It's Halloween again.

Draft beer, pritchon (roast pork spring rolls), role-playing at the BPI, and a hired photographer. Can it get any better next year?


Mickey shows Snow White a good time.


Can Stitch get any cuter than Lilo?


My favourite DOM. Hee hee.


Show 'em Hooters cups!


Musketeer takes a break


Wrong brief, Pepper!


Mickey does Pocahontas next.


Cowgirl by Elly. Vest by Rajo.


Mad Disney world!


The Simpsons (minus Megan)


Ode to Gavin.


We all want to be like Gavin.


Tinkerbell is a rockstar.


The photogs hamming it up.

Photos taken by Ledh & Eileen, October 27, 2006

You can find inspiration in everything.

I recently "un-lost" You can find inspiration in everything*: (*and if you can't, look again) by Paul Smith over the weekend. I had forgotten how quirky a read it is - like having different stories, genres and authors in one volume, yet all with the same Paul Smith voice to it. I received this book as a gift and it's been one of the most refreshing titles I have in my library. My work in advertising literally requires me to constantly look at things with fresh, inspired eyes, no matter how much you've had it with the brand (blah) or the client (bleh). This is a good reminder of how you can never really exhaust creativity, nor should you take it for granted.


"Literally anything can spark off an idea."

While the world waits for me.

Lately, writing has become an exercise in escape. Any place becomes somewhere with my black Moleskine notebook and a random pen fished out from my bag.

Censorship is limited to syntax while your own thoughts are free to wander. There are no dead ends here, except for the occasional writer’s block – something that coffee and smokes wouldn’t cure. (Alternately, wine in the evenings can be quite stimulating, especially when you’re in the confines of your room.)

The world, I sense, feels a bit betrayed. In my youth I dreamt about an exploration in time and space, consuming and being consumed by what it has to offer. Now it just waits for me longingly, impatient yet hopeful. That’s all it could do.

Eight years in cryogenic limbo. That’s what it is. Your life on pause.

In three months I anticipate liberation; and with it comes a lot of difficulty. I’ll have to be many things at once: a capitalist soothsayer, underpaid scribe, caffeine pimp, and academic whore. Kayod kalabaw never had so much meaning, until now.

It will be all worth it. I know that for sure. I’ll never have to be answerable to anyone except myself. Independence is not relegated to “doing what you want, because you want to.” So selfish and media-created. I’ll finally get to live my life as it should be lived. Responsibly. No waste-away Saturday nights, just quiet solitude and massages at Sonya’s Garden. Or jazz nights with my adopted little sister and that new guy she’s seeing. Or breakfast brunches with the soul mate. Or tripping out with my camera in Batanes (and mounting that second exhibit).

Or…

For now, I write.

My tummy has abandoned me! A bout with hyperacidity.

It's never pretty to see blood, especially if it's your own. What was supposed to be a night of gay(!) merry-making at O Bar (J. Nakpil, Malate) ended up as fluorescent stopover at the emergency room of Makati Medical Center.

Hyperacidity has long been a nuisance to me, aggravated by countless meal-skippings and caffeine indulgence. I've been on medication long enough to know that what I have is not your ordinary, OTC, Kremil-S hyperacidity.

I actually should've known better than to invite a bad attack. But I never expected it to be that bad. Okay, how bad? I threw up blood in the wastebasket of the female loo (sorry, Peter!). And while all that was happening, Gino and some other people were pounding on the door like crazy. Apparently, I was gone a long time, and they weren't sure what the heck happened to me. I felt so bad I couldn't hear anything anymore. I couldn't even stand because of the sharp pain in my stomach.

We made a mad, albeit clumsy dash to the car followed by more puking episodes (dude, I'll replace your wastebasket, promise). Enroute to the hospital, we ended up going to Binondo, just after Jones Bridge (so you were panicking after all, hehe).

I never liked hospitals. They smell sterile and you always expect to see a sad bunch of bystanders waiting for whomever they brought it.

They inserted a needle on my hand, and shot around three vials of liquids to help the acid and pain subside. I was just too banged up to notice.

The ER doctor said I'm no longer allowed to drink coffee and alcohol.

Tough luck. I'm giving myself two weeks.

Old school lust.

I've been drooling over the Leica MP ever since it debuted in 2003. My grandfather had an old Leica viewfinder, one of the first point-and-shoot cameras around. I remember seeing it in an old, musty box in storage a couple of years ago. Must be worth quite a lot now.


"Not a quick photographic fling, but the camera of a lifetime."


"Mechanical perfection. Nothing else."

www.leica.com

I just got the M-system brochure and have been feeling antsy about whether to get this or not. (Furniture vs. camera?)

Now if I could only find someone who's willing to play sugar daddy for this little baby.

Book nerding. A respite.

I've been seeking refuge at bookstores lately. Like twice a week. At least. Re-discovering my inner-nerd is quite fulfilling. I remember devouring 2-3 books a week when I was much younger. Weekends were indulgent couch reads of two books a day. Of course, there were hardly any distractions back then. Except maybe video games at seven in the morning.

Recent purchases include Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders (Neil Gaiman) and Tales from Nowhere, an anthology of travel writings from Lonely Planet.




While it's not his best, Gaiman's third collection was more than enough to satisfy cravings for his work (I haven't read Anansi Boys but I enjoyed American Gods very much). It actually feels a bit masochistic of me to suck in all thirty-two stories and anticipate all the strange dreams I have every time I read any of his work. Notable stories include How to Talk to Girls at Parties and A Study in Emerald.



I've only started reading this one, but the premise to this new anthology from Lonely Planet is an interesting one. It focuses on adventures that suddenly bring you to "nowhere." Apparently, nowhere is not the same as getting lost, but more like a state of being - accidental discoveries that make travel more special. Makes for pretty good beach or airplane reading.

We're scheduling an early exploration of Fully Booked at the SM Mall of Asia soon, which is where their biggest branch there is (the horde of mall rats can be overwhelming, I heard). Hope my wallet holds out.

Kaleidoscope evolution.

Reminiscent of Eric Carle's illustrations, Nike's Rise of the Hybrids is quite an entertaining trip. Darwinian theory on acid? Maybe. And Noah's Ark was actually a rocket. Check the rest of the series at Nike Lab.