Love, fear, apathy and anarchy

June 26, 2010 at 11:56 pm | Posted in Angst | 23 Comments

Peaceful protests turning into violent ones, protesters breaking glass windows and burning cars, police force creating the illusion of its omnipresence, people on both sides taking advantage of their power and/or freedom, bystanders watching everything with both indifference and amusement and taking pictures of the chaos while they’re at it, muddled ideas and beliefs, protests for countless causes and world problems, anarchists in the midst of all this chaos, minor disturbances and commotions taken way out of proportion due to panic and paranoia. This is downtown Toronto, during the G20 Summit.

Of course, despite my passionate hatred for all capitalist nations and my tendency to dwell on a multitude of issues, I’m nothing but a voyeur to all this. And as I do work in the downtown area and had the unfortunate luck of having work shifts yesterday and today during the G20 Summit, I am just a block or two away from the protests and disturbances.

Yesterday, the mall’s fire alarm rang and all of us were asked to evacuate the mall. And, as usual, what really happened is obscured from all the rumors you hear from the others but I’m betting, people are getting a just bit too panicky about all this, that’s all. And just earlier today, the mall was locked down and people at first were told to stay inside until the commotion around the area was done, and I was forced to only work for less than 2 hours as all the shops were asked to shut down for the day.

Of course, some people get all too panicky, paranoid and scared about all this while I just silently watch peace in this town of ours slowly turn to pandemonium, and I heard some who wanted to see more of what they referred to as action and wished to see the police aggressively beat the protesters, out of their thirst for blood and sheer amusement in violence. Quite appalling, if you ask me.

Knowing how the media can be two-faced and one-sided and can hardly be considered as impartial, I am not going to even argue which side, the police force or the protesters, started the disturbances and the acts of violence. It could possibly be provocations on either side, protesters’ annoyance at the prevalent and domineering police force, protesters resorting to violence for the belief that these world leaders are not hearing them out, the police force’s abuse of their power, bystanders trying to cause scenes, or simply just anarchists who merely want to break the peace.

Oohhh, I’m getting all worked up and frustrated over something I have no control of. Now, in order to calm myself down a bit and forget all this for a bit, I’ll just laugh my head off to this, something completely unrelated:


Vroom. VROOOOOOOOMMING.

Love/Hate

May 28, 2010 at 3:41 pm | Posted in Angst, Doki Doki | 18 Comments

HATE
Yuppies. Taxes. White supremacists. Tweety the bird. Injustice. TV, the idiot box. Facebook stupidities. Corporations. Asian boy bands. Rednecks. The word “bitch”, you misogynistic cunts. Bigots (JC’s favourite word, haha). Old-fashioned beliefs. Cliches. Stereotypes. Groupies. Hardcore Beatniks. Capitalists. Donald Trump, I want him dead. Filipinos worshipping Americans. People on the North beating baby seals as a sport(!). Herd mentality. Colonial mentality. Conformists. Consumerism. Che Guevara T-shirts. Quentin Tarantado Tarantino. Machismo. Patriarchy. Dad getting all worked up over and complaining about small stuff. Snobbish bourgeoisie. Materialistic people. Brands. This copyrighting business. Over-ambitious people. Plastic surgeries. Girls passing off as bisexuals for the pleasures of their boys. Twilight fans. Heterosexual public displays of affection. Mainstream multiplexes. Impersonal parties. Excessive make-up. Annoying sound of high heels on hard surfaces. Superficiality. Chihuahuas as fashion accessories. Mainstream culture. Endless tributes to dead celebrities, ehem, Michael Jackson, ehem. Meaningless holidays. People who go use public washrooms and don’t wash their hands, yuck. Misleading advertisements. Ads defacing women and treating them as sex objects. Kalabasa. Small talk. Class clowns. Trying so hard to be funny and to cheer people up. Sexist, homophobic or racist jokes. Pretentious art. Posers, wannabes, “gangsters”. Loud music on cars. Sports.

LOVE
Stories. Fantasy fiction, science fiction. Sylvester the cat. Bubble wrap. Light rain. Crumpling paper bags. Floating on water, facing towards the sky. Curling myself underwater. Polaroid pictures. Downtown. Breakfast. The smell of baked goods. Sugar cubes. Old video games. The normal thumping of the heart. The feeling of my body against the wind. Underground video stores. The occasional bondings with my sister. Dad’s love of plants. Mom’s excessive worrying. People’s little quirks. Morning orgasms. Old letters from friends. Reminiscing. Hearing or remembering old songs you haven’t listened to in a long time. Various accents. Cinematic gestures. Musicals. Gay icons. Joan Crawford. The crisp and color of autumn leaves. Huskies. Baby penguins. Baby seals. Watermelon slushies. Vinni-Pukh. Silent fall of snow. Northern lights, I wanna see it. Black-and-white films. Foreign languages. Old film posters. Cheesy gay porn lines. Old-fashioned trains, I find them romantic. Unintentional humour. Schadenfreude, look it up. Campy films. Armpit fetishes. Homoeroticism in films and novels. Tight leather. Natural body smells. Male bodies drenched in sweat, oh yeah. Cup noodles. Daredevil rides. Intellectuals. Revolutionaries. Meaningful conversations. Just eating out with friends. Counterculture. Cinematheque Ontario. Socialism, Marxism, communism, feminism, liberalism. Fred Astaire tap dancing. Friday movie nights, I miss them. Bumming out. Groucho Marx. Buster Keaton. Day-offs. Skipping school. Spirituality, not organized religion. Musicals.

