As my facebook friend had said, Patrick Swayze is well and truly a ghost now.
There goes another piece of my childhood...
Patrick Swayze passed away peacefully today with family at his side
after facing the challenges of his illness for the last 20 months.
Patrick died at 57, a result of a long bout against pancreatic cancer. He will be missed, of course, but we could all thank Baby Jesus for the DVDs. We can have a Swayze Day and spend it watching Point Break, Ghost, Dirty Dancing and To Wong Foo... with a bowl of popcorn and gallons of Coke. Because, you know, that's how we roll.
Bodhi, Johnny Castle and Sam Wheat may be his most famous characters but to me, he would always be the Glamorously Bitchin' Diva, Vida Boheme.
Check this out! Is this kickin' or what?
"Well pumpkins, it comes down to that age-old decision: style... or... substance?"
I won't forget you, Patrick.
Especially everytime I see my picture from 17 yrs. ago. I got the friggin "Molly" haircut from Ghost. Courtesy of meddling Mama Bear. How can one forget?!
Have a good one, dude. Heaven should prepare for a Dirty Dancing Night.
Debuted by two of my favorite Koreans (occassionally, whatever) , Song Hye Kyo and Hyun Bin.
The two have been hooking up apparently for several months now. Pardon me, I just crawled out of my rut rock and so it's only now that I knew of this.
To anyone who actually gives a crap about this, the two met on the set of the Korean soap I haven't watched (nor do I plan to) "The World They Live In". The two had been going steady and they keep in touch through texting---just like any human. Except they're cuter and has more money.
I've always liked Song Hye Kyo. I've seen her first as the weepy girl in Endless Love and as the adorable ditz in Full House (a KDrama close to my heart) and I've always thought that she's beautiful.
The only drama that I've seen Hyun Bin on was My Name Is Kim Sam Soon (who hasn't?). Anyway, that's about it because I can't tolerate the rest. His movie, Millionaire's First Love, irritated me for some reason that I can't get through the first ten minutes. I tried, but no can do.
I'm not sure of this hook up but I hope they'd last. They're beautiful to watch, if nothing else.
I just would like to spare a moment to thank Calvin Klein for sharing with me (and to the world) these gorgeous specimens of manhood...
 Travis Fimmel |  Damien Van Zyl |
 Fred Ljungberg |  Scott Barnhill |
 Vincent Kartheiser (Too bad, it's only jeans...) |  Butch Walker |
And just because...
Keanu doing some shopping... razor and shaving cream not included. Probably because he's projecting Jerry Garcia.
39 YEARS AGO TODAY, A MAN DIED IN A BATH TUB IN PARIS, FRANCE. (OR SO THEY SAY)
HE WAS WIDELY KNOWN AS THE LIZARD KING.
SOME SAID HE WAS A POET AND A ROCK GOD.
SOME SAID HE WAS A PRETENTIOUS DRUNKEN BUFFOON.
WHATEVER HE IS, HE IS A SHOOTING A STAR.
SHOTS THROUGH THE NIGHT IN A GLOROIUS LIGHT...AS QUICKLY AS HE CAME, HE WAS GONE.
NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN.
JAMES DOUGLAS MORRISON
(DECEMBER 8, 1943 - JULY 3, 1971)
I am troubled
Immeasurably
By your eyes.
I am struck
by the feather
of your soft reply.
The sound of glass
speaks quick
disdain.
And conceals
what your eyes
fight to explain.
"If a man can bridge the gap between life and death, … if he can live on after he's dead, then maybe he was a great man."
