Caught In A Food Romance
‘Cause I was really bored and needed to de-stress, as well as celebrate the video premiere of Lady GaGa’s “Bad Romance” (in a few hours), I wrote a parody called Food Romance. So retarded. Hope you like it. š
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Food Romance
Oh, caught in a food romance…
Raw raw raw uh-aw.
Bakla-baklava,
Pasta, ooh la la,
want your food romance.
I want your curry,
I want your veggies,
I want your five-course meal
as long as it’s free,
I want your grub,
grub, grub, grub.
I want your grub.
I want your sushi
flown straight from Japan,
I want your truffle-sprinkled
sans rival leche flan,
I want your grub,
grub, grub, grub.
I want your grub.
You know that I’m hungry,
and you know that I’m needy
I want a food, a food romance.
Chorus:
I want your lunch
and I want your beverage.
You and me could eat
a food romance.
I want your lunching
or the lunch of your friends.
You and me could eat
a food romance.
Oh, caught in a food romance.
Raw raw raw uh-aw.
Bakla-baklava,
Pasta, ooh la la,
want your food romance.
I want your dinner,
I want your meat pie,
’cause you’re a fridge raider
as long as you’re mine.
I want your grub,
grub, grub, grub.
I want your grub.
I want your tacos,
your hotdogs on sticks,
want a barbecue with ya.
Baby, you’re sick.
I want your grub,
grub, grub, grub.
I want your grub.
You know that I’m hungry,
and you know I might eat you.
I want a food, a food romance.
Chorus
Walk, walk,
fast food, baby.
Work it,
fuck that South Beach, baby.
Walk, walk,
fast food, baby.
Work it,
eat that Big Mac, crazy.
Walk, walk,
fast food, baby.
Work it,
we’ll have five each, pay me.
Walk, walk,
fast food, baby.
I’ll eat it,
I’m a free bitch, baby.
I want your lunch,
as well as that of your friends,
I want your lunch,
I could eat all your friends.
Buffet la s’mores,
et voulez-vous escargot.
Buffet la s’mores,
I could eat all your friends.
I could eat all your friends.
I might eat all your friends!
Want your food romance!
Chorus
Catcher in the Mixtape
So for our English project, a component is making something of a soundtrack for The Catcher In The Rye, so this is what I put together and I think it makes a lovely companion to the book.
1. “Basket Case” by Green Day (or Holden asks you if you have the time to listen to him whine.)
2. “Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying” by Belle & Sebastian (or Holden wants to get away from here, he’s dying.)
3. “Daydreamer” by Adele (or Holden digresses constantly.)
4. “Dickhead” by Kate Nash (or Holden is beaten up by a dickhead named Stradlater.)
5. “All I Really Want” by Alanis Morissette (or all Holden really wants is to hunt the hunter with his people shooting hat.)
6. “No You Girls” by Franz Ferdinand (or Holden’s dancing with Bernice is a failure.)
7. “L.E.S. Artistes” by Santigold (or Holden likes walking the streets and being the rebel kid.)
8. “10 Dollar” by M.I.A. (or Sunny wants 10 dollar, not 5.)
9. “Blue Lips” by Regina Spektor (or the nuns depress Holden.)
10. “Everybody’s Changing” by Keane (or Holden refuses to enter the museum because he’s afraid he’s also changed. Also, Sally and Carl have changed and he can’t handle it.)
11. “Can’t Stand Losing You” by the Police (or Holden tries calling Jane and Sally but can’t get anything right.)
12. “Under Ice” by Kate Bush (or Holden visits the lagoon at Central Park and finds no ducks.)
13. “Please Sister” by the Cardigans (or Holden visits Phoebe.)
14. “Precious Things” by Tori Amos (or Holden can’t let go of anything.)
15. “The Circle Game” by Joni Mitchell (or Phoebe at the carousel.)
*bow*
Why I Find The Night Infinitely More Appealing
The last line has been in my head for days. Tell me what you think. I think it’s really bad right now but could work if I worked on it.
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I walk in the sun,
cold and blue in its rising,
the lights of the searchers
discoveringĀ the corpsesĀ of
girls drowned in theĀ river.
