When No One's Watching, 1

In the thick of it all: the tumult of the crowd, the clinking of the glasses, the livid shadows caused by blinding lights, the loud, pulsating noise, the tear-inducing miasma of cigarette smoke: she was there.

Garbed in her favorite tiny red dress, she surveyed the room. Her eyes now fixed on a guy sitting at the bar.

For a moment, he seemed to smile – just a hint on the lips, really. Then she was beside the guy, speaking in a definite tone despite the deafening noise.

“Jay’s out of town.” She was referring to her boyfriend. “Ah okay.” The guy replied, showing a just a little interest to what she just said. But his eyes were saying otherwise.

She leaned over to mouth something to the guy directly in his ear, his breath tickling her breastbone.

At this point and almost carelessly, the guy slipped his hand to caress the girl’s elbow. She drew herself closer as she put her lips nearer his earlobe.

“Haven’t you broken up with her yet?” she asked, without batting an eyelash. He jerked a bit because of the question, looking a bit alarmed. “No, not yet.” He answered tentatively. “But I’m trying.”

Furtively studying the girl’s apparent disappointment, he elaborated. But really, it didn’t matter to the girl what the guy was saying. Though she wanted to probe further, but she didn’t. She knew it was best not to talk about the guy’s girlfriend. Or their respective partners, for that matter.

(to be concluded…)

You... Me... Once More

Sitting so close, I can almost taste her presence. I can feel the gentle gust of air from her mouth fondle the tiny hairs on my face.

Shattering the stillness, she uttered my name. “Lyle?” she said smoothly, like a whetted knife through a lump of butter. Smooth and easy.

Her throaty voice smothers my awareness with images of her ripened thin lips and cherry tongue, forming words in her mysterious moist darkness.

I asked her to sing. Syrupy notes and silky words spewed from her. With her rich, sensuous voice, it trickled on me like hot molasses. More than the sound, her resonance crawled down my body like finger nails gliding on the skin.

Despite the amber glow from the sculpted curve of the small of her back, the shimmer of her glossy pelvis, and the crescent of brightness the bay of her navel encapsulates, it’s all her that I see and hear.

And now that we’ve drifted apart, she’s now but a beautiful memory, a sweet dream, a lovely song of my soul. I close my eyes, listen, and see the luster of her legs, the light on her chest, the ember of her cheeks.

You, me. Once More.

Slowly, He Enters Her, 4

3. Bitiw (Spongecola)

“Ooh Yael! Yael! Yael!” the formulator of the “condom theory” yelped. “Who!?” I asked. “Yael! The vocalist! He’s sizzling!” she said. “That Spongebob person?” I muttered, in between puffing smoke. “Cola, SpongeCOLA."

Wag kang bibitiw bigla, wag ka bibitiw bigla-ha-haah. Pikit ang iyong mga mata-ha-haah. Higpitan lang ang iyong kapit. Maglalayag hanggang langit.

Heto na tayo, heto na tayo, Heto na tayo, heto na tayo. Wooh-hoooh!

Don’t let go, don’t let go (I know you have a more accurate translation in mind. Me too, but let’s just leave it at that, baka ma-report user tayo! Ha-ha!) Your eyes are closed. Tighten your grip. We’ll journey towards heaven together.

Here we come, we’re coming. We’re coming, here we come. Ooooh-aahhh!

Need it say more? Hmp?


2. Stars (Calla Lily)

I’m reminded of Paris Hilton’s “Stars are Blind.” So I turned to the same friend who shares the same promiscuity with Paris. “What the hell’s the connection between crazy gods and blind stars!?” I asked. “Shush! It doesn’t require anyone to think. It’s just her excuse to gyrate and crawl on the sand and shimmy and stuff.”

“Yeah, no issue. She’s just celebrating her being a “dumbelle.” Another friend interjected.


1. Doobidoo Heto Na (Kamikaze)

I personally feel that the lyrics were lacking, the words were chopped off maybe to conceal the real message. Doobidoo? It doesn’t make any sense, it doesn’t feel right.

Heto na! Heto na! Heto na! Waah! Doobidoobi doobidoobi doo Doobidoobi doobidoo wa.

