Cleavage

Hillary Clinton ditched her pantsuits and up-to-the-neck get ups into the hamper and showed a little cleavage when she faced the cameras, which had the entire US TV and news networks falling over themselves. Amazing. Have they forgotten that she's a woman?

Oh, just got back from watching Ratatouille. A rodent with a heightened sense of smell and taste, along with exceptional cooking skills isn't exactly a palatable idea for a movie. To begin with, rats bring diseases, and leaving them to cook your food....euuuw! Why I decided to watch the movie I don't know. Anyway, it wasn't really bad. But the movie theatre was almost empty, which means people didn't find the whole thing cute or amusing, either.

The Journey

European Concert 1998

Berliner Philharmoniker

Claudio Abbado, Conductor
Swedish Radio Choir, Eric Ericson Choir
Vasa Museum, Stockholm, Sweden

The Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra lays claim to being at the summit of all symphonic ensembles in the world, and with good reason. A succession of legendary greats in its podium such as Bulow, Nikisch, Furtwangler and Karajan have allowed it to reach this stature. It shares the summit with the highly controversial but equally eminent Vienna Philharmonic, which during the war time years, had six of its players sent to Nazi concentration camps.

Since 1990, the orchestra has embarked on an annual concert tour in Europe's cultural capitals. For 1998, the Vasa Museum in Stockholm, Sweden was the venue for the grand event, with a fully-restored mammoth Viking ship as a stunning background.

What makes the concert extraordinary is the intelligent and carefully-selected programming. With the huge Viking ship as the centre piece of the museum, the repertoire tackles the theme akin to embarking on a great journey, perhaps to an unexplored world and uninhabited places, much like what the early Viking explorers did.

Under the baton of Claudio Abaddo, the Berlin Philharmonic opened with Richard Wagner's Overture to The Flying Dutchman, followed by Tchaikovsky's Symphonic Fantasia Op. 18 ("The Tempest"), Debussy's Trois Nocturnes, and finally Verdi's Quattro Pezzi Sacri (Four Sacred Pieces).

The Wagner overture (1843) immediately asserted the main theme of the concert, as this symphonic poem seem to suggest images of preparation for a long journey. (The legend of the Flying Dutchman received a recent revival through the Johnny Depp-starrer, Pirates of the Carribean.) Wagner's opera tells of a Dutchman who is condemned to live at sea under the terms of a curse; his only chance of release lies in the fidelity of a woman.

Hard tremolos and rustling from the strings, as well as shrill woodwinds and the stormy and wild chromaticism of the basses paint a turbulent sea as the howling storm in the full orchestra spends itself and runs down. A delicate statement of the "release motif" attempts to asserts itself amidst the turmoil before it is drowned again in the excited waves of the strings and the curse motif dominate once again. However, the "release" motif wins out and ends the work on a note of promise.

The Tchaikovsky Symphonic Fantasia extends the turbulence and stormy motif, with even greater intensity and excitement. Like in Wagner, various motifs attempt to break out amidst the frenzied rhythms of the storm: frustration, longing and even homesickness before being drowned out in the howling storm and turbulent sea. I kept on imagining being on a ship bound for the netherworld while listening to this number. In fact, this piece would be perfect for Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy.

A strange and exotic world, almost like a parallel universe, greets one with Debussy's fantastic Trois Nocturnes. A perfect example of French impressionism, one is transported to a world beyond our imagination. As a child, I used to read King Solomon's Mines: somewhere near Mt. Kilimanjaro, a secluded and totally different world exists, and listening to Debussy brings me back to the pages of that great adventure novel. Debussy utilizes an all-female chorus but treats them instrumentally, skillfully weaving the voices as if it were part of the orchestra, not above from it. Which makes the experience even more eerie, it's as if something even stranger and different is in store for the listener.

