Lampes par Ito Kish.

K I S H – Busilak Bell Jar Lamps w/ Legs. Photo from http://www.kish.ph

My wife and I were looking over the internet for that perfect lamp we can use inside our home. We want something functional, and yet a light-bearing piece with a touch of whimsy and a hint of fun that it can add to our space. Our home is a compact 60-square-meter condo, so every single item that we bring into needed be well thought of, with primary qualifications on its (1) size (2) function (3) aesthetics. So because of our home being a bit bunched, any unsightly object, regardless of its size, can easily be spotted.

We came across these awesome Busilak Bell Jar Lamps, by the well-lauded and internationally-famous Filipino furniture artisan, Ito Kish. Busilak is a Filipino word meaning pristine.

We loved the lamps the moment we saw them. It’s like they are alive, breathing radiance into the perimeter they occupy, bestowing a subtle sense of tranquility. Enchanting.

Passeport pour l’Europe.

Passport to Europe. Hosted by the amazingly witty, Samantha Brown. For those who are not familiar with the series, it’s a TV show produced for the Travel Channel, where Sam goes to one breathtaking European city after another. I was staying at my sister’s place for 6 months somewhere in the Bay Area, almost a decade ago, when the series started airing. I remember how religiously glued I was in front of the TV every single time the show is on.

Sam hosted the Great Hotels and Amazing Weekend series as well, also aired on the Travel Channel, prior to hosting Passport to Europe. The very first time I saw her on TV, I was immediately drawn to her. She has this way of describing the most mundane of objects, making it rivetingly engaging to the audience. One time she was giving a detailed description on how plush and luxurious a throw pillow is in her hotel boudoir, that it made me feel like I was right there running my fingers, squeezing the down-filled cushion myself. She can efficiently appeal to the senses, as if you were there with her, tasting the food she was eating and the drink she was having, feeling the smoothness of a marble sculpture or the chilling winter-exposed bridge railing, smelling the jasmine-scent filled air of the Tuscan region.

I recently had a copy of the season 1 of the Passport to Europe series. Each episode is played to exhaustion, but I never get tired of it, as expected. As a matter of fact, the Brussels episode is currently playing as I type away.

I was searching for the season 2, via Amazon and iTunes. However, for some reason, it’s only available for digital purchase, and to my much dismay, is not available for purchase outside US.  And I am so looking forward to virtually tread the streets of Greece, Scandinavia, and other of the Euro cities featured in the second season 😦

To the very talented Samantha Brown, if by any chance you get to read this, please, PLEASE, please help me out to acquire a copy of the season 2 of Passport to Europe. I would be perpetually grateful to you if I get to have a copy of the series. Thank you.

WTFs/minute

A well-illustrated diagram on how WTFs per minute is used as an efficient unit of measure in validating the quality of source codes. Saw this couple of years ago when I was at a client’s headquarters in Norway, posted on one of them doors of rooms allotted for the developers.

To the keenly stressed programmer who made this befitting illustration, hats-off to you. Bravo.

Qu’ils mangent de la brioche.

Let them eat cake. Well, some 8 months ago, we did precisely just that. Was moving pictures from my wife’s phone into my Mac yesterday, and saw this photo of our fancy and luxuriously sumptuous cake, placidly perched inside our ref, with that soft glow of amber light upon its glorious fleur sucre crown, taken a couple of hours after our wedding.

I remember overstuffing ourselves with this cake, to the brink of voluntary barfing, every 3 hours, for a week, just to get more room inside our ref for other items, like, well, more space for real food. We did give out generous portions to neighbors, but the cake just seem to never run out. It’s like a lizard’s tail or something, miraculously regenerates upon slicing. No wonder Marie Antoinette got axed for that cake statement.

But I surely do miss that chewy tender fondant. Mmm.

Avant … le lever du soleil, coucher du soleil, minuit.

Before … sunrise, sunset, midnight. It’s labor day today, so my wife and I get to spend time together, catching up on stuff. We both have not seen Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, so we decided to check those out.

I have heard raves on these movies years ago, including those from my brother-in-law. that these are two of the best films out there. I did not pay much attention then since the title sounded like one of them Pierce Brosnan James Bond films. Haha.

The films are indeed awesome! The plot is so simple, and yet so excitingly riveting. The scene, the actors, the lines, are so innately intimate, that it feels like am deliberately eavesdropping on a couple’s entire conversation.