(Robert Langdon mode) Now if we translate it to English and supply the missing words and syllables, we may be able to crack the code.

Here it comes! Here it comes! Here it comes! *moan*

Do (It) (Bey)Bi, Do (It) (Bey)Bi, Do (It) (Bey)Bi, Do (It) (Bey)Bi, Do (It)!
Do (It) (Bey)Bi, Do (It) (Bey)Bi, Do (It) (Bey)Bi, Do (It)!
Yeah *slurp*

Now tell me who else’s clean?

(Author’s note: This entry was written months ago, thus explains the obsolescence of the songs listed. I expected this entry to rate higher and to have more visitors than the other entries. And it did! You perverts!)

Slowly, He Enters Her, 3

7. She’s the One (Christian Bautista)

Now I don’t have that much problems with this one; the lyrics is … uhm … boyband-ish pop crap and all. But it’s the video I’m more concerned of.

So he’s watching the television, channel-surfing and all. And there's a girl, who pops up in every channel, and so he unleashed his perverted alter-ego and starts imagining that he’s with the girl. So she becomes every … uh … fantasy his sick mind can think of.

She transforms from a beauty queen, a rock chick, a skimpily-clad chambermaid (It’s soo internet porn!), to … a girl jumping rope … in slow motion! And then he says, “With bouncing jugs bigger than a Coleman freezer, She’s definitely The One!"

Top 6 and 5: I answered the door, some friends crashed into my place, so TV was so lewdly interrupted … I mean, rudely interrupted.


4. I Still Believe in Loving You (Sara Geronimo)

“Why’s she wearing a condom!?” my Tom-Cruise-sized-Nicole-Kidman-clone friend exclaimed. “What!?” I said, puzzled. My friend’s a pervert alright, but I couldn’t find anything sexually stimulating about Sarah.

“Her Prince Charming just, like, died for chrissakes! And the best she could wear is that abhorrent white condom-like cloaky cloaky thingie!?” she said. “And that’s a problem because?” I said, puzzled.

“How do we know she didn’t run off with his horse?”
“Huh? I don’t get it.”

“She’s wearing the horse’s condom!”

Rrrright.

(to be concluded…)

Slowly, He Enters Her, 2

10. Yakap sa Dilim (Orange and Lemons)

Now this is honest. The composer / singer (Jim Paredes) admitted that this is really an erotic song he wrote when the music-industry was filled with cutesy, sugary, un-poetic, bubblegum popcrap disguised as quality music. Now this is courageous … and literal.

But if you want to extract some political or philosophical sense from the song, Cuddling in the Dark, that’s also completely fine. If you can, that is.


9. Dale Candela (Poyake and Pimp Chicken)

This, I’m not sure of. My best guess would be; while we make kembot to the tune, pinagmumumura na pala tayo. “Dale dale candela, dale dale candela vame”

Dale is … I don’t know. Candela maybe a variation of Caliente which means Hot or Candela as in Candle, so suggests the shape of the … uhm … male reproductive weapon. And Vame may be a take from Vamos meaning “Let’s go” or “Bilis!” or maybe:

Pedro: Pare, na-DALE ko si Maria kagabi.
Juan: Pa’no yun? Eh di ba brown-out kagabi?
Pedro: Eh gumamit kami ng CANDELA.

Plus, if you’re using a nom de guerre like Pimp Chicken, it’s a dead giveaway. Pimp. Get it?


8. Taralets (Imago)

Seemingly harmless, isn’t it? But if we translate this slang into English, that would be “Let’s go” or “Come On” or “C’mon, let’s go … and hit the sack!”

Boy: Taralets! (With a naughty, knowing grin)
Girl: Saan? (Pa-demure effect, with matching pamaypay)
Boy: Alam mo na yun. (Winky wink wink!)

(to be concluded…)

Slowly, He Enters Her, 1

(Author's Note: I wrote this entry many moons ago, just forgot to post it. But anyway, I found the perfect opportunity. Since it's (Egad!) Valentine's season, I'm sure this is very fitting, save for the obsolence. So in line with the Season of Hormones, I give you this!)

Sex is everywhere; perversions abound. Wherever you look, we sex screaming in bold letters.