Indeed, the stormy journey depicted in Wagner and Tchaikovskly, passing through an exotic and lush world in Debussy, ends in the sacred world of Verdi. A contrapuntal Ave Maria a capella between the male and female choruses establishes immediately that the listener is entering sacred ground. Almost like Verdi's Manzoni Requiem, chorus and orchestra combine for an urgent appeal for deliverance. An all female chorus number, again in a capella format, seems to suggest a choir of angels. All vocal and orchestral forces combine to declare in the final number that the Journey, in fact ends here, with God.

Abaddo is a master colorist, and I couldn't be happier. Arguably the best orchestra in the world, the Berlin Philharmonic sizzles. It is a joy listening to this world-class ensemble.

Cartoon Mania

Along with martial arts flicks, I grew up watching cartoons. I never had the Care Bears/Winnie-the-freakin'-Pooh stage (the debate whether this pooh-pooh-ing bear is a male or a female still rages). Nor did I care about Casper the frigging Ghost, Disney Classics like Cinderella and worst of all, the incomparably corny Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. I adored the slapstick and hero variety, not the cutesy ones. Popeye, Super Friends (or present-day Justice League), He-Man, Scooby Doo, Dennis the Menace and of course, Tom & Jerry. I was a kid, after all. These days, I'm not sure what to make of Spongebob Squarepants, ya know, he's a sponge, his best friend is a star fish, and another character is a squid.

I still watch cartoons, though. I still find myself laughing at Bart's naughtiness and pondering on snippets of wisdom from that great Philosopher, Homer Simpson. I like the new American Dad and King of the Hill series which tackles modern-day issues facing the average American family-- such as terrorism, multiculturalism, the religious right-- in a funny but really engaging manner. But I'm drawn mostly to South Park for its irreverent, sarcastic and ironic humour. Kenny gets killed in every episode.

I also watch the Japanese anime variety. Animes proliferate in Quiapo, along with Korean drama series. Japanese cartoons are way, way different from what we are accustomed to. Originating from manga comics, a lot of the series are actually adult-oriented. Should a comics series capture a following, it moves on to the animated platform, thus the term anime. Japan has a huge comic-reading and cartoon watching market.

Problem is, sometimes both boys and girls look alike, and since I couldn't tell from their names alone, the confusion leads me to space out instead. And the violence depicted can be extremely gory and the sexual situations very explicit, bordering on pornography ("hentai", which means "strange" has plenty of explicit stuff). Hardly the stuff fit for children.

Anway, here's the classic Tom & Jerry clip where Tom plays a concert on the grand piano, featuring Franz Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 (I think), while Jerry was roused from his slumber inside the instrument, leading to the usual cat-and-mouse chase, this time hammering each other with piano keys while maintaining the dance-like rhythm and pace of the music at the same time.

Tom & Jerry

Soviet Music

Dmitri Hvorostovsky singing a favorite among the Red Army soldiers, the Soviet-era Moscow Nights. Ya know, when the cold war, nuclear standoffs and espionage filled the pages of Ian Fleming's thrillers.

New Job

I think I'm on to something. You see, somebody asked me to translate an e-mail correspondence in Spanish earlier today. This was my second time actually, somebody asked me to translate a power point presentation before. (Exams at the Instituto do not count). I always wonder why some people think I'm good at Spanish, hablo la lengua un poco solamente. Anyway, I did him a favor and translated everything. I must say I didn't actually have a hard time doing it. A few consultations with my Spanish dictionary and I was done.

One of these days I'll put up my own translation agency. I'm kidding, of course.

I'm actually thinking of continuing my language classes at the Instituto Cervantes.

General's House

After lunch, Jen brought Jun and me to the Aguinaldo shrine last Saturday before spending the better part of the day swimming at the Island Cove.

The historic site is now a museum. Since Jen's next-door-neighbor is the curator (or caretaker, I think), we were given access to "closed to the public" nooks and crannies of the house: we climbed the topmost tower overlooking the town and had a bird's eye view of Manila Bay. In the main hall, I tried my hands on the General's grand piano, unfortunately the instrument sounded horrible.

Which makes the historic Spanish houses in Vigan strikingly different: people still live in those houses, sort of like a living, breathing link to a Hispanic past.

