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Meet your Special Someone™
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 | Not for Hindus ... just kidding. Random thoughts, comments on anything that takes my fancy. Strictly a my opinion only & if you do not like, don't read, agree to disagree & go away happy. No flames, (flamers OK), request for photo/green card/webcam action etc please. |
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| Brother of My Memory |
Mar 12, 2008 1:23 pm
395 Views | Today marked a day. Not a day of celebration or commemoration. Just a day.
But for some reason, it made the feet slow. The mind still. The heart sigh. The breath catch.
Uncertain of the reason but adamant in its hold. Such moments demand attention. From experience, it usually leads to some level of epiphany or at least a form of clarity. A thought or concept half-formed that may segue to something more significant. I have learnt better than to disregard such soft whispers of cajolement, luring me to explore places that I may not always want to venture.
I sit. I breathe. I let my mind free.
A face floats nebulously into consciousness. I do not know him. I only glimpsed this face for a short few moments. Does it haunt me? Were those moments enough? Who is he?
My body turns a little cold. Reminiscent of the day of engagement. When our eyes met for a fleeting minute before the crowds of collusion pulled our mutual awareness apart.
It was cold that day too. Was is it always so cold at funerals? I was exceptionally cold. And weary. It was a chill that went beyond the temperate. I was chilled to the soul. In death brings clarity. You see people for their true selves. The self serving. The opportunistic. The sanctimony. The self-pity.
A lifetime of accusations tangle in the fine tendrils of hair escaping from my chignon. "Cold". "Remote". "Uncaring". "Superior". "Insensitive". "Scary". "Hard". "Bad tempered". "Sarcastic". "Heartless".
Did they think my hearing was impaired that I could not hear them. By whose largess were they all here? The temptation to cast these niggling gnats out of my view was a wild temptation but typical insouciance turned the eye and ear from such minor irritants.
Why am I always so remote from them? Even I cannot answer that. Impatience? Likely. Disdain? Definitely. Pity? Occasionally. The need to be left alone? Wholeheartedly.
It is hard to hide my contempt of the simpering, the whiney, the self-delusional and the battle for attention. Funerals, like weddings, are prime cesspools of these and it is no wonder I try to avoid them with every cell in my taxed body and soul.
But this was unavoidable. No one else should, could or would undertake the funeral arrangements of one's parent. Should I pretend grief so they would leave me alone? I feel a twinge of sadness for what was not but I cannot pretend emotions I do not feel.
Am I, as one hack claimed, socially and emotionally apathetic?
Who are these people anyway?
My eyes seek the only person of concern. She sits in a circle of loneliness. My aunts surround her but I can see the eddies of isolation and bleakness swirling around like will o' wisps, breathing their breath of desolation upon her cold face.
People think her remote and unyielding. But I know better. She is tired. Her grief has robbed her even of the deluge of sorrow of the first days. Numbness has his icy grip in her. Hope has left her abode in her soul. I could tell she heard, saw and felt nothing. Like her son who lay a few feet from her.
The unfeeling, cold rebel felt her allegedly non-existent heart break. The first sign of tears prickled behind her lashes. Sharp blinks dispelled them. I shook my hair loose of its restraining vice to hide my face from prying eyes.
No way. No way in hell would I give these vultures the satisfaction. They will not leave here with another fodder to their gossip mill that I had feelings towards this man.
I do my duty. I give the proper respect. But I will never shed a tear. No one will leave this hall with the misunderstanding that I feel anything other than obligation.
A sudden sign of life in Grandma. What is it? My hyper-sensitive sense of danger sharpened and I look to the source of peril. Did one of them set an ambush? Which one? Mentally I draw the claws of retribution and assume the stance of defense.
I stood and watched carefully.
A man and a woman. Actually, more a boy just recently passed the cusp of manhood. And an older woman. They looked vaguely alike. Mother and son? Who were they?
There were displeased looks aplenty. What fun. More drama. Just what I needed.
They paid their respects. I refused to budge as the hordes of concerned males hovered over them. Why were only the men approaching them? Why did some of the women look so disdainful, others so titillated? Why the sudden, mass haste to avoid my eyes?
The woman turned and tried to greet Grandma. Marble statues of yore had more warmth than the icy cast of her silhouette as she turned her face away, A snub direct. A cut reserved only for the most despised.
