Not the end, mind you, just a change of address. These junklands have been great and fun, but no longer feel like home so we're moving. Still at Livejournal though. Thanks to all friends and readers who have shared, commented, read and spent a moment of their time to take a look.

You can come follow me to my new home where there will be, I promise, more of my ramblings on tv, books, music, film, comics, train rides, taxi adventures, love letters, broken hearts, strange conversations and the odd lazy epiphany or two. See you there.

Love,

And here is John Oliver, cementing his place in the list of People I Want to Marry Someday (the top five of which seems now to be mostly composed of Englishmen).

(Itago na lang natin siya sa pangalang) Pink Ranger tells me about something weird that happened to her just this afternoon. It was a pretty busy lunch hour and she was at Jollibee. There weren't any other free tables so there was this other girl who came up to her and asked if they could share a table. Since she was on her own and it was a bigger table, the Pink Ranger figured it would be okay. Sure, she answered. The girl thanked her and for a while they sat across each other, just finishing their Champs and fries in silence, but all the while she couldn't shake off the feeling that she had met this girl somewhere before. Finally, the other girl said, "Oh, wow. I thought you looked familiar." Turns out, they shared an ex-boyfriend.

"She dated him after he broke up with the girl he dated after we broke up. I think. I didn't really know what to say." she explains to me later, pausing every once in a while to make sure she wasn't mixing things up. They had only met once before, years ago, and it was just a passing introduction. "But here's what was really weird; because we had dated the same guy, it was like we had an automatic common ground. Like we could commiserate with each other at having seen the same guy naked and things not working out. On the other hand, we had seen the same guy naked. It was comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time."

It is weird how that works. Once you're an ex-girlfriend or an ex-boyfriend, you become part of a group of people you may  or may not have ever met, may or may not know absolutely nothing about or may or may not have absolutely nothing in common with, a group made up of old memories, good intentions, ill-fated chemistry and promises that didn't quite pull through; a group of people marked by an emphasis on "ex", signifying nothing but the past - and only the kind that is for forgetting.

Me: Yes, I'm looking for a book by Jim Shepard.
Fully Booked: Okay, ma'am, let me just check our database. Can you please hold on for one minute?
Me: Oh, sure.

Almost ten minutes later...

Fully Booked: Ma'am?
Me: Yes?
Fully Booked: Yes, ma'am. We're still checking if we have any available titles by Shepard, Jim.
Me: Oh. Okay. Why is it taking so long? What does your database say?
Fully Booked: Would you like to leave your name and contact number, ma'am? We'll call you right back after a few minutes. We just need to confirm the available titles.
Me: Oh, okay, sure.

I leave them my name and my home phone number but they don't call back. I left for work in the afternoon and as soon as I get to my office I give them a call again.

Me: Yes, hi. I called earlier this morning? I left my name and my number but no one got back to me? About the Jim Shepard titles?
Fully Booked: Yes, ma'am, let me just check our database. Can you please hold on for a minute?
Me: Uhm. Okay.

Almost twelve minutes later...

Fully Booked: Ma'am?
Me: Yes, I'm still here. Did you find anything?
Fully Booked: No, ma'am, I'm sorry. We don't have any titles by Jim Shefard.
Me: Oh no, no, that's Shepard with a p.
Fully Booked: Yes, ma'am, Shefard with fee.
Me: Uhm...oookay. What about your other branches?
Fully Booked: Okay, ma'am. I'll just check. Can you -
Me: (exasperated sigh) Hold on for a minute, yes, I know.

After another seven minutes...

Fully Booked: Ma'am?
Me: Still here.
Fully Booked: I'm sorry, ma'am, we have no available titles.

A few days later, I get a text from Phil who happened to be at Fully Booked at High Street. He found a copy of Jim Shepard's Like You'd Understand, Anyway and Love and Hydrogen. Sigh. I wish our local bookstores would keep better records.

Phil asks a very interesting question: What, exactly, is P.T. Anderson's Magnolia about? If you had to summarize it for someone who had never seen it before, what would you say? "A rain of frogs? Life in the San Fernando Valley? People who are unraveling? People who want to become better?"

It's funny because I had never really thought about it before - and Magnolia is one of my favorite films of all time. I saw it six times in the movie theatres when it came out in 1999; even dragged a new bunch of people every time I saw it. And I still rewatch it every year, by the way. At least twice (and I am still floored every single time). If my math is right, I will have seen it a good twenty four times at least, but I'm at a loss for summary words.

When I dragged all my friends (some of their friends and this one guy I was kinda dating at the time) to see the movie, I was frantic. I don't think I told them anything objectively convincing. I just pulled them by the hand and exclaimed "Basta!" Most of them liked it, with maybe an exception of two or three people. I remember somebody saying, "I can kind of sense that something really great happened there, I'm just not sure I was able to follow it all."

