Not for anything other than I finding it interesting how I sounded four years ago:

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November 23, 2005

Lighting up Christmas

Aside from the chilly climate we’ve been getting sporadically lately, I know it’s Christmas when I start liking tobacco ads a little bit more.

I’ve always been a huge fan of tobacco ads, ever since the first time I saw the taciturn Marlboro Man ride his faithful horse across rivers and plains of the American Midwest. And they’ve been running that ad, in various forms, for practically forever.

There’s a huge part of me still wants to be That Man, weathered, strong and silent, but minus the lung cancer. There’s a part of me that still longs to be damned to riding my horse, all by my lonesome, with the snow-capped mountains of, er, Montana, in the background. (It’s gotta be Montana. I saw a publicity photo of Kevin Costner and his latest bride. They were married in his ranch in Montana, and it was That Mountain they had in the backdrop. A ranch in Montana with that sort of view is almost enough to convince me to eschew the idea of having the sea in my backyard. As long as they have wifi, a decent movie theater, and a nice, clean photo lab. And an honest-to-goodness Chinese restaurant.)

Back to tobacco ads. I like them even more during Christmas, when they show these nice log cabins with orange-tinted windows, to imply that there’s a fire going on in the fireplace, keeping the cowboys comfortably warm. I even like the ones by Hope, where they show a barkada skiing off a mountain (in Montana), and then coming together by the familiar fireplace to light a cig, as they drink hot choco in their nice, and neat sweaters.

I get warm and fuzzy all over just seeing these ads. And that's Christmas for me, forget the giving. It's the chance to dream about being the cowboy in Montana, or about having preppy friends over by the fireplace for a hot drink. It's the chance to get all silly and sentimental, without feeling stupid for it. Because, really, there’s a light of hope, when you light a Hope.

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I now know that Kevin Costner's ranch is in Colorado.

Alec Soth and Larry Sultan

Alec Soth is up blogging again, somewhat. He's a guest blogger at Little Brown Mushroom, an independent publisher. Very art.

Alec's last post is on the recent death of Larry Sultan, a photographer whose photos inform my idea of photography. He's known for photographing his parents and the porn industry in California.

The NY Times obit is HERE. More obits and tributes to Sultan can be found linked at Alec's post.

cable car

I forgot to tell you that, last weekend, I was in Hong Kong again. Last time I was there, I told myself I'd make time to take the cable cars on Lantau Island to the Po Lin Monastery. There's a giant Buddha on the mountain with a swastika on it's chest (apparently the symbol's very Buddhist and not at all racist).

Whenever I travel, I try to do a bit of the pseudo-cultural, touristy thing. Partly because I like taking pictures of people taking pictures (tourists!). So this trip to the monastery was it. Also, I've never been on a cable car, suspended hundreds of feet in the air. I have a heights thing, a real fear of it, to be specific. So this was supposed to be cathartic.

And cathartic it was. We got stuck in mid air for what felt like an hour, but was most likely for fifteen minutes. It was a bit terrifying for me but we've been in tight spots before (elevators, during fire drills), and I was really laughing at the incredulity of it all. We even have a video of the event for posterity, and for leaving behind messages, just in case the cable snapped.

But we made it, we're alive, and that cable car fiasco made it to the top five moments of 2009.

When you think about it, all our problems are a bit bourgeois. When we fail, we do not die in the cold and of hunger. If we die young, it will most probably be because of the drink, all the fat, and whatever else is there in excess. Our failure will not be our extinction. We will just live our lives with the stench of a promise left unfulfilled and expectations never met.

So we labor not to feed ourselves, or keep our bodies clothed and sheltered. We hack our way through this life to define ourselves. We take risks, because the alternative, a defeated, embittered way of life, just sucks.

These can be scary times but I know you can do it. I believe in you. That's it. Sorry to have gone Oprah (or Paulo Coelho) on you.

At Outerhope's gig and album launch yesterday:

K: Listening to their music makes me want to run through a field.

M: Or swing from a branch of a tree.

K: Or blow soap bubbles.

M: Pinwheels! Fly a kite, or lie on the grass looking at cloud form bunnies!

K: Yes! Then they hump, multiply and suffocate us all.

M: Yes, Armageddon.

Or something like that. Still, how did we get from a dream pop band to an end-of-the-world scenario?

a day for the absent

I woke up this morning, before 5am, and I found pictures of you. I sometimes forget we have lives of our own, until I see pictures of you.

I remembered that, yesterday, while buying a gift for my dad, and books for myself, that I had also gotten Outerhope's second album, a day for the absent. Quite apt for the morning I'm having, and their music is helping me ease into the day.