In Before Sunrise, I love so many scenes, like how they got acquainted in the train, their conversations inside the tram, the one where they got into a listening booth in a record store (with those sheepishly awkward side-way glances, then immediately turning their eyes away), the one with the poet on the bridge who made them a poem with the word milkshake in it in exchange for money, to name a few.

In Before Sunset, it’s funny how realistic it is that after they got out of Shakespeare and Company bookstore, they were so engrossed in their catch-up conversation, that they went around a few blocks twice. I also love the scene where Celine momentarily snapped because of Jesse apparently taking all of her romantic side with him, leaving nothing for her succeeding lovers. And also love the scene where Celine sang something to Jesse, when they were up in her flat.

We’re just waiting for Before Midnight to be shown in local cinemas. Can hardly wait for that.

Anyways, it’s already 5AM, thin rays of the sun are slowly piercing its way through the raven black sky, must hit the sack before, uhm, well, sunrise.

Canapé convoitise.

Couch lust. I have never had this much intense desire over a furniture. I mean, it’s just a stationary, non-entertaining piece of space clutter, composed of thoughtfully chosen chunks of wood, and plush fabric. But, how come I felt this way when I came across this photo of a musky-ish smelling, moldy and worn-out looking, piece of butt-rest (the winged armchair in photo above in mocha jute-like upholstery) ? The moment I laid my corneas onto this gorgeous couch, immediate lust coursed through my veins and made me covet it.

This would be an awesome chair to read books on, to watch encore episode after episode of Passport to Europe, to have lengthy and leisurely chit-chat with my wife on, and most importantly, a place to do my tricep dips on.

To you, my lusted-over chaise, wherever you are in the world (well, I know for certain that you are in some flat in Madrid), I hope that your master get to sedately execute his tricep dips on you on a daily basis.

*sigh*

Opulence à l’encre.

Opulence in ink. That’s how I always see Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. It’s so rich and thick, like drinking melted Lindor dark truffles, that kind of rich you want to indulge in.

I was browsing through my sister’s books, when I saw her early published edition of the novel. One can tell that it’s been around because it’s semi-moldy, pages are amberish, and the leaves seem frail to touch like thin wafers.

I missed how I felt way back when I first read the novel, so I decided to sulk in a corner, and luxuriate in it.

I suddenly miss NYC.

Le roi et futur fois.

The Once and Future King, by Terence Hanbury White. One of the best there is, and is listed amongst my favorites.

The book crossed my mind the other day when someone mentioned something that prompted me to think of those droppings of the Glatisant (a questing beast in the novel). And for 7 painstakingly-long minutes, I incessantly ransacked my brain for that word, and remembered fewmets (FEWMETS!). Oh the ethereal bliss of solving the inevitable I-know-the-word-but-I-can’t-effin’-remember-grrr moments.

Le Glatisant

I was on leave today, and spent the entire day at home. I was checking out blogs on the net, when I came across my old blog, and read a rather riveting entry I had way back. It’s an excerpt from the TH White novel:

This rabbi, went on a journey with the prophet Elijah, they walked all day, and at nightfall they came to the humble cottage of a poor man, whose only treasure was a cow. The poor man ran out of his cottage, and his wife ran too, to welcome the strangers for the night, and to offer them all the simple hospitality which they were able to give in straitened circumstance. Elijah and the rabbi was entertained with plenty of the cow’s milk, sustained by homemade bread and butter, and they were put to sleep in the best bed, while the kindly hosts lay down before the kitchen fire. But in the morning, the poor man’s cow was dead. They walked all the next day, and came that evening to the house of a very wealthy merchant, whose hospitality they craved. The merchant was cold and proud and rich, and all he would do for the prophet and his companion was to lodge them in the cowshed and feed them on bread and water.  In the morning, however, Elijah thanked him very much for what he had done, and sent a mason to repair one of his walls, which happened to be falling down, as a return for his kindness. The Rabbi Juchanan, unable to keep silence any longer, begged the holy man to explain the meaning of his dealings with human beings.

“In regard to the poor man who received us so hospitably“, replied the prophet, “it was decreed that his wife was to die that night, but in reward for his goodness, God took the cow instead of his wife. I repaired the wall of the rich miser because a chest of gold was concealed near the place, and if the miser repaired the wall himself he would have discovered the treasure. Say not therefore to the Lord: What doest thou? But say in thy heart: Must not the Lord of all the earth do right?“

I’ve always loved this novel snippet, can’t believe I almost forgot about it.

