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Showing posts from February, 2009

From Slumdog to Millionaire

Slumdog Millionaire has been getting a lot of hype lately, and I, for one, think it deserves it.

Set in the slums of Mumbai, Slumdog Millionaire is, simply, a rags-to-riches story of a boy who went from the shit-diving fanboy (watch the movie and you'll understand) to the 20 million-Rupee winner of the local version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire - and gets the girl of his dreams in the process. And to make it truly Bollywood-grade (it's a British film, BTW), there's a dance scene at the end.

While some may say that the story is something we've all seen before countless times over and over again (yes, the premise is THAT overused), that's entirely beside the point. No idea is new, they say, the key lies in the way something is presented, which makes Slumdog Millionaire stand out from all the rest. The cinematography for one, is great, and for a movie that reminded me so much of the slums of our own Payatas, of the congestion of this sprawling metropolis we call Met…

Stephen King stole my line.

I never thought Stephen King was such a two-bit hack to resort to stealing lines from others. He just went public using my words!

"Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn."


It's fine that people are starting to read more now, but the problem is WHAT they're reading. There are a lot of well-written, easy-to-read books out there, both by Filipino and foreign authors. It's just too bad that crap like the Twilight series are the ones that become popular. And let me just say one thing: Twilight, much like Dan Brown's only slightly better-written books, have only been catapulted into literary super stardom not because these authors blow you away with the way they put words together, but because of gosh-darned good MARKETING.

There is nothing even remotely good about the way Twilight is written. And it gives vampires a bad name by making them powerful, agile, good-looking WHINY AND WIMPY EMOS. What the hell. Even Lestat and his ilk, in all their gayness, were …

New things

I am waiting for an arrival, a return, a promised sign.
This can be futile, or immensely pathetic:
in Erwartung (Waiting),
a woman waits for her lover, at night, in the forest;
I am waiting for no more than a telephone call,
but the anxiety is the same. Everything is solemn:
I have no sense of proportions.

- Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse


I'll admit that the theme is a bit off - a cute birdie happily prancing on fallen leaves doesn't exactly fit with "Symptoms of Cretinism". Still, I got bored of the old template, and I don't think anyone will mind because no one seems to visit anyway - which is probably due to the fact that I'm a very erratic poster, in terms of both content and frequency of my posts.

Maybe I'll find the time to add a few things, IF I'm hit with a bout of inspiration and diligence to do so, or if somebody offers to help me. Hah. Fat chance.


I've only noticed today that I've been blogging since 2005 - so t…