Anyway, during lunch, the resto's piped-in music featured Siti again. You see, she managed to creep in into the Horeca scene (hotels-restos-cafes). Listening to Siti is really like being bombarded with Abba (duh duh duh..Fernaaandoww...) for 13 hours non-stop on an airconditioned bus bound for Tuguegarao. You feel like either strangling the bus driver or jumping out the window.

Bossa Overload

Somebody should tell Siti to please stop turning every song into a bossa nova version. It's bad enough that she doesn't have original numbers of her own, she relies on revivals. Spending a lazy afternoon inside a coffee shop reading your favorite book becomes an exercise in patience: I have Siti's bossa nova coming out of my ears!

I love bossa nova, but not like Siti's, or Agot Isidro's. They managed to turn the genre into something tacky. Listen to the real thing, like Jobim's. For one, the choice of language has something to do with it. Listen to the Girl from Ipanema sung in Portuguese and you'd know what I mean.

Anyway, I was watching the new season of My Name Is Earl on Jack TV. One episode featured Marlee Matlin (the deaf actress in Children of a Lesser God) as a lawyer representing Earl's ex-wife Joy. Matlin's deaf interpreter managed to injure himself and became indisposed, but the only replacement sign language interpreter the court could get at the last minute was a matronly lady who only speaks Mandarin. And so they had to find another translator, an African, to translate Mandarin into English. It was a blast watching the cross examination in sign language, Mandarin and English.

No Different

Why the MILF beheaded 14 Marines who were simply looking for the missing Italian priest in Basilan will forever blight whatever credibility this Islamic separatist group has. It only goes to show the MILF is no different from the bandit group Abu Sayyaf. Their political aspirations of forming an Islamic state in Mindanao is really just a front, sort of like a smokescreen for what they really are.

They claim no association with the bandits, but everyone knows they're one and the same, and this latest grisly episode only confirms what we know all along.

There's no excuse for lawlessness, and the MILF is no exception. The military should do all it can to wipe these lower lifeforms from the face of the earth.

GOUNOD: Romeo et Juliette

Romeo et Juliette
Opera in 5 Acts
Music by Charles GOUNOD
Libretto in French by Jules Barbier and Michel Carre after Shakespeare's play
First performance, Paris 1867

Roberto Alagna, Angela Gheorghiu
Czech Philharmonic conducted by Anton Guadagno
Directed for film by Barbara Willis Sweete

This adaptation of probably literature's most famous love story hews closely to the original, although the scenarios are considerably condensed to fit into an hour's DVD viewing. Act I opens immediately with the famous waltz, Je veux vivre, skipping the brief Queen Mab speech. The lovers first meet in this ballroom, or party, scene.



Also, Scene I in Act III, the lovers' secret wedding, is placed at the end of the Act, and some characters have been ommitted as well.

The story is a familiar one: the long-standing feud between the Montagues and the Capulets stands in the way between the two lovers, with fatal results.

I think the idea of serenading the girl in the balcony comes precisely from this play, the whole Act II rests on the balcony scene where as in the play, Juliet proposes marriage.

The real life couple, the Corsican tenor Roberto Alagna and his wife, Romanian soprano Angela Gheorghiu have made this opera their own. With perfect French and soaring lyrical voices, this operatic couple performed superbly, especially since this opera is filled with long duets (I counted four in all). The soprano nailed her coloraturas in the Waltz Scene a la Donizetti while the tenor floated his top notes as if he were singing Verdi.

Thankfully, the ballet scene was ommitted. The French demanded a ballet to be inserted in those days, it didn't matter if it made no sense at all, and Gounod simply obliged.

The cinematography is wonderful, shot on location in a castle in the middle of a beautiful lake (is this in Germany or in the Czech Republic?).

For those not willing to spend two or three hours on an honest-to-goodness opera, this one-hour condensed DVD opera is a perfect alternative.

Election Fraud

The electoral system currently in place is so flawed it invites cheating every step of the way. From the canvassing, tallying and the reporting, even the handling of the ballot boxes, maaan, you think we're light years away from civilization. Ya know, the mere fact that we're one of the few places on earth where elections are still held manually. Even India holds its elections electronically, for crying out loud.