The beams expose their
icy faces and empty eyes
to the cold blue truth
that their days of
life and vigor,
of sex and drugs,
of love and tragedy
are over.
I shield myself from the sunrise.
I walk in the sun,
hot and white in its peaking,
the lights of the stagehands
catching the debauchery of
actors playing a killing scene.
The beams expose their
fiery faces and hollow eyes
to the hot white truth
that their show of
lies and murder,
of money and sorrow,
of love and tragedy
must go on.
I glare at the gall of the noontime.
I walk in the sun,
warm and red in its setting,
the lights of the photographers
developing the bastardy of
humans as they really are.
The beams expose their
bloody faces and soulless eyes
to the warm red truth
that their lifeĀ of
loneliness and suffering,
of cruelty and childishness,
of love and tragedy
has just begun.
I surrender myself to the sunset.
Thrilled, Slightly Killed
This week has been a mixed bag of sleepless nights and lovely days, some facial issues (bitten on the chin by a flesh-eating monkey eagle chimaera and scratched just above the lip by a dragon-force strawberry-flavoured catfish) and no blogs. Viewership is like falling badly.
Anyway, welcome back to winter. It’s the time of year when there’s fog and sadness abound. I’ve got some fog and sadness in the depths of my wintry heart.
Open Mic was yesterday and it was one of the best I’ve ever been to. Some highlights were musical performances from Jam Pascual (FTW!), The Gummyworms (Oaaasis), B.G. (or Beegee, never figured that out), AJ ElicaƱo (ZOMBIES YES), Wes Chua, Vincci Santiago (GUITAR YES), Rom de Guzman (COME TOGETHER YES), Kai Alampay (who lost his Open Mic virginity) and many more. Also noteworthy were poems/speeches by Sir Chan Ylagan (Coffeee), Chubbs Bustamante (and his beautiful hamlets), Sir Enzo Flojo, Adam Ferry (Princess of Africa), Simone Sales (the one and only!) and many many many more.
was incredible, though I was pissed more people couldn’t come because of the IGKAS meeting. Sir Ron, Ma’am Meng and many others who would’ve loved to be there couldn’t. Poor scheduling, rawr. As usual, I was the MC (Master of Ceremonies/Mariah Carey/Malicious Caprice) of the day and I killed it, y’know like Emil’s Killer performance… because he covered a Killers song. LOL.
Chubbs also put me on the spot and I had a long, weird story about catfishes and penguins and Time magazine and very very long… trains. Thank you, Chubbs. I’ve never done anything so crazy.
Anyway, I realized how much I loved poetry and loved making people feel special, like they deserved stage time (whether or not they did. Cough. Carlos Tabunda).
Altogether, a lovely evening, except… *runs and makes brief entry in the secret blog*
Yeah.
I’m excited for PaliG. Our documentary, Kimkim,Ā about Koreans in the Philippines is a mad mad killer thriller piece of work. I’m really excited about it and how it will impact audiences.
Today was interesting. Lots of bad puns, like “If there’s crepe paper, why is there no urene paper?” or “Holden is desperate to hold on to what is permanent.” or “If the CSO has Deps, why are there no Shallows?” Oh and “Communists, capitalists, feminists and neverbeenkissts.” Sorry, that was yesterday, but I’m genuinely proud of that one. š
I am so glad to have a weekend, so I can sleep and then die, and never wake up, dammit.
Love you all. Good night. Apa goes at sleepy time. MLIA.
Dichotomy
Sometimes the secret blog and the non-secret blog like to hang out over some cocktails and talk about things.
They’ve both got some secrets they’re not spilling soon. Hmm.
Disgusting.
They start them young. D:
This is painful. D:
For the non-Filipinos, it goes like this:
Chacha: is sad. š¦
Miguel: Why would you be sad?
Chacha: Because I only see you during recess and after dismissal.
Miguel: You don’t need to worry.
Chacha: Really?
Miguel: Because there are only two occasions I want to see you.
Miguel: Now… and forever…
Chacha: >:D<
What Child?!
