To Philbert:
They say you don’t really remember whole days, just moments in your life that you think are important. Our first date, then, maybe the closest I’ll ever get to remembering at least an entire evening. I remember the calm smile you first gave me when I walked to your table – the calm was later betrayed by a slight tremble in your hand when you took mine (I had a feeling you were a little bit nervous). We talked too much. I didn’t eat – not because I wasn’t hungry but because I was too excited (and I think it may have shown). Here’s what I remember the most though: there was never an awkward moment between us. When we ran out of things to say, we sat back in our chairs, in silence, and it didn’t feel weird or uncomfortable. When things got quiet, you just took my hand again, and that’s when I first thought, “Hey, this could really be something.”
I’m a commuter. Have been all my life, except for a short period of time when I was in college, when I thought driving from home to school and back again would make things easier. It didn’t. It’s not that I was a terrible driver, it’s just that driving was both physically and mentally exhausting for me. There’s something about getting behind the wheel that immediately de-evolves people and when your driving in the city, you get tired of watching people suddenly losing their ability to distinguish between a pedestrian and an empty bag of chips.
Not that public transportation is all fun and games. Take the MRT on rush hour and you’ll find yourself having to fight your way in and out (and can’t make u my mind which is worse) of the train. Take an FX and you’ll have to worry about jerks who’ll play their music so loud it’ll bleed out of their earphones or guys who smell like they’ve plunged into a pool of cheap cologne (they must think that, like the guy in the Axe commerical, they too will turn into chocolate and women will eat them). Take a jeepney and you’ll bump into young people who clumsily hide their public displays of affection and creeps who refuse to put their cigarettes out. And no matter what kind of public transportation you take, there are many, many incidents of stolen wallets, stolen phones and groped body parts. You’ve always got be careful and it helps if you’re lucky, but beyond that there’s a certain mindset that you develop when you commute. Just as there’s a certain mindset you develop when you drive. The key may be finding out which you are better at.
There are lots of things to love about commuting, despite the stressful things that come with it. Since I don’t have to worry about driving, I can just sit and relax for the remainder of my trip. Plenty of people use the time to take a little nap, but personally I prefer reading while in transit (it’s one way to make sure I don’t finish a book to quickly). I love the feeling of competence I get whenever I commute to a previously unknown place. Whether you’re traveling locally or outside the country, you bring that little bit of confidence with you. It makes you a little bit braver, a little bit more sure that you won’t get lost, or that even if you do, you can find your way back again.
I’ve learned a lot by being a commuter, but I think what I’ve learned most of all is that people are strange. Not that I didn’t know that before, but taking public transportation has really hammered the point home. Have I told you about the time a complete stranger gave me a sunflower before getting off at Santolan/Anapolis station? Or about the time a young pregnant mother suddenly turned to me and asked if which was the better name for her baby (Martha or Kimberly)? Or the time when a couple invited me to come home with them?
Here’s another one for my records: today, an old woman told me my fortune while I was on the train. I’d been sitting next to her for while now, maybe two or three station stops, when she turned to me and asked if I could spare some change. “Magbu-bus pa kasi ako pagka baba ko eh. (translation: I still have to take a bus when I get off)” She explained that she lost her wallet and that she didn’t have a phone with her, so she couldn’t call anyone she knew to come pick her up.
She was smiling very kindly, but she looked embarrassed, so I felt sorry and thought of her working up the courage to ask me for help. I handed her some money, as discreetly as I could because I didn’t want to further embarrass her, but when she took it from me she didn’t let go of my hand right away. When she opened my hand and stared at my palm, I was too surprised to take it back from her. Besides, it really didn’t feel like she was going to do me any harm. She smiled again at me, no longer embarrassed but happy. “Palagay mo lang na hindi ka mabubuhay ng matagal, pero tatanda kang masaya. Wag kang mag-alala, magiging asawa mo yung mahal mo. Hindi pa siya gusto ng mga magulang mo pero, magugustuhan din nila siya.” (trans. You don’t think you’ll live long, but you will and you’ll be happy. Don’t worry, you’ll marry the one you love. Your parents don’t like him now, but they will someday.”)
She gave me back my hand and added that if I decide to have children someday, they will be daughters and that I should name one after my grandmother and that life would be good to her. I thanked her. She thanked me. I got off the train and walked the rest of the way to work, quietly. Even if you don’t believe any of it, hearing someone tell you something about your future leaves you with a weird feeling. Mostly, maybe because you realize you just might have one.
If I may borrow and rephrase from Blanche Dubois, I’ve always relied on the strangeness of strangers. I hope the old woman got home safely.
sentimentalizzy: yaaaay!
minaminamina: kaya lang after i watched last night my sister put on her dvd of in the mood for love. tuloy i had a dream that the Doctor regenerated and it was Tony Leung!
sentimentalizzy: hahahahahahahaha punyeta ang lungkot nun! saddest Doctor ever!
minaminamina: ano ba oo nga! last of the time lords naman eh!
sentimentalizzy: he won't need to cry or to go into histrionics! tatayo lang sya malulungkot tayong lahat!
minaminamina: hahaha that's how he'll defeat everything!
sentimentalizzy: the Doctor finally defeats the Daleks! by making them sad!
minaminamina: shyet, i'm imagining what the TARDIS would look like haha
Pwede ba?