And so the Supreme Court has finally paved the way for Migz Zubiri to be proclaimed as the 12th Senator of the Republic. Que horror!

Unfortunately, he takes his position under a cloud of doubt. He benefits tremendously from the dubious Maguindanao votes, the original ballots of which went missing under Lintang Bedol's watch. (Why is he still not in jail?) Hello? And guess what, the Certificates of Canvass from where the numbers were supposedly based (there's no way to verify these now) point to a 12-0 victory for Gloria's bets, which allowed Zubiri to overtake Koko Pimentel for the last spot.

12-0 in Muslim Maguindanao. Really? The Muslims in the south, neglected by the national government, living in areas that are some of the poorest in the country and where involvement in insurgency activities is probably a way of life, are heavily pro-administration?

Despite the missing votes, you'd expect the Commission on Elections to declare a failure of elections in Maguindanao, or at least to nullify the election returns and not use it in determining the winner of the hotly-contested Senate slot, right?

Wrong. Maybe there was a good reason for Abalos and Bedol to be installed at the Comelec. Your guess is as good as mine's.

It's so obvious, even a half-wit can figure this out: Election fraud is still conducted in this country blatantly-- in broad daylight.

Empty-handed

Rizal Avenue is now open to traffic, courtesy of Mayor Lim who made made sure Atienza's beautification projects such as turning that major thoroughfare dividing Quiapo and Sta. Cruz/Binondo into a cobbled walkway, are undermined. What a waste of public funds, isn't it?

Classical DVDs in Quiapo are still few and far between, and so I navigated the narrow street stalls resembling a maze and ended in the Inner Sanctum where the triple X CDs and DVDs are. I think the place got raided a week ago, and the Maranao traders would swarm at you like vultures badgering you to buy their bootleg merchandise.

I ended up not buying anything.

Black Out

I was watching a feature on Egypt's Lost Queen on the Discovery Channel when my neighborhood in Cubao was plunged in complete darkness. Good thing I stocked up on candles courtesy of Typhoon Milenyo.

It was so damn dark I bumped on a table as I was trying to locate my cellphone. Using my phone's camera light, I found the candles and the box of matches. Problem was, the matches wouldn't light, I realized I had those matches since, well, waaay back.

Frühlingsstimmenwaltzer

French soprano Natalie Dessay hits a dizzying stratospheric A Flat (above the top F, I think) in Johann Strauss, Jr.'s Frühlingsstimmenwaltzer. Try pronounouncing that 3 times with a mouthful of polvoron.

Gluck: Orphee et Eurydice

The phenomenal contralto Ewa Podles in Gluck's Orphee et Eurydice. She scales three octaves! She attacks the coloratura passages with such intensity I couldn't decide whether she's being possessed by the demon or having an orgasm.

Vive le Republique!

While having lunch with Jun and Jen at Rai Rai after swimming at Rizal, Jun reminded me today is in fact, Bastille day, or the French equivalent of our Indepedence Day. If I am not mistaken (French history is so turbulent), France became a Republic when the Bastille was stormed and taken over by the masses and peasants who drove away the ruling elite- the monarchs and aristocrats-- more than 300 years ago.

The French Revolution reverberated across Europe and even in the New World. This would subsequently set a precedent for mass-led revolutions that toppled tyrannical governments. I believe Marx and Engels did draw from the French experience when they wrote the Communist Manifesto although what they had in mind wasn't Russia, but England.

Just a thought.

So What?

David Beckham moves to a US soccer club (LA something, I forgot the name) from Real Madrid. Just when he's getting older, I wonder why an American club decided to snap him up, coughing up millions and laying down the red carpet when he is obviously no longer in top form. Thing is, Americans do not take kindly to the sport compared to basketball or baseball, so Beckham, as the unofficial poster boy of football, may have a lot of work to do to promote the sport.

