Tuesday, March 24, 2009

The Thin Line (An Ode to Perotto)

Those familiar with the story of Rodrigo Borgia a.k.a Pope Alexander VI and his family, may be familiar with Godfather author Mario Puzo's account of the first crime family in his novel The Family. Though based on history, Puzo took some liberties in order to present a more tightly knit (in my opinion) story. The accuracy may be in question but the gist of the life and times of the Borgia are there. One character that sticks to my mind, although playing a small role, was Perotto, who I hereby dub the patron Saint of Hopeless Romantics (or the Patron Saint of Lovesick Idiots).

Without spoiling much of the great read that is Puzo's The Family, Perotto's character was memorable to me because he was pussy-whipped so bad that it echoed throughout history. This man, for a love of woman, not only claimed to father a child that wasn't even his, he even went above and beyond his "friendship" duty and died for that claim (Basing it on Puzo's account). If the Renaissance ever had a poster child for F*ck My Life worthiness or the ultimate case study of Why the Friend Zone Sucks, Perotto would be their man.

This little tale of selflessness if not base stupidity brings us back to that thin line between love and stupidity. Why would a person even bother risking everything over a situation in which winning or gaining something is entirely impossible if not ridiculuosly improbable? It may be true love but there comes a time that one must question the mechanics of separating the ability to love to the ability of seeing reason. Surely a bit of pragmatism would've helped the situation but nooooo, dear Perotto here had to go on and be a hero, and we all know how well that turned out.

The friend zone is a nasty little place. While it doesn't sound so bad on paper, it really, just REALLY, sucks. BIG TIME. I've often said that I do not wish it upon anyone, because the long, arduous and painstaking torture that it invokes is, in a way, totally justified. The "friend zoned" person agrees to the terms and conditions set upon by both parties, perhaps under the false pretense that things can change, or that somehow he or she (yes, apparently the female gender can be banished to this zone, which is rare) can get used to this setup and move on with their lives while gaining a very valuable confidante. If only we were all that lucky.

If anything, Perotto's tale does prove that there is a thin line, the only problem is, to many people, as to just how thin that line is, is relative. So here's to you Perotto, thank you for making some of us who are threading that thin line feel better, because as of right now, I doubt anyone can blur it as much as you.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

The Little Things

"I never did care for the little things" so says Maggie Hayward, Bridget Fonda's forgettable protagonist in the 1993 film Point of No Return, a somewhat bland and forgettable remake of Nikita. Granted the scene in which this line was delivered seems a bit macabre considering her partner was just shot by their organization's "The Cleaner" played by Hollywood bad ass Harvey Keitel and summarily dipped in an acid-filled bath tub.

Of course, the little things, or the details, are often best left ignored if you're the gung-ho devil-may-care maverick who prefers extreme spontaneity rather than well-planned and calculated decisions. But at the end of the day a certain balance must be struck or one will find themselves, as U2's Bono puts it, Stuck In A Moment that you can't get out of. As the global economy enters into a period of recession, the little things all of a sudden being to matter and prove to be worth caring about.

No we're not talking about the recent layoffs major companies have made, such things are pretty obvious and a man or woman's livelihood are hardly one would call details considering it's essentiality to survival. We're talking about the miniscule little practices or expendetures that prior to the economic "crisis", were things that we hardly take notice of.

Before, I wouldn't have to worry about making it to the next payday since I believe I make enough to provide for day to day needs and a few vices here and there. Two books a month, a gadget from time to time or a big time gift to potential prospect were items or purchases that I could afford to just wave dismisally as nothing. Nowadays however, despite the gas prices being the lowest it has been in years, I have to stop and think about if I have enough to make it to the next payday. All of a sudden I get thoughts like "that book will just have to wait" or "I don't really need that gadget" or even "She's not really my type anyway". You see, why I never really did mind the little things, shifts in the current status quo has made these little things into really big things.

I suppose the recession is going to last longer than we could hope, but in a somewhat strange twist, I feel that I can now manage my money better, and probably spending on bigger things like a trip to the beach or a long overdue vacation. Strange as that may sound, it seems that a wake up call was all I needed to adjust to the way the almighty monies is making the world go round.

So what does this have to do with Bridget Fonda's obscure flick? Well, there's a good reason why some films just suck, it's because of asinine lines like that one above. Which pretty much means, don't listen to it, and don't ascribe to such a mantra so wholeheartedly. Because it will just end in disaster and have you fading to obscuritySo while Bridget Fonda, my dear Bridget, will always one of my favorite faces in Hollywood, a femme fatale and uber sexy assassin she is not. OK maybe it could work, but certainly not with forgettable and non-sensical dialog like that.

P.S. Yes it made 30 million in the box office, but I bet you haven't heard of it or don't remember it if I didn't mention it now eh?

Saturday, March 7, 2009

The Day The Music Died

Americans refer to the Day the Music Died as the day that young and promising musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Booper J.P. Richardson's died from a tragic plane crash on February 3, 1965. This is largely due to Don McLean's popular hit, American Pie. Now many ask themselves why McLean came to that conclusion, he did admit to the reference, but never explained himself, prefering to let the listening public decide for themselves why it was the Day the Music Died. Regardless, it was a much-loved song and the reference was considered Gospel.

