Monday, September 29, 2008

22 years ago...

It's my birthday today!

My day started out great since I woke up to dozens of greetings from my favorite people, so I pretty much got up from bed with a big smile on my face.

So now I'm off to spend my parent's gift to me.

Friday, September 26, 2008

The Boob Song :D

I have fallen in love with Priscilla Ahn's voice. This is a radio interview that she did a while back. Check this out.

Tim Walker photography

Shabby chic

This small restaurant is so shabby chic. Ate lunch here when I was thrift store hunting in Manila with a friend.Their bathroom was so nice and cozy I wanted to take pictures of it, but the light was so dim inside that I couldn't take any decent picture, even though I had a SLR with me. I seriously need to figure out how to use that thing.

The restaurant is located somewhere in the jungle of Bangkal.:D

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Kate Bosworth for Elle, October issue

Oh, isn't she just lovely in this photoshoot?

{Photos taken from 'oh no they didn't'}

Monday, September 22, 2008

Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,Turn this stupid, fat, rat yellow!

{1. Yellow linen boat neck dress with studded pockets, 'Edie Rose' for DKNY Jeans. 2. Floral print blouse, Nina Ricci. 3. Tony Burch, Spring 2009. 4. The Sartorialist. 5. Steve Madden, Kobraa. 6. Emilio Pucci. 7. L.A.M.B, Camden Scallop Open Toe Bootie. 8. 291, Let Nature Rock II Long Sleeve Pullover Hoodie. 9. Gold & Light - Iberian Hoop Earrings, link. 10. Jewelry Poetry, link. 11. Scintilla mini dress, Missoni, link. 12. French serge day coat, J. Crew.}

An Affair To Remember...

I'm inlove with this photoshoot by Rodney Smith for the New York Times' fall fashion guide. It is an affair to remember with New York and fashion. Definitely a great combination. =)


more of spring 2009 :)

... Luella
Topshop Unique.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Anyway, something new to inspire.

I saw this a long time ago. J. Crew in Prague.

Today was a sad day.

I was at the grocery store this afternoon doing errands for my mom and the man two rows in front of me was having trouble. Apparently, he didn't have enough money with him, and judging from his clothes, you'd understand why. He was looking through his groceries and one by one he handed it back to the scowling cashier. Most of the food items were the basic stuff: cooking oil, coffee, noodles, etc. With a lot of flair, the cashier scanned them back until almost all of his planned purchases were returned. He must not be that smart, as well, because he was having difficulty calculating the food prices to the money he had. It was the most heart-breaking scene I ever witnessed first-hand and it took a lot of effort on my part to stop myself from crying right there on the spot. Until now the scene still brings tears to my eyes. I was so pissed off with the cashier and the woman behind me who kept muttering side comments. God forbid that that ever happens to them. Poverty and its petty humiliations should always be looked on with compassion, not with contempt.

At the same time I resisted the urge to offer my money to pay for them. Looking back, I don't know what stopped me. I should have, you know. I had more than enough with me. Now, my mind is going crazy thinking of possible situations happening at his home. It's dinner time. Was that supposed to be his family's dinner? What are they going to eat now?

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

How to tell stories.

From "What I Want To Tell"
by Michael Martone

"What is so funny is that I have, with great authority, told my students all about where to start a story, even using Latin to give it a special patina of power. In medias res. In the middle of things. I tell my students of this ancient technique. How to go backwards from there in order to go forward. Funny, then, that I have started here in this room, in the middle of things, to tell the story again, this time to you who are reading this story. Funny, too, that when I was in the doctor's office and when he asked me the question, "What do you want to tell me?" I, a person who makes a living, more or less, telling stories and teaching other people how to tell stories, was silenced for the moment by the existential nature of the task.

That is, that we must tell stories in some order since our words line up one after another and accumulate and are read here in a conventional sequence from the top down, from left to right, are followed step by step. Now, I am in this room because I am at the end of one rope of words. I wish at this moment I could tell the doctor what I have to tell all at once, simultaneously. Though it is true that the events that have led me here happened in a sequence so much of the sequence now seems repetitive, glossed, as if I have been polishing a table and a flat surface has taken on this depth. Rooms within rooms. I sit there. It is like a pen held to paper, this story I have to tell, the stain of ink spreading, the color deepening everywhere all at once. And I have no words, no means to make them tell. Not a line at all. A dark dark blot spreading."

~ Just so you know, I'm a complete dork. If I find some piece of writing that I really really like, I tend to save it on my computer. And I recently had one of my laundry days, ala Count Vronsky style, when I found certain treasures in my laptop that has been gathering dust. And something about that small snippet made me save it.

A man this beautiful ought to be made illegal

hat can I say? Prince Caspian stole my heart and he never gave it back. I don't mind, he can have it for all I care, as long as he promises to father my children.

He is not even handsome. He's beautiful! Oh god, he is perfection. He definitely won the genetic lottery it's almost unfair. I have such a weakness for tall, skinny, insanely gorgeous guys.

