To all naysayers, think about it.
Hellboy (the movie) is, at its core, a love story about a freak (hellboy) who loves another freak (selma blair) who doesn't want to admit she loves him because she doesn't want to admit shes a freak, but in the end she see's the light (haha.) and they lip-lock in a mouth-to-mouth baked-alaska. How lovely is that? Its a modern-day fairy tale with the obligatory "and-they-lived/loved-happily-ever-after".
if you don't like that then you don't bloody believe in the ideal of love (if we don't have the ideal, then what do we have? the practical aspect sure doesn't cut it!).
To hell with you! even satan's spawn gets it!
2006-03-23
zouk last night was a hilarious comedy with a guy pushing me and isaac they all jumping in with
bravado and in a weird chain of events we ended up friends with that guy's friends and kennedy and justin had a damn big fight. just don't ask. haha.
tiff- relax. sorry if you feel i hijacked your quote but technically you got it from someone else who got it from someone else who probably got it from someone else. we'd all like to think we're special but its a thin illusion at best.
bravado and in a weird chain of events we ended up friends with that guy's friends and kennedy and justin had a damn big fight. just don't ask. haha.
tiff- relax. sorry if you feel i hijacked your quote but technically you got it from someone else who got it from someone else who probably got it from someone else. we'd all like to think we're special but its a thin illusion at best.
2006-03-20
"you're a bi-curious!" proclaimed Lesley after our night out at Happy with her queens (its a gay soiree! or so i say).
"he dances like one, at least" said her fagfriend. but truth is i love girls (boobies!) too much but i think what jennifer clement says hits closest to home.
"It was clear that his sexual interest was not monochromatic. It did not rely on visual stimulation, such as a pretty girl. It was a very rich multi-chromatic sexuality. He was attracted to people for all
different reasons. They could be boys, girls, thin, fat, pretty, ugly. It was, I think, driven by intelligence. He was attracted to intelligence more than anything and to pain. He was very attracted to people who silently bore some sort of inner pain as he did and he loved
people who were one-of-a-kind, people who had a unique vision of things."
I wish i wrote that, but i didn't. my only claim to fame is posting it. she wrote it in the book "Widow Basquiat" to describe Jean-Michel Basquiat, a notorious nyc artist circa 1980/90. i want his life - fast, furious, tragic.
him, cobain, doherty, eldon. are they just flashes in the pan? maybe, but you'll never know. they die to fast. (i think its because theirs souls were too full. they subsequently burst as a result). but in their brilliant moments, they stood there like proverbial dancers in a forever-priouette. better a moment's perfection than an eternal muddle, ya ken?
"he dances like one, at least" said her fagfriend. but truth is i love girls (boobies!) too much but i think what jennifer clement says hits closest to home.
"It was clear that his sexual interest was not monochromatic. It did not rely on visual stimulation, such as a pretty girl. It was a very rich multi-chromatic sexuality. He was attracted to people for all
different reasons. They could be boys, girls, thin, fat, pretty, ugly. It was, I think, driven by intelligence. He was attracted to intelligence more than anything and to pain. He was very attracted to people who silently bore some sort of inner pain as he did and he loved
people who were one-of-a-kind, people who had a unique vision of things."
I wish i wrote that, but i didn't. my only claim to fame is posting it. she wrote it in the book "Widow Basquiat" to describe Jean-Michel Basquiat, a notorious nyc artist circa 1980/90. i want his life - fast, furious, tragic.
him, cobain, doherty, eldon. are they just flashes in the pan? maybe, but you'll never know. they die to fast. (i think its because theirs souls were too full. they subsequently burst as a result). but in their brilliant moments, they stood there like proverbial dancers in a forever-priouette. better a moment's perfection than an eternal muddle, ya ken?
2006-03-15
2006-03-08
I walked home from class tonight- it was a nice enough night, with a slight breeze and a half-moon.
"blog about it!" said chek.
so here's some of it- the cheerier bits at least, because who wants to be sad these days? lets not glamorize depression. its only attractive to everyone but the one affected.
-
has a belly button ever come undone? honestly i wonder. maybe the doctor failed his knot-tying badge. would your insides spill out? i'd imagine the bandit umblical cord would like the untied end of a water balloon, flailing about in uncontrollable chaos as your inside-juices spew out. and you'd start to shrivel like a prune, starting with your abdominal area, and ending with the flesh of your cheeks, reducing you to skeleton, like skeletor from out of He-Man, only sans the muscles.
oh how gory.
