Damned In Blue

Before I begin my posts that's basically a carbon copy of my previous, self-defecating, and ingratiating rants, I'd like to begin to talk about how awesome Black Swan was. I saw the film a couple of weeks ago with girlfriend and was just waiting an opportune time to review it in this blog. Holy hell, did this movie deliver! Darren Aronofsky comes up with some of the most arresting stuff seen in cinema, both stylistically and essentially, and he was able to conjure beautifully haunting moments that leave you breathless. I, for one, am not too sure of the Kafkaesque elements that were plastered throughout the course of the film, but I generally dug the whole psychological violence that laid the blueprint for the stunning finish, or at least that's the impression I got from watching the film. What separates Mr. Aronofsky to others in terms of craft is not only the dedication to detail and strength of storytelling from beginning to end, but it is only how he leaves the door o...

It always happens to me, immersing myself to a lot of things, fending off sleep just to get things done from my to-do list, only to find myself waking up at noon the next day like an aftermath of a drink or two gone wrong, while my nephew lingers on from her cribby throne (or throne-y crib, whatever fancies your fanny). What makes this situation worse is struggling to recall the specifics of what took place these past few days. I vaguely remember the structure of my cold, calculated daze, but the warmth of it escapes me. Such is the bane of trying to go ubermensch on everything and everyday, starting at the beginning of the year. With so much in your mind, you start to forget things, get distracted by short-term goals, experience physical and mental difficulties, and such. Interestingly enough, it is exactly what I signed up for, so for me to whine and bitch about my predicament is like complaining why the earth is round. Unlike the mythology of the primordial Titan named Atlas, I was ...

1. Star City has no company website For shame, Star City marketers. For shame! Online presence has become much more valuable than ever, since more and more people are logging in to search for various information and services. I have never been to Star City before, which is why girlfriend and I planned to go there to do something different. Since we don't know squat about the amusement park, instinct told me to access the Internet and run a search on Star City to see whether it was open on that particular day or not (it was, from four in the afternoon to midnight), how much is the entrance fee, and so on. After minutes of deep searching, it turned out that dozens of info-sites, good and bad, have littered the online scene in hopes of filling the virtual crater left by the no-longer- existing company website. Too bad, since there are lots of online marketing possibilities that Star City could indulge themselves in with the existence of a company website. Four words, Star City marketi...

I have been in a literary bind lately, having read novels both borne out of responsibility for class discussions and sheer interest. I was a fair reader years ago but, as expected, professional life almost seemed to have killed every ounce of passion that I have for the arts. Therefore, it was a breath of fresh air that I am able to restore the remnants of my fragmented appreciation for fiction, although I had to be forced to such daunting task. You have to at least give credit to required readings in school. "The Stranger" by Camus, however, was not part of our reading list. My recollections with Camus can be traced back to my senior year in college when I was simply blown away by "The Plague," his crowning achievement, in my feeble opinion. What a monster of a book. It's like "The Stand" by Stephen King, only much, much better (Sorry, King fans). The uncompromising bleakness and deadness of the novel was also able to capture the purposelessness I was...

...of some sort. In the middle of 2008, I decided to shut down Damned in Blue and created in its place this blog site that you are currently enduring to read in agony. Writing on the Tumbong is a turning-a-new-leaf moment for me, as the Damned carried a lot of baggage that I was able to unpack and shelved in their proper drawers from my past, so there was no reason to write on a blog that dwelt on memories already set in stone. Thus, from the ashes of the great deep emerged this shiny new asshole of a blog. Now, if you could only visualize the image of a huge, clenched asshole rising like a glorious phoenix, emblazoned with hope and redemption, or in this case, shit and giggles. However, before I nailed the final coffin on the Damned during that time, I downloaded all the blog posts via the "Export Posts" option on the backend of the blog. The truth is, I can't erase them. It's like deleting the contact of your best friend, whom you've shared awesome things with ...

Goddamnit. I have officially returned to my former weight when I was still a fat high school kid. All the hard work and determination of slimming down and shedding unnecessary fat in order to have reached the weight that I have successfully maintained for the past decade were all for naught. Granted, I'm not really fat in appearance, but those who have seen me for at least two year would definitely notice the heavy difference - nobody can hide 15 pounds of gained weight out the ass. Pumping irons may have saved me from a flabby reality, but still, gaining 15 pounds in two years is amazing for all the wrong reasons. Goddamnit. I blame the seat. I blame the personal computer. I blame the addiction of sorting through all that wonderful shit everybody finds on the Internet. Sigh. I know, I know. There's nobody to blame but myself. Had I been much more proactive physically, had I consume less cheeseburger in one sitting, blah blah. But let's face it, it's much more convenien...