Tridentine Mass

Pope Benedict has given his go signal to revive the Tridentine mass, the pre-Vatican II rite conducted in Latin and wherein the priest does not face the congregation. It has sparked criticism from modernists who aim to bring the Church closer to the people. The move might lead to an exodus away from the Church towards Protestant and evangelical groups for those who might feel alienated by this new directive.

I haven't attended a Mass in Latin, and I really wonder what it's going to be like. I think I will like it. Latin, after all, was the lingua franca 2,000 years ago, during Jesus' time. I have an uncle who shifted allegiance to that renegade religious order that still conducts Masses in Latin, somewhere in New Manila.

The rite would still be the same, except for the language used (which I'm sure none of us understands) and the sermon which will have to be conducted in the vernacular. However, I heard the Latin Mass would be discretionary. Meaning only those who wish to hear Mass in Latin may do so.

I always take the position that we shouldn't approach God as if He were some sort of a next door neighbor. He deserves to be treated in a manner fit for the King of Kings. Singing hymns (some congregations even have synthesizers, drums and electric guitars which makes their singing no different than a pop or rock concert at the Araneta--maybe it is a matter of taste) and reading Scripture passages alone just doesn't do it for me, it's simply not enough. (In this sense, I am a conservative and a traditionalist). Conducting the central rite deeply rooted in the Last Supper in Latin means the Church is putting back the Sacredness and a profound sense of Mystery, Solemnity and above all, Reverence which I think are essential in worship. But then again, this is a minority view. Let us see.

Bizet: Les Pecheurs des Perles

Since the earlier video post was removed, here again is the grandiloquent tenor-baritone duet, "Au fond du temple..." from Bizet's Les Pecheurs des Perles (Pearl Fishers), a paean to eternal friendship.

Featuring the excellent duo of Barry McDaniel and Alfredo Kraus. The diction is impeccable and the singing fantastic.

Shaolin Phase

Long before Jacky Chan penetrated the Hollywood scene, my brother and I were already big fans of his movies. You see, 80's kids like me subsisted on a viewing diet of Kung Fu and Shaolin flicks, some of us would even travel all the way to Cagayan de Oro from our base in Bukidnon to watch poorly-dubbed martial movies in dank, decrepit movie houses. So pathetic was our desire to watch high-flying kick-ass movies that every Sunday morning we'd sit in front of the TV set to watch Chinese movies in period costumes (no subtitles), hoping to get a glimpse some real Shaolin action. Unfortunately, we'd end up dozing off instead from not understanding a single word of the kung-fu less Mandarin dialogues.

With the advent of the--gasp!--betamax, betacord, VHS, we devoured every single Bruce Lee and Jacky Chan movie. To this day I can still name some of the titles: "Snake in the Eagle's Shadow,", "Fist of Fury," and "Drunken Master". Bruce Lee's technique conveyed realism (I imagine the actors and extras bloodied and beaten up) and his character was the heroic type almost Robinhood-like, while Jacky Chan combined acrobatics and comedy.

Almost always, the plots were similar: the main character seeks revenge for (1) a shaolin master killed by someone from a rival school; or (2) a close friend, family member killed. Also, it always involved showcasing which martial arts style is superior ("Huh! I've never seen that style before, where did you learn that?"/ "It's called centipede style, and it's meant for you...*%#@!*&). Almost always, foreigners--especially the Japanese, which only goes to show the long-standing enmity between the two cultures, were depicted in an unflattering manner.

Put in the right context, a kung fu/shaolin movie is the Chinese equivalent of a Disney movie in Hollywood. Kicking ass in mid-air, walking upside down on a ceiling and jumping on rooftops--all of these defy gravity.

I outgrew my fascination for martial arts flicks when I stepped into high school. I think it was due to sensory overload. With recyled plots and long stretches of stunts and fight scenes at the slighest hint of provocation, I began to get bored.

Or more precisely, I grew up, trading Kung Fu for the steamy HBO midnight movies. But let's save that for another blog, yah?