-
i suppose the nature of addiction lies in the quirk of memory. take pain for example- one can remember pain hurts, but is at a loss when asked to remember the specific sensation of it. simply, sensations are "hard to remember but impossible to forget", which is probably why addicts constantly seek a fix. they can't forget its pleasures but can't remember it either.
which is kind of what Placebo is like. their tuneless melodies vacate my head as soon as their song ends but i distinctly remember i loved what i heard which is why i Allergic (To Thoughts of Mother Earth) played on a constant loop on my walk home.
-
tada.
"blog about it!" said chek.
so here's some of it- the cheerier bits at least, because who wants to be sad these days? lets not glamorize depression. its only attractive to everyone but the one affected.
-
has a belly button ever come undone? honestly i wonder. maybe the doctor failed his knot-tying badge. would your insides spill out? i'd imagine the bandit umblical cord would like the untied end of a water balloon, flailing about in uncontrollable chaos as your inside-juices spew out. and you'd start to shrivel like a prune, starting with your abdominal area, and ending with the flesh of your cheeks, reducing you to skeleton, like skeletor from out of He-Man, only sans the muscles.
oh how gory.
-
i suppose the nature of addiction lies in the quirk of memory. take pain for example- one can remember pain hurts, but is at a loss when asked to remember the specific sensation of it. simply, sensations are "hard to remember but impossible to forget", which is probably why addicts constantly seek a fix. they can't forget its pleasures but can't remember it either.
which is kind of what Placebo is like. their tuneless melodies vacate my head as soon as their song ends but i distinctly remember i loved what i heard which is why i Allergic (To Thoughts of Mother Earth) played on a constant loop on my walk home.
-
tada.
2006-03-04
its like being on the outside looking in, or perhaps its actually the inside looking out.
maybe its how a goldfish feels in a bowling-ball shaped tank. or perhaps a voeyuer peeking into a house. but they're all not part of.
does anyone know what love is. its probably at its best when unrequited, salvaging it from the messy reins of reality. maybe thats why its the noblest emotion of all, tho i daren't say i speak from experience. it must hurt knowing that its so perfect because it could or might exist, like a spectre in the corner of one's eye. but if you try to look at it, it'll disappear.
*poof*
maybe its how a goldfish feels in a bowling-ball shaped tank. or perhaps a voeyuer peeking into a house. but they're all not part of.
does anyone know what love is. its probably at its best when unrequited, salvaging it from the messy reins of reality. maybe thats why its the noblest emotion of all, tho i daren't say i speak from experience. it must hurt knowing that its so perfect because it could or might exist, like a spectre in the corner of one's eye. but if you try to look at it, it'll disappear.
*poof*
2006-03-03
2006-02-08
what do you hate?
how about, when something bad happens, some well-meaning soul says "Don't worry. All things happen for a reason". chances the utterer of that cursed phrase is christian, or incredibly naive, to take such a fatalistic stance. after all, "fate is the path of least resistence," said the protagonist in matchpoint. aye to that.
tomorrow, i start my job at video-ezy. but today, an email came. "Hi Lennard, we regret to inform you that..." and i think you know how it ends. Damn. Retrenched before i could even start. But, all of a sudden, i get calls here and there. links of links from the past. a friend of a friend of a friend, and tomorrow i'll be assisting in some event (a Canon event no less! contacts galore!) from 10 to 10 for $150. come friday, i've got a 4 hour photography assignment for $200. and both openings from difference sources.
consider then- might things actually happen for a reason? bollocks to that. remember, "fate is the path of least resistence", and "i'd rather be lucky than good", both of which are from Woody Allen's Matchpoint.
Matchpoint, btw, is a really good movie. I love movies. I just usually hate their endings - so many movies lift me up only to let me down in the last quarter. (Great Expectations anyone? with the pseudo-red herring benefactor. pshaw!) But this movie ended how i wanted it to end. *warning: spoilers ahead* referencing my previous post, chris (the shows protagonist) is the ideal devolution from the anti-hero - utterly unlikable, but wholely sympathetic. you want him to get away with his crime. the scene with him in the police station reminded me of the Tell-Tale Heart. one can feel him haunted by this sin, but unlike the tell-tale heart, he does not confess. and i felt a sinful joy that he didn't. getting caught would be too much of a sweet redemption for the wholely unwholesome Chris. better he live his life out in his own private hell. --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous and guilty he was, is and will forever be.
the definite contemporary noir film if ever there was one, its a movie that's smarter than its audience. longer post about it to come if i can, if not, http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060105/REVIEWS/60103004/1023
Ebert can do no wrong. (except with his review of 3000 Miles to Graceland)
how about, when something bad happens, some well-meaning soul says "Don't worry. All things happen for a reason". chances the utterer of that cursed phrase is christian, or incredibly naive, to take such a fatalistic stance. after all, "fate is the path of least resistence," said the protagonist in matchpoint. aye to that.
