"Ice-make Abs!"

He has got to be the COOLEST (Gray Fullbuster) cosplayer evaaaah!!! Not that I've seen any other ;)

*insert fangirl shriek*

Excuse me while I salivate...

† Photo by Lea Navarra ©

The Official "GAYme" Face

Turns out Sony Computer Entertainment had a reality show called "The Tester" about twelve or so contestants competing for a career at SCEA as a Game Tester. The winner got a $5,000 sign-in bonus (Meh.), a PS3 console (Not bad.), and a Sony Bravia 3D television (Ok, I want in!). At first it might seem like a Big Brother spin-off where they gathered up seemingly random bunch of people who have a common interest on gaming. The only difference this show has with BB is the house. It's not just a house. It's a house full of PS3 consoles and all the possible PS game titles in every corner! Two words. Gamer Haven. No, make that Gamer Heaven. But of course, there's a corresponding hell of trials for the show's purpose, which is to find someone who had what it takes to be a Game Tester. The show looked scripted to me though, and other than the prizes at stake, there's not much to look forward to. It just seemed like any other act of publicity to me, but not until season 2 began.

Unfortunately, the gaming world is patriarchal by nature. Those who belong to the minority play discreetly most of the time—*cough*. Although it's a different case when you're playing alone, but some just want to play it out either online or in Battlenet or whatever platforms that include interaction, or when those male hormones just want to kick some butt. While we mostly get annoyed by those pretentious 12-year-olds running around calling everyone noob, we can't avoid hate remarks from homophobes who make up almost all of the gaming population. That's really a bad place for someone who's openly gay. It could also be traumatic at times.

Eventually, here comes season 2 of The Tester, and among the roster of gaming enthusiasts qualified for the show is someone with the monicker "Gaymer". At first I thought it was a typo but when he started talking about himself, my eyes were blurred with glitter. He really is gay! Openly gay and a good-looking one to boot. In one of the rarest circumstances a proud homosexual graced a show that's wrought with male supremacy. It's good that Sony's starting to recognize the pink flag in the market. Very good marketing strategy. It's kinda unthinkable that Sony would go to such lengths to make the show seem legit and all but man, this here is the real thing. He's got balls to say that he's gay. Now that's hardcore!

His real name is Matthew Michael Brown. Unbeknown to us, he had been crowned Mr. Gay San Diego 2010. The achievements don't end there yet. All throughout the tasks given he wasn't really an achiever and got almost wiped out of the show. What got him through was the the professional demeanor he established since the beginning. And he came out champion. Gay or not, you'd really root for this guy to win because he didn't play dirty, (spoiler) he remained impartial during the conflict (/spoiler), he was determined and most of all, he showed how much he wanted to have the job. He won in a way where even his opponents could really approve that he really deserved it. I would have wanted to have that monicker for myself but he has proven himself the icon of such term. Truly, the epitome of the word sportsmanship.

In his final words during his interview he said, "...Keep it up gay gamers, keep it strong, and make sure you're always out, loud, and proud. That's all I've got to say. Don't shy away from who you are and make sure everyone knows it, because one day we'll all just be accepted."

So, fellow gay~mers whether it be online or real life, put your GAYme face on!

† Photos exclusively by www.gaygamer.net ©

A Separate Piece: Chapter 3

Everything has changed. This irony of life struck me as soon as I met him, sadly, late in my realization. Life is constantly changing, and the manner of change it has manifested upon me has been dreadful. I should have known, have I not doubted the pessimist in me, that tolerating him would cause a setback in my daily life. It's a shame, persistence is an unknown plight to an anti-social such as me. Unfortunately, that ignorance has cost me the privilege of peace in solitude, which I enjoy and hope to prolong. Now that he assumes familiarity in my household, he could appear any time at my doorstep, needing to see me for reasons I do not care to know. The delight on my mother's face to see him come for the purpose of me could not paint itself on mine, as there had been no one else who comes for this purpose. Of all the people I've known, there hasn't been anyone who could amount to his meddling. Although it's amazing how he does it, at the same time, having mostly spoken about himself. There could be no more modesty than this, that even my mother had taken a liking to him. Invasion would be such a harsh word to characterize the schemes of a welcome predator. Him taking on the guise of a boy-next-door, who you could possibly dream to ever have, had me thinking otherwise. It's becoming a constant that I hope would change.