And so I'll take this chance to say that Outerhope's launching this new album this weekend. Details here.

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Like I was saying, I was getting a gift for my dad yesterday. It was his birthday. My dad says that by May next year, he'll retire from the job he's had for over two decades. I seriously doubt that, but my wish for the man is that he'll find some time for rest and what whatever else this life has for him. So I decided to get him a book. Picking one out was a bit of a task.

I first considered stuff by Dumas or Chabon but thought he might find them frivolous or irrelevant. Then I thought about brainless fun like Tom Clancy or Dan Brown but decided that he might find them too pedestrian even for a former Reader's Digest fan. I considered non-fiction by Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens, but that's really more about me than it is about him. Finally I found Manila, a photography monograph by Ricky Davila. Which is perfect since it's about shared things: photography - my dad used to shoot, gave me my first camera, lent me his old lenses; and Manila, the city we both love.

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I woke up this morning, before 5am, and I found pictures of you. I sometimes forget we have lives of our own, until I see pictures of you. But to be honest, I'll be fine.

Last Saturday, I did make it to those two album launches. Right after the Us-2 Evil-0 set finished at Mag:Net, I ran over to Saguijo in time to catch the last opening act pack up their gear, right before Musical O's set. A set which I didn't finish by the way. I was dead tired. Ended up in Hap Chan with bad dim sum but great milk tea and chilled taho.

I'm so happy for Us-2 Evil-0. Half of the band are my friends and I am proud. I don't know the Musical O kids, but they should be proud too.

By the way, look at these awesome album art. Both album art were photographed and designed by the brilliant couple at Everywhere We Shoot. You can say all you want about the Philppines. Yeah, the country is a madhouse ran by madpersons. But we make music and art that kicks serious ass. I don't plan on being any where else (except, maybe Hong Kong or New York, and just for short periods of time).

debutantes

Two bands are launching their first albums this Saturday.

Musical O is launching their debut album at Saguio.


Us -2 Evil-0 is doing theirs at Mag:net High Street.


Do they really have the word, "debutante" on both their albums titles? Try and make it to both!

I've been seeing a lot of good movies lately. Well, I've been seeing a lot of bad ones too. I saw The Ugly Truth on the plane on the way back home from L.A. And then the other night, I saw 2012. They're all right, I guess, for when you you have no choice but to kill time. Or, as a friend says, for knowing how to appreciate good movies by watching bad ones. Actually, you know what, just read a damn book.

So about the good ones, there was Moon last weekend. And I forgot to mention that I was able to catch Inglorious Basterds last month. It was a one-night screening for the opening of Cinemanila, and it was, actually, the only movie I caught during that festival. I hate admitting this to my friends (God, like that time I said I didn't get Radiohead), but I'm not a big Tarantino fan. I enjoy his stuff a lot, but he's not hugely influential in my, er, life. But of all his films, possibly even over Pulp Fiction, I like Inglorious Basterds the most. That's just me. Please don't hit me.

I get what they mean when this is the grown up Tarantino we're seeing in Basterds. Without completely forsaking his visual and dialogue style, Tarantino, in this film, shows that he's got the maturity and guts to let scenes play themselves out. I know that Tarantion films aren't usually considered quiet films, but I see Basterds as one of those quiet films where the tension is as thick as the hot and sour soup at my favorite Chinese restaurant.

Also, props to Tarantino, for liking There Will Be Blood and acknowledging how that movie sort of made him up his game.

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I saw Funny People last night. After sexually naive teens in a 40-year old's body, and meandering twenty-year olds who man up and start families, Judd Apatow deals with mortality and the very adult reality of living with your choices. After seeing the trailer, Funny People was a movie that I wanted to like. But I had my hopes tempered by mixed reviews. So I saw it, and yeah, it was a bit of a mess. But it had me laughing through out, and tearing up in some parts. If it just didn't have too many acts that brought you all over the place.

weirdest gig of the year

I haven't mentioned that for almost the whole of last week, I was in Las Vegas and L.A. on assignment. Before anyone thinks this was a high-paying, high-living gig, I'll tell you now, it wasn't.

In the span of the first 48 hours after landing in Vegas, I had to cover Manny Pacquiao's post-fight concert, Manny's victory mass, and a Wowowee episode, then travel to L.A. by land to shoot Manny and Jinkee's house. And during all that, I had to be on my toes just in case we spotted Krista.