Wimby Finals

I'm not exactly a big tennis fan, but I did enjoy watching the epic five set Wimbledon men's final on TV yesterday between Federer and his arch nemesis Nadal. Federer was made to eat dirt when he lost to the Spaniard at Roland Garros clay courts (French Open) last month and this time, he made sure it was Nadal's turn to eat grass.

The personalities of the two are at both ends: Federer exudes grace under pressure, he answers questions politely and deftly; Nadal, on the other hand, has the more interesting personality. He is like a raging bull, passionate and possessing a relentless drive to win.

Federer may have equalled Bjorn Borg's record of five consecutive Wimbledon titles, but one grand slam has eluded him so far, Roland Garros. Nadal, a claycourt specialist like most Spaniards, is determined than ever to deny him that. In addition, at 21 years old, Nadal is determined to make his mark on grass as well, which makes for more exciting tennis for years to come.

VERDI: La Traviata

LA TRAVIATA
Opera in 3 Acts
Music by Giuseppe VERDI
Libretto by Francesco Maria Piave based on a play by Alexandre Dumas
First performance, Venice, 1853

Patrizia Ciofi, Roberto Sacca, Dmitri Hvorostovsky
Teatro La Fenice, Venice, Italy
Orchestra e Coro del Teatro La Fenice
Lorin Maazel, conductor
Robert Carsen, director

This 2004 Robert Carsen production restores the original musical version premiered in the same theatre in 1853. As for the stage production, Carsen updates the setting to the 1960's, casting the main character, Violetta Valery (Ciofi) as a prostitute at a time when sexual and social boundaries were collapsing.

He drills this point in no uncertain terms when during the prelude, men toss dollars into Violetta as she reclines on a huge bed; Act II plays on a forest floor filled with money, and money yet again floating down as Germont, Violetta's lover was forced to renounce her at the end of the long Act.

The party scenes were oozing with blatant sexuality as guests mill and flirt around while cowboys and cowgirls in glittering and sequined costumes bump and grind their way on the stage, providing a dramatic back drop to Germont's denunciation of Violetta.

I think I'm getting ahead of myself (this happens when I assume my readers already know the story). The story is a theme that is no different from Indira Gandhi's (at least according to my high school classmate, Barbara) favourite Oprah line: Love and Sacrifice.

Alfredo Germont falls in love with a prostitute, Violetta Valery. However, in Act II Germont's father succeeds in convincing Violetta to give up Germont because the fiance of Germont's sister won't proceed with the wedding should Germont continue his liaison with Violetta.

Violetta left Germont which devastated the latter. His grief paved the way for his denunciation of Violetta in a party they both attended.

Act III finds Violetta in a shabby in Paris, desperately weak and ill. She received a letter weeks earlier from the elder Germont, promising to come to her aid and recognizing her sacrifice. When both Germonts appeared, it was then too late, as Violetta was on the brink of death.

La Traviata, one of Verdi's most beloved operas, when it premiered in La Fenice was a resounding failure, despite the stream of melodies and dramatically explosive situations. The audience, then, weren't accustomed to "modern dress", they have been accustomed to Kings and Queens of antiquity or Grecian and Roman heroes of old which were the favourite operatic themes of the day.

In addition, the lead soprano whose character dies of consumption at the end appeared to be corpulent, as such the audience found it funny and unconvincing for somebody obviously so healthy to be on a deathbed.

La Traviata is Middle Verdi: lots of bel-canto or florid writing that harks back to Donizetti, but already shows strong signs of forging his own dramatic vocal style focusing less on ornamentation that we hear in his later operas.

This 2004 production, however engages you. Patrizia Ciofi with her gaunt, slender and slightly withering body is perfectly cast: her arresting eyes and expressive hand movements complement her equally fantastic singing, negotiating the difficult coloratura runs with confidence and purity of tone.

Her Germont, Roberto Sacca held his own with his equally demanding role, his voice exudes pain and passion and imbues it with an emotional force you can't help but feel for the guy when Violetta left him.

Probably the most in-demand baritone in the world today, Dmitri Hvorostovsky manages to shine on his own, his rich and plush tone matching the impressive vocal displays of the main protagonists.