STARK'S FAST FACTS:
Birth Name: James Byron Dean
Nickname: Jimmy Dean
Birth Date: February 8, 1931
Birth Place:Seven Gables Apartments in Marion, IN
Death Date: September 30, 1955
Death Place: Cholame, CA
Burial Location: Park Cemetery in Fairmount, IN
Height: 5'8" (1.73m)
Parents: Winton and Mildred Dean
High School Education: Fairmount High School, IN
College Education: Santa Monica Junior College and UCLA
Occupation: Actor
First Professional acting Job: Pepsi Commercial
STARK'S FAVES:
Hobbies: Painting, Writing, Bullfighting, Photography, Sculpting, Car Racing, Horse Riding and Playing the Bongos
Drink: Coffee
Ice Cream Flavor: Coffee and Raspberry
Music: A few genres and artists include: African Tribal Music, Afro-Cuban Songs and Dances, classical (Bartok, Stravinsky), Judy Garland, Billie Holiday and Frank Sinatra.
Song: Billie Holiday's "When Your Lover Has Gone"
Album: Frank Sinatra's Songs for "Young Lovers"
Jim Stark: You can wake up now, the universe has ended.
credits: http://www.jamesdean.com/about/favorites.htm www.jamesdeangallery.com
WARNING: LONG ASS POST!!!
After an of eternity waiting, finally, I got a copy. I can’t believe the shit I had to go through just to get a copy of this long-awaited book. Hell, it’s been 3 years. Three-fuckin-years. If that isn’t dedication, I don’t know what is. I had to resort to lying and cheating and a beating from my mother just so I could buy this. Gawd. Good thing I didn’t pay attention to that cheesy book trailer they posted on the Dark Hunter site.
(Notice how this dude is TOTALLY NOT Acheron.)
I don’t usually like reading vampire novels that doesn’t have the name Anne Rice emblazoned all over the cover. Until Piwi introduced me to that hot piece of Roman ass, Valerius (Seize the Night), I was sort of used to debauch bisexual vampires from
It was my point of no return. I was hooked.
Piwi and I would read every Dark Hunter novel that came out. And in all of those novels, one guy would always stand out. Their leader, Acheron Parthenopaeus. He would always be described as that tall, sexy guy with long dark hair and strange, swirling eyes. He was witty, mysterious and ultra-powerful. He was a bad ass but he was also compassionate and kind. He loved his little deranged demon, small children and he liked riding around on his bike. He liked drinking beer but he doesn’t like to eat. He always saves the day.
Artemis once described him as:
He had been built to please, and trained to pleasure. Everything about him from the sleek muscles that rippled to the deep, erotic timber in his voice seduced anyone who came into contact with him.
Like a lethal wild animal, he moved with a primal promise of danger and masculine power. With the promise of supreme sexual fulfillment.
(### They went overboard with this but what the hell, let’s just go with it)
Ash’s book was a thrill to read because it was divided into two parts: The past and the present. It pleased me that I don’t have to put up with those annoying flashbacks in every few pages. That sort of writing just makes me dizzy. Plus, it made me understand Acheron’s past more clearly. The Dude is 11,000 years old, the first few thousand years of his life should be presented to the public--- no matter how brutal and degrading it was. And no matter how depressing. If you think you had it bad, try reading the first part of Acheron’s book and you’d think your life is one giant wonderland. His clearly isn’t.
(SPOILERS!)
Some readers were rather uncomfortable about the detailed portrayal of Ash’s past (esp. allusions to giving someone a blowjob) but it couldn’t be helped. He was a whore so it goes without saying and it’s expected of him. It didn’t faze me that much. Rice’s Vampire Armand pretty much numbed me. Acheron’s life is full of pain and suffering. If you think it couldn’t get any worse, it will. His real father wanted to kill him when he was a baby that he had to be hidden in the human realm; He was made into some sort of a whipping boy; He was given away and turned into a whore. When he finally fell in love, his heart chose a selfish goddess who won’t even dare to acknowledge him in public. Yeah, Acheron’s life is no glitters and stardust. The only good thing in his life is his sister, Ryssa. She loved him unconditionally, but at times, it even turns out badly.