Who was this woman? She retreated shamefaced and head cast down in a show of distress and embarrassment. Her male companion, her son perhaps, looked mildly angry as he threw defensive looks at the corp of male relatives trying to form a wall around them.
In his wild eyeballing, he caught my eye. I suppose I was easy to spot. Alone in a corner. A white flower in my hair and my mourning clothes to signify my position. My arms folded as I leaned against the wall. My hair a wild cascade of blood red running in rivers against the snowy white. My cold, speculative eyes studying the implications of their presence.
His eyes. They look familiar. Warmer and younger with hope still in them. Familiar.
In that instant, both our eyes widened.
You.
He was the first to look away, I could see shame, evasion, then a small form of bravado before he gave up the ghost to raise his eyes.
I softened mine.
Look at me. It's OK. I am not them. I understand. Stay. Let me know you.
But it was too late. And the hordes of hyenas dogged them out of my life.
I turned to look at Grandma. She could not, would not, meet my eyes.
I knew. I knew. All those years of being alone as a child. Feeling the weight of a whole generation's legacy. The burden of familial obligation. The yoke of ascendency.
I could have shared it.
Why?
Why was I denied? Why was he denied?
No one ever addressed his existence again. Stiff upper lip. We do not talk of such things. No one acceded to my request that we share the legacy. It was as if he did not exist.
But I remember him.
I see you. I did not know. It is not right you will always feel the denial of your existence. But I know you exist. I see you. You are not forgotten or denied.
If I never see you again, my heart still knows you. My blood calls to yours. We share a legacy. I will not hoard it for my own. I will undertake every action with your shadow on my back. I will give it all back just for that one moment. One moment of true kinship.
I will not feel so alone in standing forth against the family. Because I know we are two instead of one.
Brother of my memory. You are not forgotten.
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8 Comments | |
| Hacking The Good Book |
Mar 11, 2008 7:42 pm
Mood: Fascinated, 395 Views |  | In a recent post, EsClooney, I wrote about the interview Esquire did with George Clooney.
Today, I read an article about a journalist called A J Jacobs who carried out an unusual experiment. The name caught my attention and it took me a few minutes before I remembered where I had heard it. It was the journalist who had interviewed Clooney.
Serendipity?
My mind works in a rather strange pattern. It goes off on tangents and loves experiments based on the obscure. Therefore, Jacobs' decision to spend a whole year living out the doctrines of the bible, both Old and New Testaments, is wildly fascinating to me.
I would have loved to have documented, studied and analysed the results and findings from this experiment. Failing that, I look forward to obtaining a copy of his book, A Year of Living Biblically, to let my mind and imagination roam freely over this fascinating experimental terrain.
A J Jacobs: My year of playing it by the Book
Last Updated: 12:02am GMT 12/03/2008
The Telegraph
It seemed a simple idea. New Yorker A J Jacobs decided to follow the Bible to the letter for 12 months. But, reports Tom Leonard, his sins soon began to find him out
The thicket of a beard has gone, the clothing is no longer checked minutely for mixed fibres, the wearer hasn't phoned an anti-gossiping counsellor for months.
Arnold Jacobs, possibly the only householder to have ever prompted a Jehovah's Witness to look nervously at his watch and mutter about getting home, has clearly readjusted to the norms of 21st-century life in Manhattan.
'When I stopped gossiping I stopped having negative thoughts'
It is 18 months since he finished a year-long experiment - for a book that became a US bestseller - in which he attempted to follow the Bible as literally as possible.
Not just the obvious religious and moral imperatives about the Sabbath, murder and thy neighbour's ox, but the more obscure edicts like Deuteronomy 14:25 (to bind money to your hand) and Numbers 15:38 (to wear fringes on the corners of your garments).
He quickly realised he had bitten off more than he could chew. "I had no idea what I was getting into," he says. "I knew it would be challenging but I didn't know it would affect everything in my life - the way I talked, the way I ate, the way I thought, the way I touched my wife Julie. It was totally overwhelming."
Seeing him now, sitting in his beautiful corner apartment overlooking Central Park, one might sympathise with the evangelical Christian he mentions in the book who refused to get involved with the experiment, predicting it would be little more than a protracted stunt unless Jacobs actually invited God into his life.
