I’ve read Bossypants, of course, but I haven’t wrapped it in plastic yet so I can’t put it on my shelf. I’m quite obsessive-compulsive with my books–everything has to be covered tautly in plastic and I write my name and the date of the book’s purchase or acquisition on the first page. Also, I am not a big fan of marginalia (George Steiner, I’m sorry I couldn’t read like an intellectual) so I just use Post-Its or pagemarkers to mark certain passages that I thought were amazing and worth a “return trip” to. Trying to overcome that, though, especially with craft books such as The Art of Dramatic Writing. But the one in the picture is the clean copy; I’ve got a teaching/marginalia-filled copy of it (hehehe).

And also because I’m trying to read more ~intelligently~ these days (in preparation for my upcoming comprehensive exams), I took out a notebook from my stash to use as a dedicated reading journal. I have a small movie-TV series-book journal, but the things I wrote there are basically farts of my funny little brain (read: nothing serious; filled with horrible puns and allusions to Michael Fassbender’s body). When I was in high school and college, I re-wrote a lot of lessons and notes to study. Writing things down in paper makes me remember things that would otherwise be forgotten by my funny little brain. My grad school notes (especially in Kritika because I love theory!) are quite meticulous too. So I thought keeping an analogue journal dedicated solely to reading will help me keep track of the things I read and the stuff that I should really remember about things I’ve read.

And also I like buying plain notebooks which I often plaster with collage-y stuff, such as the notebook above.

When I was younger I’d often read a book around three to four times, and I’d end up reciting certain parts of it verbatim to unsuspecting victims. But of course, funny little brain and my adult self can only accommodate so much, thus the next best thing–make notes!

This is my movie-TV shows-books journal. Random brain farts on Captain America above. Also, an argument that should be unleashed to the world:

Steve Rogers was kind of cute and idealistic and he and Peggy were kind of cute together. And that part about waiting for “the right partner” was really adorable. It was just right that they did not end up together, lol. Because that will make unicorns burst into song while crapping rainbows and glitters. It would be that cute and awesome and perfect and that simply cannot be.

Apparently I talk like a sugar-stoned teenager in my notes.

Coriolanus
Dir: Ralph Fiennes
Cast: Ralph Fiennes, Vanessa Redgrave, Gerard Butler, Jessica Chastain, Brian Cox, James Nesbitt, Ashraf Barhom
123 minutes

—

“TWO TICKETS TO CORIOLANUS,” I told the woman who was behind the ticket counter at the last cinema in the metro that screened the movie.  She made a face that said: “I don’t get what you’re saying, and please stop trying to impress me.”  I repeated the title and to this the good lady replied, “Ah, ‘yung Koryo-lahnoos. Di pa kami nagbebenta ng ticket, balik ka mamaya.”

Coriolanus is one of the lesser-known Shakespeare plays, probably because it did not have the romantic appeal of Romeo and Juliet, the court intrigue of Richard III, or the superstition of Macbeth.  I did not blame the poor ticket lady for not knowing what Coriolanus is and for mispronouncing the title—it was that obscure.  Maybe this obscurity is the reason why Ralph Fiennes chose to adapt Coriolanus for his directorial debut.

Fiennes also plays the eponymous Roman general, whose victory over the Volscian general Aufidius (Gerard Butler) gained him the gratitude and respect of Rome, but most especially, his domineering mother Volumna (Vanessa Redgrave).  His wife Virgilia (Jessica Chastain) is not as ambitious as her mother-in-law, and kind of gets demoted to a chorus role for this.  We see her all the time with Volumna and all she does is sing second voice; choowariwap to the diva.  Volumna, undoubtedly, is the star of the show—it is through her machinations and her ambition that everything turns out the way they do.  She urges Coriolanus to run for consul even if he is not plebeian-friendly (read: matapobre), which eventually leads to him being exiled from Rome and joining swords with his enemy Aufidius.  Fiennes’ Coriolanus still explores the original Shakespearean themes of democracy, class division, and ambition, and does a remarkable job in expressing various subthemes as well (is it just me or Coriolanus has mommy issues and is slightly attracted to Aufidius?).

