adventures in neverland

it's almost summer. the blistering heat even at eight is redolent of an even hotter months ahead. and i am thinking about blue. or blues. any shade of blue, in fact. it's cool. refreshing. relaxing. calming. just stare at the ocean. or the sky. or at superman's eyes. refreshing right? &&&&&&&&& i already had the flat where i am squatting at the moment painted blue; with some splashes of green to welcome the summer, which threatens to be as hot as the desert. global warming, anyone? i can almost hear al gore say: "i told you so." hmmmm. i was looking for a green or blue ref, but i couldn't find one. so i stick with this one, which by the way belongs to my london based bff who owns this fabulous flat, which has a nice view of the manila bay sunset. or sunrise. whatever will please you. &&&&&&&& now i am obsessing about a blue suit. a light one. i used to own a fe

this is just so beautiful, so fabulously written that i can't help but reprint it here. i hope that  the well regarded and award winning silliman university based writer, poet and professor ian rosales casocot won't mind. "Why do I worry that he cannot love me? Is my life incomplete without his love? Every day I tell myself that such infatuation—because I refuse to believe it is anything else but an infatuation—cannot be the center of me, and I make a good show of going about my days bearing with the weight of adult cares and the haphazard pursuit of the good life—and yet, in my quiet moments, when things go still and all I have left is the shattering intimacy of my own company, my mind searches for meaning that only the heart understands in secret but does not yield readily the answers. I tell myself so many things. I tell myself,   Enough . I tell myself, You have gone through these before, the tremors of heartbreak you thought you could not survive, but did . I t

and so the goddesses from the gold, glass and ivory tower that is mt hollywood descended into earth to grace, pose, prance and do the catwalk at the most watched, highly anticipated red carpet show, the ohh so lively circus that precedes the often times boring and very long awarding ceremonies. while moi was too busy to fly to los angeles to personally peruse the dresses that these goddesses opted to wear on that day, thanks to the power of the internet (sadly, i can't say the same about my internet provider smart bro. it's. so. painfully. slow) and i was able to see for myself who have it and who didn't and will never have it. drum rolls please (a chopin would be nice for a change)..... ladies and pa ladies,  here are my most stunning actresses that graced the two thousand and thirteen oscar red carpet. the moment i saw jennifer lawrence in a pink dior couture, i knew right away that she will own the night. her appearance, dreamy, elegant and youthful, reminded me

(reposting with a few very fabulous additions. so read on.) hohum. an oscar without meryl streep is like reading haruki murakami without the talking cat or the two moons. it's just plain boring. yawn! don't get me wrong. i luv the oscars, especially the red carpet moment when hollywood stars, for once, feel so vulnerable showing off their best outfits for the night because some, if not, most of them end up being criticised, derided, laughed at, ridiculed even by non fashion experts like moi all over the world. of course, the fabulous ones are also the lucky ones because their gorgeous performance at the red carpet could translate into more endorsements and invitations to appear on the front rows of the most exclusive fashion events and in the case of some really lucky ones, the privilege to wear the most sought after and often pricey clothes even before or right after they appear on the runway. %%%%% but the absence of meryl streep as a best actress nominee is

“dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman.”  -- mdm coco chanel. tom ford, who was responsible for colin firth's near oscar victory in a single man a few years ago (his directorial debut, mind you), not to mention the british actor's flawless wardrobe and debonair looks, returned to his roots and wowed the fashion universe with his latest women's wear collection. "maximalism" (as opposed to his signature minimalist but elegant designs?), "unapologetic" (as if he owes the solar system an apology for being a maestro in his world?) were some of the words fashion journalists and bloggers used to describe mr. ford's autumn/winter two thousand thirteen collection shown at the recently concluded london fashion week to loud ohhs and ahhs from the star studded audience that included vogue editor anna wintour and singer justin timberlake. while i don't have the credentials and the necessary tool to descri

it's been six, seven years since i last saw you. i was excited late last year while i was preparing to move back home when i heard about your plan to drop by manille and see me. it made all the agonies of my everyday life seemed ordinary, mundane, nothing to sweat about. at the end of each day, when i am about to go to bed, all i think about is seeing you again. after all these  years. how do you look like now? are you still the young boy with braces (you got them too late)? who easily gets mad, irritated and flustered (especially when drunk)? the one boy whose dream is to be able to buy a bicycle so he can travel the whole world on wheels. (how are you gonna do that remains a mystery until now. back then, i didn't bother to ask because you are a person with a plan. unlike me. you may look innocent, you may laugh at my silliest jokes, but  you are no ordinary boy of nineteen. in fact, you seem old for your age. older than i was then (i was what, thirty six?). y