In case I haven’t been raving enough about it, Tori Amos is releasing a Christmas album entitledĀ Midwinter Graces and it’s due on November 10, 2009. It has, however, leaked and I couldn’t help but download a couple of tracks just to get the vibes. It sounds good. The reviews sound good. I cannot wait.
ZOMG, she's floating and over-photoshopped.
Like I did forĀ Abnormally Attracted To Sin, the album she released earlier this year, I will speculate on the tracklist. Some of them are traditional songs, others are original songs and others are concatenations of different traditional pieces, which makes this an exciting album indeed.
1. What Child, Nowell (About a girl named Nowell, and her mother’s frustration over Nowell’s teenage pregnancy.)
2. Star Of Wonder (It’s about Lindsay Lohan and her fall from grace, formerly being a “star of wonder.”)
3. A Silent Night With You (A really slutty ode to Christmas sex. Naughty.)
4. Candle: Coventry Carol (It’s about when you burn the Christmas tree after receiving awful presents.)
5. Holly, Ivy and Rose (Three extremely promiscuous girls go out on the town on Christmas Eve to be deflowered. They like it.)
6. Harps of Gold (Like a musical version ofĀ Ocean’s 11 with some bits ofĀ Christmas With The Kranks, it talks about a major Yuletide heist to steal precious solid gold harpsĀ from an aging Italian-American gangster.)
7. Snow Angel (About a girl who makes a snow angel that comes to life and becomes her best friend. However, she finds out its intentions are not all that innocent.)
8. Jeanette, Isabella (Ivy is murdered by the vicious hitman, Snow Angel. Holly and Rose are next on his list. They become milkmaids in a remote village on the French countryside and change their names to Jeanette and Isabella. Still, they cannot escape their troubled past.)
9. Pink and Glitter (It’s beginning to look a lot like gay Christmas.)
10. Emmanuel (About a dude named Emmanuel. Duh.)
11. Winter’s Carol (Jeanette and Isabella get help from an undercover agent named Carol, who is actually the spirit of Winter, ergo Winter is Carol, get it? She lures them to Snow Angel on the premise of helping them. A twist worthy of M. Night Shyamalan.)
12. Our New Year (Jeanette and Isabella outwit Carol and Snow Angel and escape to the Bahamas in time for New Year.)
In celebration of All Souls’ Day
Well, it sort of came together in my head while I was at Church (and I pronounce that like a devout Church-goer, without the R. ChUHHch). It was supposed to be a tribute to the dead, but it became something of an exploration of our definitions of life and death. Needs work. Comments would be great. Gracias.
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La CanciĆ³n de los Muertos
Good evening, good sir,
it is the very witching hour
of night and we sing,
our collars stiff, starched,
white as ghosts,
white as the bones of
the ghosts that sing their own
funeral dirges.
There are living among the dead
and dead among the living
and we wait in fear
of being mistaken,
being left for dead
or left for alive, for that matter,
for fear of
being buried in the soft, welcoming earth
before our time is up,
for fear of
being sat at the warm, loving dinner table
long after our time has passed.
Some of us rouge our cheeks
and paint smiles on our lips
eternal expressions
to last us,
to keep the illusion
that we continue to live
when, in fact,
we have only been
embalmed, embalmed
to death in our own
attempt to stay alive.
Some of us are left with sullen faces,
and lips sown together in a frown,
eternal expressions
of decay,
that keep the menacing lie
that we are long dead
when, in fact,
we have only been
embalmed, embalmed
while our souls shake off
the paleness to never die
for life is not a heartbeat,
life is not goings-on of the brain,
nor rouged cheeks and painted smiles
and neither is death
sullen faces and sown-up frowns.
Life and death are beyond definition,
beyond the dictionaries
and thesauri, beyond
every medical encyclopedia.
Life is the soul,
boundless and eternal,
that flies through the heavens
beyond our beds as we sleep,
and when we have ceased to wake,
it has learned to fly forever.
Death is the loss of the soul,
boundless and eternal,
that flies away through the heavens
beyond the living grave we try to trap it in
and when we have ceased to love,
it has learned to never return.
The Word of Winter 