A film teacher I once met said that most of the greatest films of all time are the ones that have the simplest stories; the ones that can be summarized in one sentence even. I guess you can make an argument for that. Bicycle Thief is just about a guy whose bicycle gets stolen. Citizen Kane is a veiled portayal of William Randolph Hearst. However, you can also, just as easily, make an argument for a less simplified case. It may be that most of the greatest films of all time, despite having the simplest stories, are the ones that touch on many, many aspects of human life.

Magnolia is about a lot of characters and character relationships. One of the reasons I keep watching the film again and again is that I can focus each time on a different character or character relationship, maybe even see something I hadn't seen there before.



But I think, for me, it's William H. Macy as former "Quiz Kid" Donnie Smith that gets me every time. Near the end of the film we see him, bleeding, missing his front teeth. He's completely broken, but he's also for the first time thinking straight. "I do have so much love to give," he says, tearfully, "I just don't know where to put it." How is that for a summary? It's a film about people who have so much love inside them and don't know what to do with it.

And it rains frogs.

At that damn Mini-Stop, earlier this evening:

Girl: So...
Boy: Yeah. So...
Girl: (sighs) Let's not make this any harder than it has to be. We've talked things over so many times now, I'm completely tapped. This is it.
Boy: Yes, I guess you're right.
Girl: Okay. (pause) I will miss you, you know.
Boy: I'll...miss you too.
Girl: You can come by on Wednesday for the rest of your things.
Boy: What about my -
Girl: No, I'm keeping that. (gets up and heads for the door) But you can have all our friends. I don't like them as much as you do anyway.

Does anybody remember the fictional boyband 2ge+her? The one with the albums and TV show that parodied all the boybands that came out in the 1990's? Well, it looks like they were right; (say you had nothing but I called you bluff / you got my sweaters, my hat...I can`t find my cat!) The Hardest Part of Breaking Up - Is Getting Back Your Stuff.

Fatty is a little stuff tiger who came free at a Saisaki buffet. He has a strange shape and the most expressive face I had ever seen on a stuff toy; it could look happy or sad or even disapproving, at times, when you took his hands and crossed them together. Most of the time though, he looked quite concerned, about what, I'm not sure, but it was sweet to imagine that he was worried about something and he wanted you to always be careful. Whenever I looked at him, I could hear him, hear his little voice, saying "Hello".

I will never forget how he looked when I had to patch him up myself, that one time, when he had somehow managed to put a hole on his little bottom, just right by his tail. That's what you get, I told him, running around the city like you do. But don't worry, I reassured him right away, it's just a little patch-up and I've done this many times before. He still looked worried, but suddenly then, more patient. And when it was over I told him, look, you're good as new, he looked as if he thought he was even better than that. He was real. For always.

He was stolen today, taken during a late afternoon train ride, and I feel like I've lost a really good friend.

My confused friend Catman (not his real name) asks: "What does it mean when girls tell you that you're 'too nice'? I don't understand. How can you be 'too nice' anyway? And even if you were nice - isn't that a good thing? I've always thought it was good to be nice! I've had two girls tell me the same thing this last year alone. Did I miss a memo or something? Is there some newly developed definition of the word 'nice' I don't know about?"

I wish I could help you, Catman, but honestly, I don't know what it means either. I've gone out with boys and had my fair share of things not quite working out due to various reasons (religious differences, allergic reactions to my cats, vegetarianism, Bon Jovi albums) - but I don't ever recall someone being "too nice" ever being a negative. I am aware, however, that there are girls out there who consider it a problem and unfortunately, you are not the first male friend of mine to have encountered it. Tell you what, we'll do some research. I'll try to run up a survey or something, gather information and all that and try to come up with some kind of definition.

Anybody got any ideas?

The trouble with locking myself up in a room with you for the weekend is that I'd be more than happy to stay there with you forever, just flipping channels or watching DVD's the whole time. I'd never go anywhere else again, because it feels like with you right there with me I've got everything I need.

Well, except maybe for the occasional walk to the grocery to pick up a bag of potato chips. And maybe a Dr. Pepper.

So last Saturday, for the first time in ten years, I got really drunk. And I mean really, really, really drunk. I'm not sure how it happened because I have always been able to hold more than my fair share of drink, but there you go. I remember sitting at the table, among friends, and then blacking out. I was told, afterward, that I did drink a lot. And I was also told that I am, as far as drunks go, very cooperative and conscientious - no yelling, no violent fits, no getting up on a table and taking off my clothes or making out with strangers. Apparently, I just get quiet and apologize a lot to the people who have to help me up. Somehow though, that still doesn't make me feel better about anything. I would like to take this moment to apologize to everyone who witnessed the unpleasant event. I'm terribly, terribly sorry and I promise to buy you all cakes the next time I see you.

I woke up at four in the morning, back in the warmth and safety of my hotel room, lying next to my boyfriend. Not only did he help me get all the way back, clean me up and hold my hair back whenever I had to get sick in the bathroom; he also held my hand as I slept.