But Jacobs, who previously wrote a book about reading the entire Encyclopedia Britannica, insists he approached the Bible project with an open mind and serious - or at least sometimes serious - intent.
He says he became interested in religion after the birth of his first child and also wanted to discover whether America's fundamentalist Christians were following the good book as literally as they claimed.
But well-intentioned curiosity aside, there is a rather obvious flaw to a professed Jewish agnostic New Yorker, and a journalist on a glossy men's magazine to boot, attempting to follow the Bible. How could he hope to succeed if he didn't really believe?
The answer, he insists, is that he did end up believing. Well, sort of. Anyway, having first read both Old and New Testaments, he amassed a list of more than 700 dos and don'ts.
His initial resolve to observe them all soon turned out to be ridiculously over-optimistic so he picked some and discarded others. He later had to redefine the challenge even further, concentrating on certain rules on certain days.
Jacobs, 40, also recruited an advisory board of well-disposed rabbis, priests and ministers. And then he got started. Two areas proved difficult right from the start, he says. "First was the challenge of tackling the little sins we commit every day... lying, coveting, gossiping.
In New York City, that's what we do 60 per cent of the day," he says. By day seven, he was censoring about a fifth of his sentences before he uttered them. He was particularly shocked at how accustomed he was to gossiping - the Bible calls it "evil tongue", he says - and speaking negatively about others.
"When I stopped gossiping, I stopped having negative thoughts about people. It was one of the bigger lessons of the year - how much your behaviour affects your thoughts."
He insists that this even held true when it came to the challenge - for him - of praying. By the end of the year, he says he was praying so much that he was believing in God. When he stopped praying, he stopped believing. "As they say in business, fake it 'til you make it. You do it and then you start to feel it."
On that particular issue of gossiping, Jacobs discovered an emergency phoneline run by Orthodox Jews in Brooklyn which "talks down" callers feeling the urge to gossip.
As with the Jewish professional mixed-fibre checker who came round with a microscope to examine his wardrobe (Deuteronomy 22:11 says: "Thou shalt not wear a garment of divers sorts, as of woollen and linen together"), Jacobs was repeatedly surprised to find that others were observing the most arcane injunctions.
He discovered from the internet that he wasn't the only one looking to praise God on a 10-string harp. He also found an American evangelical Christian film-censoring service that edits anything remotely ungodly out of Hollywood releases.
The second problem area in his observance schedule, he says, was to follow rules that would nowadays get him arrested - stoning adulterers, sacrificing oxen, building a hut on the pavement. Not sacrificing his child to the pagan god Moab and not taking his wife's sister as a wife while the former was still alive were a cinch, he says.
Jacobs may not have got far with stoning - although he did lob gravel at a man sitting on a park bench who had admitted to adultery - but he persevered with not touching his wife, Julie, while she was menstruating.
This went down as well as can be expected. The ban extended to sitting in chairs she had used, prompting her at one point to ring him at work to say she had just sat on every seat and chair in the apartment.
Jacobs bought his own collapsible chair. Julie, who isn't religious either, says she still "felt like a leper". She adds: "When it comes down to it, the Bible is very sexist. It was written a long time ago and to follow it literally now is crazy."
Jacobs's liberal inclinations inevitably coloured what he chose to observe and how. Condemning homosexuality proved particularly galling. Rather conveniently, he found an evangelical gay preacher to convince him that Jesus would have no problem with a modern same-sex couple.
Fundamentalists talk disapprovingly of "cafeteria religions" whose adherents pick and choose what they observe, but Jacobs insists his experience shows it is impossible not to do this.
"It's about picking the right parts - about compassion, loving your neighbour and about the Ten Commandments, as opposed to the parts about homosexuality being a sin."
Meanwhile, he continued in his job as a writer on Esquire magazine, rooted though it is in appealing to feelings of lust, envy and covetousness.
His editor didn't make his mission any easier, at one point dispatching him to Hollywood to interview a particularly attractive but sexually frank young actress. "I had to say a lot of prayers that night," says Jacobs.
Jacobs also tried to understand the fundamentalists, visiting an Amish community, Orthodox Jews and evangelical Christians. In the case of the Jehovah's Witnesses, they did the visiting.