From commercials (Lahat ng hati na try na ni Heart, pati hating nangangati), campaign posters (Wow Dick!), public service TV programs (Kay Susan Tayo, try pinching your nose while saying it and you’ll get my point) to fishball stands (Harry Balls; Kiss My Balls).

Whenever I watch music channels (MTV, MYX, Ch.V, etc.) I just put on the television and let the music from the boob-tube fill my room as background while I go about my everyday existence. But this morning was different; I sat in front of the TV set watching stupid videos.

It amazes me how music-makers inject a little bit of subtle erotic stuff into their music in order to sell it. Sex sells, let's face it. Even though it’s very obvious that it has “explicit content”, the public still buys it, contending that it’s harmless.

Jumbo hotdog, Kaya mo ba to, Kaya mo ba to? (Jumbo Hotdog, Can you handle this? Can you handle this?) What do you mean you didn’t know that it was a hotdog-as-in-food song? What did you think it meant? Oh … you thought it meant THAT? Now why would you think of such a thing.

Ang kati ng bulaklak, mabaho ang bulaklak (the flower is itchy, the flower is smelly). No, this isn’t malaswa. Just because the song’s belted out by bountifully bosomed bouncy babes bursting out of their shirts?

Ugh. Give me a fuh-reaking break.

So I caught the Myx Daily Countdown on the tube that morning. Honestly I doubt the credibility of this countdown. But that’s beside the point.

(to be concluded...)

Just Because I'm Gwapo, 4

Homelessness is never a problem. Having spent almost all your life under a bridge or the streets; you should’ve been comfortable by now. Carton boards are way better than nothing, you know.

Don’t complain, you deserve that, you ingrates! Thank the government for making bridges and streets. Without them, you wouldn’t have a place you can call home.

That’s why people go to the States or United Kingdom because this country’s filthy and crawling with poor people. Most of my friend’s maids have already left for God-knows-where. And so are the millions of Filipinos.

Never mind if they die of homesickness, or they come home inside a wooden box, just as long as they can escape from this mud hole, and bring their kids imitation Oakley shades. Follow their example, especially you poor and ugly people. Leave … and never come back!

This drug addiction thing, I didn’t know they also have this. I thought it was only us, rich people, who can afford drugs. I wonder what kind of drugs they are into. Refined sugar? Or rock salt? Or maybe that crystal they make nudnod on their kili-kili?

If I were to become president, the first thing I would do is wipe out ugliness. Ugly streets, ugly buildings, ugly people, ugly economy, ugly politics, ugly everything. It’s easy to carry out that plan, I will rule by example (did I tell you that I’m the epitome of beautiful-ness?).

I will devise a law that will cater only to beautiful and rich people – us! I will make a decree that enforces people to marry people of the same financial and beauty bracket; rich people for rich people and beautiful people for beautiful people.

That way we can preserve our wealth and rid out society of these filthy ugly people. Survival of the prettiest, I will call it. And if they will not follow … well … uh … I’ll have them Botoxed to death!

Oh man! These talks about poor people and this country’s problems sure make my face oily. Better go to the salon and get a facial.

Just Because I'm Gwapo, 3

One time I went to my Dad’s building in Makati (the “right” side of Makati by the way and yeah (!) we own a lot of buildings), and there were like, a lot of poor people in the foyer, waiting. I can tell that they’re poor, they’re black, so itim. I have never seen so much poor people in one place, like there were 8 of them.

I asked my personal BG (bodyguard, dummy!) what they’re doing in a nice place such as my Dad’s building. He said they’re looking for a job. A job!? I said. They’re not qualified, they’re poor. And he was like ‘they’re smart people’. And I was like ‘But still!'

I mean, if they’re smart and all that, then why are they, like … poor? Can they, like, think of some ways to have money? I said. And my BG (bodyguard, dummy! How many times do I have to repeat it!?) said, “That’s why they’re here, to look for money."