It also didn’t help that he was so beautiful everybody wanted a piece of him. He never had normal relationships…except for his nephew---who got killed eventually, along with his sister, Ryssa. Who was also not immune to Ash’s amazing sex appeal. As if this wasn’t enough, he was also castrated. Unfortunately, he didn’t die. Apollo did the honors for him and it wasn’t pretty. Artemis, the heifer-bitch-goddess disappointed me. Again. Why I keep on hoping that she would redeem herself just once is beyond me. Artemis was a selfish bitch who has insecurity issues and no backbone to speak of. It was a good thing she didn’t end up being Ash’s heroine. That would be too much. I might end up hating Acheron because, really, how stupid can one get? One lifetime’s okay, but two? Artemis kept saying she loved him. Everytime she does I keep imagining my fist buried in her mouth.
Good thing it turned out that he actually had a mother. She wasn’t normal either but she loved him so much. So much, in fact, that she sank Atlantis and brought on the Dark Ages when she found out that her beloved son had died. Frankly, this is the part where I almost licked my lips in satisfaction. Forget the naked Ash part (although that was good too), a good revenge always turns me on. The only thing that saddens me is that Ash finally found someone who would touch him with all the love in the world without lust or malice and yet, he couldn’t. One hug from his mother could bring on the end of the world.
Irony’s a bitch.
Onward, 2008…
We now know Ash as the sexy, powerful god who leads the Dark-Hunters. His past was kept a secret and the ones who knew him from before was, luckily, all tight-lipped. Thank the Source that Savitar is no Perez Hilton. Ash finally had friends and was more aware of his powers. He found a place where he belonged but since his past is deeply ingrained in him, he was, at times, still isolated. He was wise and he believed in the power of love, having seen it on several of his Dark Hunters whom he had freed. He believed in it, he just didn’t expect it to happen to him.
Until he met Tori.
Tori was described as tall with beautiful hair. But that’s about it. She was plain looking, a direct contrast from that evil bitch Artemis, who is stunning. But Tori had grit---and a hammer she wasn’t afraid to throw.
Grit would always trump beauty anytime. I’d like to think so.
Anyway, the first time Tori met Ash, he was an asshole. But we couldn’t really blame him. Tori had discovered Ash’s deepest, darkest secret: in the form of Ryssa’s diary. Hale and whole but written in Atlantean. Good thing that nobody from Atlantis is running around the
So a dude’s got to do what a dude’s got to do: Discredit the smart lady.
But Ash was mistaken if he thought the lady would just forget about Atlantis. He didn’t take into consideration the determination of a woman who wants to clear her family name from being labeled as a bunch of loons for trying to locate the sunken city. He then finally decided to employ the adage from Art of War: Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
As their individual quests goes on, they got to know more about each other and both found out the other wasn’t always what they seemed. Tori, despite looking mousy and rather plain was a daredevil by heart and Ash, despite his forbidding persona, is nothing but a marshmallow inside. Together, they make a nice contrast and theirs was a love unexpected but nonetheless welcomed, if not immediately. ^_^
Kenyon picked the perfect heroine for Ash. Well, almost perfect. There were times when I just want to drop kick Tori. Those times were when she keeps harping on about Ash not understanding humiliation and such. Sure, she didn’t know anything about Ash’s past but that doesn’t give her the right to assume she had the worst of it. As they say, there are worse things.
“It’s easy to look at people and make quick judgments about them, their present and their pasts, but you’d be amazed at the pain and tears a single smile hides. What a person shows to the world is only one tiny facet of the iceberg hidden from sight. And more often than not, it’s lined with cracks and scars that go all the way to the foundation of their soul.”
Unlike Artemis though, Tori redeemed herself. When she fell for Ash, she fell wholeheartedly. Past be damned. If anything, it made her love him all the more and you feel triumphant for Ash, that finally, somebody loved him for who and what he was and what he is. It was heart wrenching when he keeps on expecting her to reject him or be repelled by him and she, in turn, never cease to surprise him.
