Bee Happy
Friday, December 29, 2006
Jollibee assaulted me the other day. Adrian and I were walking down EDSA Central and saw him coming towards us, so I smiled and waved. (I was trying something new. A crack at Christmas cheer. Trying to be nice to fast food mascots this time around, having been hostile to them in thought, word and deed for so long. But judging from how Jollibee treated us, it’s war again, bitch.) I thought he’d wave back or dance around or do some other happy bodily movement standard amongst such foam-muffled humans, but instead, Jollibee patted Adrian’s belly a couple of times, shoved his gloved hand up against my face and waddled away. I’m not sure if Jollibee’s patting Adrian was mean-spirited (we suspect, of course, that it is something much more lascivious), but what he did to me was definitely not a gesture of friendship nor a guised attempt at promoting foodstuff. I now desire retribution.
+++
Did a quick shoot with Pubey Boy for some newspaper spread the purpose of which he is not certain. I have become more certain, however, that I cannot do glamour photography. I can’t direct people for shit. I can’t tell people how to pose, can’t tell them how to move, what to do. And the thing is, I used to be such a Nazi back in high school. I used to have my talons all over every aspect of production for our piddling short videos, unafraid to seethe and screech at everyone to do exactly what I wanted for every scene, no matter how early it was (call time was always 3:30 a.m., and I’d always be there at 3, raring to get all auteur on their asses) or how tired or uncomfortable they were. I used to be monstrous. Now I feel weird just telling my friend to tilt his head up a bit. Something went screwy somewhere along the way.
posted by marguerite @ 8:39 PM
|