Uhm? I mean, yeah, we’re rich and all that, in fact we are filthy rich but it’s not our obligation to give money to poor and ugly people. And if I were my Dad, I would post a “No Pretty Face, No Entry” policy like those at the clubs. (We have exclusive clubs by the way, so if you're RFB <Rich, Famous, Beautiful>, you are certainly not welcome!) I later learned from my secretary that sometimes the number of applicants even total to like over 30. My gaahd, like 30 poor ugly people in one place!? Man oh man! Stinkeeey!

They say that we, rich people, are superficial. To them I say, you’re just jealous. You’re jealous because you’re ugly; you’re jealous because you’re poor; you’re jealous because, well, we’re better off. Don’t hate us because we’re rich and famous and beautiful and all that.

So you say that you’re government hasn’t done anything to help you, I don’t care, they’re not my government. You know why? Because they’re rich and you’re poor, they’re beautiful and you’re ugly; and they wouldn’t want to waste their beautiful-ness on you, starving rats. They'd rather shove their heads in a microwave oven than attend to you!

The only time they would want to be with you (though it makes them sick) is during election time or some photo-ops. Take a hint, people. (Oh, and you should be rejoicing. Election time's coming, so that means, you know, like money!)

So your kids are starving huh? Simple. Bring your kids to restos and if you can’t afford to go resto-ing, bring them to, like, fast-foods. It’s that simple. Duh! And you people are a lucky bunch. Imagine you wouldn’t have to worry about, like, weight-loss and liposuction and all that.

(to be concluded…)

Just Because I'm Gwapo, 2

This “peso is 50 versus the dollar” stuff, I don’t get it. I mean, why do people fuss over such little amount? It’s not enough for a Macchiato, or a box of Cartier’s for pete’s sake! 50 pesos, so what? Even if it goes down to over a hundred … or even a thousand, big! freakin’! deal!

So they say like, a lot of people sink below the poverty line almost everyday. So, they’re like, poor people? Like broke? Like Martha Stewart broke?

My friends tell me that poor people are ugly people, and that poor people are criminals. No wonder criminals are so poorly-dressed. What can you expect from these people? That’s why I don’t mingle with them, I’m afraid I might get kidnapped or something, or worse get contaminated with their ugliness.

And what is politics? Like, police or something? Or maybe “ticks”? I’m sure they’re right in saying that Philippine politics is very dirty; it’s not even a beautiful word by the sound of it, politics. I should know. My dead dog, a Labrador Retriever named Gorgeous, had a city of ticks under her coat. And I’ll tell you, it’s not the most pleasant sight in the whole wide, like, world!

I’d rather eat Jollibee than look at them. Maybe “politics” means insect-contamination or something. I don’t know, told you I’m just gwapo.

You know last week I wrote a letter to the I-forgot-the-name-of-the-paper-because-I’m-so dumb magazine. Actually, I didn’t write the whole letter, my secretary did. But I helped, yeah, like, four big words: Dear Mister Editor Man.

Okay so we sent the letter to their office, demanding them not to publish such unpleasant stuff like Muslim people or poor people or garbage and stuff, or else my friends and I are gonna boycott their parties.

I mean, if we don’t show up at their parties, their camera-people (what do you call those?) wouldn’t have any pictures; and if they don’t have pictures, they wouldn’t have anything to put in their, like, lifestyle sections; and they’re gonna close the paper, and they become … like … poor!

Ha! I know, I’m brilliant.

(to be concluded…)

Just Because I'm Gwapo, 1

The Philippines is in shambles. The peso plummets further against the dollar. The Muslim extremists and the NPA terrorist acts intensify. The political situation is unredeemable with its players changing party allegiances more frequently than you change your clothes. More and more people sink below the poverty line. Carnage in the streets. Children sold to slavery and prostitution. Drug addiction escalating.

Yeah, I know how to read. I was just reading the headlines. I always see these in the headings whenever I pick up my morning papers. Oh yeah, I get all leading newspapers everyday, but I’m all for their health and lifestyle sections only.

Even in CNN or BBC, where I get my daily dose of inside stuff about celebrities (Man, Adrianna Lima is scorching! Is she even human?), I’m always bombarded with these unpleasant stuff. I only want to know if there’s a new Paris Hilton sex tape coming up.

I’m sorry but I’m just a handsome face. And rich, too.

