Thursday, May 10, 2007

Red Carpet 2.0

I am starting a new blog, like as if there's no other thing left to do in this world. Like as if it's a necessity, an unfounded thirst that I suddenly find the need to quench. As if I'm not fucking pressurized by the rigors of work. Dammit. I'm making this feel like a guilty pleasure. It's the C in the OC burning like a 7-year itch.

So this is a film blog, or rather I should be calling it a blog about my movie experiences. I might sound like Ebert, A.O. Scott, or David Denby so I'm not gonna sound like any of those highly-revered critics. I'm just gonna write about films I saw that's it. Oh now I know, this is like fixation back in college because I wrote stupid film analyses about mediocre films in a mediocre film class.

This is a red carpet entry so it should be without-further-ado shit. Besides, my neurons are firing like baby rockets I feel my head is going to explode. But before I head to my limo, I'm gonna pose for the press first.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

You do love your movies, don't you?
I don't watch movies as often as I should now. When I get back, adto jud ko victoria and shop for DVDs. I didn't even get to watch spiderman. Sure, it's eye-candy but I like candies. They're sweet.

jayclops said...

Cge lang gud. It's my little cheap sweet escape. Anyway, I just watched Spidey last night.

Mau pa ka nasa Thailand. Hitch ko sa imo next time, ha! Don't forget the Thai chick! Hehehehe

Anonymous said...

Gusto ka Aids? dalaan taka. hehehe. Daghan bitaw tsiks dire unya puro gwapa ang mga Thai. Di lang mi magkasinabot. way klaro

jayclops said...

hahaha. tama bitaw noh. AIDS haven man diay ng Thailand. Ayaw na lang, lisod na. hehehehe.

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting