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Not really, but tough to argue with success.

He bounces the ball a million times before he serves. His play is plasmatic. He seems to flow toward the corners of the court. He is an origami man, folding at the waist to dig up a drop shot, starfishing for a high forehand return, cocking his leg behind his head in an arabesque as he blasts a backhand down the line. He lunges, he dives, he beats his pecs. He once yelled—in Serbian—“Now you all will suck my dick!”

He is dominant, but he is not universally adored. His showy personality and subtle game are a niche taste. Haters call him Djokobitch. Jerzy Janowicz, the Polish player, said recently that he was “a fake.” But now, with the waning of the Federer-Nadal duopoly, which has fixated tennis for the past decade, the love he craves is within his reach. This week, at Flushing Meadows, where he was once booed, Novak Djokovic will attempt to assert his sovereignty.

Read a profile of the Djoker by Lauren Collins in the New Yorker.

Will Ree-shard Gasquet hold his nerve, or will Rafa Nadal crush him as usual? Will Stanislas Wawrinka ever emerge from the shadow of you-know-who? Is Juan Martin del Potro going to remain a one-slam wonder? Who is the world number one-in-waiting?

* * * * *

Ooh, surprises! Not that surprising when you consider the talent behind them, but we like it when the narrative strays from the plot. We haven’t been following tennis since we released Roger Federer from his “obligations” (17 slams being an excellent return on our emotional investment), but if the US Open final is between Wawrinka and Gasquet, or Del Potro makes it to the Oz final, we’re going back to watching tennis.

Drogon (white) with Merry (orange ears)

Drogon, the white cat who lives in our building and runs into our house when we open the door, didn’t turn up for mealtimes for three days. On Sunday we spotted him lying under a car downstairs, looking listless. He stood up with some difficulty so we carried him up the stairs for his feeding. (Drogon must’ve lived with humans because unlike the other strays, he allows himself to be petted. Merry hisses and shows her fangs when we get too close.)

Monday he was still not his perky self, and he didn’t touch his kibble. Tuesday we let him into the kitchen and offered him canned cat food. He not only refused, but he went out, slunk downstairs and lay under the car, as if he were suicidal. We resolved to take him to the vet.

Pendragon Animal Health Group, Kalayaan Ave near Quezon City Hall, Diliman QC

Our cats Koosi, Saffy, and Mat have always gone to Pendragon veterinary clinic, which is owned by our sister’s friend. The clinic used to take up one unit on the second floor, then it expanded across the hall. Last Tuesday we discovered that it had taken over the entire ground floor. Hey, our vet is doing well.

The vet’s waiting room

Unlike Koosi, Saffy, and Mat, who yowl and act like they’re being kidnapped when they go to the vet, Drogon was very well-behaved and cooperative. (Speaking of kidnapping, our friends do not think much of the Vincent-kidnapped-and-taken-to-boot-camp angle on MHL. It’s veering towards Fefita Fofongay territory, or if you’re too young, Praybet Benjamin.)

Cinnabone snack bar serves snacks for humans and other animals.

Dr. Mae took Drogon’s temperature and said he had a fever. The diagnosis was a respiratory infection, treatable with antibiotics. We weren’t sure we could give him all his meds on schedule—he lives outdoors, we might not find him—and we can’t invite him to move in because our resident cats will freak out and/or torment him. So we decided to have him confined at Pendragon.

Pendragon also carries pet supplies such as food and toys.

As long as Drogon is staying at the pet clinic, we’re having him dewormed, deloused, and bathed. We’re not sure if he’s completely white because he’s so dirty, but we’ve read that all-white cats with blue eyes are deaf. The vet will give him a hearing test.

Pendragon has a roving mobile clinic. Go to www.pendragonvet.com, visit facebook.com/pendragonvet, or text 0922-VETHELP to find out when they will be in your neighborhood.

When Drogon is discharged, he will need a home. If he’s deaf, he won’t be safe in a neighborhood with so much vehicular traffic. We’re hoping our sister will adopt him for her daughter Daenerys (Since every Daenerys needs a Drogon), but if she doesn’t, do you know any humans looking to adopt a cat?

Drogon in his hospital room.

Then again, we’ve always wanted a well-behaved cat we can take to the mall.

Pendragon Veterinary Clinic will have its grand opening on Sunday, 8 September. Drop by with your pets—they’re offering free deworming and rabies vaccines then.

Hidden 19th century paintings found on the pages of a book

If you have very old books lying around the house, better check.

Five new JD Salinger books on the way.

