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Ricky didn’t have a vase for the eucalyptus so he put them in a briefcase.

Ige appears to be auditioning for Hamlet. The following day he shaved.

I bought this tote bag for 100 pesos at Aldevinco in Davao.

Rene was looking for Theodore Rex, the biography of Teddy Roosevelt. It was no longer available, but these biographies were. We lined them up to find the answer to the question, Which of these historical figures is the cutest?

Jay is describing a nefarious stratagem used by cellphone thieves on the MRT. Strangely, he is smiling.

The five prosecco cocktails I had at Cibo this afternoon in aid of research. Prosecco is like an Italian version of champagne. From left to right: Mimosa (orange juice), Plum Bellini, Mango Bellini, Rossini (strawberry), and Tiziano (grape).

All Noel wanted was a glass of the house red, but the waiter said it wasn’t Cabernet, it was a mixture of Cabernet Vallformosa Tempranillo tienes tienes tienes. It was complicated. I ordered cider.

In the Eighties there was a Hollywood Brat Pack consisting of the stars of coming-of-age movies by John Hughes and others (Molly Ringwald, Andrew McCarthy, Judd Nelson, Emilio Estevez, etc), and there was a Literary Brat Pack made up of trendy, critically-acclaimed young writers.

The three most famous members of this pack were Jay McInerney, author of Bright Lights, Big City; Tama Janowitz, author of Slaves Of New York; and Bret Easton Ellis, author of Less Than Zero. They wrote about the moral and intellectual vacuity of the yuppie generation. Their best-known novels were all adapted for the screen; Less Than Zero is the one most remembered today. It starred Robert Downey, Jr in the role that would define his professional career and personal life for many years: the beautiful drug addict. He was brilliant in it; many would say too brilliant.

My ancient copy, and a recent edition (P232.50 at National Bookstores). Sometime in the 90s I was reading Less Than Zero when my flatmate asked, “What’s that about?” I said, “They do coke, they do each other, they do coke, they do each other.” My flatmate thought I’d said “They do the polka, they do each other” and was mystified that anyone would be turned on by the polka.

McInerney’s career peaked with Bright Lights and Janowitz with Slaves; their later novels received some good notices, but never the sort of attention that their breakout books got. Ellis went on to write the controversial American Psycho—controversial because many critics and readers didn’t see that it was meant as the blackest comedy. They only saw the narcissistic yuppie antihero who tortured women. Granted, it was hard to see past the chainsaw. It was also made into a film; Christian Bale was excellent, the rest of the movie flat even with the presence of Chloe Sevigny and Reese Witherspoon.

Of the three it’s Ellis who continues to produce work that gets the audience excited. His latest novel is the sequel to Less Than Zero, which also borrows its title from Elvis Costello: Imperial Bedrooms. (I read a McInerney novel in which the heroine was called Alison, as in, ‘…I know this world is killing you’. The lit brat pack loved quoting Costello. He did write killer lyrics. See Tokyo Storm Warning.)

We’re giving away a set—Less Than Zero and Imperial Bedrooms—in a future LitWit Challenge.

Coming in November from Penguin Classics: F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books with Art Deco-ish covers designed by Coralie Bickford-Smith, who also designed Penguin’s beautiful Clothbound Classics.

Jay Gatsby would’ve bought these books—a set for every room. Then he would’ve had ties made in these patterns.

He warned you.

More on Steven Slater, the flight attendant who freaked out and made an emergency exit from the flight he was working on. Gawker has unearthed the messages Slater had allegedly posted on airline message boards warning of new pressures on cabin attendants.

“The airlines have created a monster. Lousy bagggage handling, theft, and now gouging with bag fees, why WOULD anyone want to check a bag? Add to the our collective laxidasical approach to enforcement, and you get a disaster. At the end of the day, the airlines have to step it up. I hate to be bag nazi when i work a flight, but I feel if I am not, then I am letting down all those who cooperate and thry to help out as well.”

Read the whole article.

Taken with the Cartoon setting of a Samsung Galaxy S phone camera.

Wednesday, 11 August. Having finished proofreading a book on Spanish colonial church architecture, I embark on the writing of a 100-page manuscript that requires a working knowledge of Japanese pornography. Zealots and perverts, the theme of the week. I love my job.

Photo from Steven Slater’s MySpace page. (Sukdulan na, wis na ma-take ni mama.)

On Monday, on the tarmac at Kennedy International Airport, a JetBlue attendant named Steven Slater decided he had had enough, the authorities said.

Then, the authorities said, he pulled the lever that activates the emergency-evacuation chute and slid down, making a dramatic exit not only from the plane but, one imagines, also from his airline career.

Read Fed-Up Flight Attendant Makes Sliding Exit in NYT.

Hell, on a recent local flight I wanted to open the emergency exit and leap out of the plane, and we had just taken off. It was the most unruly flight I’d ever been on, and I’m not referring to the chaos wrought by the airline policies that led to the pilots’ strike, I’m referring to the passengers. They had just come from a conference, and either they’d been drinking or had gone to a shooting range without earplugs, because they were yelling at each other the whole trip. They were having conversations with people ten rows away, I’m not kidding, and strolling around like it was Sunday at the mall.

(Also, in order to open the emergency door you have to have a bulkhead seat and there’s an extra charge for those now.)

I always ask for an aisle seat so I won’t feel trapped, okay, but the large noisy man on my left was sitting with his legs wide open so half his bulk was taking up my legroom. Perhaps he was doing splits in preparation for his role in The Nutcracker Suite. What I did was, I crossed my right leg over my left (de cuatro) so the sole of my sneaker was resting against his knee. He had to withdraw his leg, or spend the flight cleaning the underside of my shoe with it. Too bad I wasn’t wearing spiked football shoes. You can only do this with sneakers or boots, and while wearing pants; if you’re in a skirt and heels they’ll think you’re coming on to them (gross).

Fortunately I always fall asleep on flights, it’s a talent. I woke up as the plane was descending, and that’s when I noticed that the man next to me was using his cellphone, and had probably been texting throughout the flight. Somehow I knew that protest was futile. (I remember a flight to Seoul—the minute the plane touched down people got up and opened the overhead bins. The flight attendant screamed, “Sit down!!!”)

And unlike that incident some years ago when a columnist complained about her fellow passengers, this was not exactly a class issue. I Am elitist, but this was not about the well-shod (the well-shod who can’t afford business class) oppressing the downtrodden, much less the hardworking Filipinos who toil in foreign countries. My fellow passengers were public officials. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa