Or the night DEFTONES gave us whiplash and made us shove it (shove it, shove it, shove it -- haha) on their Diamond Eyes Tour. Chino Moreno was fearless, diving into the crowd, climbing barricades and generally stirring us into beautiful fury. He had certainly cut down and lost a lot of weight.
At the WTC. Love for the vatos, girl
Managed to touch the hem of his shirt as he rushed by. Hallelujah, ese, I have been saved! Loved the set, especially on "Back to School / Mini-Maggit." We went to chill out at the Scout area later.
Stephen Carpenter, you were big, hairy and awesome. So, um, how about one of those seven string ESPs ey?
Thanks to Chief Editor JOEL SALUD for this review. Please do grab a copy of the Philippines Graphic, available at all National Bookstore outlets by next week.
Here's an excerpt from the review:
De MESA'S NEWS OF THE SHAMAN
“He shrugged, puzzled, opened the door and found he was overlooking a mosh pit working itself into frenzy. The sound of thumping bass, drums and guitars got louder.”
In Karl R. de Mesa’s News of the Shaman, literary moshing and bodyslam are taken to the next level of the imagination. Jazzy and frenetic as only de Mesa can pen it (who is probably a tad spunkier than beat era fictionist Jack Kerouac), this collection of stories delve into worlds where quiet tours into the human condition are not found; only the awesome and spectacularly gothic live here, where one’s sense of being is most strangely linked with the rough feel of sizzle in the grass, the scent of blood-red cumulus from a distance, and the slow rumbling of unpronounced verbs from a drum. Definitely working itself into frenzy.
It’s one of those books that most poignantly show freshness and originality, but not the way most readers understand the terms. The book’s freshness has nothing of daffodils in it. Originality for de Mesa apparently breaks the rigors of tradition if only to spur the public into a winding spell, or a perennial state of transience, bravely straddling worlds and words, consciences and hallways, doors, floors, time and grime—and the quintessential washroom—places no sunrise would dare touch:
“Before he can open his pants, however, he coughs, and the cough quickly turns into a deep, growling phlegm fit. He directs his mouth over the urinal just in time to point the green and yellow vomit that comes out of his lips. At first it’s just a dribble, timid and slow, then it promptly turns into a forceful surge that reminds me of the way water from a fireman’s hose is so powerfully expelled when the hydrant if first turned on. By this time he’s bent nearly double over the urinal and the small sink that is only built to catch piss is overflowing with the wretched, half-digested remains of his dinner, lunch and breakfast. Complete with clues.”
No, it’s not an attempt to uselessly shock and awe, to grab the reader in a vice-grip of stunningly crafted images, or the things we’d rather not read about. Apparently, the nature and tone of his stories demand the grotesque in everyday life, the bizarre and grossly misshapen cogs that wheel us into literary sleeplessness, or flurry. News of the Shaman gives one a peek into worlds thick with seraphs and lovers, wizards, bishops, nuno and duendes, and corporate disciples with even less moral bearing than an imaginary Hitler after solvent rehab. De Mesa was even kind enough to give stocky elfins a face and Florsheims. . .
CONTINUED. For the rest of the review please clickHERE.
Opting out in the face of corruption charges. Doesn't seem very heroic to me. And this must be the most dishonorable way for a soldier, let alone a leader of soldiers, to exit. Nevertheless I hope the General finds the peace he craved that so eluded him in the last days of his life.
The General shot himself over the grave of his mom. Mind the blood spatter.
Ex-AFP chief commits suicide, police confirm By Katherine Evangelista Agence France-Presse, INQUIRER.net First Posted 08:53:00 02/08/2011
MANILA, Philippines—(UPDATE 6) “Sorry.”
That was the last word that former Armed Forces of the Philippines chief of staff Angelo Tomas Reyes apparently uttered as his sons and aides frantically carried him and rushed him to the hospital on Tuesday.
Doctors at the Quirino Memorial Medical Center in Quezon City tried to revive him for 45 minutes but failed.
Reyes, 65, who had also served as defense secretary and in other Cabinet-level posts, died from a single bullet fired into his chest, Health Secretary Enrique Ona said.
Eastern Police's District chief Superintendent Francisco Manalo said investigation showed that the gunshot wound Reyes sustained was “self-inflicted.”
Ona said the wound on the left side of the chest near the heart was the cause of death. "He was dead on arrival (at hospital). They were not able to revive him,” he told reporters.
Reyes, together with his two children and a bodyguard, was visiting his mother’s grave at the Loyola Memorial Park in Marikina City Tuesday morning, Feliciano Recorba, a cemetery maintenance staff, told Radyo Inquirer.
"He asked his children and bodyguard to go ahead and wait for him in the car,” Recorba said. A few moments later, a gunshot rung out, he said.
“Sorry” was the last word Reyes uttered as his shocked children rushed to the scene and found him lying on the ground holding a gun, Recorba said.
“Ang narinig ko po na sinabi niya ay ‘sorry’, palagay ko po ay para sa anak [I heard him say ‘sorry’, perhaps to his son],” he said.
Reyes, who loved his mother very much, had told the Philippine Daily Inquirer in a previous interview that he would never do anything that would besmirch the name of “my good mother.”
What's worse than rampaging blood-suckers? Demonically-possessed vampires who want intergalactic domination! This looks awesome though.I just love the crucifix shurikens. Originally a Tokyo Pop title.
Grab a copy of The Philippines Free Press (which turned a venerable 100 years old this year -- congrats FP!) February 2011 issue and check out my essay "My Transcendental Knife."
Thanks to literary editor Joel Toledo for releasing this. Incidentally, Joel's going to Italy soon for a (drum roll) literary fellowship. Wasakaderci baiao!