Nothing Opens at the Close, Bitch

It ends here.

What I thought is extraordinary
has become less
ordinary

and I'm not even talking
about Harry Potter.

Nothing opens at the
Close.

In reality
in my own fictional
non-verisimilitudinary realm--
Goodbye means
fare...

Well, your eyes
I thought
are hazelnut. Alas!
Your lips smudged
with pigment of what
I thought was love.
Only to discover
when you talk
a drop of saliva
spatters from
your mouth.

I loathe
how this petty mishap
misshaped the heart
pretty much
like a Cruciatus curse.

It sucks
When magic
is nothing like
your deafening
shrills that,
for strange reasons,
draw me to you like
the Imperius curse.

Aye, bitch.
Nothing is so extra-
ordinary. Love exists
not in my own fictional
non-verisimilitudinary realm--

Nothing opens at the
Close.

And I'm not even talking
about Harry Potter.

Fare...well.

 (for Jane)

Hallam Foe and My Fascination for Jamie Bell

I never expected to have encountered Jamie Bell again. I first saw him in Billy Elliot when he was like eleven years old and I got fascinated with him through his penchant in dancing, and of course his superb acting in that movie, which earned him a BAFTA acting award for Best Actor.

Eleven  years after Billy Elliot landed on big screen and then later on adapted into a Broadway musical, I took interest in watching the movie again.  And thus triggered my interest to even download not only Billy, but some of his films 'coz I find Jamie Bell so endearing.

 Now, I 'm done watching Hallam Foe.

THE STORY: The seventeen year-old Hallam Foe is a weird teenager that misses his mother, who committed suicide, drowning in a lake nearby their house in Edinburgh after an overdose of sleeping pills. Hallam spends his spare time peeping at the locals and blames his stepmother Verity Foe, accusing her of killing his mother. After a discussion with his father Julius Foe, Hallam sneaks out from his house and travels to Edinburgh, where he sees Kate Breck and becomes obsessed with her because of her resemblance to his mother. Kate hires Hallam to work in the kitchen of the hotel where she works and they have a strange romance, while Hallam reaches his maturity the hardest way (www.IMDb.com).





METHINKS: The synopsis and the YouTube comments on the movie compelled me to download this indie flick. Plots with troubled teenagers and coming-of-age stories are so cathartic to me.  This one? Damn, Jamie Bell should do more indie films and expose his ass and his willy.


I'm gonna pick up on the last statement of the synopsis. Indeeed, "Hallam reaches his maturity the hardest way."  Sure, the movie presents a cliche issue most teenagers are going through: revolt against their families and their angst against the world.  What makes Hallam reach his maturity the hardest way? His oedipal demeanor. His spy-like tendencies which brought about by his suspicion of his stepmother being the culprit of his mom's death. But despite his distresses, Hallam still gains his humanity.  I actually love the scene where he drowns his stepmother in the loch but was still able to save her as his conscience gets in its way over his gnawing desire to avenge his mother.


I think Jamie Bell donned the character pretty well.  The disturbing disposition and the subtle twitches of arcaneness is all over Bell's character. Oh, well, he really deserved the award when he won Best Actor (again) at the 2007 Scotland BAFTA Award. But I still love him as Billy Elliot though.


Another Jamie Bell movie to watch: The Eagle

Acrylic Attempt

Elsed S. Togonon. Deity. Acrylic on canvas. 9x12

Honestly, I have never tried painting on a real canvas. I quit right before I supposed to learn painting when I was still studying Fine Arts in Bacolod. I must say, rendering colors is not really my forte. I do well in handling pen and ink.

My interest in painting using acrylic started when  I discovered that small-sized canvases are available in National Bookstore. I also thought acrylic paint is more sophisticated that oil paint, only to realize that I have been using the former already, but not in canvas.  

This painting titled Deity is one of my first few masterpieces using acrylic painting as medium.

What makes this painting special is that, the Creative Writing Institute of the University of San Agustin will use it as a book cover for the SanAg Literary Journal. How cool is that?

DON'T BE A WHORE: 25 Things Writers Should Know About Social Media by Chuck Wendig

1. THE DEVIL’S TRIDENT

Social media has three essential prongs of activity: broadcast, rebroadcast, conversation. This is true for everybody, not just writers, but it’s worth noting just the same. I say something or repeat something someone else said (broadcast/rebroadcast), and from that social seed-bed, conversation may arise.

2. BE THE BEST VERSION OF YOURSELF

Writers and other creative-types often seem to believe that they need to become someone different online, that they cannot be themselves lest they not find a publisher, not get work, not sell their book, not collect sexy groupies, etc. To that I say, bullshit! And cock-waffle! And piddling piss-wafers! Be yourself. That’s who we want. We just want the best version of you. Scrape the barnacles off. Sit up straight. Smile once in a while. But you can still be you. Uhh, unless “you” just so happen to be some kind of Nazi-sympathizing donkey-molester. In which case, please back slowly away from the social media.

3. PUT “BRAND” AND “PLATFORM” OUT OF YOUR FOOL HEAD

You are not a brand. Social media is not your platform. The world has enough brands. You are not a logo, a marketing agenda, a mouthpiece, a Spam-Bot. Approach social media not as a writer-specific tool (keyword: tool) catered only toward your penmonkey self and see it instead as a place where you can bring all the crazy and compelling facets of your personality to bear on an unsuspecting populace your audience. People want to follow other people. People don’t want to follow brands.

La Vie Boheme!

THIS IS IT!

I promised myself that when I turn 30, I would reactivate my blog. And I forgot, I’m still 29 (I owe my sister for reminding me as always).  Not that I hasten myself to grow older. I just can’t wait to reach that age despite the knowledge that being thirtysomething SUCKS.

This blog gives tribute to my art and my bipolarity. This blog springs out of deepshit when, right after my birthday, I got bombarded by sundry issues which knocked the hell out of me. Normally, I don’t express myself through words, that is, by voicing it out on somebody else’s face. I turn to my Art: painting, poetry, music, and, hell yeah, jackopt.

All right, I’ll shut up now. This defeats the purpose of my being laconic. I’ll just let my so-called artistic passion speak for myself.

Welcome, bitches! Browse at your own risk!


Oh wait! I'll be updating this blog very soon. Bear with me.