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This last weekend Grungella and Ernie escaped the summer torment by hanging out at Gateway mall in Cubao. Grungella told Ernie about a Roz Chast cartoon she’d seen that morning. “It’s in three panels. Bad: Person over 40 with a MySpace page. Worse: Your dad with a MySpace page. Worst: Your dad’s band with a MySpace page.”

“Sad, sadder, saddest,” said Ernie. Little did they know that this would be the recurring theme of the day.

They wandered into a T-shirt store that was having a sale. Ernie bought two shirts. The salesperson informed him that his purchase entitled him to free tickets to a concert that same night at the Araneta Coliseum. “That’s terrific!” Ernie and Grungella chorused. “Who’s playing?”

According to the ticket the show was called “Lost 80s Live”, and it featured three New Wave acts from their distant youth: When In Rome, Real Life, and A Flock of Seagulls.

Sad: The show’s title made it clear that the performers were has-beens: “Lost” pretty much sums up their careers.
Sadder: There’s always an audience in Manila for bands two (more often, four) decades past their sell-by date.
Saddest: Ernie and Grungella knew A Flock Of Seagulls but weren’t exactly sure who When In Rome and Real Life were. Our apologies to hardcore fans of these bands; our characters were not hip in the 80s. Or today. In fact they disapprove of ‘hip’ as an adjective. (Continue reading.)
Sad, Sadder, Saddest in Emotional Weather Report, today in the Star.

Physicists postulate the existence of an invisible form of matter which does not shine or reflect light, which accounts for 90 percent of the mass of the universe. Its huge gravitational pull is believed to hold galaxies together. They call it “dark matter”. Now scientists from the University of Rome announce that they’ve discovered dark matter underneath a mountain in Abruzzo.

“When I grow up, I want to be Shaun Cassidy.”, originally uploaded by 160507.

This is Bono’s middle school class picture. That’s him in the front row, second guy from the left. Seems like a self-possessed boy, note how he contemplates the camera. Ige got this photo from an Irish friend of his who’d gone to school with the former Paul David Hewson. A couple of years after this picture was taken, Paul and three other guys formed U2. Paul took to calling himself “Bono Vox”. I’m glad he dropped “Vox”.

I’ve been having a good movie week, starting with L’Avventura (I understood it!! You know how in some relationships it feels like you’re not there? She literally is not there), then Le Mepris (I had to watch it twice, but I think I got it!), then Jules and Jim (I love it!). Then the DVD of Bob Le Flambeur died on me, which was the sign that the anvil was about to drop on my lucky streak (It’s a movie about a gambler). Instead of waiting for the streak-ender, I decided to go looking for it, and Street Kings was the likeliest candidate.

It was an excellent choice! For starters it’s a Keanu Reeves movie, and while I adore Keanu, I don’t watch him for the acting. The first ten minutes of the movie were singularly unpromising, but as I gathered up my things to leave the theatre, Forest Whitaker appeared onscreen. Must give this movie a chance, I thought as I sat back down, and the movie just got worse. Just as I was about to leave, Hugh Laurie turned up, and I said, Blast, I have to stay in case it gets better. Maybe the awfulness IS the style. Maybe the idiotic dialogue is meant to, um, mirror the idiocy of the system? As for the acting, I must point out that Keanu is NOT the worst actor in this movie. By this time the movie was giving off the distinctive stench of a putrefying corpse, and I was really going to make my exit when Chris Evans showed up. What the hell, I thought, it’s hot outside and it’s cold inside this empty movie theatre.

The movie is about corrupt cops, which got me thinking about good movies involving corrupt cops. Like L.A. Confidential, which showed us an entirely different side to beloved Farmer Hoggett (I actually shrieked when Kevin Spacey was shot). And Chinatown with that ending! So Street Kings clunks to its conclusion, and I was not prepared for the big shocker in the credits: the story is by James Ellroy! Ellroy is brilliant (Don’t even pick up My Dark Places: ‘dark’ doesn’t quite describe it. And it’s a memoir.) , but L.A. Confidential is the only adaptation that gets him. The others can’t deal with the strange rhythms of Ellroy’s 50s argot (Have you a valediction, boyo?).

Eastern Carpets, originally uploaded by 160507.

I stood in the sun waiting for a taxi for three minutes yesterday and got a pounding headache for the rest of the day. Anyone needs more proof of global warming, go out at noon. Must’ve been a hundred degrees. Then it occurred to me to check the weather forecast for Islamabad in early June, when I plan to visit. Average temperature: 100 degrees Fahrenheit! Temperature range: 82 to 114 degrees! Maybe I should rethink my travel plans. Antarctica sounds good.

I dreamed that my friends and I were at Rustan’s, and Bert climbed into a suitcase. He was laughing.

I told him about the dream. “Suitcase implies a trip, so maybe you’re travelling soon,” I said.

He said, “Whoever is in your dream is supposed to represent yourself.”

I said, “Yay, maybe I’m travelling soon!”

Later that same day Raymond mentioned that he was invited to the Islamabad International Film Festival in Pakistan, and I knew what my dream meant. “I have to go to Pakistan!” I cried. “I want to visit all the countries that end in -stan! Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, all of them! You, of course, must go to Lahore.”  So Raymond said I could tag along.

Then I figured out Bert’s starring role in the dream: last Tuesday, at a benefit auction for In Touch, he bought a Kashmir Isfahan carpet. From Kashmir, the disputed area between India and. . .Pakistan!

Anyone got any dreams you need to decipher?