Sense and Non-sense

Okay

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 07:47:43 GMT

The only way ‘ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife’ would be ironic is if the very next day you found out that you actually needed a spoon instead. And maybe if when you came to check in cupboards all you had were ten thousand knives.

Of Ghosts and Lovers

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 18:59:39 GMT

I was thinking about The English Patient, which, for some inexplicable reason I find myself wanting to re-watch. That's never happened before. Whereas I regularly get the urge to re-watch films I love or sometimes films I found puzzling, I have never once wanted to venture a second viewing of The English Patient. It's not a bad film - in fact, when it's good it's quite great. It's well-acted, it's beautifully shot and it's full to the brim of things to observe. It does tend to run a little overly long and I remember walking out of my only viewing emotionally drained. Maybe that's part of the point, but I guess I really will have to get at that second viewing just to see. Besides, it's always fun to revisit an old movie years after it's been made and received by audiences. It's interesting to see what holds up and what doesn't. And even more, the film is also quite tragic, and that part I know I will enjoy (have I ever mentioned that I sit through Dr. Zhivago at least once a year and every time it's on MGM?). There's nothing like a screen romance fleshed in tragedy; it is, as you know, the way the best romances on screen are made.

I think though that my favorite Minghella film is Truly Madly Deeply. It's about a woman, Nina, (Julie Stevenson) whose lover, Jamie, (Alan Rickman) dies. Naturally, she is heartbroken, grief-stricken. She stumbles on, barely, unable to accept the loss of her lover and to deal with the rest of life itself. Then he comes back as a ghost. She's thrilled, of course, and they're happy. For a while, at least. Soon though she becomes disenchanted. There are ghosts in her living room, watching Brief Encounter, and she's pissed off. She grows tired and wonders about the nature of their relationship - whether in life or death. "Was it like this before?" she asks her ghost lover, "Were we like this?"

It's not as long as The English Patient and maybe not as grand in scale - but they both deal with people who live in memories and love the ghosts of their past. We're all like that a little bit, sometimes.

Grouchketeer for Life

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 11:08:56 GMT

J. Arthur Crank and I have something in common. We both owe a lot to Oscar the Grouch.

Silly Love Song

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 17:49:04 GMT

Lizzy: so i was asking people what bands or songs they used to listen to but won’t/can’t/don’t anymore
Phil: uh huh
Lizzy: and a number of people named songs that they couldn’t listen to because their ex-es loved the band or loved the song
Phil: oh. yeah it happens
Lizzy: hey, let’s never ever break up
Phil: okay!
Lizzy: i just realized we listen to a LOT of the same bands.
Phil: hm
Lizzy: i don’t want to have to stop listening to the new pornographers. or the hold steady.
Phil: i’m not sure that’s the best reason not to break up
Lizzy: oh yeah and also i really love you

Seriously, walang matitira.

Lolo

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 13:13:09 GMT

My grandfather used to tell me all the time that I was his favorite grandchild. True, at the time, I was his only grandchild, but never mind. I ate it up. I giggled and nearly squealed over in delight and proudly repeated it to everyone who could hear. I think even later on, when my mother's other sisters started having kids of their own, I was still his favorite. I knew because he never offered to cook anything for anyone else. Oh, he'd kindly offer his daughters, their husbands and kids something to eat whenever they came around to visit, whatever was on the stove or in the fridge was theirs to take. But it was only whenever my mother and I came that you'd ever hear him cook an entirely new dish to celebrate our visit. "Tara, mag-luto tayo ng masarap!" he'd say excitedly and set up a chair for me in the kitchen so I could watch. I don't really recall now if I had ever offered to help - to peel, slice or dice anything - but I think I must have and it was only because he never let me that I didn't get a chance to get my hands dirty. "Upo ka lang dyan, apong! Baka mapaso ka!" He used to fuss like that a lot. He always wanted to make sure that I never got hurt or even tired.

When I think back on it now, I don't think he was a particularly creative cook. He didn't have a lot of recipes under his belt, just a few stock ones he'd keep coming back to. These were probably dishes he'd learned how to make over the years, favorites of his five daughters and one son, dishes that were scheduled or randomized throughout the entire week of family meals. Ginisang upo, caldereta, adobong baboy, adobong pusit, dinuguan. Even the quick and lazy piniritong galunggong for when he was in a hurry. He used to cook me these things too. I liked his adobong pusit more than his adobong baboy, I didn't quite like his ginisang upo (I thought he cooked it too long and the vegetables lost their crunch), I was quite fond of his caldereta, and I never understood why he would dip his fried galunggong in banana catsup (something all his daughters seem to have picked up). But without a doubt my favorite thing he used to make was the dinuguan. It was just the right mix of sweet, sour, salty and spicy (he used to add extra chilis for me). He made sure that the blood was thick and rich and the pork he used to crisp up first before mixing in. I think he knew it was my favorite, although I don't ever remember telling him that it was. I ate all of his dishes readily, greedily asking for seconds or thirds though I didn't like them equally, probably because I knew this was his way of showing me how much he cared. Although the fifth or sixth serving was probably the biggest clue.

