Sound Check, Puhhleeaze!

Finally, i've seen Up Dharma Down perform at an intimate audience. We were strolling around some place in Makati when we came accross a directonal poster to a cafe. It came with their gig schedule and with no second thoughts we decided to see my fave band. And so we went right ahead, made a reservation though we figured Up Dharma won't play until around 12midnight. We did some more strolling. We waited. Patiently.

After getting more veins popping out my root crop feet after a night of walking, we decided to head back the cafe and get our reserved seats at 9:30pm. We kept ordering food (those which were not at all good for our bodies), we talked almost about everything already, when finally, two front acts started playing one after another.

Then Up Dharma Down. At around 12 midnight as we've predicted. I was super excited. Took some pictures of them (zooming in on Armi most of the time) even before they began playing. In no time, they were already playing their first song (which i believe was for their sound check).

They played on. I was being forgiving on the first few songs because the sound mixing wasn't going well. Oh my, it went worse towards the end. I shot a fierce look at the sound technicians at their loft/nook. You woudln't believe what i saw: the two men were both staring at the ceiling with their arms crossed, counting sheep.

We left the cafe right after their first set. I wasn't happy, obviously. I didn't know who to blame. It reminded me of the superb performance we watched for FREE at Moma during one of their summer garden concerts. Before the jazz band started playing (before the organizer even introduced the band), the first person the host gave recognition to was the sound engineer. That's how they revered these people in the industry! And back here we had two men sitting with a loft-view, dreaming of cream puffs while the band was playing. Again, i did not know who to blame. We have so much great local talent. Man, hats off to our local rock scene. Even the front acts were great. Except that they weren't taken care of. Sad.

Emo Whatever

For some unknown reason i could not sleep in my room alone anymore. It's either i'd have Uni (our pet Shih Tzu) spend the night in my room or i'd ask Shapot (our youngest kid in the house) to fix his mattress on my floor so that he'd sleep in my room. Is it only because i'm going through a phase or am i simply growing backwards? I hope not the latter.

Emo whatever..

It was one boring moment in my office when my colleague cracked a silly thought asking us: "Who do you think is the most "emo" among the emo bands? I looked at her and found her lips about to utter the same band that popped right in my head - "My Chemical Romance". We both said it out loud. And there, my signature grenade-launcher-laugh got us all started that morning. I don't even know why the hideous laugh. I just found the name so pathetic. And silly.

What do you know? I might be just as emotional as these silly guys are. Believe me, i can stare at any white wall as long as i want and i can give anyone a blank face for a doughnut.

I wonder why.

But i'm happy i've been working much more efficiently nowadays. I hope this'll go on forever.

Road to Connoisseurship

When i say i fancy becoming a wine connoisseur, i say it only to mean that i love learning something new whenever i go visit the Napa Valley. There is one painful disadvantage though - i fail to bring any valid i.d. and there goes a not so sweet bye-bye. Even at 25 getting my nose into wine tasting, i still get to be mistaken as the 12-year-old Emily being dragged along by the avid traveler-mother. i'm not happy at all.

And about my interest in wines...

So whenever i go to dinner gatherings especially with my very clanish family, when wine is served, i always go for the red wine. One of my sweet aunts whom i've just visited at the new wine country, having offered everyone wine, was about to hand me a glass of white wine (i think it was the Pinot Gis) because she said we ladies enjoy drinking it more than red. When that polite offer came to me, i showed gratitude but told her i'd also want a glass of red wine after.

But hey, worry not. I'm not the girl trying to impress the bullies (like, "hey look mom, i'm drinking wine"). I drink red wine because i know it's good for me. It's good for my heart, my blood and it has a good amount of anti-oxidants. Period.

Same goes when i go to a B.B. King Blues concert watching an 81-year-old performing even though i can't help but catch myself yawning in the middle of it once in a while. Same as how i love Bob Dylan though i didn't fall in love with his music the first time i heard it (but i fell in love with his poetry!). Same, also, as when i go even to museums where the smelly old rugs get to my nerves, almost killing me due to my bad allergies.

All because "i know it's good for me".

But there are more i-know-it's-good-for-me's that are far too much harder to do than these. You know, like things you want to do that you don't get to do, and things you don't want to do that you end up doing? That sort of thing. Like in the morning, the first thing that i want to do is pray but then it has never been that easy getting my half-awake-half-dreaming self on its knees. So i end up in a snooze.

So i'd like to say that one thing i can never forget was when someone said (was it Andrew Murray?): "the more you find it hard to pray, the more you should pray". In response to this i don't want to say, "because it's good for me". Saying this will be an understatement. In this i want to elaborate no more. Because all i know is that prayer, plus faith, plus the will of God, can move mountains.