Even with the Creationists - with whom he completely disagreed - he came away well disposed. And his book has a feelgood ending - some of the spirituality rubbed off.
"I began the year an agnostic and I finished it as what a minister friend called a 'reverent agnostic'," he says. "Whether or not there's a God, I now believe there's something to the idea of sacredness.
" Jacobs, who has been invited to speak to Christian and Jewish groups about his experience, says his life has been changed by the religious concept of gratitude.
"Now, instead of focusing on the three or four things that go wrong every day, I try to focus on the 200 things that went right and that I would usually not notice." Finally, he estimates he has cut down his coveting, gossiping and lying "by 40 per cent".
That sounds like just the wrong sort of boasting (James 4:16) but we shall let it pass.
I am surprised he managed to hang onto his job with the no lying, no gossiping adherence as that is all we do as journalists. I'm surprised he managed to hang onto his wife with the no touching ban. Not only that but he certainly lived out one of the precepts to the max ... that of be fruitful and multiply. During the year of living biblically, his wife gave birth to twins. Maybe God was watching out for him? |
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4 Comments | |
| Fairy Stale - Call of The Thetans |
Mar 11, 2008 1:10 pm
Mood: Leery, 422 Views |  | The rumours of Tom Cruise's and Katie Holmes' marital arrangement have been lurking on the Internet for as long as Oprah's couch could stand the midget's, sorry, actor's weight.
However, this latest article from Page Six lends greater credence to the rumour.
I've always thought that Katie Holmes was a little lack lustre, dull and seemingly single-celled, charming and pretty though she seems. But until she married Cruise, these suspicions were not proven. However, I think she is not unhappy in her position despite people casting accusations that she looks dour, pinched and unhappy in her new role.
On the contrary, I think she looks very "put together" and not in a good way, rehearsed, restrained, wary, visually older than her years, self-satisfied and still too one dimensional.
From Page Six:
It is one of Hollywood’s biggest mysteries: Did Tom Cruise actually set up auditions to find a wife? Well, according to ex-Scientologist Marc Headley, abso-Xenu-lutely! Marc, who used to produce promotional films for the religion, spoke to Britain’s News of the World and said that following Tom's split from Penelope Cruzin 2004, the megastar told his BFF (and head of Scientology) David Miscavigethat he was having trouble meeting women. So the church sent out a casting call that said, “There’s an upcoming Tom Cruise movie you might get a part in. Come for an audition.” There were of course restrictions: You had to be single, pretty and in your twenties.
While a few female Scientologists were rounded up — Traffic’s Erika Christensen and CSI: Miami's Sofia Milos — they were all rejected as Tom focused his attention on bigger stars. “They went for Jennifer Garner, Scarlett Johansson and Jessica Alba, in that order,” Marc says. “Jennifer and Jessica didn’t bite but Scarlett took the bait and came in for an audition. When she arrived and found out it was the Scientology Center in Hollywood, she freaked out and didn’t do a tape…”
But Katie Holmes popped into the Scientologist's minds because she had previously spoken out about her crush on Tom. “They got her to L.A. and introduced her to Tom. The moment he meets her, he’s enthralled with her and he told Miscavige later, “I knew immediately she was the one,” Marc says.
And they all lived happily ever after…
As a child, I loved fairy tales. But unlike the other girls, I did not enjoy the part about princes prancing in on their horsies to rescue some downtrodden chick. I like the dwarves and their mining for gems, the ability to talk with animals, the Orwellian hierarchy in the talking animals' world, the casting of magic, the fights scenes. I liked the adventure. Bah humbug to the simpering romance. If some bloke went around with my shoe trying it out on every other female, i would have thwapped him with the other shoe.
I always wanted to be the prince fighting the dragon instead of the one sleeping past all the fun. I thought Snow White should have stayed in the forest with the dwarves (I thought she should go mining with them and make a fortune in gems) instead of going off with some bloke who stole a kiss while she was sleeping. Perv,
So ...
A long time ago, when I was a kid, I had to audition for a supposed gig and it was at the estate of the client. Fortunately, there were four of us so we felt safe about going to the audition together and we trusted our agent. It turned out to be an audition of another kind.