Artemis, as expected, didn’t help any. If anything, she made it difficult. But she had her comeuppance and in my opinion, she had finally seen the light. Or at least, a small sliver of it. I’d like to think Artemis had realized how important Ash was to her.
As far as I’m concerned, I absolutely loathed waiting for this book. It tried my patience but on finally reading it, it was worth it. I didn’t have ay expectations, to be honest, because that would just add another irritation in my life. I gave up two days and one night of Arki review so I could read Acheron. I was glad the Big Dude finally got his happy ending. He deserved it. For all the sufferings, the heartaches and the pain, he deserved Tori. I admit I keep comparing him to Lestat, my original fanged hero, but the two is as similar as North and South. Where Lestat is arrogant, Ash is humble. Both are powerful but their powers are used for different reasons. If that were Lestat in place of Ash in Artemis’ temple, God help the bitch goddess…she’s going to be gutted and toasted while Lestat dance a waltz over her entrails.
Hmmm…Should I try writing Ms. Rice and Ms. Kenyon?
The final line of the book is interesting though.
Artemis: "Would you be my friend, Nicholas? I promise you, you won't regret it."
Does this mean some sort of a relationship would start between Nick and Artemis? Will he be Ash No.2 or what?
I love speculations and such but this is turning out to be a novel in itself if I don’t stop yammering. This isn’t much of a review anyway despite the long ass post. I was just relieving my spleen.
Anyway, toodles!
Well hell, it’s confirmed: Govind Armstrong is friggin’ ENGAGED!
As if I needed another grief in my life. What with reviews, impending bankruptcy and other random shit that I had to deal with everyday, not to mention a giant gaping wound on my index finger which I almost accidentally chopped off the other night. The result of which made my left hand a bit useless---I can’t hold a fucking pen. If you’re planning to draw for a living, you’d need fingers and be able to grip them.
I don’t know what his girlfriend looked like but I’m guessing she won’t be fat and depressed. She won’t ever have problems of an empty LPG, electric bills and taxi fares. Govind would drive the lucky ho everywhere. I would also guess she doesn’t gorge on Doritos, M & M’s and Coke for lunch. She would be too dignified for that. I doubt the sexy(even if he's an infidel) chef would allow his precious lady love to eat shit like that.
*Starts looking for a bag of Cheetos*
Dear Paul,
You are an asshole.
But I like you anyway. Sincerely. I have liked you for ten years now. I’ve kept it as a secret for that long too. Considering the fact that I’m not one of those quiet, mysterious girls you seem to like so much, you would concede that this is no small feat. Especially since every time you see me, I’m running my mouth. That was just an accident. I really tried to be one of those girls so you would notice that I’m capable of change. I failed, of course, as expected. Being mysterious was incredible hard work. All it gave me was a headache and a stiff neck. Guess, I’ll never be the girl you want.
But then, this is me. I’ll just ignore that fact and get on with my life.
Now that I’ve let that out of my system, let me move along with this letter. I’d like to clear up some misconceptions you have of me since we first met.
Remember the time you passed by me in the stairwell and I was talking to a friend of mine and you yelled for me to ‘shut up!’? I was so surprised that I DID shut up. I want you to know that I considered punching you twice in the mouth and once on the nose if you weren’t so goddamned tall, as I simultaneously fiercely kick your shins and push you down the stairs. Then I noticed you were wearing your old worn out Levi’s. I always thought you looked gorgeous in Levi’s. Well, your ass, to be precise, but we’re not talking specifics. Anyway, I was temporarily blindsided and before I know it, you’re already on the fourth floor, my eyes still pathetically following the sight of your ass.
By the way, this letter is not an elaborate joke/prank designed solely to humiliate you. In fact, if there’s anyone who’s going to be humiliated by this letter, it would probably be me when you suddenly decide to be your usual bastard self and post this as a bulletin on Friendster. I mean, hell, ten years of deluding myself with you is no friggin’ joke! It IS absurd, yes, but it’s no joke. Ten years may just be two words, dude, but it’s a hell of a long time.