Everyday when I go to the gym, I always see these families in the streets, begging and all. Man, they’re so disgusting. I mean, don’t they know how to take a bath or something? The kids are so dirty, with their filthy hands; I wonder how they could eat with those. Haven’t they heard of soap and alcohol? And they’re so skinny too. Well, yeah, I would want to be thin and all, but … y’know, without the flies.

And who is this Gloria person everyone’s been talking about? Is she the small woman with a big bad mole and a stupid hairstyle? Geez, haven’t she heard of Vogue? And that mole, outta here! I heard she’s the big boss. I don’t know about her being “big” but if she’s really that bigshot, she could’ve hired better stylists. Those outfits are so passé. And what’s this ConAss thing? My PA (personal assistant!) said some people are plotting to eradicate (big word, huh?) the president during the convention. Tell you what, the first people that’s gotta go are those ugly, disgusting … ugly people.

Like the ones in the streets, and those mediocre (I learned this word today, my secretary taught me) film stars. Can the police just round them all up and ship them to … uhm … Mindanao or something?

(to be concluded…)

Of Mutts and Waifs, Part 5

Melancholic Mutt: Well ... before in the dooms, being an alcoholic I was broke most of the time. So when I hear or get invited in singing contests, I made patol just to sustain my lifestyle. Last I joined, that was like December of last year I think, at Saint Mo? Can't remember. Anyway, so cheapo of me, so embarrassing! But still, I got cash! Fortunately I won most of the time. Hahaha. Shh, it's a secret that only 4 (including you) people know about. Haha.

Wonder Waif: Haha. We almost share the same sentiment! Ever wondered why I took the globe/scoobys thing?

Melancholic Mutt: Hahaha, oh yeah I remember that! You Miss Globe-Scoobys you! And every computer station at Scoobys had this like desktop wallpaper of you! I was like whoa!

Wonder Waif: And during that, I was dying of embarrassment! I had a measly pay of just a few thousand. Good enough. Hehe.

Melancholic Mutt: And Law, well it’s a childhood dream, my ancestors were lawyers. When kids were practicing their ABC's, little Lyle's learning to read with the aid of law books. When kids went to parks and playgrounds, little Lyle's in the courtroom with his Grappa. Kids love the see-saw, little Lyle loved the office swivel chair. Hehe.

Wonder Waif: Wow that story is like out of a novel! Hehe. Either your bound to be a lawyer or you are to make a difference. Translation: family's disgrace. Hehe.

Melancholic Mutt: Haha, looks like I'm doing the make-a-difference, tainted the family name and all. But pretty soon I will redeem myself.

Wonder Waif: I will bask in the glow of your redemption. Hehe.

Of Mutts and Waifs, Part 4

Melancholic Mutt: Tried ABC for a management course, but I couldn't stand accounting, so I dropped out. Went to DEF for some short course on Creative Writing because I was invited by a magazine, that lasted for two months. This sem, I plan to go to GHI for a 2-year computer programming course. God I need a diploma!

Wonder Waif: Haha. You keep on shifting schools. Good you have the luxury to switch constantly! If I told my parents I want to change school now, God forbid they'd faint for sure! Why do you need the diploma? To apply for jobs outside your power group? Hehe. If I were you I'd stick to it. Comfort zone. Familiar territory.

Melancholic Mutt: That's 8 schools on the last count. Haha. Nah, I wanna try something new, have a diploma, and be employed as a regular. I wanna sing, write, take pictures, build my own empire, go to Law school. God so little time so much to do. No wait scratch that, so much time wasted, so much stuff to do.

Wonder Waif: Why is law so big nowadays!? Everyone's taking law! It's not so appealing to me. What's the basis of its appeal? So you can deviate or sue more? Hehe wait here’s one more... You sing!? I NEVER KNEW THAT! Is this the you-wanna-know-how-to, or a you-already-know-how-to-but-I-just-don't-know?

Melencholic Mutt: Hahaha. Well yeah, it's a secret, I used to sing in high school and early part of college, but I was so darn shy! But now not anymore, nicotine's eating up my lungs and vocal chords; I cannot sustain a note long enough. I used to get invitations but nah, I'm so freakin' insecure! I wanna let you in on a little secret...