Will re-read this once am done with Palahniuk’s Fight Club.

Super Lourd!

Super Heavy! And that’s what you get if you have supreme artists form a band. There’s no other apt label to name it. Super heavy, indeed.

Group composed of Mick Jagger (I will slam your head open against the pavement if you don’t know the royalty), Rahman of the Jai Ho song, Dave Stewart of the Euryhtmics, Joss Stone (Joss Stone!), and Damian Marley youngest son of THE Bob Marley (I will feed your gonads to Cerberus if you ain’t know him).

SuperHeavy to me is how a band would sound like if premium artisans get together, had a week of nothing but pot, and decided to have an on-the-spot gig.

Les membres des bandes (Stewart, Marley, Stone, Jagger, Rahman)

And did I mention am so infatuated with the reggae specks here and there in them some tracks.

Awesome album people!

Vers le bas avec la grippe.

A shelf of stacked vikings in an Oslo souvenir shop.

Down with flu. Got this effin’ virus courtesy of mon père probably a couple of days ago, and got well incubated just yesterday. I was all nasal-drippy, and was trying really hard to restrain self from sneezing whilst I was interviewing a candidate over the phone. Towards the end of the day yesterday, I feel like all the life force from my mortal corpus was effectively drained, leaking through my oral and nasal orifices. I feel like one of ’em walking dead.

I was so power-drained that I have not properly applied enough joules to step on the breaks, that Adô bumped into a white delivery van in front of us, in the midst of the crazy Friday traffic jam. The driver of the van went out, peeked onto the point of contact, then gave out a thumbs-up of which am assuming is a gesture that there were no scratches nor dents. OR can also be an apt gesture that I was a complete moron and I was lucky that monetary extortion need not happen. Either way, I duly apologized, and thank the guy for being cool about it. Merci à Dieu pour regarder dehors pour moi.

And the following day, today, Saturday, am all feverish and down with this crazy full-blown virus, that I didn’t get to go out with Faye and Luis, as planned (they’re currently watching Real Steel, am begrudged!). Am so determined to get this minute imps off my system, that I was munching on vitamin Cs like an ascorbic acid maniac. I didn’t realize that these chewable Cs are highly addictive until today. Was reaching out for it every 30 minutes. LOL.

Well, at least I finally find the time to wipe the grime off my trusty steed, and cleared the accumulated clutter inside. *cue for resonating applause*

And just now, I realized that I have been playing Coldplay on the background for a couple of hours already. Listening to Coldplay, while the colds play on me. C’est fantastique!

Virus, begone!

Un-Q-Quatre vingt quatre

Hardcover version by Knopf Publishing

1Q84. The long overdue anglais translation of Haruki’s latest chef-d’œuvre, by Jay Rubin and Philip Gabriel. Rubin is one of them best translators around, and not to mention my fave amongst others, which makes me doubly giddy and excited (and ready to pee any moment now).

The release is published in hardcover, by Knopf. Am still waiting for the paperback Vintage edition of 1Q84, granting me ample time to start on Orwell’s 1984. But of course, before that’s even possible, I need to put an end to the Lord of the Rings, am already halfway through the Two Towers.

Express reading: ENGAGED.

Le pouvoir d’un an.

The Scots Man Resto Pub, in downtown Oslo. It's all about the bagpipes, and plaid!

The power of one year. A concept hanging loosely in the deep pools of my bizarre musings, but never duly contained, until it was casually brought up by Faye in one of our endless segue-filled conversations. It is when one looks back to all that has happened in the past year, somewhat similar to the melodramatic recollection one does every year-end, but this one you do every turn of an era after era, within the perimeter of a year.

So, looking back past the dozen months, a lot of outstanding events happened. And when I say a lot, I meant mind-blowing effin’ lot. People who come and go. Things that were lost and found. Things that were lost. Things that were acquired. Things that I thought I lost, but apparently were just there. Places visited. Places that were no longer visited. Same game, different players, and the rules somehow changed a wee bit.

The power of a year’s worth of events that forced one’s holistic equilibrium to be auto-calibrated, over and over. It’s an emotional evolution, also referred to as wisdom.

Tant de choses à raconter, si peu de temps.