Fiennes, however, did not go the period route in adapting this Shakespeare play—instead, he transformed Coriolanus and his Rome into contemporary characters.  One of the first things that stood out for me is Fiennes’ choice of shooting location, which is Belgrade, Serbia.  I was, for two hours, transported to the CNN coverage of war-torn Serbia in the 1990’s, but with all the details of a drama film.  Coriolanus is gritty and is pleasantly devoid of the trappings of a usual period film, which eventually takes a lot of attention away from the plot and the performance of the actors.  I tried to imagine Coriolanus done a la Gladiator, and I would have probably concentrated on the costumes (“That can’t be right—his sandal laces look modern!”) or the production design (“The pillars on that villa are all historically wrong!”) more.  Had Fiennes decided for the period route and instructed Vanessa Redgrave and Jessica Chastain to don ancient Roman finery, I would not have questioned the dynamics of these women’s relationship, but rather, which of them had the best gown.  Coriolanus is a relatively “gray” film—everyone (including the locations) is in white, black, gray, and olive, which makes you focus more on a couple of details: the blood running down on Coriolanus’ emotionless face, the red hair of the virtuous Virgilia.  The color grading contributes greatly to the perception that this just might be a modern coverage of a border war—it is not supposed to be pretty, but you have to watch it because it is important.

And then there is FidelisTV, the news channel that brings “the place that calls itself Rome” the latest updates on Coriolanus’ exploits and the movement of the Volscian army.  “Fidelis” is Latin for “faithful” or “loyal,” but given that I have mentioned CNN earlier, who is FidelisTV loyal to if its “audience” is limited to Volumna, the senators, and us?  If Coriolanus is partly a commentary on war and the people who bring their nations war, it can also be a commentary on the coverage of war and how news channels present the illusion of objectivity.

One of the more modern Shakespeare adaptations that came to mind while I was watching Coriolanus was the BBC ShakespeaRetold series.  Like Coriolanus, everything about these BBC adaptations is modern—there are mobile phones, TVs, refrigerators, and other trappings that could not have existed in Shakespeare’s ye olde England. Macbeth’s Scotland is a Michelin-rated restaurant, Katherina is a politician who wants to become Leader of the Opposition, and Beatrice and Benedick are news anchors.  However, one noticeable difference is the dialogue.  The drama and dynamics of a Shakespeare play are still present in the ShakespeaRetold series, but they are not speaking in archaic Shakespearean English—effectively making both the characters and the story relatable to modern viewers.  I doubt if Fiennes’ decision to use the original dialogue in his Coriolanus adaptation will make it a popular movie among those who have a bad ear for accents and inability to interpret Shakespearean syntax, but I could not deny that his directorial debut can be considered as a visual, if not commercial or popular, success.

On my way out of the theater I saw the ticket lady again, probably shaking her head at the fact that only nine people watched the movie.  Sayang, she probably thought, My Cactus Heart could have easily filled Cinema 2.  I imagined her slouched before the giant screen, watching Coriolanus, screaming and shaking a fist at Ralph Fiennes’ flushed face as he delivers a speech before a Roman forum: “I don’t get what you’re saying, and please stop trying to impress me.”

Here comes the woman who wears the plastic prick
hooked to a string around her waist, the man who
puts girls’ panties like a beanie on his head
the chicken molester, the lady who likes Great Danes
the boy who likes sheep, the old fellow who likes
to watch turkeys dance on the top of a hot stove,
the bicycle-seat sniffer, grasshopper muncher,
the bubbles-in-the-bath biter – they all meet
each night at midnight and, oh Lord, they bowl.
From twelve to six they take it out on the pins
as they discuss their foibles with their friends.
I’m trying to cut down, says the woman who nibbles
the tails of mice. I’ve thrown away my Zippo, says
the man who sticks matches between people’s toes.
There is nothing that can’t become a pleasure
if one lets it, and so they bowl. They think
of that oddly handsome German Shepherd face
and they bowl. Their hands quiver at the thought
of jamming their fingers in a car door
and they bowl. These are the heroes, these
grocers and teachers and postmen and plumbers.
They bring snapshots of themselves and Scotch tape,
then fix their photos to the pins and they bowl.
They focus on their faces at the end of the alley
and they bowl. They see the hunger in their eyes,
the twist of anticipation in their lips, and oh
they bowl – bowl to remember, bowl to forget,
as the pins with their own bruised faces explode
from midnight to six. While in those explosions
of wood, in which each pin describes an exact arc,
they feast on those moments when the world seems to stop
and everything conspires to push some fleeting
beauty-ripening peach or blossoming rose -
to the queer brink of perfection, where it flames,
flickers, fades, and is never perfect again.