The client was the outwardly charming mother of the youngest scion who was apparently dating some stripper. So she, being a music and dance enthusiast, decided that a dancer for a daughter-in-law was a better option than a stripper. Nice.
Anyway, I only came to the realisation when the audition process took ages and involved tea, showing us around the estate, playing her music collection and checking what songs we knew and did not know, our knowledge of music, dance and the arts, our age, likes and dislikes, fashion sense, our family history ...
I was getting terribly suspicious, especially as she seemed to settle on me being the likely target. After some careful and subtle counter-cross examination of my own, I discovered the reason. And very politely and firmly made my rapid exit.
I think two of the other girls still had no clue what it was all about even after we left but the third girl, whom I was closer to, smelt a rat too and we were both rolling our eyes at the whole farce. We raised a huge stink back at the agency, made worse because the agent happened to be a family friend who knew my grandmother's infamous temper. From then on, they never sent anyone out to that kind of casting call again and were more careful in their screening.
It's sad when being an actor or dancer is deemed as no better than an escort. |
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10 Comments | |
| Let There Be Light |
Mar 11, 2008 12:23 pm
Mood: Religious, 354 Views |  | Oy, these people ...
Some of you know I have some Indian blood. It's what gives me an extremely strong sense of the ridiculous. Because we're a race that seems to fall naturally into the ridiculous with abandon and unabashed, child-like innocence.
So I hereby state that I am entitled to make fun of my own because well, it is my own and if I cannot make fun of myself ... why let others all the fun?
Anyhoo, here's a story from The Telegraph about my vision-impaired brethren.
Dozens blinded in India looking for Virgin Mary
By Sarah Herman
Last Updated: 11/03/2008
At least 50 people have lost their sight after staring at the sun hoping to see an image of the Virgin Mary, according to reports.
The Virgin Mary apparition was reported above a hotelier's home
Alarmed health authorities in India's Kottayam district have set up a sign dispelling rumours of a miraculous image in the sky and warning of the dangers of looking into direct sunlight.
Forty-eight cases of sight-loss, allegedly caused by photochemical burns on the retina, have been recorded at St Joseph's ENT and Eye hospital in the region since Friday.
Despite warnings, and the potentially harmful effects of their actions, believers are allegedly still flocking to a hotelier's house in Erumeli near where the divine image is said to have appeared.
"All our patients have similar history and symptoms… They have developed photochemical, not thermal, burns after continuously gazing at the sun," Dr Annamma James Isaac, the hospital's ophthalmologist said.
Even churches in the area have disowned the miracle after health officers and doctors approached the clergy.
The house where the miracle is said to have occurred has apparently been the subject of rumours for months.
The hotelier, who has since moved, had claimed that statues of the Virgin Mary in his house have been crying honey and bleeding oils and perfumes.
I think someone used to be a snake oil medicine seller and has been imbibing too many toddies instead of pani.
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2 Comments | |
| John Of New York |
Mar 10, 2008 7:45 pm
Mood: amused, 467 Views |  | Hmmm, with a name is Spitzer, you just know the guy would inevitably get involved in the sex trade. From the Smoking Gun comes an article about New York Governor Eliot Spitzer's involvement with a prostitution ring. It's all over the other papers and websites as well.
So I asked around and no one really knew who this guy was before. But they sure do now.
Spitzer Linked To Hooker Probe
New York governor identified as "Client-9" in FBI affidavit
MARCH 10--With the bombshell news today that New York Governor Eliot Spitzer has been implicated in a prostitution ring, the Democratic politician will now always be known as "Client-9," one of the johns described in a recently unsealed FBI affidavit detailing the operation of the Emperors Club, an international call girl ring.
That document, an excerpt, describes hooker interactions with 10 johns, including one client who paid cash for a February 13 rendezvous at a Washington, D.C. hotel. The New York Times, which broke the Spitzer story, has identified the 48-year-old politician as Client-9.
As described in the FBI document, Client-9 (clearly a repeat customer) apparently went to great lengths to arrange the illicit Washington encounter, choosing to mail money in advance to the ring, instead of using a credit card. Client-9, whose conversations were recorded by an FBI wiretap, would not do "traditional wire transferring," the affidavit quotes one Emperors Club employee remarking.