I think the orchestra, especially the chorus, did exceptionally well, making sure the sonorities do not overwhelm the singer, Wagner-style.

Rape Attempt

There has been another rape attempt lately. The damsel-in-distress, Polar, has been the object of Grizzly's affections for quite some time, but it seems like he's taking the rougher route and risking his life behind bars.

I saw him trying to mount on Polar right in the middle of my garage (gasp!) so I had to intervene again and drive the two out with a broomstick.

Grizzly trains his sights on Polar rather than on Panda. Which made me wonder, perhaps Grizzly finds Polar more attractive. She's slimmer, more languid in her movements--in other words, the Maria Clara type--perhaps even more dignified. You can actually imagine her wearing blood-red stiletto heels. Panda on the other hand, probably strikes Grizzly as feisty, even tomboyish. Put a reverse baseball cap on her and you know what I mean. Grizzly is clearly intimated by Panda but is dead-set on imposing himself on Polar.

Meddling

Rumours have a way of twisting itself out before dying a natural death. This is not the first time I have been subjected to rumours, however. I usually brush it off, much like swatting flies in the middle of the street or picking lice on somebody's hair(I know, the metaphor is sooo barriotic), simply because I choose not to waste my time on cheap potshots who thrive on meddling with other people's lives.

I have other worthwhile things to do, and I do not think I have to explain myself all the time. If people misconstrue my actions, those with malicious minds can always come up with equally malicious conclusions. People will always believe what they want to believe.

I still do not understand why some people find a vicarious thrill in surreptitiously opening someone else's closet hoping to find skeletons inside.

"See? I told you, he's...." this statement would confirm their deepest suspicions they have already convinced themselves from the very start, anyway.

Believe me, the world is swarming with people of this kind.

I choose to fight only worthy battles. As for rumours aimed at simply destroying your reputation? the hell, I simply flush it down the toilet.

Points to Ponder

Felipe Medalla, the former NEDA Secretary General did raise some important points about the current growth figures.

He says that removing the import growth figures from the equation [(GNP=C + I + G + X - M) where C= consumption; I= investment; G= government spending; X= exports and M= imports], C+I+G+X during the boom years of the Ramos administration in the early 1990s was actually higher than in 2006, and 2006 growth appearing robust was mainly due to the slower import growth rates.

What this implies is that with the current lacklustre import growth (particularly of capital equipment, as statistics show), there must have been a lot of import substitution taking place to push growth figures up (or use of local resources, equipment, etc), even if the contribution of the services sector (e.g. BPO, call centres) is factored in.

Which is clearly, not the case.

Parasite

Hanging out with Jen and Jun, the Self-sufficient Parasite, I think I'm turning out to be a "parasite" myself, albeit an 'innocent' one, whatever that means.

Last Sunday after the Adidas run, we proceeded to the row site for practice. Since I had not planned on rowing and didn't bring with me a 'change of clothes', Jun lent me his slippers I can use in the boat (I still have his old uniforms and shirts he lent me before), Eugene offerred his extra shorts (but I ended wearing Neil's spare board shorts) even Joel offerred his white shirt on (which I politely declined). I used the Adidas red shirt, problem was, Neil's shorts was red as well, so I felt like I was going to a Chinese banquet.

Baroque Revival

Fame and immortality but at what cost?

From the 1994 movie Farinelli, an aria from Handel's opera, Rinaldo, Lascia ch'io pianga..."Let me ponder my cruel fate, I long for freedom."



First the bel canto revival spearheaded by Maria Callas in the fifties, it seems that the baroque repertory is enjoying a recrudescence as well, thanks to artists like mezzo Cecilia Bartoli and counter tenor Philippe Jaroussky.

It is now possible to listen to the impossibly-difficult repertoire of Handel, Vivaldi and even Farinelli's brother Ricardo Broschi.

Serious

Coby Bryant suddenly called me up last night. He told me about plans to banish the shadow altogether and relegate it into the dustbin of history, apparently it has been bothering his thoughts lately as well.

