JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

The Penguin Classics Deluxe edition Wuthering Heights, P675 at National Bookstores. My ancient Penguin paperback, under P20 in the 80s.

Of course you can judge a book by its cover. Not always, but often enough. I read Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights in high school, and I still have my old Penguin paperback. Last Friday while prowling the shelves at National Bookstore I found the Penguin Classics Deluxe edition of the Bronte with the cover designed by Ruben Toledo. Immediately I was seized by the urge to read it. It’s riveting. Conclusion: looks matter.

There’s an exhibit and sale of Philippine indigenous fabrics at courtyard of the Yuchengco Museum, RCBC Building on the corner of Ayala and Sen. Gil Puyat Avenues. The bazaar features beautiful handmade textiles, clothes, and bags from across the archipelago. Entrance fee is P50.

Here’s something for guys to wear when the invitation says “Filipino attire”:

You can wear it by itself, or as an undershirt so it looks like you have ethnic tattoos.

For ladies:

Something to wear over your clothes. It looks delicate, but it’s not—you can just pop it into the washer.

The bazaar is on until today, October 24.

* * * * *

The beige dress is designed by Ruby Roa. The tattoo shirts were designed by visual artist Bob Feleo. They’re available at Lot 6 Lourdes Herrera Ext. Bahay Toro, Tandang Sora, Quezon City. Telephone (632)4550430 and ask for Emil or Carlos Nadres. Tell them Rene of Habi Textile Council referred you.

Photo: We may be too ancient for this movie, but Raymond is ready for the next flood. Green vest from Uniqlo. T-shirt by Raymond, Louie, and Mario, available soon.

Two minutes into the movie.

Me: It’s cute.

Raymond: Yeah, cute.

Five minutes.

Me: Aba, humi-Heath Ledger si Joseph Third Rock. (From some angles Joseph kind of reminds me of Heath Ledger.)

Raymond. Oo nga. Pero pag pangit ang anggulo, luma-Lyle Lovett siya. (Yes, but from his bad angles he sort of resembles Lyle Lovett.)

During the karaoke scene.

Me: Wow, a karaoke machine that has The Pixies.

In the Ikea sequence.

Raymond and I: Ang ganda ng kurtina. (Nice curtains!)

30 minutes into the movie:

Raymond: Are you into the movie?

Me: Not really. You?

Raymond: Not really.

So we left. Conclusion: We’re too old for 500 Days of Summer.

While tossing ATM receipts, table napkins and other junk from my workbag last night, I realized that I had not received a monthly statement for one of the services I subscribe to. So I called the service’s 24-hour helpline, where an automated voice enunciated the amount of the payment due. The amount struck me as excessive, so I decided to talk to an operator.

After a short wait—it was close to midnight—an agent took my call.

“Hi,” I said. “I didn’t receive my statement this month. How much is my bill?” Just to be sure.

The perky male voice said something that was rendered incomprehensible by a fake American accent. I am told that many call centers have their agents put on American accents because if the caller is American, she will prefer to communicate with someone who sounds American. It is not enough to be fluent in the English language, one must speak it the way they do in Idaho.

This is why the rest of the world has a problem with the USA, and why the international community is grateful to have the cosmopolite Barack Obama to deal with. . .

Bills, automata, phonetics, geopolitics, class, Scandinavians, Klingons, and other matters that arise when you dial a call center, in Emotional Weather Report today in the Star.

While reading the entries to our LitWit Challenge: Translate The Great Gatsby into Filipino, the light bulb went on in my head. Why don’t we do the whole shebang, not just the first and last few paragraphs? We could translate one chapter each—it’s a short novel—then put them all together, get an editor to polish the draft, and publish the translation online (or find a publisher to produce low-cost editions for the mass market).

After the Scott Fitzgerald we could translate other books whose copyrights have lapsed—Pride and Prejudice, Great Expectations, Crime and Punishment, Sherlock Holmes, Madame Bovary and so on—and make them easily available to Filipinos who like to read but prefer to read in Tagalog.

Let’s think about this.

We’re accepting entries to the translation contest until tomorrow at 11.59pm.

These are the winners of our Letters to Meryl Streep contest as chosen by Rickyv, with citations.

“Bisaya Short Films, for saying “Hindi ko pa kilala si Vilma, kilala na kita.” And for making it sound like Meryl Streep can really really be our friend.

“xaru4ever: Ang baduy ng letter pero ang sosyal ng effort!

“pantas_magoria for using Meryl Streep as a vehicle to write about himself!”

Congratulations, Meryl fans, you can claim your prizes starting Friday, 23 October, at the Columbia Pictures office on the fifth floor of the Shangri-La Mall on Shaw Boulevard and Edsa, Mandaluyong. Look for the marketing assistant, Zyla Quiambao. You can claim your posters by giving the email address you registered here.

The first time I saw Meryl Streep, she was playing an Aryan woman married to a Jewish artist (played by James Woods) in the TV miniseries, Holocaust. Then I saw her as the mom in Kramer vs. Kramer (I bought the novel—it was mediocre, but it got me a royal scolding from my parents because the first page contained the word “fuck”) and in Manhattan as Woody Allen’s ex-wife who had abandoned him for another woman.

I didn’t see The Deer Hunter until much later, on video, but I knew that she was engaged to one of her costars, John Cazale. John Cazale died of terminal bone cancer even before The Deer Hunter finished shooting. Meryl was devoted to him until the very end.

John Cazale only appeared in five movies, but those five movies were The Godfather I and II (he was Fredo), The Conversation, The Deer Hunter, and Dog Day Afternoon. Dog Day was one of the first movies I ever saw by myself, on TV in my parents’ house—it came on after the morning cartoons, heavily edited but comprehensible. Cazale played Pacino’s sidekick.

There are three moments from Dog Day Afternoon that stand out clearly in my memory. First, when Pacino’s wife appears. . .and he’s a guy (Chris Sarandon). So I grew up thinking that guys could marry each other. Second, when Pacino starts pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the bank screaming, “Attica!” I didn’t understand what he meant, but it was electrifying. (Later I learned his character was getting the crowd worked up by reminding them of police brutality at Attica state prison).

Third, and my favorite, was the scene in which the police have promised a getaway vehicle, and Al asks John what country he’d like them to escape to. And John replies, “Wyoming.” It struck me as being sad and funny at the same time, even if I couldn’t explain why. Good acting can do that to you.