 Nothing like fluffy, colorful word clouds to brighten up your day. Thanks to Luis Katigbak, who, along with my wife Lala, have a book launch tonight, for introducing me to wordle.net. Following his example, here is one of my travel articles in word cloud format, not as readable as A4 Double Spaced Times New Roman but significantly more pleasant to the eyes. Paint your own clouds: wordle.net
Found this gorgeous trailer online. Hope this gets screened here, or at least given the "Asian Special Edition" treatment. Nazis from outer space. What more could you ask for? Check out the website here.
 Happy Days (well, one night, actually) are here again! It's the long awaited return of Groove Nation's CONSORTIUM! The response has been overwhelming, from old ravers (you know who you are) to kids who've only recently learned to listen to the roots of dance music. April 12, 9PM at Warehouse 135. Yakal Street, Makati. See you!
Can't get enough of dem lolcats! This one sent by My Next Bike who wants you to visit his site.
 | Watchmen | Apr 4, '08 12:25 AM
for everyone |
 The buzz is building up.
 I've lost count of all the Arthur C. Clarke novels I've owned over the years. Easily, he was my favorite SF novelist and futurist. I remember borrowing his entire catalog in the Ateneo library and rummaging through Book Sale (where I found the hard to find The Lost Worlds of 2001) for second hand copies of his books. He died today, early this morning, 90 years old, just a couple of years shy of 2010, when, in his novel of the same name, Jupiter would collapse upon itself and turn into the solar system's second sun Lucifer. The future won't be the same without him.
The Harry Connick Jr concert was tops. Funny as heck, the man knows how to connect with an audience through clever patter and endearing behavior, not to mention that good ole Nawlins big band sound. Connick is best served live and hot, unlike the balut which he gamely ate on stage.
This is us playing on the escalator after the gig.
 I posted this entry in Digital Photographer Philippines, in a forum thread dedicated to Turning Points, when amateur photographers throw all caution to the wind and turn pro.By trade and calling, I am a writer. During the day, I work as the Deputy Editor for a Singapore gadgets and gear magazine. My duties include copywriting, copy editing, and managing our special projects production team, based in the Philippines because we’re cheaper. Our team conceptualizes and produces advertising publications such as the Canon 40D supplement some of you might have picked up from our Philippine edition. I don’t believe I’ll ever make the jump to professional photography. At least not full time. What I’ve learned to do, though, is how make money from my hobby – and it seems most of us here consider photography a hobby – by integrating it into my secondary skillset. The magazine has already given me many opportunities to immerse myself in photography, though not in shooting per se. I’ve reviewed many cameras. I’ve shot product. I’ve even co-written a book on the Sony Alpha. I’ve also recently been given the extra task of looking over our sister publication PHOTOVIDEOi, which is I think Singapore’s only dedicated photography magazine (different market DPP folks – not competing here ;-) ). That’s what I do for my daily grind. When I’m not doing that, I write freelance for other magazines (shhhh, it’s an open secret!). Here’s where being an amateur photographer comes into play. For a travel story, an editor needs copy and photos for his/her layout. Normally, that means sending a writer and a photographer to some far-flung location to gather material for the layout. That means two plane tickets, two bunks, twice the number of meals and double the paperwork. It makes perfect business sense for the magazine to cut down on the budget by sending someone who can perform both roles. While I don’t consider my photography skills “there” yet, I’ve been successful in getting my stories and photos published. Magazines pay for the story and they pay for the photos. I wish they paid more haha but the reality is, editorial pays crap. My last travel assignment was to cover the hot air balloon fiesta. Of course I HAD to have gone on Day Three, a day that will live in infamy among DPPers. No balloons flew. Where was my story? I had shots of model helicopters and kids launching rockets. I wrote the hell out of the experience and made the most out of the situation. Submitted photos but the editor really wanted hot air balloon pics. I recommended someone I knew had gone to Day Four. His photos were selected (gorgeous!) to accompany my article. My disappointment that none of my photos were used lasted about three seconds. They did a fantastic job on the layout. No hard feelings. Learn from the experience. Sure, I’d like to branch out and shoot more for pay. I’ve no doubt that will happen. There’s shooting for stock, something I’ve written about but have never actually tried. There’s product shots for our clients. There’s food photography with my wife’s cooking. Racket dito, racket doon. A little extra at the end of the month gives me that fuzzy feeling. I just need to remember this: Writer first, Photographer second. The trick is to make Photographer a really close second. Turning point? Not really. More like a parallel route with occasional intersections.