Unmade-up Yet M.A.D.E.

You'd notice her flawless skin unmade-up whenever on the floor. On the floor, meaning, while this one makeup artist "belonging to the tiny elite of designers, photographers, stylists, image-makers.." is currently metamorphing a model's pale face into a Dutch masters-inspired beauty, for instance. That's what i'm talking about! The masterpiece speaks a thousand words than its maker, but the maker's name can speak a thousand more (am i making sense?). Like a barber with the bushy hair, whose shop has always been flooded with hair dust on the floor, who's wanted by the great many for a perfect haircut.

But no bushy hair for this one Ms. Pat Mcgrath. Though her unmade-up face wasn't what only rang a bell in my eardrums, it was also her revolutionary traveling/working style that caught me. ''Wherever she goes, between 30 to 50 bags of materials and tools, art, fashion, and reference books arrive ahead of her (for the Dior couture extravaganza this summer, it was 55, shipped to Versailles with 25 assistants)." '"Even when i began, i maybe had three trunks when most people had ziploc bags.. i always thought, Well, a silver's not just a silver. There's 30 versions of it." So huge is her collection, it has its own driver, who speeds from show to show and across the Alps in time to leave the last Milan show (Versace 10:00pm) and make the first test in Paris (Balenciaga, 8:00am). Pat, meanwhile, is whisked there by private plane.'

Thinking of a presidential escort or an entourage for a Hollywood star? Not quite, my dear. This is an entourage for a makeup artist, a star, who is "in a class by herself". "In a profession where makeup artists are frequently [if not always], treated as anonymous, [McGrath's world is history]."

Ever grateful to Sarah Mower who wrote an article on McGrath for Vogue Magazine; so grateful i had to tear the pages off my aunt's elephantine copy. I'm not that evil though, i still made sure i asked for her permission. So i humbly brought home the pages kept together by a green paperclip.

B.B. at 81

Blues has been one of my favorite music genres that is why i got so excited when i found out we got tickets to a B.B. King with Etta James concert. Not long after, we were all seated at a concert by the bay, amused, watching and listening to Etta's outstanding performance at 70 years old.

By God, I can't even imagine my grandaunt who's now 69 years old singing, grooving so beautifully as she was! And her voice! Regine Velasquez wouldn't dare come near her lest she'd be eaten alive.

And now B.B. How old? Whopping 81. He grew bigger, been suffering from diabetes, and now with weak knees making him perform onstage sitting down all throughout. I got no problems with that. Man, what more could you ask for than seeing an 81-year-old "king of the blues" (he stood by his name) play his guitar so passionately that even (i think) Keith Richards would drool over the entire show; that some stinky bands like Cueshe would just want to go home and kill themselves with so much frustration?

Forgive the meanness, but here's the thing:

B.B. surely knew what he was called for till the last chapter of his life. He found it silly how organizers have always been plugging his recent concerts as his "last concert". At the concert we've seen, he laughed about it and said something like: "should i live a couple more years, will i still be welcome to play for you here?" He asked this that not one smelled any doubt inside him. He was as if he knew when he'd die though he never would have an idea when. No fear, no sorrow in his eyes while mentioning life nearing its end. Because he knew. He understood. He did his job and has used his life to benefit mankind yet still wanted to contribute some more. And with this the crowd cheered in approval with an applause that ended so glorious. Wow.

To A Colorful Reading

Cheeers!

A dear someone confided in me when he said he'd rather be friends with books than with humans. I contemplated for a nanosecond and gave him a hint that a part of me wanted to agree while another part wanted a duel. I always do that. This time around it's because i wanted to convey how interaction with humans are as important as interaction with pages.

I hate it. I hate it when a fiction that you find too cheesy to read leaves you a piercing mark right after that all you want to do is lie down, reflect, and cry.

I love it. I love it when the same book suddenly switches your mode then puts you in a knight-in-shining-armorish stance that you're all revved up all of a sudden. The power of hope, the piercing light paves the way for a new path.

Hmmmmm, hmmmmmm....... The same dork (who'd spend eternity with his books) handed me some of his a-list reads. I read some of them. I'm actually on one of the cute, cheesy novels right now. But they're just as moving! I don't know how these writers do it. They're just so amazing. Crazy geniuses. Someday i'd be one of them.

Geniuses though they may be, i have always believed that their gifts have been bestowed upon to make this world a better place. They were called not only to reflect society, not only to aid us in voicing out to reveal truths, but also to imbibe and equip so that we, humans, would not only care to animate books but would care to understand what it means to be in a human world.