Despite all the ugliness in this world, it’s really the small things that make living worthwhile.

I feel like Regina George after she found out she’s been eating fattening chocolates.

April 26, 2010 at 2:09 am | Posted in Angst | 27 Comments

FUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!

I just feel like screaming the way Regina George did in Mean Girls once she found out that they’ve been giving her fattening chocolate bars and that Cady is interested in her ex-boyfriend. Oh yeah, life sucks for the oh-so-pretty Regina George. Poor her. Only my reasons for screaming are relatively less superficial than hers. I would put a screencap here of that epic scene where she screams, still with some chocolate stuck in her teeth, just to plainly express how I’m feeling right now, but I couldn’t find any in the Internet.

After going out and having a couple of drinks with the people I work with at McD’s (Yes, I know, ew, I have a McJob but hey it pays the bills for now and I just can’t seem to get my ass to find at least another part-time job), I just wanted to leave for a bunch of reasons. I just couldn’t handle it. I was ahead of them as we went towards the lower subway platform and I just couldn’t wait for the others who were still in the escalator that I just went straight through the train even though it was about to close its doors, leaving the rest behind. And I couldn’t bring myself to wave back to them; I just stared into space. The way they are, they probably were calling me names like bayot(?) and fag, cluelessly wondering why I decided to do that. But I just couldn’t care less.

I don’t regret it one bit because it was probably the best decision I’ve made the whole day. I won’t mention names. It makes the judgments I’m about to make about them much easier to express. Okay, first, Woman 1 tries to call her long-distance boyfriend in the Philippines just to ask for his permission to go out with friends. Uh, yeah. Wait, wait, I’m not done yet. And the douchebag-cum-boyfriend keeps questioning her if she’s with any guys, whether she’s drinking beer or not, etc. and they took more than an hour to talk about it. Um, what the fuck? First of all, there is such a thing called trust. Please. Jealousy is so 19th century. What’s next? Asking his permission just to go outside the house? Second, the woman’s too faithful to him that it’s beyond pathetic so he shouldn’t go worrying too much. Next, I would worry more about the guy cheating than the woman doing the same thing. Sorry, folks, but in general the men are the real sluts. Excuse my French. Men are the ones who really want it. Finally, the boyfriend has to stop bossing her around and the woman should start deciding for herself as well too. I just kept rolling my eyes while she was talking to him. Yeah, that relationship’s obviously not going to work on the long run.

Next, Woman 2 keeps telling us how great it feels to be single with having no commitments and just having a fling here and there and boys on the side. Yes, it’s great, the idea is great but if she keep talking about it over and over and over and over again, I might just shoot my head. “Oh, it’s great to be single. Don’t you think so?” “It’s a good thing I’m single; no commitments.” The more she keeps going on about it, the less convincing she sounds. I think being single is great when you can get to have more chances of finding the right one but she seems to be telling herself that instead of us, trying to either comfort or fool herself. Not to mention the pathetic attempts of Man 1 in flirting with her. I just had to turn my head away out of embarrassment for his sake.

Then, who gets drunk from Smirn-off and just a couple of Buddweisers? Uh, yeah, stop pretending you’re drunk. It’s obvious. I just had to get away from them when they started wailing, screaming, etc. at the sidewalks and in the subway. I think even drunks have more self-restraint than whatever they had. Next, all the time we were together, I think we only talked about sex, sex, work, and sex. I wouldn’t mind talking about sex but when you have to be so immature and misogynistic about it, no thanks. Sure, I laughed at a bunch of their jokes. I can be lurid when I want to but there’s a time when enough is enough. On contrary to popular opinion, I don’t always think about boys and cocks. We can talk about something else too, you know. Finally, how can you make such obscene comments when you’re in the middle of the gay community? Be respectful, folks. If you think you’re about to say something ignorant, keep it to yourself. You’re just beginning to support my presumption that you’re all air and no brains inside.

Wow, it feels good to release all that anger out. Now I shall go back to finishing the other half of the nine-hour film Shoah and getting me my mandatory beauty sleep.

Mr. Pink’s thoughts on tipping

March 23, 2010 at 6:30 pm | Posted in Angst | 3 Comments

“I don’t tip because society says I have to. All right, if someone deserves a tip, if they really put forth an effort, I’ll give them something a little something extra. But this tipping automatically, it’s for the birds. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just doing their job.”
– Mr. Pink from Reservoir Dogs

You know what this is? It’s the world’s smallest violin playing just for the waitresses.