It was also ironic that I was in Vegas during the Pacquiao-Cotto fight, but only to see the last round from standing outside a sports bar, the whole freakin' Strip between me and a soundless large screen TV showing Kenny Bayless waiving off the fight. Irony was taken up a notch the next day when I had front row seats at the Wowowee episode being shot in Vegas. I was there, shooting, and making the most of my great view of Willie R's crotch.

It's been years since I've done press coverage and even then it was never this showbiz/gossip stuff. Seriously, for awhile there, I was depressed. But it was also all so surreal and I appreciate the value of that.

And, erm, photos will come out in the January-February issue of YES Magazine, out in the stands by mid-December.

Moon

I saw Moon last night. Not to be confused with New Moon, for crying out loud. This one was directed by Duncan Jones, son of David Bowie, and acted in by Sam Rockwell. Both of whom turn in fine performances.

Moon is about a guy named Sam (Sam Rockwell) who is in the last weeks of a three-year contractual stretch to man the Lunar Industries-owned moon station. This moon station oversees the mining of helium-3, which, in turn, provides Earth with much of it's clean energy. His only company on this three-year gig is the robot, GERTY (voiced by Kevin Spacey). That's until Sam gets into an accident, wakes up, and finds himself facing Sam.

Who is the real Sam and is the other Sam a figment of an untethered and frayed mind, a clone, or a metaphysical manifestation of needs and wants? Will either Sam make it back home to the wife and kid he left behind? What secrets are hiding in this dark and cold lunar landscape and in the bulkheads of this ominous moon station?

It's all great sci-fi, folks. Sam Rockwell acts by himself and shows his amazing range. Duncan Jones imagines a great story and paces the film well. I like that this quiet movie punches you in the gut and also makes you chuckle sometimes with its gallows humor. Yet, Moon's resolution is just a tad bit hopeful.

I love sci-fi, the imagination that goes into the genre, the cautionary tone, and the hope that is often injected to the text. When confronted with a future, or present, where we humans will do our dumbest best to eradicate our own race and humanity via man-made natural catastrophes, artificial intelligence gone haywire, or cloning misuse, some people just want a cheerier picture. I'll take that.

But I also like sci-fi when it doesn't resolve and when it ends up asking more questions. Like what is the merit and value of reality, love, or one's existence in the face of being infinitesimal in this very large and cold universe?

By the way, if you know me, I'm really a very happy guy. Haha.

If I'm not mistaken, my first time out of the country was for a trip to Hong Kong. That was with my dad, my brother and my dad's friend, Tito Art. I think I was fourteen or fifteen and I have two distinct memories from that trip. The first was that I was amazed that there were malls right under our hotel, and that they were connected to adjacent hotel/malls such that you could walk miles through shops and not have to step out into the street.

The second was that we ate at this amazing restaurant called the Golden Deer. I actually don't remember what we ate. I just remember that it was on the second floor of a rundown building and that we had to enter through the kitchen. The small dining room was full of expats drinking San Miguel Pale Pilsen, and busboys were pouring used glasses of water on our table to clean it.

Since then I've been to Hong Kong for a number of times, usually on quick weekend trips. I go with friends who know the place pretty well so shopping is executed with surgical precision. I like Hong Kong mostly for the food. I can live on Chinese food, especially Cantonese food with it's roast goose, fresh seafood, and dumplings. I was there again last weekend, this time with my brother who hasn't been back since that first trip fifteen years ago.

And for the first time since I've been visiting, I considered Hong Kong as one of my favorite cities. Favorite enough to half seriously consider living there for awhile. It's fast-paced and modern yet it has a patina of something old like most Asian places. The city is small in size yet there are tons of things to do and places to see, and with an awesome public transport system, it's easy to get around. Also they have ferries! I also like Hong Kong because, unlike Singapore, Hong Kong isn't ultra clean and sterilized. You can smell the harbor, the streets have "texture," and things can go wrong.

Like when I brought my brother to this row of eateries along a back street. I go there with my friends and we usually pick the last eatery because there's a Filipina waitress there who we can order fresh shrimps in garlic, taosi clams, and Tsingtao beer from. Well, she wasn't there this time. So I had to make do by pointing at the photos on the menu. Still instead of getting two cups or steamed rice, I managed to order two platefuls of stir fried noodles (which were good anyway).

Anyway, the thought to live in Hong Kong occurred one night while we were hanging at the beach at Discover Bay. It was a cool night, my feet were in the sand, and we were drinking beer. Well, everyone else was drinking beer. I was having a sundae. Anyway, I felt at peace and content. And I realized that if I could feel that way in a place as crazy as Hong Kong, then this place was special. I'll be back.

