(Source: ohhsex)

4:47 pm  •  31 December 2011  •  80 notes

Amen.

(Source: forksbellabucketoftears)

9:41 pm  •  12 December 2011  •  721 notes

(Source: creationesque)

6:40 pm  •  11 December 2011  •  10 notes

(Source: naawkwe)

3:56 pm  •  5 November 2011  •  7,386 notes

Date a guy who writes. Date that someone who doesn’t concern too much being the best looking man in the world. The guy who doesn’t toil for minutes or hours in front of the mirror. He spends an ample time in his room, or on a solitary bench in a public park, or on train and bus stations with his pen and notebook formulating the perfect words, putting life in his lines through wordplay, writing the loveliest poems. He doesn’t mind being alone on weekend nights in the back-alleys or risking his life climbing the roof just to have an unobstructed view of the sky, to muse with the stars and summon a conversation with the moon. He doesn’t mind battling the cold that bites his skin as long as he tunes the right melody for the song he’s writing for your anniversary,or a guaranteed chapter entry on his book, that he is anticipating to give you on your birthday. Yes, he doesn’t loathe the fact that he is stuck in that place, in that moment in time, squeezing his brain, while his friends are out there, in the open drinking to the high of weekend parties, dancing in smoke-filled bars and drowning to barrels and barrels of liquors.

Find a guy who writes, a walking cliché of kill-you-with-words, and when you do, make no mistakes letting him go. His wit, his spontaneity, rapture and heart for aesthetics will suffice for all those romanticism you have in mind. Date that someone who doesn’t kill himself in gyms, just to have the perfect body, the manly facade and never go for the too neat, too clean— you will discover over time that it is dragging and lame having a partner, a man who spends on shower threefold longer than you do. Date a guy who doesn’t dream having the Brad Pitt’s face, but the one who reads, learns and writes like of John Keats romance’s. The one who seeks for Stephen King’s thrill and the war stories of Ernest Hemingway. Date a guy who doesn’t give you a litany of promises lost in the haze of cheap talk, date that someone who acts, who makes you feel you are special even before you find yourself versed in one of his poems, resembling one of his story characters. Date that someone who stays with you, dream with you and writes random nothing on your palm or on your arms, because he fears that the words won’t come out right when he starts speaking them.

Date a guy who writes, the one who can skim the oceans in your eyes and write a line about it, that someone who can swim in it just to string those lines to make a stanza and can drown there if that’s all it takes to combine those stanzas into a beautiful work of poetry. Date a guy who can translate the amber glow in your face into haiku and sonnets. That someone who never tires scribbling his pen in dire search for muslin haze for streaks of clarity.

When that guy asks for your hand, give a sureshot “yes”. He sees life in a general scheme and weighs all the options from there, the same way he chooses the right words, the best point of view and perspectives just to incorporate beauty in his writing. Jumping into conclusion is not his game, he probably learned that it is not practical from a thousand fictional dilemma he wrote. And you will not live in monotony and routines, he can put colors in your days the same way he resorts figurative languages, the same way he puts flowers and butterflies in his words. And your leisure times will not be spent on themed parks, signature shops and wherever-transatlantic-cruise that is, spending the money you saved for a year in just one day. He will teach you to appreciate God’s creation and find happiness in the most mundane of things— on the sun rising behind the trees, the music of birds chirping and the dance of leaves in graceful sways, the breeze that kisses your cheek, your face, touching your heart with a magical feel, all the way to your bones, sunsets and silhouettes, the placid sea and the story behind a seagull or a fishing canoe that blemishes the scene. This list can go on forever, and the guy who writes is birthed with utmost appreciation to this, with sheer gratitude and he has an innate understanding that this whole divinity is meant to be shared with someone.

He might get lost in conversations, and becomes remote in an instant, but you are willing to make it up, because you know, at the back of your head that you are already transcending the touches of reality, lost in the not-so-distant world of make believe, living in the beauty and power of imagination, the world behind the written words.