"The council of elders has been so concerned they convened a special meeting," he went on.

"That serious, huh?" I said.

"Yup," and then he told me his thoughts about the matter.

What If

I recently spotted an Ex who was with somebody. The article is an, not the. Although it has been a long time since we parted ways, I admit mi corazon still skipped a beat :)

Mahler: Das Lied von der Erde

Since Quiapo has nearly stopped offerring classical music DVDs, I took the opportunity in Hong Kong to look for these items.

I picked up a copy of Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde (Song of the Earth) in Kowloon, a cycle of six songs for orchestra, alto and tenor, with the eminent Wagnerians Waltraud Meier and Torsten Kerl with Semyon Bychkov conducting the Cologne Symphony Orchestra.

Composed between his 8th ("Symphony of a Thousand") and 9th symphonies, Mahler used Hans Bethge's exquisite German translation of a Chinese poem about a melancholy dream world praising nature and its beauty.

The first song, "Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde" (Drinking Song of Earth's Sorrow) jolts one out of reverie: powerful introduction from the orchestra and equally jarring vocal entrance of the tenor sets the mood throughout. It has a gloomy and dark refrain which forebodes a far from cheerful ending for the entire work. In fact, the song ends with "Life is Dark, and so is Death."

The alto number, "Der Einsame im Herbst" (Autumn loneliness) picks up the gloom from the previous number. It almost sounds like a death wish. At this point, I couldn't help wonder why Mahler is so preoccupied with the concept of death. The soloist actually sings about the tiredness of heart and of loneliness, painted by her description of the mists of autumn.

This gloomy affair transforms into images of gaiety as the mood shifts to more lively scenes: the three songs that follow all celebrate the joys of youth, beauty and all that spring represents. Fanfares, harp glissandos and a powerful march project an image of young men riding along a bank on prancing horses as young innocent girls pick flowers while surrendering themselves to the sun and nature (people, these are from the text).

Gloom descends once again as the final, and the most extensive song, "Abschied" (Farewell) is characterized by heavy, depressing vocal and orchestral numbers that slowly but surely build up to a funeral march. Again, Mahler's vision of death permeates the whole work. The alto sings the final words almost voicelessly amidst the extremely gloomy bottom C. A farewell to life and to the world and all that is beautiful is clearly Mahler's message here.

Meier, a prime exponent of Wagner roles, was exquisite although I sometimes take issue with her top notes which I feel she struggles to hit. I have a DVD of her Isolde with Zubin Mehta and I found it a bit disappointing, especially with the Liebestod.

Torsten Kerl was impressive throughout although I felt he should've imbued it with more sensitivity.

I have no problem with Semyon Bychkov conducting, he clearly knows his way around. I felt some points could have been emphasized clearly, like the horse galloping scenes in the middle movements.

Extended Stop: Jiujiang-Nanhai

Just as we thought that we've paddled our last in Chinese waters, we were brought to Jiujiang not for a race, but an exhibition of sorts for another small scale festival. The river turned out to be narrow, accomodating only two boats at a time. The deceptively jade-green river I think was polluted, the water splashes felt slimy, unlike the refreshing Loboc river where the jade-green water remains pristine.

We were brought to a middle school for dragon boat forum. "Forum" is the operative word here. It certainly doesn't mean there is interaction. It simply meant we had to listen to a series of speeches by various officials, each providing us his thought on the finer points of paddling. Again, translating everything into English took twice as long, keeping yourself awake was actually an effort. Those wearing dark glasses were clearly dozing off.

I went outside to look for the toilet, I couldn't identify which signs are for men, so I simply went inside what I thought was the toilet. Turned out to be an office.

A series of wushu and authentic lion dances capped our Chinese sojourn.

Ambitious

I participated in the Adidas 10Km run earlier today at the Luneta and attended dragon boat practice afterwards. Haven't had any practice at all, I managed the course in over an hour.

I limp slightly as a result. In addition, I'm back paddling on the right side and now I have a sore back and blisters on my hands.

As I have mentioned before, I fancy myself an athlete.