Bossypants by Tina Fey (Kindle version Reagan Arthur/Hatchette, 2011. Trade paperback Reagan Arthur/Back Bay, 2012)

This week is absolutely horrible–still sick and was horribly stressed over the five-page critical paper for my Creative Nonfiction class–and I was desperate for anything that will take my mind off my misery. I had to finish four essays about creative nonfiction and my brain needed relief from all the theory and intellectual stuff I had to read. But that didn’t mean that I have to stop reading–I just have to find something that won’t hurt my brain as much.

So I read Tina Fey’s Bossypants whenever I could–on the train to work, before bed every night. Sure, it’s not a literary masterpiece, but I really liked it. Liked it so much that after reading the whole book in my Kindle, I bought the trade paperback version (P615 from Fully Booked) so my sister and I can read this hilariously awesome book at the same time (what!).

Allow me to outline the things I liked about Bossypants in bullets or I would just ramble on in a creepy and incoherent manner:

• The prose is very concise and precise, and allows for very vivid mental images. Maybe it’s because Tina Fey wrote jokes for SNL sketches or because she’s just an awesome person. Either way, I really enjoyed her prose, which made for a very easy and interesting read.
• I also like how she experiments with form. There are question-and-answer essays (which shows her remarkable wit!), as well as interspersed dialogue and pictures that add an interesting dimension to the book. I guess it’s because Tina Fey is used to working with the visual form of TV. She used these pictures and script excerpts to break up blocks of text and to make her memoir more friendly to readers.
• I’m happy I got the paperback version (I was seriously debating with myself between the hardcover and the paperback because the hardcover had very funny blurbs–yes, even with buying books you can be shallow) because it includes a “Tina Fey answers her fans’ questions from Twitter” section. Even with this pahabol section the author manages to be highly entertaining, witty, and very very funny.  But the paperback version also comes with a couple of reading group questions, which kind of irritated the ~writer~ and ~critical~ person in me. For example: “What do you think it means to be a Bossypants? Do you know anyone personally that you would describe as a Bossypants and did the society you live in ever try to drown her?” Ugh this has to be one of the stupidest questions I have ever heard. This kind of question will really take a lot away from a good discussion of Bossypants–the book in itself is wonderfully written and structured very well, too. I don’t think that a discussion should start with the reader trying to make the book about him/her. Please.
• However, the reading group section redeemed itself with question number six: “Which other celebrities, beside Kim Kardashian, do you think may have been engineered by Russian scientists to sabotage our athletes?” But that’s about it, really.
• Perhaps the line that really stood out to me from this book is the essay “I Don’t Care If You Like It,” which Tina Fey says is a part of her many love letters to her friend Amy Poehler. In this essay she writes: “It is an impressively arrogant move to conclude that just because you don’t like something, it is empirically not good.” I’d like this tattooed on my haunches, please. For future reference and because I like how humble and intelligent the writer is for putting this thought into words.
• Christopher Hitchens (I was thinking of saying “God bless his soul,” but the staunchly atheist Mr. Hitchens will probably not appreciate that) should have read this book and issued an apology to all the funny women out there, Ms. Fey included.
• And because I am known to bully people into reading/watching the things I liked and enjoyed, let me end this blog post with YOU HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK, OHMYGOD.

I am buried in so much work right now, most from my Creative Nonfiction class. I love creative nonfiction as a “genre” because it allows for so much, but really. This class will be the death of me. I haven’t even revised my screenplay yet because of the 23910239123 things that have to be done for CNF. Panicking, of course, will just make things worse so I will not panic. I will not even cry about it like  a big baby even if all I want to do right now is take to my bed and bawl my eyes out and try to ease the pressure that has been building since the beginning of the year.