One of them cool store façade (a jeweler's shop) in downtown Trondheim, Norway. Sølv og gull arbeid means silver and gold work.

So much to tell, so little time. So much significant has happened for the past 4 months since my last blog post (excluding the post La nouvelle ére de la portable) that it will take me a good ol’ week to take everything into account and write ’em all down onto my blog.

Well, for starters, my condo unit was finally turned-over last August (woot!), and being the big Tolkien fan that I am, I named my place Lothlórien (Lórien for short). It’s cool to see where all that money am paying for monthly goes to, because for a time I was half expecting that I might be paying some bogus real estate property that doesn’t even exist. But thankfully, it does exist. The place is cozy and quaint, and the space was my major issue initially, since am so used to living in a house. But I eventually got into terms with my irk, and get to appreciate the space that I can officially call my own. Am still trying (and by try, I meant measly effort) to save up for stuff to put in my place. Am planning to move-in first quarter of 2012.

I also got my first vehicle. After much deliberation on what automobile to get, I finally decided to get a pickup, and named it Shadowfax (nicknamed Adô), after Gandalf’s friend steed, the lord of the Maeras. Been using it since, and it’s fun to drive since it’s a wee bit bigger than the one I used to borrow from my dad. Will be saving up money to buy a trunk bed cover for it, and fender guards. I also want to install halogen lights in front, to give it that edgy , trashy look. Haha.

Also, I finally have that one special person to spend days hanging out at Lórien, or going someplace else with Adô 🙂  La vie est absolument une bonne.

La nouvelle ère de la portable.

The new era of mobile. And it is NOT an upgrade from my previous handset. My BlackBerry Bold 9700 was stolen whilst I was boarding a bus on the way home. And to make it more theatrical, and nonetheless dramatic, it was stolen on the exact day I got it a year ago. As if written in cosmic cursive penmanship in the stellar-bound book called life.

OK, that’s too much articulation for being careless and letting cunning middle-aged mongrels take my phone, but you know where am trying to get at.

Naturally, I immediately thought of a replacement, and the only acceptable candidate I have in mind at that time was a BlackBerry Bold 9900. Look how über dashing this piece of electronic is. Aaah, this is definitely digital love at first sight.

So I duly went to a nearby mall and look for the unit. However, being a recently released model, it’s tag price is the exact opposite of immensely cheap and ultimately reasonable. And with all the stuff I need to pay towards the last quarter of this year, I need to take a step back, and do some heavy contemplation. I had an inner battle, between evil and greater evil (lesser evil was on vacation). So, 2-minute-phone-call-with-my-girlfriend later, it was agreed that I will wait for 2-3 months before I get the BB I oh-so desire, and settle for a much cheaper handset.

Now, I was looking for the perfect interim alternative, when I accidentally glanced upon this eye-catchy mobile. A subtle crimson Nokia handset. But what really caught my attention is the price. It’s only 1/23 of the price of the BlackBerry Bold 9900. What finally sealed the deal was when I asked the sales guy the ultimate question … Does it come with a built-in flashlight? And when he aptly said yes, and informed me that it can handle two SIMs at the same time, I immediately took it down the counter, and paid for it.

The unit is so basic in function (SMS and calls), that it does not even have a built-in camera. And to prove how basic this handset is, its official model name is Nokia 101.  Talk about fundamentals. LOL.

Élevé sur la vie.

High on Life. Lately, my mental acuity on grasping profound sentiments was a bit on the crazed side. Everything were on demented ecstasy, that mere thoughts of things happening, immediately sends me into oblivion.

In times when one must face the inevitable conundrum, sometimes the best plan of action is to yield, and let fate take its divine course.

OK, that’s my articulate version of saying that I was way too confused lately with all that are happening. So what I ultimately did was surrender everything onto the One sole Divine Being, and then went to the gym, slaved my way with all the routines I can think of for 3 straight hours.

Thank God for the gift of endorphins. They worked-up and fixed my dendrites real nice.

Am very high on life right now. And it’s sending me off the ground 🙂

Am stoked. \m/

Danse. Maintenant.

Dance. Now. It’s the direct subtle command, reverberating incessantly with each single bass beat in every one of them tracks included in Brit’s current album, Femme Fatale.