tomorrow, i start my job at video-ezy. but today, an email came. "Hi Lennard, we regret to inform you that..." and i think you know how it ends. Damn. Retrenched before i could even start. But, all of a sudden, i get calls here and there. links of links from the past. a friend of a friend of a friend, and tomorrow i'll be assisting in some event (a Canon event no less! contacts galore!) from 10 to 10 for $150. come friday, i've got a 4 hour photography assignment for $200. and both openings from difference sources.
consider then- might things actually happen for a reason? bollocks to that. remember, "fate is the path of least resistence", and "i'd rather be lucky than good", both of which are from Woody Allen's Matchpoint.
Matchpoint, btw, is a really good movie. I love movies. I just usually hate their endings - so many movies lift me up only to let me down in the last quarter. (Great Expectations anyone? with the pseudo-red herring benefactor. pshaw!) But this movie ended how i wanted it to end. *warning: spoilers ahead* referencing my previous post, chris (the shows protagonist) is the ideal devolution from the anti-hero - utterly unlikable, but wholely sympathetic. you want him to get away with his crime. the scene with him in the police station reminded me of the Tell-Tale Heart. one can feel him haunted by this sin, but unlike the tell-tale heart, he does not confess. and i felt a sinful joy that he didn't. getting caught would be too much of a sweet redemption for the wholely unwholesome Chris. better he live his life out in his own private hell. --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous and guilty he was, is and will forever be.
the definite contemporary noir film if ever there was one, its a movie that's smarter than its audience. longer post about it to come if i can, if not, http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060105/REVIEWS/60103004/1023
Ebert can do no wrong. (except with his review of 3000 Miles to Graceland)
2006-02-02
which fantasy do you want to live out?
do you want to be tyler durden in fight club and pee into the clam chowder and rant lyrical about how "We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off. "
, or be randal graves in clerks and say things like ""Empire" had the better ending. I mean, Luke gets his hand cut off, finds out Vader's his father, Han gets frozen and taken away by Boba Fett. It ends on such a down note. I mean, that's what life is, a series of down endings. All "Jedi" had was a bunch of Muppets." (btw, he's right, though i think above and beyond them Star Wars : A New Hope stands as the best, much in the same way The Matrix was so much better than the 2 that followed. it is neat and self-contained.)
its opposites of the cool spectrum. one is cool and the other so uncool he's cool too. knowing me i'm probably the latter guy, only that i'm not uncool enough to be cool so i just fall flat being straight uncool.
the reason i ask this is because i wondered whether i would rather work as a waiter or a video-rental jockey. tomorrow's my interview with Video-EZY. Wish me luck. if i mess this up i think it means i'm pretty messed up.
do you want to be tyler durden in fight club and pee into the clam chowder and rant lyrical about how "We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off. "
, or be randal graves in clerks and say things like ""Empire" had the better ending. I mean, Luke gets his hand cut off, finds out Vader's his father, Han gets frozen and taken away by Boba Fett. It ends on such a down note. I mean, that's what life is, a series of down endings. All "Jedi" had was a bunch of Muppets." (btw, he's right, though i think above and beyond them Star Wars : A New Hope stands as the best, much in the same way The Matrix was so much better than the 2 that followed. it is neat and self-contained.)
its opposites of the cool spectrum. one is cool and the other so uncool he's cool too. knowing me i'm probably the latter guy, only that i'm not uncool enough to be cool so i just fall flat being straight uncool.
the reason i ask this is because i wondered whether i would rather work as a waiter or a video-rental jockey. tomorrow's my interview with Video-EZY. Wish me luck. if i mess this up i think it means i'm pretty messed up.
2006-02-01
2006-01-30
the manly influences of National Service leaks from my memory.
-
i want to be a glitter boy. i want roughed cheeks and glossy lips. i want heeled boots and a lazy, hazy cigarette hanging languidly on my lip. i want the whole she-bang - freed hearts of gilded chains and SETI on overdrive for my extraterrestrial love search. elegantly walking down the street, handbag on one hand, lies on the other, most beautiful only when I'm walking out the door. personality crisis? dear sir i'm just a leftover 20th century boy out to change the world.