I need a vacation from this life, really.

So after deliberating this purchase for months (and even years, methinks), I finally caved in and got myself a Kindle. The reduced prices really were a clincher for me–because I wasn’t about to hand over $200 for an ebook reader, even if there are a lot of ebooks to be read on my computer.

I’m trying to get over my bibliomanic elitism because of three reasons: 1) physical books are quite expensive, especially for my third-world wages; 2) I have limited space in this house, which I have to share with three other people who think that my stuff is taking over the entire house; and 3) carrying two to three books in my bag (usually filled with other shit that I cannot simply leave the house without, like an umbrella, a medicine kit, dry and wet tissues, etc etc) is not friendly to my aging bones.

A lot of people were telling me to get an iPad instead, but I wanted something cheap that won’t distract me from reading, because I have my laptop for that. So the next best thing is a Kindle.  I got a Kindle Touch, by the way, because it was cheaper and smaller than the Kindle Keyboard.

Ah, what a gorgeous piece of plastic. The first book I put on my Kindle is Mark Doty’s Fire to Fire: New and Selected Poems because it was the first MOBI file I saw in my ebook cache . Sylvia Plath’s The Collected Poems (edited by Ted Hughes, gasp) I sent to the device using my Kindle email. How fun is that! I can directly send stuff from my email to the Kindle! (I am easily impressed, as some people will tell you)

As of this minute I have filled my Kindle with pretentious books on poetry, Walter Benjamin, and literary fiction. Also I have managed to sneak in Tina Fey and David Sedaris because honestly, I need to laugh and give my brain a vacation after all the hifalutin intellectual readings that I need to plow through.

The Kindle is so small and light and awesome. I think it just weighs as much as my mobile phone (not sure if claim is accurate, too lazy to go to the kitchen and weigh things. It just feels light OKAY).  Here it is with a rather large trade paperback copy of A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace (aka the book that should have made it to What I’m Reading This Week #05). The Kindle Touch is even smaller than an average Penguin paperback, and definitely lighter. How awesome is that! (Also, I am turning into a department store salesperson on a sugar high. Halp.)

And because everything in my world has to be pink and pretty, I bought a pink case and booklight for my Kindle Touch. The book I’m reading on my Kindle right now is Bossypants by Tina Fey. It’s funny as hell (and I’m still buying a physical copy because dammit, I love her) and I’ve highlighted a lot of things that I found awesome humor-wise and craft-wise. (Uyyyy, writer)

Just a couple of minutes ago I bought my first ebook over Amazon.  It’s Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman, because it’s on sale. $4.99, beybeh (although if I add another dollar or two I could have bought the mass market paperback from National Bookstore).

Oh and also I had to make the cord pretty. So here is a strip of graph sticker that I wrapped around it, lol. And and and my Kindle is named Magneto.

Today’s mail brought an interesting surprise. Looks like mail delivery is picking up speed!

And hello, this is my desktop, which takes a lot of stress and shit out of my mind:

I got plenty of sleep last night too! I wasn’t feeling well and I just gave up on trying to work basically. So yay! (12+ hours of sleep, woohoo)

Cooked:

• Sun-dried tomato pesto
• Garlic parmesan mashed potatoes
• Broccoli cheese casserole
• Bagoong rice

Read:

• The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan
• After Claude by Iris Owens
• Creative Nonfiction: Manual and Reader by Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo
• Snark by David Denby
• The Art of Dramatic Writing by Lajos Egri
• (Plus countless readings about auto/biography for my CNF class)

Watched:

• Sherlock Holmes 2: A Game of Shadows
• Underworld: The Awakening
• Coriolanus
• Haywire
• Sherlock Series 2: A Scandal in Belgravia, The Hounds of Baskerville, The Reichenbach Fall
• (Plus various favorite movies and series that I’ve re-watched at home)

Still behind my 2012 monthly quota of things to do, read, and watch, but I think I’m off to a good start. Yay!