loved to be Peter, but I can live with that.