Supposedly, my Ben Barnes craze subsided a few weeks after the hurrah over Prince Caspian. But now that 'Easy Virtue' is out, its totally back and kicking. The trailer is amazing! I can't wait to see the film. I love the part in the end when Ben is dancing and singing around with Jessica Biel - "let's misbehave..." Enjoy!

Monday, September 15, 2008

Alberta Ferreti Spring

Oh, and an update of another spring favorite. Alberta Ferreti rarely does wrong in my book.


Sunny Monday :D

After days of rain and cloudy skies, today was everything sunshine. The air was clean, the sky was blue dotted with wispy clouds. Although the heat was the typical, unbearable, humid kind of heat, seeing the sun definitely made it all worthwhile, and there was the occasional refreshing breeze so it was okay.

I think Manila was at its best today. Even the pollution seemed to think that it shouldn't mess with the picture perfect, high quality resolution of the city. I felt as though I could have shook hands with everyone I met at the street while dancing along with Leona Naess's Sunday Sunday.

I hope everyone had a broadway musical-like day like I did.

{Photos: Sienna Miller, Just Jared, The Sartorialist, Hayden-Harnett 's Prisila Dress,}

Sunday, September 14, 2008


My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers
of my palms tell me so.
Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish
at the same time. I think

praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think
staying up and waiting
for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this
is exactly what's happening,

it's what they write grants about: the chromodynamics
of mournful Whistlers,
the audible sorrow and beta decay of Old Battersea Bridge.
I like the idea of different

theres and elsewheres, an Idaho known for bluegrass,
a Bronx where people talk
like violets smell. Perhaps I am somewhere patient, somehow
kind, perhaps in the nook

of a cousin universe I've never defiled or betrayed
anyone. Here I have
two hands and they are vanishing, the hollow of your back
to rest my cheek against,

your voice and little else but my assiduous fear to cherish.
My hands are webbed
like the wind-torn work of a spider, like they squeezed
something in the womb

but couldn't hang on. One of those other worlds
or a life I felt
passing through mine, or the ocean inside my mother's belly
she had to scream out.

Here, when I say I never want to be without you,
somewhere else I am saying
I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you
in each of the places we meet,

in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying
and resurrected.
When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever. ~ Bob Hicok

Spring 2009 Love

Androgyny. Rag & Bone is genius.

The skirts! The colors! The shoes!

I fall in love with Yigal every single time.


Saturday, September 13, 2008

In a different time.

In a different time and place, a parallel universe of infinite possibilities, we are together and content. Age and situation, race and profession, innocuous details are unimportant. In that secret and wonderful place, tucked deep in my imagination, I see us together and I relish it. I deeply etch the picture in my mind. And as crazy as it may seem, I have never been happier as this moment of imagining.

A door slams, a car gasses up, the screeching sound of a plane overhead flying to some unknown destination reminding me that it will hardly ever come true, and I sigh. Reality is so real, it's so depressing, it's so cold and heartless, like a sterile room of a hospital with the strong scent of cleanliness.

Then, I remember how our situation really is, anti-climactic after those thoughts. I am here. You are there. You don't know me and truth be told I don't know you either. We live separate lives and are paths are hardly close to intersecting. You, the victim of my wild story-telling mind. We are so different. You are mature and content. I am here child-like and discontent.

However, it doesn't stop me from fooling myself into the belief that you are perfect. Tall, lanky, geeky, red pants and sockless feet. Perhaps you're reading a book right now. I'd like to believe that you love to read, just as I do. I imagine that is why you wear glasses just like me, ruining it in your childhood sneaking books past bedtime and reading it through the dim light of a flashlight. You flip the pages as carefully as if you're holding some precious little baby, hungrily digesting its words. You laugh out loud. And then, I realize that I have never heard you laugh and I wonder on the things which does make you smile and happy; what your sense of humor must be really like. In that parallel universe, would we laugh at the same jokes? Would you laugh at mine?

~~ Author elusive.

Rainy Days Inspiration.

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.

{Clockwise from left, Mociun, DAY Birger et Mikkelsen, Glastonbury festival, Elizabethtown, The Sartorialist, Musician in the Rain by Robert Doisneau, Mociun, The Sartorialist.}

Friday, September 12, 2008



With nothing better to do, I have decided to start a blog.

I don't know why or what I plan to contribute to the exciting world of blogging, (or what I like to consider as incessant talk about oneself), I just simply decided to jump on the bandwagon because it's just cool to be like everyone else. *please note sarcasm here* Maybe, now that I have a blog of my own, I'll finally realize the thrill of relating to other people the numerous intricacies of my daily life, or lack thereof.

But seriously, its been a while now that I have been chewing on the thought of blogging and if you somehow wandered into this site of mine, I'd like to start off by saying that I have no rhyme or reason nor outline to give on what I plan to post here. So expect incoherence and a bit of this and a dash of that.

So, enjoy your stay. Marvel at my technical savvy in html and websiting(?) and I assure you that more is yet to come from the wonderful world of poeta fit, non nascitur.