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There is a great performance from 2010 that has been overlooked in many year-end lists.

Leonardo DiCaprio in Martin Scorsese’s Shutter Island. (I think the listmakers’ memories got extracted.)

It is actually two (even three) performances in a single role, a feat so finely-calibrated that it only becomes apparent on hindsight (“Why did his delivery seem artificial. . .oh.”) or on second viewing. Apart from the degree of difficulty there is the pure emotional wallop of his acting. This is the fulfillment of the promise of that kid who faced down Robert De Niro in This Boy’s Life. Good show, Leo.

You like lists huh? Here’s a bunch of lists. First up: My ten favorite books in 2010.

Though I wouldn’t call Cormac McCarthy’s brilliant, horrific Blood Meridian a favorite exactly. After finishing the book in a 36-hour spell I thought, “Goddamn this is a goddamn masterpiece goddamnit” and “I never want to read Cormac McCarthy again.” Strong stuff. The strongest.

Explanations to follow.

Noel emailed me the day’s news in bullets easily tweaked into a haiku.

Tuesday in justice:
Hubert Webb is acquitted,
Hayden’s case dismissed.

Imelda Marcos
Gets her Leyte mansion back.
(How did these happen?)
All on the same day.

Room at the Picasso Suites

My first apartment was at Blanco Center on Leviste Street in Salcedo Village, Makati. Apartment 914. I shared the place with two guys who toiled in the corporate universe. How we (and our respective egos) managed to cram into a railroad flat, I have no idea. For one thing our tastes in music diverged wildly. One liked music from before 1800, one liked showtunes and Madonna, I liked grunge. Yet we managed to coexist in relative peace.

A friend noted that our apartment looked like the one in David Lynch’s Eraserhead. (This is called foreshadowing.) There was even the occasional crackling lightbulb on the fritz in the hallway. I thought the architecture was very Soviet asylum. I imagined axe murderers lying in wait behind the heavy wooden doors. Of course I felt right at home.

Years after moved out, I started hanging out with people who had also lived in Blanco Center. We were next-door neighbors, except that we were there at different times. Literally Everyone has had a Blanco period. The other day Noel and I ran into his friend who had lived in my old apartment, 914. Blanco was truly the Vortex of the Universe.

Blanco Center is now the Picasso Suites serviced apartments. It has been thoroughly redone and is much, much grander than my old building; art exhibits are held on the ground floor and there is a good restaurant. When Patrice of the Volcanoes was in Manila he stayed at the Picasso and I had a peek. The rooms still have the railroad flat shape, but they don’t look like my old apartment at all.

In my last year at Blanco I was hit with a staggering rent increase. At first I thought all the tenants had gotten the same increase, then I found out that only I was paying more. Turns out that the landlord had read a magazine article I’d written in which I described the building’s Eraserhead ambience and Soviet asylum architecture.

I tried to explain that the description was meant fondly, and that I never mentioned the name of the building. He gave me the “Oh you young people when you get older you will learn that you can’t go around saying whatever you think” speech.

“But I like this building,” I pointed out. “I don’t think it’s ugly. You want ugly, look at that building across the street.”

“I own that building too,” the landlord said.

End of discussion.

QC school nurtures heritage tree in the Inquirer. Thanks to Fabia for the alert.

Everyone who went to St. Theresa’s QC knows that acacia tree. You had to take care when walking by at certain times of the year—falling caterpillars. When the fire trees were in bloom the field turned orange. Gorgeous.

There was an even bigger, older-looking tree in the high school department—giant gnarled roots coming out of the ground. It looked like a particularly cranky Ent. Is it still there? I hope it survived the typhoons.

Vietnam has graciously offered to host the “home” game of the Philippine national football team, as the local venues have not been deemed fit for the AFF Suzuki Cup semifinal against Indonesia. Interesting development in an episode that has been lacking in graciousness.

Homeless Azkals mired in politics on eve of semis

Flush from its best overseas showing in years, the Philippine football team didn’t use its first press conference back home to thank its fans for the sudden groundswell of support.

Instead, the players dissed their mother organization, the Philippine Football Federation. They complained about their lack of training facilities. They talked about being insulted. Then they denied that their “laundry list of grievances” was a laundry list of grievances. . .

Read the report on GMANews.

Thanks to brewhuh23 for the alert. brewhuh23 heads our campaign for Neil Etheridge to be a Jock With A Book.