And no, I am not in love with your brother, even if he is such a fine specimen of a man and a great deal nicer than you’ll ever be--- and even when I told everyone I liked him. I just told everyone that piece of lie because, well, it seemed like such a good idea at that time. I mean, everyone thought I was a lesbian (including my mother) and your brother was there, tall and shirtless, the tattoo on the middle of his shoulder blades gleaming of sweat, playing basketball, and I thought: There’s my guy. So I told everyone. I’ve never thought that this would irritate you. This even made you hostile. I apologize for that. Insincerely, but I apologize nonetheless. You wouldn’t expect anything less from me, I know.
You love your brother and you are protective of him, I understand, but dude, YOU HAVE GOT TO GET A GRIP! Your ELDER brother is six-foot-one of lean muscles and with a black-belt in AIKIDO. I’m pretty sure he could take on a five-foot-three uncoordinated lump of lard, who wheezes at any form of exertion, never exercises and excels only in being a couch potato that is me, should I suddenly decide to lose my virginity and take his unsullied virtue in a dark alley one night. Get real.
Seriously, stop treating him like a fucking delicate Dresden Doll. You are allowed to imagine me rolling my eyes at your ridiculousness because the very thought of your hard assed brother as someone fragile just makes me want to gag. But enough about your brother.
Why do I like you, you ask?
Well, my heart starts to beat faster whenever you’re around. This, of course, might just be because you remind me of Satan.
I Kid. Maybe.
Anyway, I don’t know. You are rude and you seem to hate people (me particularly). You are cold and unfeeling. I’m tired of telling my friends I hate you and that you are the spawn of Satan—well, maybe you are, but I don’t care. I liked you anyway. There’s no use denying it. I think I can tell you exactly when it happened:
I woke up one morning from a dream while I was confined in the hospital --that you dragged my hospital bed to the school gym so I could watch a basketball game, dextrose and all. That was so sweet that I KNEW it was just a dream. I mean, is the son of Lucifer capable of doing such selfless and sweet thing? Hell to the N-O.
I guess you just grew on me. Or maybe there was just something about a guy who can give a mean uppercut. Or that it adds gorgeous points when you’re dressed and looked like a bad ass and yet you’re carrying an “Ibon Adarna” costume while you’re following your little sister to her school program. Or you let your older brother punch you at the middle of the basketball court, in full view of all and sundry and yet you didn’t fight back. Even if you knew you could take him on because you’ve gone black belt before he did. Not to mention a great deal of experience in brawling.
Or maybe just because I think you’re hot.
All wrong and a GIGANTIC ASSHOLE to boot, but hot.
Anyway, I had this sneaky feeling that you liked my best friend, because, well, she’s as tall as you, pretty to boot and she looks mysterious. Everything I’m not, right? I couldn’t appear mysterious if my life depended on it. Well, guess what? She’s the one who really liked your brother, not me. I was just along for the ride. This is just a conjecture on my part, okay? I didn’t say it was carved in stone somewhere so if none of this is true, please feel free to ignore it.
I have no ulterior motives for this letter. I just wanted you to know all this because I’m tired of your sneers, dagger-looks, and goddess knew what else. And yeah, denying.
I JUST WANT THIS FESTERING HATE OF YOURS TO END. WANT TO SLAP ME WITH A GLOVE AND CHALLENGE ME TO A DUEL? FINE. I’LL BE WAITING.
Always,
Pines
P.S.
Don’t wear your worn out Levi’s. It has been known to distract me from time to time.
### This letter will never see the light. Written during one of my darkest moments (Hint: ran out of coffee). This will probably earn me a bruise or two from the Son of Hades. Or not. He may not hit women, but I’ll never know…nor do I intend to find out. I think Heathcliff is to blame for this situation when Lola made me read
Unrequited love is so bloody inconvenient.
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