So Much Excelsior

Owel Alvero, guitarist and song writer for one of my favorite bands, Ang Bandang Shirley, released his solo EP, So Much Excelsior, online and for free. Listen to, and get it HERE now.

I've had this since last month, so I've been remiss in saying that I enjoyed Zach Lucero's album, Fall Crash Infect.

My friends at Sputnik have been tag teaming me into getting Apol Sta Maria's "Alamat Ng Panget..." Making it to Cubao X last Friday with some actual cash in my wallet, I finally got my copy. (Only 200 bucks and less than 10 copies left!) This crudely drawn collection of crass visual and verbal gags belie the intelligent commentary this comic makes on life and art itself. Ramon De Veyra writes a better review here.

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I miss writing entries here compared to the inane little things I post more often at Twitter. It's a bit of mind job how the Internet can actually be used to minimize information by spreading a whole lot of it. The possibilities of the Net is uselessly endless.

I also miss baring my heart online and in public. Haha. I remember when posts in my old blog were just rawer, intense and personal. I miss it, but I don't think I'll ever do that again. A major part is that I really am old...er now. Thirty really isn't the new twenty, no matter how much we package and market it to be. You know why I know that? Because I gave up my old camera backpack and bought the same version but with wheels. (Also, the old camera bag is for sale. Check it out here. End plug.)

Back to the baring of one's heart. I don't think I really miss public and online emotional seppuku. I just miss the fact that I, once upon a time, could.

Christian Patterson: Out There

Christian Patterson is one of my favorite photographers who shoots in color. He's good and he should be. He's only worked with William Eggleston. After Sound Effects, I'm glad to know he's wrapped up a new series called, Out There, which is visually inspired by Terrance Malick's film Badlands. Which is, in turn, based on the story of Charles Starweather, a multiple murderer.

About this series, Patterson says,

"I have long been fascinated with and inspired by phantom events—events that have little or no physical presence in a place or an image but have a very strong relationship with the place that is photographed."

Found out via Shane Lavalette.
Interview of Patterson on Out There at Making Room.

Ondoyphotos.com

Some friends of mine were quick, smart and sensitive enough to feel that there was a need for a visual compendium of the effects of Typhoon Ondoy. Within the week after Ondoy hit the metro, Ondoyphotos.com was up and running. Good job guys.

community

Things seem to be settling down.

Last month was shitty, as I've said. I guess emotions started going haywire in August, when Cory died and the country went into collective mourning. Then in early September, Alexis, one of the good guys, and his girlfriend Nika were killed, and I saw my close friends grieve. After that, the nice family of three who ran the cafe across the bar I sometimes hang out at were also murdered in their own apartment. And in the past week, I've had friends scampering to higher ground, losing everything to the the floods of Ondoy. Right now, Metro Manila just might be able to duck this new storm, the tragically named Pepeng. (Next time, let's stick to the international list of typhoon names.)

My almost-meltdown due to work-related stress seems trivial in comparison to it all and I'm just glad that the people closest to me are dry and safe. And happy. Right after the madness that was Ondoy, it was good to see my high school buddy, Hester, marry Tonee.

At this point, while there's a lot of things to be done, back to regular programming will be a relief.

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Take a minute to enjoy photography of David Leventi, who takes pretty good portraits of a place.

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I love Community. And I mean the TV show, not how we are all connected and shit.

September was a shitty month, and that's something I'll try to recap later. I'm just glad it's over. Here's a quick quote that broke the monotony of things going on in my head. It's a bit refreshing to think about photography by itself again. And, you can't go wrong with a basketball metaphor applied to photography.

"Then, it occurred to me that these plays almost always have a component of near failure involved in them. It's the fingertip catch, the unlucky or lucky bounce, or a player making a grab on a line drive that shouldn't have been catchable. It's almost never the "perfectly executed play" or the "high percentage shot" that makes us leap up from our chairs in disbelief. I feel the same way about photography." - Bradley Peters.

More on Bradley Peters and his staged yet failure-dependent work at Conscientious.

The idea of receiving a fairly nice paycheck for shooting a hell of a lot of pots, pans and other shiny, round objects sends me into a descending spiral of panic and depression. It's not panic and depression in the form of hair pulling, drunken binges or car crashes. It's just when I find time to take a short break, to sit in a coffee shop with a cookie while waiting for conflicting, unconfirmed schedules to sort themselves out, I tend to question a lot of things: my choice of work, my commitment to personal expression, my talent or the lack of it.