Wonder Waif: Okay, let me in on that little teeny weeny itty bitty secret...

(to be concluded…)

Of Mutts and Waifs, Part 3

Melancholic Mutt: Their new barista had this really snotty look on his face, like he was casting pearls among swine. So un-Starbucks-y!

Wonder Waif: Hahaha. That barista better be fired. I hate discrimination on un-bathed customers! Hehehe. Jeez Lyle you must be malodorous now! I hate it that they have to call your name and you have to go there. I gave up on the coffee thing. I'm all too lazy about it!

Melancholic Mutt: Hahaha! That cracked me up! Malodorous I certainly am not! Oh me, I refuse to go there when they scream my name, “Cappuccino for Grouchy”! And I would then retort with a “Here Please”! I'm paying more than my coffee so they'd better deliver it to me. Ooh yeah, my name's Grouchy so it's like a hint for them that I eat people, especially baristas that resemble cardboards.

Wonder Waif: Hahahaha. Grouchy? I can picture your Starbucks moment now! I know someone who tells them his name's GOD. Hehe. Let's trip on them when I get there. Let's give a very very unnerving and attention-grabbing name! Perfect! Something to tell our grandchildren.

… pause …

Wonder Waif: Okay so how do you offer yourself to these companies? I hope it's not the lift-and-flash-your-leg approach. Hehe. So where do you study again? Pardon me since I lost all brain cells containing these information during one sped-up night. Tsk, tsk.

Melancholic Mutt: Tried it, but the lift-and-flash my legs didn't work for me; they even threatened to sue me with alarm-and-scandal! Well, I have groups so when there's a proj, I just tag along. The power of connections, haha! That's why they let me join their groups.

Wonder Waif: Yeah, I understand the power and importance of connections. The only hope for salvation of my messy transcript is having a good connection. Oh stress the importance! Where do you go to school again? God you actually straighten up your life there! Hehe. From your wobbly life in dooms.

(to be concluded…)

Of Mutts and Waifs, Part 2

Melancholic Mutt: I was just picturing you out with a red flowing dress doing the flamenco in Europe. I think I'm drunk, guess I just need some person to text with, otherwise I would run amok and behead everyone with a bread knife.

Wonder Waif: Haha. You get all murderous when you’re drunk! Hey don't picture me doing those cultural dances! Club dancing is my thing! Where are you drinking? What an alcoholic!

… pause …

Wonder Waif: I have the most irregular sleeping habits I tell you! Now I just woke up again, and I know I'm gonna fall back to sleep again. Now how can you get a decent conversation out of me? It's like somnambulism. Hehe. My best hours are from late afternoon to late at night. I hope you nurse that hangover well!

Melancholic Mutt: Ooh man, I'm on my way to Starbucks ... without ligo! But who cares anyway? Like we'd be sniffing each other out! It's just a 3-minute walk, so. Yeah that's pretty irregular alright, are you like taking pills to ... uh ... make it regular?

Wonder Waif: Hahaha. Okay, what's with the unnecessary dots after the word pills? I'm too lazy to drink the melatonin pills, you have to drink it for one week before effects take place. Where do you live there ulit? That's so liberating, bathe-less and having a signature coffee shop nearby!

Melancholic Mutt: Ortigas, I live near UA&P and the Shangri-la and Megamall. So yeah quite liberating, and stressful too. Coffee shops are poppin' out like mushrooms so its kinda freaky! Melatonin, what is? Ooh, does that make you like, high? Wanna try it, save me some! Juuust kidding! Or am I?

Wonder Waif: Hehe. Melatonin is the hormone that regulates your body clock. Don't get all too perked-up there! I guess I burst your bubble, oh yeah? God, too much good looks in ua&p. I'd love to people-watch there. So refresh my memory. You have a job right? You're like a mystery superhero to me.

(to be concluded…)

Of Mutts and Waifs, Part 1

One night, while everyone was fast asleep, and there's not a lot of crime-fighting to do, two of the world's most gorgeous superheroes were texting each other...