Fantastic news! MIT is now accepting cats into their undergraduate dorms. This is great for many cat-owners like myself (I have twelve cats) who would like to send their cats to  a good school.

LizzyKitty (named after me by my sister, who noticed that we share a tendency of bumping our heads into things) is thrilled. I've talked it over with her and she says she's narrowed down her choices to either Brain and Cognitive Sciences or Biological Engineering. Personally, I think the latter is a better fit for her, but I firmly believe she could be outstanding in either course. I know it's no walk in the park to get into MIT - but I think she's just about nuts enough to make it. Maggie the Cat (yes, that's a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof reference), our resident mommy kitty, is also very pleased with this development because from now on her kittens will have a better chance at a good education.

Hopefully, this will only be the beginning, and we'll soon see more schools open their doors to capable felines. My cat Ranulph (named after  British adventurer and endurance record holder Ranulph Fiennes) still wants to get into the London School of Economics (possibly for a BSc in Geography with Economics).

Oh, hey, before I forget - the Large Hadron Collider will be turned on today! How exciting! This could be it! This could change everything! We could change the very way the universe works! Or, it could also, just possibly, create a tiny black hole that would result in the end of all life as we know it.

Nah, I'm not really worried. I've got a good feeling about things. How about you?
 

aka Thoughts while watching Hellboy 2: The Golden Army

Denial: Okay, so it's off to a weird start. Everything looks a little bit too bright and cute, but I mean we're just beginning. It's only been, what? Twenty, thirty minutes? Mike Mignola helped write the story, didn't he? And I love Mike Mignola! We'll get to the good stuff soon, I'm sure.

Anger: What? What is this? What am I watching? What the hell am I watching? What is happening here? Why is it all jokey? Why is Hellboy a prick? He's always been tough and impulsive but underneath all that bluster we know he's not careless with other people's lives! Why is Liz Sherman on fire every time she's mad? We get it already! She can start fires! Why is Johann Krauss nothing like his character? Why is Abe annoying? We already know these characters, we should care about them! How the hell did this happen? How the hell did this movie make me not care about anyone of these characters I love? What's going on? Why is this movie written for seven year old children? What the hell am I watching?

Bargaining: Well, the set looks great, doesn't it? And I mean, I love del Toro! He's one of my favorite directors! Cronos was great, The Devil's Backbone was great, Pan's Labyrinth was great - hell, even Blade II was ridiculous fun! He did such a great job of making the first HB movie, I couldn't think of anyone else who could do a better job, right? And Hellboy is, like, one of my most favorite comics to come out in the last ten years! And Ron Perlman is still Hellboy, right? Luke Goss is awesome as Prince Nuada. Sort of. And, uh, the creatures are really well designed! And there are so many creatures! Creatures are great! Right?

Depression: There are waaaaay too many creatures and I don't know what they are here for. There are waaaaay too many things happening and I don't care. This is Hellboy 2! I've been waiting 254378191021 years for Hellboy 2! And this is what we get. Why? Why? Why does it feel like a Hollywood trap? Why? Why is there a drunken sing-along to Barry Manilow? Why are people laughing to the drunken sing-along to Barry Manilow? Why? Why? Why?

Acceptance: You know, I think I'll just stick to reading the comics from now on.

I have decided that Withnail and I is one of the greatest films of all time - and I will gladly challenge anyone who disagrees with me, perhaps to a duel or maybe, and more preferably, to a pie-eating contest. I can't tell you exactly how many times I've seen it, but I can tell you that I can watch it another couple of million times more. The only trouble is after every viewing, I spend the next couple of days quoting the movie ("I'm going to pull your head off, because I don't like your head", "I want something's flesh", "Look at my tongue. It's wearing a yellow sock").

It's all at once a hilarious, heartbreaking and completely sobering experience. I absolutely adore Paul McGann (he ranks high in my list of People I Want to Marry Someday) and he is exquisite here (not to mention just too, too beautiful), but it's Richard E. Grant who, with his sharp, bitter and offbeat performance, touches greatness.

I bought myself a copy of Oakley Hall's Warlock the other week - I've finally made it halfway. I haven't made it very far because every time something happens I have to stop, close the book, flail and run around the room like a crazy person, yelling something like "The McQuown Boys are back in town!" or "Look out, Marshall! That no good, yellow belly backshooter is out to get you!"

I read this book many years ago and I remember liking it, but coming back to it now I cannot believe just how amazing it really is. The book only has 470 pages, but it is a long 470 pages; filled with characters, places and events that just take you right in and keep you there. Never mind that it's set in the tough and dusty Wild Arizonian West of 1880 but filled with details that are interesting and even relevant - it's just the most exciting book I have ever read. Ever.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll have to get back to it. Marshall Clay Blaisedell is due for trial.