via kimcastle
Myself, in four words.
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Melati Suryodarmo’s “Butter Dance” (VIDEO)
The infamous “Exergie” butter dance by Melati Suryodarmo first made its way online in 2010. Not surprisingly, hipsters are calling this piece of performance fuckery, “art.”
I’m not sure if people really have become as jaded as their pretensions or this is just one bad shot at a parody that could’ve potentially been brilliant.
The top comment on the video below says it all:
“I am perplexed by the way people try to give things like this deep meaning and further have the nerve to call it art. And the people clap and exclaim brilliance! And the people slap themselves on the back and exclaim how clever they are….man we are stupid….”
Then again, apparently, anyone can be an “artist” nowadays (which goes for photographers, models, musicians, yadda yadda et al).
Is this a 21st century reincarnation of the “Emperor’s New Clothes?”
I believe the popularity of abstracticism and the idea of counter-culture in general, springs from the fact that most “musicians” today are actually incapable of making good music, as is the case with how most abstract artists lack the actual skills in painting a decent portrait.
So sue me. The truth hurts. The creative world is dead — and we are all fools.
Rantingly yours,
Food Fact of the Day
“Apples are made up of 25% air, which is why they float.”
xoxo
Make. It. Count.
”You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”
– Mae West
xoxo
So, I took a gamble.
“In just a few words? You either complete each other or compete against each other. There is no middle way with you two: it is all or nothing.
But Fire needs Air, and since air also means wind, which likes playing with the fire flames, there is everything between you two rather than nothing.”
Star signs.
It’s a lez thing.
xxx,
via eastrology.com
Aleth Kae Atalig liked this post
Liberation X
I might be taking a break from traveling outside of the country this year. For reasons beyond my comprehension, dear old dad has decided to stifle my wanderlust to intentionally keep my focus on Dentistry and my imminent graduation in 2013.
I feel like crying, but I won’t. I feel like giving up, but I can’t. I am an incomprehensible pile of feelings at the moment. Needless to say, my issues are far more complex than what I willingly share on this blog.
It is what it is. And the reality is, I have nothing to show for — not yet anyway.
Although it pains me to be on a leash, I know it is something I must endure. And although it feels like choking on an extra-large bitter pill, I know it is something I must swallow. No pain, no gain. So shut up and smile — with gritted teeth.
Liberation (in more ways than one) is so near, yet so far. If only I can make time go faster. I cannot wait to be unleashed. I cannot wait to run free.
The sun rises, the sun sets. Tomorrow is another day — and one step closer, to liberation.
xxx,
Bankyut Moorhouse liked this post
Boracay Diaries: How misogynistic is this?
Spotted on the main thoroughfare of Station 3, Boracay. Heck, they didn’t even try to be discreet.
Call me a raging feminist if you must, but this is appalling.
It comes as no surprise then, that sex tourism accounts for 40%* of foreign visitors who come to the Philippines. Filipinos are now so used to batterings of the psyche that moral indignancies such as this don’t even warrant raised eyebrows anymore.
We need more decency in this country. Just saying.
Boracay Diaries: Love Boat
I found this boat, named “Sheila,” moored onto shore while doing my morning walk at the far end of Station 3. It could’ve been just any other boat, but it had one distinction that caught my attention.
Hoisted on its sail was a flag with a ’60s peace sign set against a swirl of rainbow colors (pun intended). So retro, so gay. Wish I could’ve captured a better photo.
Free love, baby. Free love.
xxx,
Packing for the Beach is Harder than Packing for Winter
I’ve always considered myself a savvy travel packer — fast and efficient, keeping everything to a minimum. Case in point: I can pack over two weeks worth of clothes in just a few hours before a flight. In that sense, I would like to think I was travel-savvy — up until NOW, that is.
(My travel buddy KC, and I at the Sydney Opera House last year.)
In the past year, I’ve always packed for either autumn or winter (Beijing in April, Sydney/Melbourne in June, Seoul in October), both by chance and by choice. The humidity of the Philippines can get overwhelming so it’s natural for Filipinos to want to go somewhere cooler when traveling overseas. However, due to some unexpected turn of events, I am now traveling solely locally (for the first time!) to the beach party capital of the Philippines, otherwise known as B-o-r-a-c-a-y, and I do not have an iota of a clue on how or even what to pack. I feel like a dumdum. What kind of a person living IN the tropics not know how to pack for when traveling TO the tropics? Yes, I am an idiot, and I cannot remember a time I felt more of an amateur traveler than I do now.
Perhaps it’s also worth mentioning that my body and appetite aren’t exactly beach-worthy, or even beach-ready at the moment. I just got my period (of all days! TMI) and I am bloated as hell. Gaaahhh. Tough luck, as they say. Hmmm.. Maybe that’s why I love winter so much. I can have my period, complete with hormonal gastronomic episodes, eating all the shit I want… while still keeping my beer gut intact and under wraps in a hot leather jacket! Booyah! Hahaha.
Care for a proper winter meal?
But then again, I am not going anywhere cold at the moment. The reality still stands, that I am off to the beach with my bloated winter belly and monochromatic (sooo not beachy!) ensembles. So wrong. So, so wrong.
This bikini is the only thing in my wardrobe with the slightest tinge of color. No kidding.
I’ll keep you posted anyway my lovelies. *kisses*
Ciao for now,
Celine Villahermosa liked this post
Eye Candy for Thought
…and I’m back. 
