Boogerball
The most fun I had at Cinemalaya 2007 was watching the short film Nineball by Enrico Aragon. Gross, tasteless, and hysterically funny, Nineball is. . .a rumination on the Filipinos’ near-demented passion for billiards—which makes more sense than our demented passion for basketball, because we rule in pool. I have always maintained that every psycho-anthropological study should involve midgets, trannies, and booger jokes.
Was much impressed by Jim Libiran’s Tribu, a film about Tondo gangstas starring actual Tondo gangstas. Some of the film’s stars demonstrated their rapping skills in an extemporaneous performance before yesterday’s screening at CCP. The live show and the movie had the same problem: the sound engineering was awful, we could barely hear the words. A pity, as these guys are really rapping for their lives. I spotted Imee Marcos watching the show. Surreal.
Meanwhile, I can’t get “Spider-Pig” out of my head. The Simpsons movie—there’s a gut-busting work of staggering genius.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
July 29th, 2007 at 10:55
haven’t even seen the movie but i’m already laughing at the mere mention of spider pig.
August 7th, 2007 at 14:00
Currently reading The Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962. On page 165:
…”As for minute joys: as I was saying: do you realize the illicit sensuous delight i get from picking my nose? I always have, ever since I was a child–there are so many subtle variations of sensation. A delicate, pointed-nailed fifth finger can catch under dry scabs and flakes of mucous in the nostril and draw them out to be looked at, crumbled between fingers, and flicked to the floor in minute crusts. Or a heavier, determined forefinger can reach up and smear-down-and-out the soft, resilient, elastic greenish-yellow smallish blobs of mucous, roll them round and jelly-like between thumb and forefinger, and spread them on the under surface of a desk or chair where they will harden into organic crusts. How many desks and chairs have I thus secretively befouled since childhood? Or sometimes there will be blood mingled with the mucous: in dry brown scabs, or bright sudden wet red on the finger that scraped too rudely the nasal membranes. God, what a sexual satisfaction! It is absorbing to look with new sudden eyes on the old worn habits: to see a sudden luxurious and pestilential “snot-green sea,” and shiver with the shock or recognition”
I know, I too should be psycho-analyzed for posting this. Heh heh…