March 6 was perhaps what many Filipinos would consider as the local version of The Day the Music Died. Of course, the 6th of March did not include a plane crash, nor did it include more than one person, and this person was certainly not young, but he always showed promise. It was tragedy nonetheless, as Francis Magalona, The Man from Manila, succumbed to the complications brought about by Leukemia at March 6, 2009.

I would argue however, that characterizing Magalona's death as a day that Filipino music passed away would be more apt, partly of course as to avoid the risk of betraying other legends such as the Apo Hiking Society, Jet Pangan and the Dawn, the Eraserheads, Hotdog, VST & Co. or even Gary V. Still, the legacy that Magalona left not just to Philippine Rap and Hip Hop, but the music scene in general, is undeniable. It wasn't just about catchy beats and socially relevant lyrics, there was an idea there, an idea that hopefully will be carried by other artists now that the Filipino Master Rapper is finally resting in peace.

Magalona was a firm advocate of patriotism that few might find questionable. His medium was very western (rap and hip hop), and most of his verses and rhymes were in the country's adopted language– English. But that's perhaps what makes his ideals and vocation great. FrancisM thought us to love what is Pinoy, a word that in itself , was a hodgepodge of many faces, races, colors, hues, voices and choices. The pretentious historical elitist or Ye Olde Internet Troll would argue that this was nothing more than an image, a facade to sell colonial mentality under the guise of patriotism. Nay, I say, as behind the words, the music, and the imagery was more than just a Marketing strategy, it was an Idea, and idea that I believe captures what patriotism really is, at least in the Philippine context and in my humble opinion.

Despite the very Americanized medium, what was evident in his songs and lyrics is the Filipino flavor. No, it did not have the Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio vibe, an antiquated idea of the Filipino identity (though important to remember) but the contemporary vernacular that majority of his listeners are familiar with. It wasn't about loving what is just natively Filipino (hard as though to differentiate that from the many assimilations that the culture has undergone) but everything we see, past and present. The message was not to be tied down by the historical nuances, the zealous hypernationalist sentiment that bordered on xenophobia, nor was it the backwards bariotic approach of Philippine high art. Rather, it spoke of what is in front of us right now. It told us that this is the modern Pilipinas, that despite the diversity and borrowed colloquialisms, the spirit is still distinctively rooted to this country and its people.

Was he a hero? Certainly not. He was a man with an idea, and a good one at that. Are we overrating him now cause he recently passed away? There's a danger of going down that path, but let the would-be afficionados talk, let them debate and argue. At the end of the day, this Man from Manila, with his music, his beliefs, his life, will always remind me that patriotism is about loving your home in totallity, for what it was, is and will be. That while the Philippines is indeed a melting pot of many cultures, subcultures and demographics, we are all represented under the banner of 3 Stars and a Sun.

Goodnight music man, may your music and ideals live on forever.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Friends

There is an inherent problem in this phenomena called friendship as it entails the need for a contradiction between the very nature and instinct of self-preservation versus the idea of co-dependency i.e. the need to protect and share with an individual or group of individuals. Granted, that such things are somewhat tied together. After all, there's always an ulterior motive, an agenda to forward, an urge to be satisfied. In doing so one actually forges friendships and acquaintances to forward the preservation of one's own person. The bonds of brotherhood/sisterhood or the love that may form from such dealings are perhaps mere positive externalities rather than the prize of such pursuits.

Trust is at the very core of this discussion. And truth is a lot harder to fathom than think. You can't simply go out and ask someone if they are a true friend, just as they can't do so to you. Interrogation, hanging out or bonding sessions can only reveal so much. Tragedy and turmoil can help clarify things but really, who wants to find out that way? In a time where communication has reached a point that two strangers a world apart can become good friends simply by being in front of digital machine, it is quite underwhelming that we, as a species cannot lay our entirety out in the open. We hide behind half-truths, deceptive lies and a facade that we may not even be aware of or deliberately weave.

Words, pictures, moments, touch. All do a great job reminding, maybe explaining, but they too, are susceptible to the complications. Getting down to the nitty-gritty, it's probably best to have your own little packet of grains of salt. But no, to do so would mean you're merely paranoid, or that you overthink these things. Doing the exact opposite would mean that you're either dumb as a brick or naive. Whichever one you are, you will find that in the end you're broken, and the only thing that's keeping yourself from the solution is the problem itself. The cause and the cure are one and the same, how delightfullly ironic.

Which brings us to the question, and I'm quite certain many have asked themselves this before, who are your true friends? As often as that is asked, I find myself bringing up a follow-up: "is there even such a thing?" Cynical, jaded, or paranoid as it may sound that query is interesting considering the above statement. The answer is quite simple really: who cares? Whether or not you have people who surround you, a circle that you can say are truly there for you when it counts, the alternative–loneliness–is certainly worse. Besides, I've found out the answer long ago, some four years in the past, and the answer is yes, there is such a thing. As for you, my dear reader, you get the delightful little task of finding out on your own, stumbling along the way. I assure you that there will be many tears along the way, but again, the alternative, being alone and uncared for, even superficially is far, far worse.