a dream about a storyboard

I was at the peak of stress and was doing something really important, when I remembered that I needed to go to Joan’s house. I promised I would help her apply foundation to prevent her allergies. So in the middle of my chaos (which I forgot what specifically), the chunky black telephone with the red blinking light rang. It was Joan; she was angry and not understanding of the stressful situation I was in.

So then I left my chaos, went to her place to appease her, then applied the foundation.

There was also a party at her house. Several of the people from Brashier were there including Madame, their Managing Director, who strangely looked like someone from Vanwart. She said they were looking for a new hire. Joan referred me immediately. Madame the Managing Director asked if I wanted Accounts or Creatives. There was 2-3 seconds of internal vacillation before I answered.

“Accounts. Though I want Creatives, it’s too technical for me.”

Madame nodded approvingly, as if she understood how I felt.
Then she showed me a storyboard.

Suddenly I was part of the storyboard.

I was on the backseat of a car. The aircon was on. There were people inside the car (forgot what we talked about). Then there were people outside (cannot remember HOW they were outside basta nasa labas lang). The people outside were gradually evolving to be vampires.
When they became full-fledged vampires, they attacked the car. I locked all the doors, but my mates willingly submitted themselves to the vampires. Good thing I was quick enough to relock the car when my mates went out.

In utter panic, I drove the car even if I do not know how to drive one.
The vampires chased me.
Then I awoke.

The end.


vernon god little by dbc pierre

August 25, 2010, 8:04am
In-transit to work

I finished Vernon God Little. Finally after 3 months.

VGL is surprisingly romantic in its own filthy hormonal teenager way. And it is actually feel-good despite the supposedly heavy themes.

I was particularly in awe of the writing style. I loved the angsty bordering philosophical tone he used for Vernon, who was a victim of his efforts to deviate from the discriminating status quo.

Here are some of the lines I enjoyed:

p 148 ~ “Where TV lets you down, I’m discovering, is by not convincing you how things really work in the world”
TV is a simulated reality.
But reality is not simulated TV.
Media messes with our mind too much.

p 163 ~ attaching a song to a particular moment:
“I don’t even know the words to the song. But you can bet I’ll spend the next 80 years in hell making every line fit my situation.”
This happens to me ridiculously often, and here DBC Pierre was successful as a writer in making the reader empathize with Vernon.
My personal experience with aurally-induced time-traveling emotions: I associate the song Morning Elegance with hangover and heartache. I cannot help but feel remorse for myself every time I hear that song. -_-

p 197 ~ part when Vernon declared that the on-lookers/ non-victims have the “tickly kind of luxury deciding whether to be sympathetic or devastated, or not even pay attention at all, the way people do when shit happens that doesn’t involve them.”
The HK tourists hostage mishap was simultaneously happening while I was finishing the book. Then and there was a case in point: I was not directly involved with the tragedy, and I had the luxury of deciding whether I be sympathetic or devastated or not even pay attention at all.

p 260 ~ “Don’t be lookin up the sky for help. Look down here, at us twisted dreamers.”
This was my least favorite of the dog-eared ‘favorite parts’ because I cannot weave my soul unto the sentence. BUT I felt that this was one of the more salient sentences as it was Lasalle’s clincher quotable quote (Lasalle was successfully positioned as “The Wise One”)
Attempt at deconstruction… Is it: you won’t find strength from God. You’ll find strength from poignant twisted yet hopeful dreamers, stuck in the hellhole with you…?

/chronicles of the dogears

Must emphasize that:
The aftertaste was incredible. It flooded my consciousness with feel-good Mexican/ Texan aftertaste, i.e., blistering desert against the vivid blue skies where the fast moving clouds come and go… And in the middle of it all is a sampayan with lacy sultry underwear blown in the wind.

It will blow your mind.

Now go get a copy!

thoughts while in-transit

August 17, 2010, 9:25pm
At the Russia Shuttle

As they say, one of the causes of sloth is ignorance. If there is no clear direction on what to do next, the instinct is to STOP. We postpone the GO because before proceeding, we need to think first (it’s a duh pre-requisite). And the lazy people like me and you do not bother to exert extra effort to think about the next step.

No matter how I think I am equipped at initiating tasks, I just can’t start this !@#$%ing media review.
I am so lazy = I am so clueless.
I am still in denial that should take the first step. Ang hirap naman kasi.
Media Gods, help me.

Sometimes while in transit, I think about death, that it’s okay for me to die now.
If I’m selfless and I don’t care about pain, there’s a good chance I will commit suicide.
Because there’s a good chance the afterlife will answer a lot of questions.

Fortunately, I am not that selfless and I’m not masochistic. Heh.