-
Glitter Boy, 2006
Text Pastiche on Your Screen
Lenn
-
i want to be a glitter boy. i want roughed cheeks and glossy lips. i want heeled boots and a lazy, hazy cigarette hanging languidly on my lip. i want the whole she-bang - freed hearts of gilded chains and SETI on overdrive for my extraterrestrial love search. elegantly walking down the street, handbag on one hand, lies on the other, most beautiful only when I'm walking out the door. personality crisis? dear sir i'm just a leftover 20th century boy out to change the world.
-
Glitter Boy, 2006
Text Pastiche on Your Screen
Lenn
2006-01-29
people are drawn deeper into tragedy not by their defects but by their virtues. that is the premise of a tragic hero, or at least it was in shakespearean times. that noble concept as since eroded. from the crevices of prototypical tragic hero a la Oedipus, noble but flawed because of his virtue and innocence, crept out the anti-hero.
the anti-hero is consciously a villian in action but a hero at heart. that is the appeal isn't it? that behind every flawed action there is a shining light of redemption because it is motivated by pureness (though at times reluctently so). take Frank Castle, aka the Punisher. it is because he is driven by the loss of his family that we can rationalize his otherwise inhumane actions in his quest for revenge. we can say to ourselves "what he is doing is wrong, but i understand why he is doing it." one might even go so far as to empathize with him.
the anti-hero brings to light the concept of grey in what was previously a black and white world, which is comforting.
after all, doesn't everyone want shades of redemption?
the anti-hero is consciously a villian in action but a hero at heart. that is the appeal isn't it? that behind every flawed action there is a shining light of redemption because it is motivated by pureness (though at times reluctently so). take Frank Castle, aka the Punisher. it is because he is driven by the loss of his family that we can rationalize his otherwise inhumane actions in his quest for revenge. we can say to ourselves "what he is doing is wrong, but i understand why he is doing it." one might even go so far as to empathize with him.
the anti-hero brings to light the concept of grey in what was previously a black and white world, which is comforting.
after all, doesn't everyone want shades of redemption?
2006-01-28
following the erosion of tragic heros (et tu, brute?) to anti heros (Marv from Sin City, Batman) the next logical step would not only be someone with no redeemable qualities or tragic flaw, save for the fact that the tragic flaw is his very existence. but no, because he is the lineage of tragic heros, one cannot condemn him. And that is Vincent, the assassin in Collateral.
He is not amoral. neither is he confused. he is just very logical. after his first hit, a confused and scared max, the cab driver, sputters on, questioning how he could kill the man.
Vincent: Max, six billion people on the planet, you're getting bent out of shape cause of one fat guy.
Max: Well, who was he?
Vincent: What do you care? Have you ever heard of Rwanda?
Max: Yes, I know Rwanda.
Vincent: Well, tens of thousands killed before sundown. Nobody's killed people that fast since Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Did you bat an eye, Max?
Max: What?
Vincent: Did you join Amnesty International, Oxfam, Save the Whales, Greenpeace, or something? No. I off one fat Angelino and you throw a hissy fit.
Max: Man, I don't know any Rwandans.
Vincent: You don't know the guy in the trunk, either.
with reasons as plain as that, i might be so inclined to off someone myself. what vincent lacks isn't a heart. he did save max's life in the nightclub scene. what vincent does is partition - cruelly, cold-heartedly.
billed as a thriller, the movie is actually more of what happens in between. the action scenes could be sliced right out and the movie would still shine. max's growing confidence and vincent who somehow somehow you think theres something about him and you don't want to write him off as a villian.
ironic how vincent dies in a subway. in the beginning of the movie, he says to max :
Max: First time in L.A.?
Vincent: No. Tell you the truth, whenever I'm here I can't wait to leave. It's too sprawled out, disconnected. You know? That's me. You like it?
Max: It's my home.
Vincent: 17 million people. This is got to be the fifth biggest economy in the world and nobody knows each other. I read about this guy who gets on the MTA here, dies.
Max: Oh.
Vincent: Six hours he's riding the subway before anybody notices his corpse doing laps around L.A., people on and off sitting next to him. Nobody notices.
so is vincent the by-product of urban living? alienated, disconnected. is he emotionally flaccid, or just guarded? whatever it is, vincent is a caricature of who we all could be.
call it the perks of being alive.
He is not amoral. neither is he confused. he is just very logical. after his first hit, a confused and scared max, the cab driver, sputters on, questioning how he could kill the man.
Vincent: Max, six billion people on the planet, you're getting bent out of shape cause of one fat guy.
Max: Well, who was he?
Vincent: What do you care? Have you ever heard of Rwanda?
Max: Yes, I know Rwanda.
Vincent: Well, tens of thousands killed before sundown. Nobody's killed people that fast since Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Did you bat an eye, Max?
Max: What?