A cut from the upcoming movie Where the Wild Things Are, based on Maurice Sendak's timeless childrens book, recently surfaced. Folks are saying this won't make it to the finished film, and Warner has been trying to supress it.
Let's see if this works...
 L to R: Dennis J., Honey, Kim, Me, Dondon J.
 Guess what received its registration papers yesterday?
After regenerating in my garage since December (nine whole months!), my 1988 Mini Flame Red Edition - dubbed the TARDIS - is now road-worthy and street legal. Though it's still got small niggles to take care of - the air-conditioning being the major concern and the leaky clutch cylinder as the urgent one - I fully expect the TARDIS to be able to ferry me from home to work and back.
Once I get comfortable with the handling and familiar with its quirks, I'll be taking it further out. I need to be patient and not get too bold too quick. Towing fees are a bitch, after all.
Let me just say I am a very happy camper right now.
I had lunch at the canteen today and caught the funniest (and saddest) segment on Wowowee.
Q&A Quiz thing with Willie Revillame. Contestants are two pa-sexy girls and a manang
Willie: Ulo, tuhod o paa, saan mahahanap ang iyong poknat?
Girl 1: Tuhod!
Girl 2: Wala!
Manang: Sa mata!
Willie laughs his head off and pokes fun at the contestants.
2nd question
Willie: Kung ang whistle ay pito, ang whisper ay ano?
Girl 1: Modess!
Girl 2: Napkin!
Manang: (i didn't catch this na because I was laughing so hard but she got it wrong, too!)
Willie almost doubles over in laughter and asks "Ano na'ng nangyayari sa mundong ito??!"
Someone please find this clip on Youtube.
 My favorite Spice Girls were Scary and Ginger. I'm sure you all had a favorite Spice Girl, too, including my deny deny friends. Well, they're reuniting and currently organizing their world tour. Help bring them to the Philippines and make a lot of people - including me, to be sure - happy. Vote here. Make sure you enter "Manila" and not Marikina or Mandaluyong.
Awww, I'm not seeing enough of my country as I ought to. Time for another trip! 
My Lakbayan grade is C+! How much of the Philippines have you visited? Find out atLakbayan! Created by Eugene Villar.
 It's a mixed feeling you get when you cross a finish line after a couple of hours of hard riding on the trail. Mixed, because you've just accomplished something you never thought you could, and because an dopey inflatable arch festooned with sponsor logos isn't exactly the most inspiring symbol of achievement. Overall, I was happy just to have finished the race. And I wasn't in last! The Men's Health All Terrain Race was held last Sunday in San Mateo, Rizal. The race course promised 12 km of intense technical riding and it didn't disappoint. Check out the map! I had hoped I'd be able to ride the entire course without dismounting but realized early on that attempting to do so would severely sap my strength. I decided to hoof it on some of the steep uphills. There's a perverse glee you feel when you see your misery being shared by others. I was more than glad I was not alone. The route would take us through most of Roxas Trail then into a steep downhill section called Boy/Girl, and then even futher. I was satisfied with my performance on Roxas, being able to clear a lot of the sections I had been unable to do before. Midway down the first Roxas descent I felt my suspension fork die on me, sagging like boobs on an old jogger. Thank god for the lockout knob. My arms and legs probably still hate me. I think it was the heat, rather than the climbs that really got to me. Most of my regular ensayo rides were done at night or earlier in the morning. We were still climbing at 11am, with absolutely no shade for quite a distance. Hydrate hydrate hydrate. It was a lovely, yet grueling trail. I'd do it again in a heartbeat and see how to do it better. It took me about two hours to finish the entire course. The winner cleared it in thirty minutes. I'd say that's a lot of room for improvement.