10:07 pm  •  29 October 2011  •  2,252 notes

alas-dos:

Is it really so bad to be single right now and pursue happiness that is only my own and nobody else’s, to indulge fully and completely in my creative life, to enjoy exploring the privacy of my own mind, and to open the gates wide to welcome in new, like-minded people that I’m bound to meet on this leg of the journey?

Is that really so bad? :-)

9:06 pm  •  2 October 2011  •  9 notes

Edgar Allan Poe

1:14 am  •  7 September 2011

(via forever-and-alwayss)

12:29 am  •  20 August 2011  •  6,223 notes

L’amant (1992)

10:40 pm  •  26 June 2011  •  2 notes

By Erika Dizon

Directed by: Jean-Jacques Annaud

Starring: Jane March, Tony Leung Ka-fai, Frédérique Meininger

I remember learning about L’amant (The Lover) (1992) through a blogger I’ve been faithfully tailing since the early years of my high school life. Curious, l downloaded it immediately because I was moved by her sincere description of the film that was based on the semi-autobiographical 1984 novel of Marguerite Duras. Despite the movie’s complexities revolving around forbidden love and hopelessness, it didn’t take long for me to love and know the film by heart. 

Consider this a warning: if you’re looking for an easy going movie, this isn’t exactly what you should watch. The film abruptly kicks off with a heavy note, mirroring the intricacies of a dysfunctional family, then progresses to scenes and scenes basked in depression and woe. L’amant is about a young, unnamed French girl and her illicit love affair with a wealthy Chinese man twice her age. Set in 1929 French Indochina (currently Vietnam), the story is recalled and narrated by the 15-year-old years after the incident. 

As the plot unfolds, we witness the girl standing by the railing of a quaint yet crowded ferry crossing the Mekong River. She soon meets a striking middle-aged Chinese who had just come back from Paris and offers her a ride to her boarding house in Saigon. This incident marks the beginning of their intimate and sexual relationship. What makes the film interesting is the two characters’ evolving screen chemistry that could be hardly perceived at the start. A woman dating a man twice as old as her age is already considered taboo, much less interracial partnerships, as far as ancient Chinese custom is concerned. But none of these were threats to both parties.

The odd pair met each other daily in a “bachelor’s room” located in the sleazy alleyways of Cholon, where vendors and townsfolk could care less. Ironically, as the white girl and yellow-skinned man’s relationship grew deeper, they began to acknowledge the fact that they could not marry because the girl wasn’t of Chinese descent and the man’s marriage has already been arranged for years. The two continued their secret liaison even if it meant rejecting one’s increasing romantic emotions for the other. 

The moment the Chinese man uttered the words “Before you, I knew nothing about suffering” to the girl after they had made love is particularly a painful scene to watch. The 32-year-old man had apparently fallen in love with her since the day they met, while the teenager continuously brushed him off, using him only as a source of pleasure, not knowing that she had also loved him and only admitted the truth to herself when it was too late.

One of the first things that caught my attention was the young girl’s wardrobe. She wore a dainty cream-colored loose dress, which was paired with a man’s fedora and black two-inch heeled cabaret shoes, in most scenes. I love how casual and relaxed the entire outfit was. If I were living during that time, I think I would have also worn the exact thing (hehe). 

Although the movie paraded shocking bed scenes almost half the time, the cinematography was excellent as it portrayed them through a manner that would not evoke malice. The movie was filtered in a sepia tone to precisely fit the mood of the story, while the gradual movement of the camera from one point to another also enhanced dramatic effects powerfully. It also seemed that every angle of the film was given much thought; no wonder the film was nominated in the 1992 Academy Awards for Best Cinematography. Likewise, the different locations used in the film including Malaysia, Thailand, France, and even the Philippines, suited the movie perfectly. It gives the audience the impression that it was actually filmed in Indochina during the French occupation.

L’amant is simply a beautiful film that’s worth a peek as it makes you ponder on innate human weakness, the struggle that comes with social criticism, and every person’s need to love, whether reciprocated or not. 

9:46 pm  •  26 June 2011  •  7 notes