a haunting

Photo from coverbrowser.com

You may remember Shirley Jackson from her excellent, excellent short story, “The Lottery”.

You may remember this book as the source of that rather disappointing CGI-feast of a film starring Catherine Zeta-Jones and Owen Wilson. (That’s a remake; they say the original film adaptation is better.)

There is a haunted house. They call it Hill House. A scientist wants to write a paper about psychic phenomena. Three young people come with him: Eleanor, Theodora, and Luke. Mrs. Dudley, who cooks for them and cleans the house for them, insists that she be out of Hill House before the dark descends. The doctor’s party stays inside the mansion for roughly a week.

Consider the novel’s first paragraph:

Chapter 1

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

book swap!

More photos here

Tagged along with Kate and Andrea to meet up with Kat (known online as purplerevolt – I believe she writes really well). Book swap night! I got Kat Revolutionary Road and Big If, and I got Clinton Palanca’s Landscapes and David Sedaris’s Holidays on Ice.

* * *

While rummaging through old notes (I was looking for my earlier jottings for a story I wanted to write) I found the notebook containing the very first drafts of the Reportage poems.

It’s funny how you forget the amount of work that went into your pieces. How in the world was I able to survive writing all these lines?

It boggles the mind.

How easily the land accepts departures

The Christian God brought ten plagues

Perhaps there is beauty in holding your daughter close

The reporter stands

one-word reviews

With additional thoughts in parentheses.

The Ruins – Ew. (I read and absolutely loved Scott Smith’s first novel, and so I was intrigued when I heard that his second novel, The Ruins, has been turned into a film. Story’s pretty much straightforward. To be fair to it, it does have a pretty freaky premise.)

Lars and the Real Girl – Aw. (Yes, took me quite a while to finally see this film. Roger Ebert, in his review, described Ryan Gosling’s Lars as “serene”. Yes, that’s the word for it. Serene. Despite the fact that he brings an anatomically correct sex doll everywhere he goes in this small, cold town. Watch this one.)

Chuck (first few episodes) – Hee. (“So you’re saying I should just stay in this car, and not do anything?” “That’s right.” “Let’s do this.” Me: *rofl*)

* * *

Coffee and dinner with Jaykie’s friends JME and BJ at CBTL/Pepper Steak.

Their names make them sound like robots or hardware, but they’re people, and really nice, interesting ones at that. Glad to meet you guys. : )

(JME showed me a series of pictures of Jaykie and BJ cooking nilagang giniling, but in the photos the guys looked like they were in a meth lab. Cooking nilagang giniling.)

Earlier Jaykie handed me a copy of Ender’s Game, which of course made me squeal like a crazy fangirl. I read Ender’s Shadow first – a dick nerd move – and I’ve been looking everywhere for a copy of Game. And here it is howeeeeeee.

But of course I can’t read that yet, for I have been condemned (CONDEMNED!) to read this first:

It’s an 800+-page monster. Good luck to me.

* * *

“Now, for your Moment of – “

Sorry, not that one.

“Now, for your Moment of Zen.”

They could have just said “Open 24 Hours”, but hey, specifity is king.

the blind assassin

In the story is Iris, who tells the story of her dead sister Laura, who through a novel tells the story of a young man and a young woman in love, who tell the story of a blind assassin and a girl who cannot speak.

Here: take a mirror and place it in front of another mirror. Which reflection of the mirror are you looking at? What story are you listening to, and who is telling it?

Are you sure?

Photo from toronto.ca

misc.

wherein we talk about whatever

Transmetropolitan

Journalists! A perverse government! Investigation! Data-gathering! Bowel disruptors!

Excellent series. Special thanks to Jaykie for lending me copies.

Orayt. Planetary naman.

Collage Me This

Tearing things up = therapy = FUN.

No, really. Try it. Did me wonders.

(So yeah, picture resolutions are shitty. Let me go find a digicam, then maybe I can upload these again.)