Even in dreams he has started to plague me. He is becoming an unnecessary preoccupation lately and I mean this in absolutely no good sense. He was trying to get involved in everything I'm inclined in. He is like this rock, thrown towards me, a still lake. He plunged into my being rippling anxiety, washing away the quiet life I have been used to. I hate how this has been happening, yet I feel so powerless to resist this altering current. It sucks me into this whirlpool of interruption, into the jaws of a lifelong turbulence that's rearing its ugly head with the likeness of his face. The fear in me roiling, unsettling the murky sediments of my uneasiness and unrest. Despite my calm surface, it gets to me like the panic of a shipwreck in shallow waters. Such thoughts stir in the depths of my mind, churning the inconceivable. Those of which that unknowingly seeped through the hole of my enfeebled tolerance, sinking my whole subconscious. My head is filled through the brim with the flow of those thoughts. Never did I imagine myself to be this much absorbed. This emotional outpouring is draining my sanity and he is responsible of manning the sluice. There is no denying, he is already starting to circulate in my veins, so much I am soaked in the metaphor of his presence. The last thing I'd be having from him is a wet dream.

ʚϊɞ

The Dancer in the Dark got the limelight

This movie will definitely leave you fumbling in the dark with its estrangement from the typical capitalist movies. It took me almost a year of occasionally watching it, and doing some research before I was fully enlightened with Lars Von Trier's idiosyncratic style. Taking into consideration his film-maker's manifesto, the Dogma 95, which has been the staple in most of his films. Together with two other movies namely: Breaking Waves (1996), and The Idiots (1998), Dancer in the Dark (2000) is included in Von Trier's 'Golden Heart Trilogy', although this particular film is not under the command of his self-imposed doctrine. The film utilized a hand-held camera to capture the scenes in its rawest sense possible, unaltered and unrefined. The common movie-goer would most likely be fluctuant to how they would receive this opus, which is almost impossibly plausible.

This Danish musical—yes, musical— is about a Czech immigrant during the 1964 in the U.S. State of Washington named Selma Ježková, played by Björk the enigmatic Icelandic songstress. She plays a single mother, who has been struggling from a frugal lifestyle and her deteriorating eyesight. She and her son lives in a trailer owned by a police officer named Bill Houston (David Morse), who lives with his wife named Linda (Cara Seymour). The compassionate and childless couple watches over her son as she goes to work. She operates a punch-press machine to create basins out of metal sheets as a means of living. After she toils hard from all the factory work, she still manages to steal time to do an extra job fastening pins in a cardboard, and to practice singing for a local production of Broadway in their neighborhood. Her friend Cathy (Catherine Deneuve), whom she affectionately monikers as Cvalda is stubborn towards her enthusiasm in musicals, but then tolerates her after seeing that Selma's passion in singing and dancing gives hue to her gloomy existence. Her life's struggles revolved around raising up her difficult son Gene (Vladica Kostic), dealing with her persistent suitor Jeff (Peter Stormare) and her lapsing moments from reality whenever she pays attention to the natural sounds in her surroundings. Her far-fetched tendencies result from her bright-eyed disposition, and her gradually obscuring vision leaving her helplessly daydreaming about people suddenly bursting into song and dance like into a somewhat exuberant musical frenzy. This mostly gets her in trouble but most of the time, she seems blind to the real world. She later becomes victim to a shady plot (blocked spoiler) that complicates her situation, and eventually her condition. As things get bizarre, she still finds an opportunity to sing in her heart, the music clinging into her senses like a flicker of light into her darkest hour.