Reader scheherazade asks if we have plans of compiling our interviews/profiles into a book, and silentfollower wants to read an article about Joel Torre. In fact we interviewed JT for a cover story in Flip 11 years ago. And we just found 20 copies of that issue in a box buried under a pile of books.

Flip: The Official Guide to World Domination, issue # 3. Contains essays by Lav Diaz, Tad Ermitaño, Tina Cuyugan, Adel Gabot, Gemino Abad and Ramon Sunico, an article on motorcycling by Jaime Augusto Zobel de Ayala, a treatise on economic competitiveness by Anton Periquet, an investigative report on video piracy by Roby Alampay, ruminations on Tom Babauta by Ige Ramos, Gabe Mercado’s groundbreaking research into the single most popular room service item in Metro Manila’s motels: crispy pata, a Bohol travelogue by Francine Medina, a fashion editorial by Joyce Fernandez, Buddha Boy’s advice column You’ve Got A Problem, our story on Joel Torre, and more.

This stash of Flip magazines will go on sale at JT’s Manukan branches next week. The magazine no longer exists, so this is a collector’s item, which will go for, hmmm, Php250 each. If you want to buy a copy, post your reservation in Comments before Friday and specify which JT’s branch is nearest you. The rest will be available at JT’s Manukan branches, where you can get Gus Fring, este, JT to sign your copy. Wait, we don’t know where he will be, so we’ll ask him to sign all the copies.

JT’s Manukan has branches at Granada corner Valencia St; Ortigas Avenue near Greenhills, SJ; Malugay corner Buendia in Makati; Sgt. Esguerra St. near Tomas Morato QC; Home Depot on Julia Vargas in Pasig; Katipunan, QC; Eastwood City Walk; McKinley Hill, Bonifacio; and Banawe Ave, QC.

* * * * *
Okay, copies have been reserved for:
qbeng – Eastwood City Walk branch
silentfollower – Julia Vargas
greeneggsnham – Malugay
bipolar – Sgt Esguerra
wangbumaximus21 – Katipunan
zos – Katipunan
japz20 – Katipunan
We’ll drop off the copies for JT to sign this weekend, then they will be sent to the branches where you can get them. They should be there by the middle of next week. Thanks.

Update: The magazines have been delivered to the branches and may be claimed from the cashiers. For Malugay, look for Che or Jecel. For Scout Esguerra, Arlene or Grace; Katipunan, Cherry or Daris; and at Julia Vargas, Michelle or Karen. Thank you for waiting!

Nice work, people! After a slow start, OTJ’s box-office has picked up and it starts its second week in cinemas—thanks to moviegoers like yourselves who spread the word online and in the social media. If you run into Erik Matti, tell him to buy you a drink.

In his notes on OTJ, Matti cited the filmmakers he learned from: To, Ka-Fai, Melville, the Coen Brothers and Audiard. (And Bilibid Boys hihi. Hoy, what about Wong Kar-Wai.) Which reminded us of one of our favorite movies, Un Prophete by Jacques Audiard. It is set in a prison, and its protagonist gets day passes and occasionally kills people, but it is entirely different in tone, mood, theme, philosophy and acting styles. Here is our review of A Prophet, published in 2010.

There are movies you admire for their vision, technique, the way they tell the truth about the times we live in. You don’t necessarily love them, but they make great subjects for dinnertime discussion or movie reviews. Many arthouse films belong in this category.

There are movies you love, for reasons you can’t really go into, because love is like that. These are the movies you refer to during personal crises, when you’re trying to make sense of what’s happening. You can see the flaws of these movies but you love them anyway, probably because they Are flawed.

(Of course there are movies you hate for some reason, or none, and these are still preferable to the movies that make no impression on you whatsoever. Trust me, loathing is better than nothing.)

Then there are the movies you admire AND love, and this is a small category. You feel compelled to make your friends see them. You need to defend them from nitpickers. In extreme cases you start collaring random strangers and yelling, “You have to see this movie!”

In my case one of those movies is a French crime drama called The Beat That My Heart Skipped. It was directed by Jacques Audiard, whom I’d never heard of. In April I saw Audiard’s latest movie, A Prophet, on a long flight. Since then I’ve seen it five times.

So this is me collaring you to see A Prophet. Clearly this is not a proper movie review.

A Prophet is the story of Malik El Djebena, a 19-year-old French Algerian orphan sentenced to six years in jail for assaulting a cop. The film opens on his first day in prison: he has the look of someone who expects to be struck at any second. He’s illiterate, he has no friends in or out of prison, he’s pretty; we think, “The boy is dead meat.” Happily, we are wrong.
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