Additionally, the affidavit notes that after her appointment with Client-9 ended, "Kristen" spoke with a Emperors Club booker, who said that she had been told that Client-9 "would ask you to do things that, like, you might not think were safe..." "Kristen" responded by saying, essentially, that she could handle guys like that.
Well, I found a photo of the guy. It's from Bestweekevertv and at first I was unconvinced this man was Spitzer but after checking and comparing photos ... well, I think he's destined to be a porn star. |
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15 Comments | |
| National Blunder |
Mar 10, 2008 4:37 pm
Mood: amused, 416 Views |  | I am not a footy fan but this article in The Guardian caught my attention
Nicolas Cage lookalike takes Real Madrid for a ride
MADRID, March 8 (Reuters) - A prankster pretending to be Oscar-winning American actor Nicolas Cage fooled Real Madrid into thinking he was the real thing and enjoyed red carpet treatment at this week's Champions League match against AS Roma.
The lookalike, Italian television presenter Paolo Calabresi, watched Wednesday's game from the directors' viewing area at the Bernabeu and was taken into the team dressing room afterwards, Spanish sports daily Marca reported on Saturday.
He was even photographed being presented with a personalised Real shirt by club president Ramon Calderon.
Calabresi organised the stunt by using the name of an agency in the United States that had recently arranged a similar meeting at the Bernabeu for another actor, Sylvester Stallone.
Roma won the last-16, second-leg tie 2-1 to progress to the Champions League quarter-finals with a 4-2 aggregate victory. (Reporting by Mark Elkington; Editing by Sonia Oxley)
So Read Madrid got punk'd. I looked around to find a picture of this Calabresi and found this. OK, so Calderon obviously has a problem with his vision because there is no way this man looks like Nicolas Cage, even when he had hair. I mean, his own hair.
This reminds me of a hysterical ad I saw once. I think it was Italian too and featured an entire football stadium filled with nekkid people. The players were nekkid. The referrees were nekkid. The audience was nekkid. Then you see this lone man running across the field, waving his arms, being chased by the police, who are also nekkid. He's clothed. He's the streaker.
Bloody brilliant ad. I think it was for a clothing line too. Had me in stitches. |
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8 Comments | |
| Mass Dancers Sentenced in Prison |
Mar 9, 2008 1:36 pm
Mood: Humbled, 481 Views |  | In the past two days, I've posted a few articles about Youtube. Just in case you think I have it in for them (I don't but I think they really need to sort themselves out), I've decided to post a positive article about them today.
I came across a user by the name of byronfgarcia on Youtube. I'm not sure how he is connected to the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Centre in Cebu, Philippines, but he features a whole series of these dancing prisoners on his channel.
It looks as if there is a fairly regular, open (?) event to view the mass dancers and it certainly seems to draw a crowd. And justifiably so. In fact, they are so entertaining, I think they should take it on the road!
From byronfgarcia's homepage on Youtube, he seems fairly defensive about the prisoners' right to dance and the prison's programme to use dance to rehabilitate them.
It appears the programme may have received negative feedback and backlash from byronfgracia's rather combative words.He even hastens to assure that the programme is not meant as a punishment. How anyone can come to that conclusion baffles me. You need only to look at these men to see otherwise.
As a dancer and dance teacher, I think it is a good thing. The first video clip made me smile. You could see the wholesome joy, the complete abandon to something that takes them away from themselves and the environment ... where they can be more, and less than what they are.
There is a simple devotion and trust in their movements. If you have never organised a large group performance before, you would not understand how much is required for such organised synchrony.
Someone choreographed them. Someone thought they were good enough to train. Someone devoted time to them. Someone believed in them. Someone gave them hope. You can see how they repaid this someone or someones.
Whatever a person's crime, he/she should be given a chance to recant and repent. To deny them salvation or hope is something only a higher being than man can give.
To the naysayers of the Cebu Privincial Detention and Rehabilitation Centre, I say ... I am sorry. I am sorry you cannot see the joy and hope and can only see your own shadow in the path of men who seek these.
I encourage you to view these clips as they are fun (I especially liked the Canon in D Major Rock rendition with Edgar Nacau - what a kickass guitarist!) and would probably uplift your spirit. I certainly had a smile on my face and tapped along with them.
But the one clip I strongly encourage you to view is the Gregorian Chant one. It features the simplest movements and orchestration but it is the one that almost moved me to tears.
MunchinMatron, if I ever come to the Philippines, I would like to visit this prison, if it is allowed. I would like to meet with the choreographer and trainer/dance therapist. I would also be happy to dance and work with them pro bono. Because I believe dance should and can elevate one above one's flaws and despair and shine light onto another way of existence.
I am glad I came across this channel. Especially during Lent. It was a good reminder. Thank you, byronfgarcia and the prisoners of Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Centre.
Be well, my friends, and dance well. |
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8 Comments | |
| EsClooney |
Mar 9, 2008 11:53 am
Mood: Mildly Amused, 396 Views |  | I know a lot of attractive men. A lot of them are arseholes. I know a lot more average-looking men. Some of them are arseholes.
What's my point? I tend to distrust good-looking men at first sight. I know it's daft and thoroughly illogical and prejudiced but I have to confess to this snap reaction.
I always catch myself and admonish my cynical self to be less judgmental and let the bloke speak before I roll my eyes at him and walk away, just based on his good looks.
Then they speak and I roll my eyes and walk away from them.
But that's a generalisation and not always the case. I try to curb my bias and it's a work in progress. So, I have always been leery of George Clooney. Even during his ER days, I could not understand the man's appeal. While my girlfriends swooned over him, I would be staring really hard at his picture to understand the reason behind the mooning.
There was always something rather self-satisfied about him and a whole I-take-myself-very-seriously-but-I-hope-you-forgive-me-bcos-I-am-charming attitude about him that would always make me turn the page or switch channels faster when he appeared.
So I was highly surprised to read this article about him. He seems to have a sense of humour. I still do not understand the physical attraction but at least he does not seem like a complete twat.
And in case you are wondering, I was at the hair-salon and there was nothing else to read. All the girly mags were old and I'd already read them so Esquire was it.
Seems like the journalist, AJ Jacobs, addressed a series of questions to Clooney based on Internet comments about him and these were his responses -
Someone at Facebook actually started a group called "George Clooney is not sexy"
Clooney was astounded there were 94 members in the group. I believe the ad verbatim response was "WTF?"
Succinct.
When Clooney read the manifesto of group, which is "Ok so i for one am sick and tired of George Clooney thinking he's the sexiest man alive, like jesus hes so old! Its just not right. That man is so full of himself it isnt funny. Anyways join this group if you totally agree with me =)"
When prodded to defend himself, Clooney dictated the response to Jacobs to type on the group message board:
"That’s bullshit. He looks great for a 70-year-old."
When asked about the rumours that he is gay, especially on a now defunct message board which stated that "George Clooney is GAY, GAY, GAY, the man replied that he is just "gay, gay, The third gay - that's just pushing it."
Somehow the conversation between the actor and the reporter degenerated into a discussion about the Internet and the content on it. When asked if he watches or keeps tabs of things on the Internet, Clooney responded that he only watched stuff on the Internet if someone had pointed it out to him.
He made special mention of the infamous monkey smelling its butt clip, which I personally find hilarious too. Then the ultimate faux pas is made by Jacobs who asks Clooney if he had seen 2 Girls I cup.
Am I the only one who has resisted watching this, by the way?
Anyway, Clooney responded that he had not and then foolishly insists that he's tough enough to watch it, despite Jacobs' repeated warning of lifetime scarring and years of therapy. So Jacobs plays it for him. Here's his response:
After several seconds: “It’s not so bad,” he says.
Three seconds later: “Oh.”
Another two seconds: “Oh, my GOD! Oh, my God!! Oh, my God!”
Clooney puts his hand over his mouth like he’s going to throw up. He bolts from his chair and walks out of the room.
PR flacks can usually take a lot of shite. But even Clooney's PR, trying to one-up Clooney, could only last 3 seconds before he ran out of the room, with Clooney's evil cackle trailing behind him.
There was a lot more in the article like accusations of him undergoing plastic surgery etc. but these were the funny responses and points I remembered.
I still am not that keen on the man but he sure makes an interesting interview subject. |
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| Busting the Age Myth |
Mar 9, 2008 9:51 am
Mood: In Admiration, 352 Views |  | I am extremely lucky to have really great role models. Honestly, I have a lot of teachers, even students, and friends who prove that age is truly just a number.
In a previous post, I spoke of a 78-year-old teacher who still continues to teach even to this day. He has more energy than me as I remember falling asleep at the dinner table after an intense 10-hours of workshops taught by him. He was apparently petting me on the head as I nodded off, telling everyone not to wake me. He is one of the dearest man I know and my absolute respect and affection do not even begin to do him justice.
One of my favourite students is a 68-year-old woman who somehow manages to squeeze lessons in with me on top of her salsa, hip hip, Chinese opera, cooking, make-up and Japanese language lessons. She also consistently asks for the most complex and technical moves, putting the younger girls to shame.
Another student is a 56-year-old mainland Chinese lady who manages to capture everything I teach her in short order. In fact, I think she might be one of the quickest studies I have ever met. Despite the fact that we can barely communicate with each other and I usually need a Chinese interpreter just to teach her. She recently returned to China for three years but has already made a booking with me for a lesson after that!
I can only hope that I will enjoy the same quality of life as I get older.
So this bloke really impressed me.
From ABC News:
He Sings, He Runs and He's Only 101
Meet the Man Ready to Become World's Oldest Marathon Runner
By LAMA HASAN
LONDON, March 5, 2008 —
Buster Martin is an unlikely candidate to set a marathon record. He drinks beer, smokes cigarettes and stays out late. And he's 101.
But Martin expects to shatter, or at least ease past, the record next month when he runs London's marathon. And he is counting on having a beer at the finish line.
"He smokes, drinks, stays out late, which is probably why he is still alive," said Charlie Mullins, the managing director of the plumbing company where Martin cleans vans.
When not working three days a week for Mullins, Martin can be found in a nearby boxing gym working with a pair of trainers in preparation for April's run. He refuses to be impressed by the fact that he is still running.
"I am not doing anything unusual. I am just running a marathon," he told ABC News.
Age is no more an obstacle to Martin's running than that strip of winners tape at the finish line. "You are never too old to do what you enjoy."
And Martin likes running, "but not as much as I like my beer," he added.
He is already a man of many firsts. Martin holds three world title records for the oldest person to run the 5K, 10K and the half marathon.
Martin says that in the last weekend, he's completed a 13-mile half marathon that took him a little more than five hours. It would have been faster, he says, but he says he stopped for a beer and a cigarette.
Martin runs in the name of charity. He is raising money for the Rhys Daniels Trust, which provides a "home from home" for parents of children having treatment for life-threatening illnesses.
Mullins describes him as a "remarkable chap, unbelievable. He's an ordinary fellow but remarkable at the same time especially for someone at his age to get involved in this sort of charity."
Martin is also the father of 17 children, which also doesn't impress him. "Pity I didn't have anymore kids," he said with a sigh.
He "likes to live life to the full. & He is as sharp as a razor," Mullins said. He told ABC that Martin's got "unbelievable hearing."
To his colleagues, at 101 years old, Martin is a "great inspiration, he's got a million stories to tell, he is so knowledgeable," his manager said.
To celebrate Martin's birthday, his work colleagues named a beer after him called Buster's Beer.
So, does his manager think Martin can achieve his goal of being the oldest runner in the world? "Undoubtedly," said Mullins.
Martin was also part of the seniors' rock 'n' roll group called the Zimmers.
The band had a combined age of more than 3,000 years and scored a hit single last year with a cover of The Who's ''My Generation.''
When asked what Mullins thought of Martin's voice, he replied, "It's actually quite good."
Copyright © 2008 ABC News Internet Ventures |
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| Cowelling Performance |
Mar 8, 2008 3:58 pm
Mood: amused, 464 Views |  | Simon Cowell took a hard line with Viagra. Apparently, the height-challenged American Idiot, sorry, Idol judge was offered $2 million to be their spokesman. His response was that it was a "farcking insult".
But the folks over at Circus Hour think he may have changed his mind and softened his stance once he saw the "perks" of the job.
As evinced by this poster. |
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| To link to this blog (Whatsherface) use [blog Whatsherface] in your messages. |
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