Gig Book Contest Awards er Brunch

I almost said “awards night”. But these are writers for children, so let’s be clean and nice and alcohol-free.

Awarding was on Oct. 10, at 10 a.m. There were ten winners. See what they did there? :p

Didn’t have cam. Will ask Andrea and Kate for the pictures later. (Thank you pala to Andrea’s parents for letting me hitch. If I had gone there alone, I would have gotten lost. For sure.)

EDIT: Pictures!

Thank you Jake and Katt for coming. So nice to see you guys again. Ke gaganda niyo!

here be plugs

I’ve taken a break from writing (sort of), and now I’m drowning in a sea of SF book compilations (almost done with Year’s Best 14, halfway through the Solaris Book of New SF), True Blood episodes, Transmetropolitan angst, local poetry, and the most inane computer games you can think of (there’s this one where you play a waitress and this one where you’re a hairstylist and one where you guard your house from zombies with plants and one where you take care of guppies and protect them from aliens – )

In post-Ondoy news, the house in Bulacan is still flooded (it’s been what, a week?) . I haven’t seen my parents and siblings in more than a month.

How about you? How’s the situation in your area?

Read one of the Inquirer editors’ harrowing flood experience here. (She lives in Malabon.)

* * *

And now: PLUGS!

The Bibliophile Stalker reviews The Farthest Shore fantasy anthology

Given my low expectations, a couple of the stories were pleasant surprises. I expected the anthology to be filled with sword-and-sorcery narratives along the lines of your D&D campaign and while there are those types of fiction here, I’m impressed at how some of the writers make the most of what they consider secondary-world fiction. “The Just World of Helena Jimenez” by Eliza Victoria, for example, juxtaposes the real world with the fantastical, alternating between one to give context to the other, although admittedly it’s the form that impresses me more than the story.

Rocket Kapre interviews moi

* * *

The storm is over. Life goes on. I’m thinking of taking some French language lessons.

surrogates

What if: you can live your life through a robot proxy?

You don’t have to get up from bed. You don’t even have to brush your teeth or take a bath, because through your proxy, or Surrogate, you always look perfect.

What if: something goes wrong?

I enjoyed watching this film.

Photos from Filmofilia.com

* * *

In other news, I’ve finished Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog starring Neil Patrick Harris (Neil Patrick Harris!), and written by Joss Whedon et al. I hate you Mr. Whedon, you are too awesome.

I’ve also started reading Warren Ellis’s Transmetropolitan.

I couldn’t write anything because I just found out yesterday that my MS Office (and my antivirus) has expired. Darn it.

notes on the mibf 09

I went on Saturday with fellow book fair first-timer Eula. Promised myself that I will only buy local books, since I’ve already amassed several foreign books from the bookstores and other book bargain sales. Promised myself that I will never buy another book till mid-2010. No, really. Control yourself, damn it.

-          Wow, ang laki ng SMX.

-          Wow, books.

-          WOOOOOOOW.

-          First stop, Visprint, so I can finally get me those dead-tree versions of the Trese books.

-          I did not recognize Trese author Budjette Tan. I asked, Magkano po yung Trese?

-          Eula’s spidey sense tingled, and so we asked Manang Cashier. She said, “Oo, siya ‘yun. Papa-autograph kayo?”

-          Me, to self: SO KUMUSTA NAMAN YUNG KABOBOHAN MO, ELIZA.

-          Went back to the author. Budjette asked, “What’s your name?” I felt the temptation to say, “Pedro”.

-          I went, Oh I’ve read the first seven issues online, so-and-so is my favorite. Nagpa-charming ang lola mo para maitago ang katangahan haha.

-          No, I don’t think it worked either.

-          Kajo (Trese artist) was also there. Woo-hoo, great art!

-          Pre-ordered the third Trese book. Nawa’y hindi mawala yung libro at makarating naman siya sa ‘kin before October 18.

-          I want a Trese poster featuring the Kambal, nyorks.