Steve Buscemi is just effing awesome, especially in Parting Glances. Of course, I had have the same opinion towards tipping, even before I watched Reservoir Dogs months ago, even before I watched Buscemi’s character Mr. Pink yak on and on so much about tipping in the opening scene. I couldn’t care less what the rest had to say about tipping; those hetero-dogs, a bunch of lowlifes not worthy of anyone’s attention, just get a kick out of passive and dumb waitresses serving and pleasing them. Pigs.

Of course, after the opening credits, the film bogged down and bored me to death with all its rehash of Quentin Tarantino’s favorite films full of machismo and testosterone. But it’s always pleasant to watch Steve Buscemi, Harvey Keitel and Tim Roth. The rest are a bunch of wannabes or has-beens.

Quentin Tarantino just doesn’t have his own sense of style. Homage, my ass. He can’t possibly be referred to as an auteur. Even my only favorite from him, the Kill Bill series, is a rip-off of even better films like Lady Snowblood and Female Scorpion #701: Scorpion. Even though he has such a badass taste in cinema, his films just feel like awful remakes of his “influences”. He’s just a fanboy on acid, really.

Anyway, why do I always get side-tracked? Back to the original topic. What do I say to the tipping of 10% of the bill? Fuck that. I know, some people, including my aunt, earn a living out of big tips. I’m sorry but I, as a person and not as a customer or another number in your books, should be able to decide whether I want to tip or not and what specific amount should I give. If your poor service and your lousy and inconsiderate attitudes deserve only 10 cents, then I shall only give you ten cents. It’s bad enough that you overcharge us in your fancy restaurants. It’s bad enough that you only put a small amount of food in a large platter. If you think you’re fooling the rest, you’re certainly not fooling me.

According to my sister, in this Korean grill restaurant downtown, the waiter apparently chased them before they left and told them that they were required to give tips of 10% of the price of their bill. What the fuck!? I didn’t know tipping was required. It should be out of the customers’ consideration. What if they weren’t pleased with the whole shebang? But maybe, the waiter just seized the opportunity since they were just a bunch of teenagers who wouldn’t be able to talk back and complain. I know, I know, the waiters’ salaries are way below the minimum wages. But even without me tipping, a lot of those bourgeoisie and upper-classes give a lot of tips, even more than 10%. Why do they do it? Because they simply can, and so they want to brag about it.

Now, waiters, if you expect me to tip a lot even if I regret spending so much on such little food, please heed my glare. I bite.

Excuses, excuses.

February 7, 2010 at 1:13 am | Posted in Angst | 2 Comments

It’s my final semester for the Accounting college program I’m in, and I am still fucking wondering why I am still in this course and refuse to pursue a career that I’m really interested in. Whenever I think of doing something else, I quickly assume that those careers don’t have any certainties or security. I guess I’m such a wuss that I don’t even attempt  taking risks to do what I really want to in life. I always try to outweigh the advantages and disadvantages and come up with excuses as I still end up thinking that maybe I’m better off where I am right now even though I don’t find business or finances interesting at all.

Excuses, excuses. I am a slacker and hate studying. And I wouldn’t even touch my books before exams, not even with a ten-foot pole. That’s why I thought maybe I wasn’t up for university school. Maybe, I have a chance with this guy I usually am with in my class. Or, maybe not, as he seems to be as straight as an arrow and I am just wasting my time with him. Fuck. I think that if I do take film studies and journalism/literature as my majors, maybe I won’t end up being what I dream to be: a film critic. That my vocabulary is limited (which it really is) and that I do need to catch up on some more novel-reading to actually enhance my writing and vocabulary skills. And if I do take psychology, I think that I might just end up at Human Resources, which to me would just be the same thing as ending up as an accountant. It’s my cynicism that usually does the reasoning for me.

**********

Lately, I have been simply dissatisfied with everything. No, I don’t think it’s a state of depression or me wallowing in self-pity. It’s more like I seem to be missing something in my life. The void, that black hole in my life, seems to be getting bigger. I am usually pretty contented with what I have but now I don’t know, or, if I am feeling moody, I could easily amuse myself with human company, movies, etc. I can’t bring myself to enjoy most of the films that I have been watching lately. I can’t even talk passionately about stuff with my close friend and my sister. I am not even in the mood to post about it but I am still forcing myself as to express my thoughts in a more legal acceptable and less violent manner.

I really need to get out there and find that man I’ve been waiting for, for so long.

**********

Last Wednesday was the first time I have ever purchased something online. And I was acting like a kid who just learned how to ride a bike (ironically, I learned how to ride a bike when I was 14…). And here I am, impatiently waiting for the DVD copies of Love and Death on Long Island and Awaara I bought at Amazon and eBay respectively, for the reasons that they are inaccessible and unavailable at most stores. If everything goes well and I receive these in a brand-new and perfectly well shape, I might just be tempted to buy more films I want to watch so badly that I can’t seem to find online or in other stores.

And is Ishtar really that bad that I can’t seem to get a hold of it, not even in its VHS format? I want to see it so badly due to the critic Jonathan Rosenbaum’s raves about it. And the sellers at eBay and Amazon seem to take advantage of the fact that it’s not that easy to get by selling it for big-ass prices.

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