Times like these, it's comforting to have friends. Haha. Also, it's just panic. After things (or when I) settle down, I remember that this was the plan to begin with: work as photographer so that I can afford to take my own pictures. I remember the places where the job has brought me, and the people I've met. I remember that, because of the job, I've met a lot of my good friends and have been given the opportunity to meet (and shoot) people who've influenced my life. Also the job pays enough so that I can get Chinese dinners and buy a lot of books. Maybe I just need a vacation. Or maybe I just need to stop griping about not doing personal work, and do personal work.

Once in awhile, I announce out loud that I am in a rut.

what we lost

RIP Alexis Tioseco. 1981-2009.

Jody Rogac

I'm in this Goethe-Institut sponsored workshop right now with German photographer, Espen Eichhofer, and we're supposed to be thinking of portraits. Being bad at photographing people, and liking to shoot spaces more, I'm tempted to argue that I am shooting "portraits of a place." But that would be copping out so I am... endeavoring to shoot people for this workshop.

Speaking of portraits, I like the Jody Rogac's.

(Via Feature Shoot)

I live in the city where people are conscious of the company, or the lack of it, that one keeps. I say that because whenever people find out that I sometimes watch movies or take lunches by myself, I get funny looks, or comments about having to have friends, or what not. I have friends, great friends, even. But I've also figured out how to do a lot of things alone, and there's some sort of fun and/or comfortable solitude to be derived from it. You get to do things on your own time, you get to get some reading done.

One of the things people should do alone is to watch gigs. I tried this out last night when I arrived at a gig around an hour before any of my friends showed up. I sat in the back, at the bar, among fellow stragglers. These people seemed to be there for the music,which is how it should be in this city of scenesters. I know for sure one guy was in it for the music. He was the band's manager. Haha.

Anyway, last night, for some time, I took comfort in being an anonymous appreciator of the experience of music played live. And it's cool that, among us sitting in the back, there is a camaraderie from this shared experience that manifests itself in the exchange of knowing looks and heads starting to nod to the beat as one.

Ryan McGinley's Moonmilk

Ryan McGinley gets a lot of flak for plagiarizing himself when it comes to his commercial work, but I really don't care. His personal work is strong, original and pretty damn good.

More of his Moonmilk series at Tiny Vices.

Just got back from Palawan. Puerto Princesa this time and just for a vacation. No work whatsoever involved. On this trip, I got to visit the Iwahig Prison and Penal Farm, which turned out to be slightly unnerving but very cool. I think it's the only place where the prisoners are in charge of the prison gates. I took a photo of the guy whose job it is to sound the bugle call for head count. I want to go back, and shoot a bit more in this interesting place.

I also got to go through an underground river which you enter via a cave on sea-level. That was really great too, but at some time during the 45-minute boat ride in the dark, I started wondering if animatronics and light and sound effects could enhance the experience a bit.

Just this morning, I went dolphin-watching. I saw the dolphins first and called everyone's attention to it. Until the boatman said I was pointing at a bobbing buoy. We then dropped anchor in this place called Turtle Cove. It was like a giant pool with fine sand at the bottom. Around noon, we got back on the boat and had a really good meal of grilled fresh fish, grilled eggplant, boiled shrimp, and adobo.

I almost skipped on today's itinerary. I was seriously considering staying at the hotel, watching cable TV and finishing my Civil War book.

If it weren't for work, or more adventurous friends, I'd never be able to see these places. And even when I'm already at these sort of places, there's still that natural inclination to just sit and do nothing. I can be boring that way, and I think I take after you, Pa.

I remember when Gino and I were kids, and you'ld take us to the beach during the summer or on weekends. We'd play war games with the BB guns, or play cards, and grill hotdogs (which you'ld forget to take out of it's vacuum wrap). But we never strayed far from our cottage, except for that time you got us bikes and wanted us to try them out.

I also remember you stories of whenever you'ld go on out-of-the-country trips. They'd always be for work, and you liked staying in your hotel. I remember the time you went to Tokyo and had the chance to explore the red light district. You almost skipped that part but you didn't want to embarrass your hosts. You ended up making small talk with the Filipino bar girls, which you enjoyed because you got to speak Tagalog.

I do a bit more of traveling-for-fun than you, and ironically, it's because you encouraged it. You liked sending us away and talked about not minding having to spend for your kids' travels. It was worth it you'ld say, and it is. A big part of who I am is because of the places I've been to, thanks to you. But there are times when I just want to revel in doing nothing. To have the luxury of free time, to just sit around and read, or talk with the people I have in my life. I really can be boring that way and I really take after you. I really don't mind at all.