Vincent: Did you join Amnesty International, Oxfam, Save the Whales, Greenpeace, or something? No. I off one fat Angelino and you throw a hissy fit.
Max: Man, I don't know any Rwandans.
Vincent: You don't know the guy in the trunk, either.
with reasons as plain as that, i might be so inclined to off someone myself. what vincent lacks isn't a heart. he did save max's life in the nightclub scene. what vincent does is partition - cruelly, cold-heartedly.
billed as a thriller, the movie is actually more of what happens in between. the action scenes could be sliced right out and the movie would still shine. max's growing confidence and vincent who somehow somehow you think theres something about him and you don't want to write him off as a villian.
ironic how vincent dies in a subway. in the beginning of the movie, he says to max :
Max: First time in L.A.?
Vincent: No. Tell you the truth, whenever I'm here I can't wait to leave. It's too sprawled out, disconnected. You know? That's me. You like it?
Max: It's my home.
Vincent: 17 million people. This is got to be the fifth biggest economy in the world and nobody knows each other. I read about this guy who gets on the MTA here, dies.
Max: Oh.
Vincent: Six hours he's riding the subway before anybody notices his corpse doing laps around L.A., people on and off sitting next to him. Nobody notices.
so is vincent the by-product of urban living? alienated, disconnected. is he emotionally flaccid, or just guarded? whatever it is, vincent is a caricature of who we all could be.
call it the perks of being alive.
i had one of those lucid dreams last night.
so i went home from zouk and went to sleep, but in my dream i dreamt the rest of the guys came over after zouk and we hung out a bit and then we went out to eat pizza. its one of those dreams that when you wake up, you have to take a moment to ponder - did i dream it or did it happen? especially since it fitted so seamlessly with my night.
-
i vaguely recall a super criterion collection box set on sale last year. does anyone remember this at all? i've been scouring the net to no avail.
so i went home from zouk and went to sleep, but in my dream i dreamt the rest of the guys came over after zouk and we hung out a bit and then we went out to eat pizza. its one of those dreams that when you wake up, you have to take a moment to ponder - did i dream it or did it happen? especially since it fitted so seamlessly with my night.
-
i vaguely recall a super criterion collection box set on sale last year. does anyone remember this at all? i've been scouring the net to no avail.
sunshine through my window,
a smile on my face.
-
i have broken the curse. after a straight hitter of 4-times-in-a-row-drunk at zouk, i return tonight, triumphant and sober, though S$28 poorer. its like when i was always getting drunk in JC till one day i told myself i had to stop and i kept wearing the same pair of red underwear (auspicious!), thinking it would help, (that pair is now lost) till finally, many parties later, i stopped drinking myself silly. i hope its not a recurring theme though.
-
good fucking night.
a smile on my face.
-
i have broken the curse. after a straight hitter of 4-times-in-a-row-drunk at zouk, i return tonight, triumphant and sober, though S$28 poorer. its like when i was always getting drunk in JC till one day i told myself i had to stop and i kept wearing the same pair of red underwear (auspicious!), thinking it would help, (that pair is now lost) till finally, many parties later, i stopped drinking myself silly. i hope its not a recurring theme though.
-
good fucking night.
2006-01-23
"look at them! they're so red and angry!" tsked the doctor when he scoped my nasal passages and throat. and that they did. very red and throbby.
i could see the insides of my nose and throat on a screen. i didn't recognise myself on screen but it seems i have a deviated nasal passage or something like that. he then took out a contraption and stuck it up my nose and schlllloooopppp sucked all my excess mucus out. a mini vacuum! i suddenly could breathe so freely. its like how you feel after just shaving your head. you can feel the air on your scalp.
of the many pills (sans thrills) he prescribed me, one has an advisory that says "causes insomnia". another says "causes drowsiness". so when their powers combine, i think i'll be perfectly fine.
-
she took an uninspired bite out of her sandwich.
he stretched and languidly got up
she walked down the hall. her heels clicked like a metronome.
i could see the insides of my nose and throat on a screen. i didn't recognise myself on screen but it seems i have a deviated nasal passage or something like that. he then took out a contraption and stuck it up my nose and schlllloooopppp sucked all my excess mucus out. a mini vacuum! i suddenly could breathe so freely. its like how you feel after just shaving your head. you can feel the air on your scalp.
of the many pills (sans thrills) he prescribed me, one has an advisory that says "causes insomnia". another says "causes drowsiness". so when their powers combine, i think i'll be perfectly fine.
-
she took an uninspired bite out of her sandwich.
he stretched and languidly got up
she walked down the hall. her heels clicked like a metronome.
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