 Designer Paul Smith once said, "You can find inspiration in anything (and if you can't, look again)," or at least that was the title of his book. Today, I found something online that combines two of my favorite things into one luminous, coagulated ball of inspiration. Back when I was still riding an old skool rigid mountain bike in 1990, you could find Hans "No Way" Rey in any mountain bike magazine you could lay your hands on. Back then, you could mostly get those magazines in Cartimar, where I used to spend my Saturdays drooling at bikes and bike parts. Hans Rey is a legend in the mountain bike community and, while he's traded his competition jerseys to become a worldwide ambassador for the sport, he still very much still a kick-ass rider and remains a personal hero, especially now that I am riding again. Pictured here is Hans "No Way" Rey, hopping off a pilapil in Batad. Which brings me to my second favorite thing - photography. Marco Toniolo, the talented young man who took the above photo, is an Italian who studied economics and worked as an accountant before forsaking the 9 to 5 lifestyle to become a professional photographer, specializing in action sport photography. I don't really know much about him, except that I love his work. Check out his portfolio (especially his Hans Rey in the Philippines folder) and I'm sure you'd agree. Mountain biking and photography - two things I am very much excited about. In both disciplines I have to hone my craft, my skills, and develop whatever meager talent I have in order to raise the bar and bring myself even just incrementally closer to these sources of inspiration. It's going to be tough as walnuts but I don't mind.
 We spend a lot of our time trying to prepare ourselves for the curve balls, the challenges, the big fucking giants that life throws our way. But often, no amount of schooling, training, or mental preparation can cover all the bases. Sometimes, you end up staring something so daunting right in the face, and all you can say is, I'm screwed! After three months of exclusive urban riding on my mountain bike, I found myself, finally, on an actual mountain. The Roxas trail, winding and wending up and down Mt. Maarat in Rizal, was most definitely not a bunny slope. No kid gloves here, no trainer wheels, no inflatable flotation device, no mommy with a lunch bag. This was the real thing and I was sorely unprepared for its challenges. Just getting to the trail was killer - a steep ascent on concrete road that made me seriously ask myself Am I really that unfit? What had happened to the three months of riding I had under my belt? Surely I benefited from them? The trail was a mixed bag of fast technical descents and rocky, rutty ascents. Concentrating on where I was going, I had little chance to enjoy the view of smoggy Metro Manila. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Some of these sections I wouldn't even hike through, much less bike. It didn't help that my taskmaster Agu, editor-in-chief of Men's Health, was cleaning everything on a SINGLE SPEED BIKE. No gearing, just sheer power. Here I was on my granny gear and largest cog struggling painfully along.  Most of my ascents were spent pushing the bike uphill, masticating my ego and swigging gator-ade. The descents, a different beast altogether, were both exhilarating and terrifiying. While you hurtle downward, a stream of too much information assaults your brain - modulate brakes, keep your weight back, shit a root, head down, pedals level, crap ravine - and processing all that requires the mental discipline that only comes with more training and experience. Something I lacked. If you'd asked me to open my mouth, you'da seen two shriveled up balls inside. I only took one spill, thank God. A miscalculation during a tricky descent sent me flying over my handlebars and the bike crashing into the earth. I managed to land running, no injuries whatsoever. Could have easily been a faceplant. After two hours of pain and mental humiliation, I was back at the truck, eagerly waiting for the next time I'd be on that rock. Roxas chewed me up and spat me out, but I'll be back there soon. I promise. More photos here.
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