(my mother with lisa. still beautiful even with a slightly deformed face.) when it comes to love, i am as clueless as the next kindergarten kid. opps, sorry for the generalisation. maybe some kindergarten kids know more about love than i do. what can i say? this bitch has a cold, cold heart. blame it on the number of adonises who ruined my childhood illusion that someday, a prince from a far, far away kingdom, handsome in his princely outfit and riding an equally handsome white horse, will rescue me from my cruel fate, that of being a spinster. josh. sadly, most of these princes turned into frogs after we kissed, not the other way around. ah i blame those fairy tales for ruining love for me. haha. &&&&&&& anyway, it's one in the morning, february fifteen. i just got home after a relaxing dinner with someone not too special. it was not even a date. yet. unfortunately, that's all i can say about the whole brouhaha. my lips are  still sealed

at two in the afternoon today, i received a frantic, transatlantic call from vavoushka veroushka, my jet-setting london-based amiga whose flat i am currently squatting. vv just came from a one week vacation in turkey and greece to get a tan (you know how london is. just look at all the ghastly, pale people. chos!). she called to checque how i was doing, was my move smooth, did i encounter problems at the guard, administration, etc. after i told her everything (including the following), we talked about something very important. read on please. *i luv your minimalist, zen like apartment. any apartment or flat or house without teevee (flat screen or the old style bulky type that already belongs to the museum of antiquity) is minimalist in my book. having said that, i really luv her flat. very spacious without making you feel empty. what's more, it has the priceless view of the roxas boulevard, allowing me a glimpse of the glorious sunset at dusk. i always make it a point to stay

somehow i was tempted to peep into the rabbit hole and fell all the way down. i have taken one of the pills offered to neo and this is what i have gotten myself into. welcome to my new life. as defined by the new century's quest for the self.

something like these........ coming soon!! with the help of my fairy godmother. hopefully, these as well: i know the last two are impossible, but who knows? chos!

and so it finally happened. the philippines beat indonesia and the rest of asia (except china) in posting the highest economic growth rate. this bodes well for the government's quest for an investment grade rating, a distinction currently enjoyed by indonesia, another southeast asian country with almost the same features as the philippines - large, youthful population, export dependent, rich natural resources, persistent budget deficits, frequent borrowings in the overseas debt markets. (in my past life when i was covering asian bonds, investors and analysts would always compare the philippines and indonesia - both the biggest sellers of bonds in the global markets - and some of them would point out that philippine dollar bonds were already trading at investment grade levels, even faring better than indonesian dollar bonds.) portfolio investments (and hopefully the more permanent foreign direct investments) are expected to pour in like a typhoon as an investment grade rating l

“i want to grow old without facelifts... i want to have the courage to be loyal to the face i've made. sometimes i think it would be easier to avoid old age, to die young, but then you'd never complete your life, would you? you'd never wholly know you.”   -- marilyn monroe, the screen goddess who allegedly committed suicide at age thirty six in nineteen sixty two. to this day, her death remains a mystery. last night, at the formerly upscale bar and restaurant in greenbelt two, i saw and heard an ageing but still flamboyant high to middle class society fixture and columnist asking for a young man's name and number. when the young man, a trainee at the restaurant, refused, he asked the pretty waitress to do the deed. i overheard the waitress telling the handsome young waiter in training: "sige na, makipagkilala ka na. mabait at mayaman yan." the young man retorted: "ayoko nga, mukha ng bangkay yan." i was aghast. and sad at the same time