Okay, let's play: weirdest choices for The Doctor. Go.
o2 When Ten got mad, he reminded me of a child finally losing what little patience he had. When Eleven gets mad he suddenly grows in stature and the strangeness of his very, very light eyebrows makes him look like a very old man.
o3 I will no longer pine for Sally Sparrow.
o4 I still think we need a longer break from the Daleks, but I am excited to see how our new fellow will stand up to them.
o5 "So is this how it works Doctor? You never interfere with the affairs of other people or planets - unless there's children crying?" "Yes." Imagine if you were a kid, and a newcomer to the Who series - oh, what those words would do to you. How you'd love the Doctor then.
And then there's Jakob Dylan. Despite the fact that The Wallflowers never got any better than their cover of Heroes (it wasn't a very good cover) and the fact that the last time I heard a song by them was when I was in the produce section of my neighborhood supermarket (Sleepwalker) - I like Jakob Dylan. In the early days, I watched him, front and center of his band, his silence and cool sometimes translating as a kind of severity, thinking all the while that he was still the kind of guy who knew how to throw a wink at his listeners. It showed sometimes, in the way he wrote songs, and I thought that as soon as he went solo we would all see. Then he went solo - and did an album in cooperation with Starbucks. Still, Seeing Things wasn't bad. It was an earnest, simply and cleanly put-together, if somewhat monochromatic folk album that showcased his songwriting abilities better than any of his previous projects before.
This time around he offers us Women and Country, the Americana album he has probably always wanted to make. He even gets all the right people to work with: T-Bone Burnett as producer, Neko Case & Kelly Hogan as guest vocals. The problem is Burnett feels like the real star in this album, his gorgeous production leaving behind the very neat and very restrained vocals by Dylan. Neko Case & Kelly Hogan back-up vocals can turn almost anything elegaic, but if the lead vocals are afraid to let loose, gruff up and add a little egde (as you should, really, if you're doing Americana), everything falls just a little short. It's a shame because Dylan's songwriting has gotten better too. He's much better at putting together ridiculous, beautiful imagery, now if only he can learn to rise and meet them. Everybody's Hurting is probably my favorite track in the entire album because there are moments in the song where he does (I wish he did too for something like Lend a Hand or Holy Rollers for Love) and the song just works so well because of it.
On the whole, the result is a moody & beautifully produced album that's just a little dull. I guess Women and Country still isn't the Jakob Dylan album I've been waiting for, but I think (I hope) we're getting closer. I eagerly await what he will do next.
Enter French filmmaker and provocateur Catherine Breillat. It’s no surprise that she names the story as one from her formative years or that she decided to adapt it into film. What is surprising is how she did it. Still present is her unmistakable need for psychologically rich characters, but what’s new is the minimalistic and restrained approach. There are two parallel narratives here: one of Bluebeard, his young wife and her prettier, more vivacious sister, another of two young girls revisiting the story, and despite the resulting layers, both narratives stay straightforward. Both narratives, interestingly, chose to highlight the relationship between sisters, accurately depicting the simultaneous love and cruelty within. Breillat’s young women are no shrinking violets - they always (and I mean always) say what they mean and she uses them to talk just about everything (death, selfishness, marriage, social justice, you know, everything else the French philosophers, rebels & leftists talk about). Nor are her girls ever played as victims. On the contrary, they seem fully aware of why they make the choices they make, giving them such a bizarre power and resourcefulness in the face of helplessness. So when you watch Bluebeard, a mountain of a man, torn and broken over the fact that his must kill his young new spouse because she disobeyed the one single rule in his household, and he seems compelled by a bigger force, you wonder if he was ever the master at all.
A few minutes later, we found him by the side of the stage, doing just that.
He seemed like the sweetest man in the world, so I wasn't nervous when I approached him, but I was excited. "Thank you SO much for coming! You don't know what it means to me!" I said, sounding like the big fangirl I am. I grabbed his hand before I realized what I was doing. He didn't pull away. Instead he held my hands right back. I think I then told him he'd made me cry many times before. He smiled and then hugged me. "Oh, I hope they were good tears. Would you like a song?"
"Yes! But I don't know which one I'd like! Oh Your So Silent Jens is my favorite album and I have two favorite songs from it and I love both so very much so maybe you can choose which one you'd rather sing!" I was talking so fast I'm not sure how he managed to understand me. "Maple Leaves! I love Maple Leaves! Or maybe A Man Walks Into a Bar! It's such a beautiful song!"
"A Man Walks Into a Bar! I haven't sung that in a while! But I think I can remember some of the lyrics." And he leaned in and sang the first three lines in my ear. I know - I kind of look like I'm praying. But hey, music is a religious experience, isn't it? Photos were taken by the wonderful
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faithlessphil .
Then he laughed and said, "I can't remember now, but if I do remember I'll come find you and sing the rest." It would have been a silly promise coming from someone else, but Jens could only ever sound like he meant things. "No, it's okay, that's more than enough. Thank you." I said to him. This time he was the one who took my hand. He promised he would come back as often as he could (and called Manila a paradise - apparently he loves hot weather) and I promised I would come to see him every time he did.
"Thank you, Jens. You set my heart on fire." I said, borrowing some of his lyrics."
"I will try to keep doing that." he answered.
Frédéric, the eldest, wants to preserve everything as is, despite it being an expensive and the least practical of options, for future generations. Adrienne and Jérémie, who both live abroad (she in America, he in China with his wife and three kids), would prefer to sell most of it and donate the best paintings and antique pieces to the Musée d’Orsay. The film is dialogue-heavy but there's never a dull moment, thanks to the almost lyrical look and feel of it, not to mention the superb cast of veteran French actors. The conversations are always thoughtful, philosophical without being lofty. They but touch on many many things - the past, the future, the shape of the world, the nature of families, the inescapable sentimentality of people and how sometimes memories are not enough, so we keep with such small things, like teapots or sketchbooks, to make life a more tangible thing.