The album is so Tïesto-ish (checkout track Trip to Your Heart. Splendid), that when you shut your blinkers with the sound on the background, one is immediately sent into an insanely blissful trance. And I bet even Monsieur Vivaldi would hastily agree.

And it’s so amazing how the beats swiftly conjure two words, am reminded almost instantly … Beach. Booze.

This is her best album to date. With Blackout as the runner-up.

Am stoked. \m/

Les beats sont enfin là.

The beats are finally here.  My mom arrived a few days ago, and with her coming home for vacay here in Manila are my fantastic amazing set of IEMs, my Beats Tour 🙂

My pair of Apple IEMs were functioning really swell, since I got it February of last year, until the right monitor suddenly died on me a month ago 😐 I did everything to revive it. I opened it, removed the metal mesh, tried to blow very light air onto it making sure no soot can linger no more.

To my immense dismay, it’s broken beyond my meager newbie repair attempts. I still have not yet fully recovered from the too-early demise of my Apple IEMs, struck down in its prime, but I have got to scout for its immediate successor. So with that in mind, I managed to muster all the courage I could. I opened my Mac, connected to the internet, and bought a pair of Beats Tour from Amazon.

And now they’re here.  😀

They’re absolutely stunning. Its crimson color is matte enough that it’s not blindingly striking to look at. And I like the way that the wires are flat as to prevent the inevitable mind boggling tangles that the ordinary rounded wires are effin’ prone to. They also come with ear hooks, to put the IEMs in place like when working out or something. And the carrying case looks neat.

The sounds are of rich bass, and the minute details that normal earphones leave out, this captures them pretty nice.

The only issue I have with these IEMs, if the wires were left hanging in its full length midair, it puts the weight tension onto the IEMs while inserted in my ear, so in turn my ears get a bit sore. And that can get quite annoying. As compared to the lighter Apple IEMs.

But overall, am delighted with my purchase. I hope these would last me at least 7+ years.

Plus qu’un club.

Més que un club. More than a club. That is of course, none other than FCB, the winning club of 2011 UEFA Champions League’s, scored 3-1 against Manchester United (champions of England’s premiere league, but not of Europe’s obviously, haha). Am so hyped-up with this match, that I need not an alarm to rouse me from deep early morning slumber.

The match was aired live 0230 hours of May 29. Surprisingly, a number of people I know were also up to catch the game. And also to my much surprise, I was the only one rooting for Barça. Don’t you just love it when one doesn’t have to share the final evil resonating laugh (BWAHAHAHA).

Man of the Match, is of course, The Messi. But, frankly, as much as I immensely admire the guy, I wanted Van der Sar be the MoM of the finals game. He played fairly well, and he’s scheduled to retire right after this match. VDS efficiently kept his goal (FCB midfielders went at it every so minutes), but a goalie can only do so much, more effort is required from them defenders.

Edwin, screaming instructions to ManU defenders. (Poor, poor defense).

 

It was a great play, though I was expecting more from Giggs, and Ferdinand. Rooney was as expected, though he’s a getting a bit slow. Personally, with the way ManU handled the game, I think they don’t even stand a fair chance against Real Madrid.

OK. Next, Roland Garros. Go Fed! \m/

 

Luxure de voiture

Car lust. The Mitsubishi ASX is one of them perfect case in point of things that gradually grows on you. Well, actually, grow is not an apt term, more like stealthily-creeps-and-manipulates-your-dendrites-until-you-think-otherwise. LOL.

At initial glance, you’d just see a vehicle that highly resembles a Lancer Evo, on steroids. But every single time I do grocery at Trinoma, this gorgeous heap of metal deliberately greets me with its wide grin (it’s been displayed on a podium near the supermarket entrance), and a pair of squinting, but smiling, headlights.

It’s über dashing. I lust over it. Just waiting for a diesel variant to come storming its way into the Philippine market, and will get one myself in a snap.

😀

Coréen de la crème glacée de melon

Korean melon ice cream. For the past 3 months, I find this baby immensely irresistible, particularly right after having lunch and in the midst of the scalding Manila summer. This is highly addictive. Am not kidding. It’s profoundly refreshing, that every nimble nibble, my spirit’s left in invigorating oblivion.

OK, that’s too much articulation for an ice cream. Haha.

But am serious, this is really good. In fact, it is so good, that even its stick tastes just as sumptuous as the frozen treat itself. I actually give the stick a couple of fine licks before tossing it in a garbage bin. LOL.