-          UP Press. Got Nouveau Bored by Marc Gaba (I am in love with the cover art, seriously), You Are Here by Mabi David, and Libot ng Durungawan by Allan Popa (I haven’t read a Filipino poetry collection in a long while).

-          Ateneo Press: Got The Highest Hiding Place by Larry Ypil.

-          Ayos ‘tong book fair, at least I didn’t have to go all the way to UP or Ateneo just to buy the books. (That’s what I did to purchase the Conchitina Cruz books.)

-          Can’t wait to crack these books open and be inspired and write my own stories/poems and all that cal.

the farthest shore covers

I think I’m in love.

From editor Joseph Nacino’s site:

But really, this is just an excuse to show you the final front cover art for The Farthest Shore anthology done by the excellent tyron caliente. Granted the cover is for the PDF download, the art will still be available on the actual website itself.

because the rain can’t stop me

Friday. Dinner and coffee with Ace, who was overflowing with chika. I was bombarded with stories even before we could properly sit. I loved this of course. I particularly enjoyed the “promdi moment in New York” anecdote: standing in awe of Times Square, immobilized by the sight—and being pushed and prodded by New Yorkers, who were nice enough to call her “bitch”. I mean, they could have used harsher words. She was in the way.

Also, I didn’t know it was possible for alienation and homesickness to force you to watch Daisy Siete. I had never thought of turning to the Sex Bomb dancers for comfort. Interesting. Haha.

* * *

Saturday. Gig Book photo shoot with Mandy Navasero. I went with Andrea, who had French classes and knew the place, and also because Makati is still for me a senseless collection of streets. Hay, kailan kaya kita makakabisado.

Ms Mandy’s studio is housed in a building filled with art galleries and all sorts of pretty things. Even the restaurant inside looked like an art show! (Thank you to Andrea and the menu displayed outside the glass doors – if I were alone I would have gone inside the restaurant and looked at the display, nodding every now and then in appreciation, instead of, you know, sitting down and ordering. Wonder what the staff would have thought of me appraising their furniture like that.)

We took photos! I’ll wait for Andrea to upload.

Oh wait, here they are:

These stuff are actually inside the restaurant:

Andrea also smuggled me into Alliance. Now I want to take French classes. (French or Japanese? I’ll toss a coin, maybe, or consult my savings. I think Alliance offers cheaper rates than the Nihongo Center.)

(I am waaaay too lazy to apply for a master’s degree – I know this now. Le sigh.)

* * *

Thanks to Charles, I have finally gotten my hands on the Sept. 12 issue of the Free Press, which contains my story, “Reunion”. (End subtle plug.) This issue also has an article about the Free Press Lit Awards and holy shit, Tim Yap was there? I thought Sasha was only joking.

* * *

Charles also lent me two books: Year’s Bet SF 14 and The Solaris Book of New Science Fiction Vol. 3. I now tenderly put them atop my overwhelming pile of unread books (I now have 10 in my list; I’m halfway through Eden Express and Blind Assassin, almost done with The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty.). And yet, and yet – I dream of going to the Manila Book Fair to purchase more. Am I insane? (Yes.)

* * *

Sleepaway, an anthology of writings on summer camp edited by Eric Simonoff – I recommend this. Contains some of the most interesting essays and short stories I’ve read so far. What happens inside Jewish summer camps, leftist summer camps, music summer camps? Lev Grossman talks of a music summer camp he once attended, where the campers during an unsuccessful softball game avoided the ball “for fear of spraining their long, limber fingers”. James Atlas, in one of my favorite essays in this anthology, talks of a summer camp for intellectuals and writers, where instead of flashlights they were asked to bring Bic pens, and where nobody played baseball and the “tennis court was deserted”. In a letter to his parents he rattled off his activities (panel discussion on modern poets, Shakespeare Festival, jazz music and Chekhov) and ended with “Culture! I can’t take it anymore; send comic books – anything.”