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Friday, November 28, 2008

Twilight is a colossal load of crap. Not that I had any lofty expectations for it to begin with, mind, having flipped through a stray copy of Breaking Dawn and realizing that the Francine Pascal school of dilute kilig is still in practice. So it’s a colossal load of crap, but it’s not like I’m mad at it or anything (okay, maybe a little, only because Stephanie Meyer’s given tasteless people some weird license to be called ‘voracious readers,’ but let’s not get into that really, really, really, really, really old Harry Potter tirade right now). So it is what it is.

It’s easier to lambast films that have apparent flaws amidst otherwise tolerable elements. Twilight, however, is just two hours of Stupid. I do understand why many Filipinos enjoy it, though. The book and its subsequent unwieldy film translation cater to the Catholic school kid set and its penchant for ineffectual overromanticism. Mired as many young Pinoys are in Victorian notions of romance (yihee, nagholding hands sila; kasal, here they come), it’s very easy for them to fall for this drivel.


You have to see it.

posted by marguerite @ 1:41 PM


We Love You Long Time
Monday, November 24, 2008

Doing squat this Wednesday night? Jonesing for major sexy time? Enjoy the occasional car crash? If you happen to fall under any or all of these, drop by Green Papaya this Hump Day at 8. Hubba Hubba Man-Beast Yol and I will get all literary on your asses as part of the art space’s on-going Monthly Period readings and open mic. If the raw, gummy, wait-wait-let-me-process-this sexuality Yol and I possess is just not your thing, our tandem interview will be hosted by the unambiguously lovely Andrea Teran (so you can just stare at her while Yol and I dry-hump and ask for each other's influences, yes?).

Green Papaya’s moved to 41B T. Gener St., Kamuning. Just look for the patch of sidewalk where I’m naked and shivering, and Yol’s zipping himself up with equal parts shame and aplomb.

posted by marguerite @ 3:02 PM


Little Red Rambo
Monday, November 17, 2008

My uterus is strife, solidified.

Now, I’m not as keen on blogging about my consistently horrid dysmenorrhea as I was when I was younger and a tad (just a tad) less aware of how trite and futile my blog entries are, but I am a tad (just a tad) bedridden right now, so you can suck it.

What else, what else.

Well, I am 23. Which means I have a little less than twenty years to go before these monthly massacres cease. You’d think I’d get used to it by now, but I suppose the desire to hack my lower body off is something I was just meant to feel again and again. A brief note, though, to whatever or whoever designed me this way: if this was meant to teach me some dire lesson, like about the fragility of human life or some other staggering truth, it isn’t working.

You know how the more prudish, Anglo-Saxon set calls periods the “visit from Aunt Flo?” My Aunt Flo has uzis, camos, and a thirst for vengeance.

I’m sleepy! Finally.

posted by marguerite @ 10:44 PM


Teka Lang Ha, Ilalabas Ko Muna Ang Pagkabakla Ko
Wednesday, November 12, 2008


Because he pulled that Voltes 5/Transformers trick at the end? Because he had a specfic storyline to back it up? Because when the judges said they wanted to see the “future” of Philippine fashion, he rendered it literally?!?!?

This is an insult to fag hags the world over! That is IT! I’m calling a meeting!

Philipp should have won. Every one of his dresses was the shiz.

Grabe, ang chachaka-chaka ng mga judges for choosing those sophomoric, silver-specked swatches of bleh. You throw some glitter around and *poof!*, they’re on their knees?!? HUWHAT?!

Ayoko na mag-rant. Pagoda tragedy na ako.

posted by marguerite @ 11:39 PM


Byebye Freelance Ho World
Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Formally employed again after a year, it’s a miracle I found this swatch of time to put something in here. Not that I’m complaining; work as an editor at this nifty writers’ pool, however tedious, is a comfort compared to what had become a quite hollow stint in Freelance Ho World. My being a Grammar Nazi is keeping me paid and my days tolerably busy, which is a step up from whole days of sitting on my ass and trying to stop myself from cracking.


The Alcazaren clan spent the weekend at Casa San Pablo, this awesome resort in Laguna. The cottages are like something out of a subversive British children’s book, or are Tim Burton-esque, or whatever pretense-laden comparison you prefer, though the place is actually of pure, artsy heart. My brother’s room, for instance, was filled with vintage mirrors, including this retractable barbershop mirror I had half a mind to nick, while my own room was an attic lined with old Matchbox cars in their original packaging. The spigots on the bathroom faucets were made of unfinished stone shells, man. If you could die from quaintness, then Casa San Pablo is the creaking, wrought-iron gate of the netherworld, and I was happy to have been on the edge.

posted by marguerite @ 1:16 PM


the girl

Pasig City, PH.

Damned the man, saved the empire.




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