tadao_ando

There is a strong familial bond between the Filipino and a collectible tumbler.

A true diva will not stand being a version of an original.

Kuh Ledesma on the other hand, basked in her own P.R. efforts, heralding her as the Diana Ross of the Philippines, at the time when the Motown queen was gasping her last breath of pop supremacy during the early 80’s with a huge flop of an album aptly entitled ‘Eaten Alive.’ When that didn’t work, Kuh then worked to be known as the Barbra Streisand of the Philippines. She never got it, did she? See, Barang has a vocal range that matched her wit, while Kuh, is tone deaf. After the last failed attempt at being repackaged, this time as the Anggun of the Philippines, she decided to make a career on watching her business establishments burn down.

In the same banca is another pretender (legal wife yes, legit diva, no), Zsa Zsa Padilla. She has no distinct style. The timbre of her voice is just a notch better than Kuh’s, her range one fourth a scale higher but that’s it. Her marriage to Dolphy made her slightly more interesting despite that eternal half-sneeze look on her face that is so distracting.

Lastly, true divas don’t host lunchtime shows. It's unimaginable that they leave their bedrooms early in the day to earn a living.

"Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees." -  Victor Hugo

Shocking is meeting a friend in an opening of an art exhibit, and receiving news two days later that the same friend was found murdered in his own car.

What isn’t shocking is how life and talent can be so disposable on this side of the world.

ang daming bakla sa LJ!









*sabay inom ng lychee martini*

you wait for the right time. you wait a little longer. part of your body involuntarily jerks to make a move. but your will stops any action. you're more productive with far more important things that take you away from the unnecessary and the miniscule. you're actually beyond waiting. you hope the trivial disappears. until it happens. life has a way of unfolding itself and revealing its goodness without any effort, without a delete button. and you're glad. extremely.

:)

I’ve admired a purist, a minimalist and one with monastic sensibilities. I have a new hero. ☺

This should help all of us, always. Thanks mosscake for this.

Copy/Paste
This is a good thought to live by...

Next time someone starts to spread gossip, think of this:

In ancient Greece (469 - 399 BC), Socrates was widely lauded for his wisdom. One day the great philosopher came upon an acquaintance who ran up to him excitedly and said, "Socrates, do you know what I just heard about one of your students?"

Wait a moment," Socrates replied. "Before you tell me I'd like you to pass a little test.It's called the Triple Filter Test.

"Triple filter?"

"That's right," Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my student let's take a moment to filter what you're going to say. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"

"No," the man said, "actually I just heard about it and..."

"All right," said Socrates. "So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second filter, the filter of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my student something good?"

"No, on the contrary..."

"So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, even though you're not certain it's true?"

The man shrugged, a little embarrassed. Socrates continued. "You may still pass the test though,because there is a third filter - the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to 
tell me about my student going to be useful to me?"

"No, not really..."

"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither True nor Good nor even Useful, why tell it to me at all?"

The man was defeated and ashamed.

This is the reason Socrates was a great philosopher and held in such high Esteem.

August 7, 2005

Antonio Malaya, creator of Hairbac, a shampoo solution that supposedly stops hair loss, on ANC. Visible were hair strands peeking out of his ears while talking about his product. Surreal but convincing.

I've always hated fights.

When I was a kid, my father bought my older brother and me each a pair of boxing gloves. I remember sparring with him only once. Of course, I allowed my brother to clobber me because I wasn't interested.

Boxing has always been bloody and boring to me. I didn't even cheer Sly Stallone in his poignant slow motion and close-up shots during his glorious moments in each Rocky installment.

Surprisingly, I've been glued to The Contender for the past month. The fights at the end of each episode have been intense. To most of the live audience, it's the thrill of a real good match. But to the TV audience like me, the fights were made more exciting because of the stories behind each contender.

Tonight, the semifinals between Alfonzo and Manfredo shook me. These guys developed friendships behind the camera. The clips prior to the match were almost sentimental, exposing relationships these men have developed with each other and of their families who depend so much on their victories. I was rooting for Manfredo because he lost earlier on to Alfonzo, the show's underdog and gentleman fighter. Next week will undoubtedly be another exciting match, between the handsome but arrogant Jessie and the cool Sergio the Snake for the finals. (I've turned butch!)

Perhaps these boxers hate fighting too. It's just that their lives depend on it.

Two suicides. In one week.

My close friend, whose older sister passed away 5 years ago after a decade fighting cancer, went back to Bacolod for yet another funeral. Her younger sister put a gun to her head. Early this week, a young account executive of a big ad agency jumped to her death from her office building, after a quick smoke and a letter written to her parents.

Why are people giving up?

I keep a mental list of film divas that I think are underrated, having been denied the recognition they deserve. They certainly are successful in their careers as film artists, nominated for an Oscar, some of them twice or thrice, which they have yet to win. I still think they are underappreciated by the American public, whose love for the bland and the superficial has become, sadly, the world standard. So, I’ve put up a humble shrine for them here. There are so many names in mind but i decided to limit my list to the following for now:



( Joan, Cate, Glenn, Miranda, Helen )

One my girlfriends, Gladys, shared this anecdote about her matrona aunts as they were touring Europe:

Tour Guide: And over here, you’ll see the history of the city on this huge stained glass wall, which is over a hundred years old!
Matrona 1 to Matrona 2 : Hay, umalis na tayo at baka mabagsakan pa tayo!