This movie is intentionally drab, it's as if Von Trier shot it for our ears. The unembellished cinematography in this film determines those who are blindly watching because the enlightened viewers would fairly see that this film is objective in a sense that it wants to open our eyes to the truth of how we see things naturally. It's the same for Björk, whose outlandish appearance in most of her music videos disturbs the consciousness of those who see them. She however, does not do this for sensationalism. She has been known for her evocative music, which could spark some kind of a feeling deep under the dark recesses of the soul. Any reputation she gained by those videos is adjunct to her renowned ability to sing by feeling. In this motion picture, she is Selma. She and Selma are two different persona. The only junction where they meet is through music. Von Trier made it so that music was the focal element of this film, otherwise Björk wouldn't have made an exception to accept the role of the lead character; and effectively act upon it. What was brilliant about this film was that it was executed perfectly that you wouldn't stagger with the grind of the low-end camera because the scenes were emotionally charged, and at the same time you wouldn't sense the melodramatic pulse because the scenes were unmitigated. In other words, it is one the most gut-wrenching films I've ever seen.

Given that this film had won the most prestigious award from the Cannes festival, the Palm d'Or does not brighten the chances that everybody would see the light in Von Trier's dark scheme. Hence I would, as any other film critic would do, render it in black and white. All you need to do is open your eyes and know the difference between looking and seeing.

Call of Music

The Philippine Choral Director's Association (PCDA) is inviting all choral directors and music enthusiasts nationwide to its First National Convention and Third National Masterclass Series for Choral Conductors on 11-15 November 2010 at the Brokenshire Resort & Convention Center in Davao City. Registration is still ongoing. See PCDA Rates; Levels of Participation.

The PCDA Convention will be a four-day choral celebration of internationally renowned vocal ensembles and a series of masterclasses for choral conductors and enthusiasts. Performers are ordered as follows: The Himig Singers, The University of Mindanao Chorale, The UP Singing Ambassadors, The all-male Koro Ilustrado, The Chamber Choir of Asia, and The Philippine Madrigal Singers. Ticketing prices are available in packages for bulk with discounts.

See you there... :)

A Separate Piece: Chapter 2 (continuation)

I was about to send him away until my mother noticed him and offered hospitality quick. Just then, the world seemed so unfair. After what he has done to me, he gets to eat free breakfast in my house. And since I have never brought visitors home, my mother's face lit at the thought of this "miracle". The thought of having her anti-social son fraternizing with someone gave her comfort. I refuse to rub elbows with just anyone, most especially him. I fear if he makes a habit of this, who knows what he could be rubbing me with next? God forbid! This act of God has sentenced me in the sweaty pits of his unbearable presence. Why has it come to this? Has judgment day finally come? It's as if the forces of the universe have been playing a prank like it's divine comedy except you can't grasp the humor because the joke's on you. I really had no idea on how to deal with this unlikely complication. Woe to me, an introverted wretch. I'm the least ecstatic. It felt like the last day of my life.

The awkwardness was hard to swallow, save breakfast. The sight of him happily conversing with my mother made me want to chew down the chair he was sitting on. Each time he helped himself with seconds, he displayed this annoying smile, trying to be humble to hide that voracious appetite of his. He flattered my mother's cooking. Sly little... Sadly, she fell for it and invited him to come for as long as he liked. I choked. Suddenly, it felt like I've got a bone stuck in my throat. He smiled at me with a crooked smile. Something's fishy but it's not the fish. I remembered I hated eating fish because of a past traumatic experience. That day came back. He's become a bone to pick. I could already feel the discomforts from the days to come. I could sense he is going to take my mother's customary gesture seriously. I have barely touched anything on my plate out of misery. Things just got sour and I'm bitterly disappointed. I think I'm gonna have to skip breakfast. Forever.

ʚϊɞ

"Ninpo Photoshop Jutsu!"

Been hooked with Naruto lately... I kinda admire how much Naruto loves Sasuke...
*scribbles doujinshi*