Halfway through.. And after the "juicy" parts.. *wink, wink*

Wonder Waif: Oh jeez not that kind of dancer! Hehe. I meant the dancer in those high-end clubs which you can't sleep with nor touch. Well, not unless I'd allow them to. Haha! Adrianna Lima's hot hot hot! Is she even human? Gorgeous! Anyway, why don't you tend bars in Ibiza? That way you'll never be bored!

Melancholic Mutt: Well, thought about it. Figured I don't want to tend bars in Ibiza, I wanna be with the party crowd. Hmm, it's just an illusion though. I mean who would want to hire a bartender who falls short on the hot-ness department? Even in Vanuatu or Namibia! Ooh, so you wanna be a stripper?

Wonder Waif: I don't want to strip! Just gyrate and shimmy! Haha. Me stripping is not at all pleasing. Haha.

Melancholic Mutt: Says who!? A lotta chickas beat themselves up in the gym just to have a bod like yours, and guys, they deny their girls food and lock them up in the gym.

Wonder Waif: Haha. Jeez Lyle thanks for the dishonest flattery! Hahaha. Well, if its the only choice, then why not? What's in store for you tonight? I'm gonna read three sets of Sunday papers. My dad gets all 3 leading newspapers. It's his Sunday treat. Hehe. I'm all about the lifestyle pages!

Melancholic Mutt: Well I'm not saying that you should strip. But if you, well ... I have to ready my passport and buy tickets as early as now because I'm sure the whole world's gonna be there. I'm here at Jack's Loft, meet up with some friends. No, seriously, that wasn't flattery, not even close.

Wonder Waif: Still out drinking? I'm watching Saturday Night Live, its hilarious! Hahaha. If you're out with your colleagues, be wary! Hehe.

Melancholic Mutt: Nah, it’s not really a drinking binge, meet up with some high school friends, tonight was only time that our schedules surprisingly jived.

(to be concluded…)

The World According to Garp

"Garp was a natural storyteller," says the narrator of John Irving's incandescent novel, referring to the book's hero, the novelist Garp, who has much in common with Irving himself. "He could make things up one right after the other, and they seemed to fit."

Irving packs wild characters and weird events into his classic--officially recognized as such in a Modern Library edition with a new introduction by the author--while amazingly maintaining the rough feel of realism in every scene and the pulse of life in every heart. Many novelists of his time might have populated a novel with a novelist protagonist whose life and books comment on each other and the novel we're reading. Transsexual football players, ball turret gunners lobotomized in battle, multiple adultery, unicycling bears, mad feminists who amputate their tongues in sympathy with the celebrated victim of a horrifying rape--Irving made them all people. Even the bear is a fitting character.

In a crucial episode, Garp's wife's seduction of a young man coincidentally occurs at the moment when Garp is delighting their young sons with a reckless car trick (one of the few scenes beautifully, eerily, heartbreakingly captured in the film version as well). Many authors would have been content with the harsh comedy of the scene, but Irving respects its integrity, and he builds the rest of the book on the consequences of the event. How does he get away with his killer cocktail of slapstick and horror? Because it's simply what we all face daily, rearranged into soul-satisfying art. "Life is an X-rated soap opera," according to Garp, and who can contradict him?

Rereading Garp 20 years later, one is struck by how elegantly Irving structures his bizarre and complex story. Take the two most celebrated bits in the book, the Under Toad and Garp's story "The Pension Grillparzer," which shimmers like an exquisite Kafkaesque insect in the amber of the novel. When Garp warns his son about the "undertow" at the beach, the boy imagines a monster out of Beowulf who lurks beneath the waves to suck you under: the "Under Toad." It's funny at first, but we soon find that the Under Toad is a metaphor with teeth--he connects with a prophetic dream of death in "The Pension Grillparzer," set in Vienna. Garp's son's last words are, "It's like a dream!" And as Irving--who studied at the University of Vienna--can certainly tell you, the German word for "death" sounds precisely like the English word "toad."

All that death, and yet Garp is mainly exuberant. This story is, as Garp's stuttering writing teacher puts it, "rich with lu-lu-lunacy and sorrow." It enriches literature, and our lives. --Tim Appelo --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

Review by: (Amazon.com), Photo by: (Reading Group Guides)