I wish now that I had tried harder (if I did at all) to get to help him. I might have been able to learn exactly how he did it. I was nine years old when he passed away. Sever liver damage due to his excessive drinking. In his final weeks, he still somehow managed to sneak out of the hospital and go drinking at a nearby bar and then come back to bed in the morning - though that's another story. I don't think I cried at his funeral or when we finally laid him to rest, but I cried later in the evening, when everyone had left and the immediate family sat down to dinner. I've tried many times to recreate his dinuguan though unfortunately I've never been a hundred percent successful. And I'm a pretty good cook too, if I do say so myself. I think I'm a natural in the kitchen (not to mention being the cook means I can weasel out of dishwashing, which is the chore I detest the most). I've come close sometimes, I think, very close, but just not quite. Sometimes, my aunts will try my dinuguan and say "Parang kay Tatay to ah!", which makes me both sad and happy to hear. Memory is a weird thing, and may be I have been able to replicate it already, but whenever I taste the dish I make it still tastes, or maybe I should say feels, like something is missing, and I think I know what it is. I guess that means I'll never be able to make it exactly just like lolo used to make.

teeheehee

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 13:28:55 GMT

On my way to the convenience store, I saw two kids wearing Superman and the Flash costumes. I turned to the kid dressed as Superman and told him there was no way he’d win in a race. Predictably, he took it as a challenge and demanded the Flash to race with him. I watched as they sped off into the (not so very far) distance. Yes, I am pleased with myself.

And just in case you’re wondering, the Flash kicked his little butt.

Bearded Lady

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 08:26:27 GMT

Lizzy: He just…doesn’t look the part.
Phil: Beard! That’s it! He should get a beard! One of those mighty beards!
Lizzy: Hey, yeah! That could work!
Phil: Of course it would work! With a mighty beard you can be anything!
Lizzy: I don’t have a mighty beard :(
Phil: Awww. It’s okay, marshmallow. Anyway, there’d only really one job for you if you did have a mighty beard.
Lizzy: That’s true.
Phil: Hug. I’m sorry it’s a double standard.

Too Heavy to Move

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 13:03:22 GMT

from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn

She said, "You are a true and mortal wizard now, as you always wished. Does it make you happy?"

"Yes," he replied with a quiet laugh. "I'm not poor Haggard, to lose my heart's desire in the having of it. But there are wizards and wizards; there is black magic and white magic, and the infinite shades of gray between -- and I see now that it is all the same. "Whether I decide to be what men would call a wise and good magician -- aiding heroes, thwarting witches, wicked lords, and unreasonable parents; making rain, curing woolsorter's disease and the mad staggers, getting cats down from trees -- or whether I choose the retorts full of elixirs and essences, the powders and herbs and banes, the padlocked books of gramarye bound in skins better left unnamed, the muddy mist darkening in the chamber and the sweet voice lisping therein -- why, life is short, and how many can I help or harm? I have my power at last, but the world is still too heavy for me to move..."

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 10:47:54 GMT

And then sometimes it feels like there is no tool in the world that can recall, reproduce or simply just dredge up the old emotions you once experienced long ago as well as music can, not even books.

Trick or Treat

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 12:59:53 GMT

If I weren't so damn lazy, I would dress up for Halloween.

o1 Howard Moon from The Mighty Boosh. Vince is marvelous, but I loves me my Jazz Maverick.

Doesn't he have great legs?

o2 Turanga Leela from Futurama

o3 Syliva from Federico Fellini's La Dolce Vita.

It's a long standing dream of mine to dress up as any character from any Fellini film. Thankfully there's lot's to choose from, but if I ever do it, I figure I'll go for broke and go with Sylvia. Now, I'm no Anita Ekberg and I'm pretty sure I'd look ridiculous in a blonde wig - but I am more than willing to foray into any nearby fountain some time in the evening.

I've also thought about going as Gelsomina from La Strada. Of course, I'm no Giulietta Masina either.

o4 Solange (played by Francoise Dorleac) from Jaqcues Demy's Les Demoiselles de Rochefort.

Yes, she's the one in yellow. But for this to work better I'd need to get someone to dress up as Delphine, who is actually played by Catherine Deneuve, her real life sister. Maybe I can convince mytholojei to do it in exchange for a whole chocolate cake.

o5 The ACME Batman. Yes, the goddamn ACME Batman.

Wile E. Coyote. My hero.

o6 Elsa Bloodstone, monster hunter. No, not that one. This one:

Sing it with me! Nextwaaaaave! It's like Shakespeare, but with lots more punching! It's like Goethe, but with lot's more punching! Like Titanic, but the boat's still floating. No, it's not, the mother####ing boat is exploading!

Ahem. Moving on.

o7 Peggy (nee Wanker) Bundy from Married...with Children

Have I mentioned how much I love Katey Sagal? Because I do. I LOVE HER. All caps means serious business.

o8 And last but not least, Venus from The Birth of Venus. Year after year, I can't help but notice that costumes get more and more risque, so I thought, hey, why not just get rid of the clothes all together?

Botticelli's Venus is the most well-known, but there's also William Bouguereau's (a personal favorite) and Alexandre Cabanel's. This wouldn't require any real effort. All I'd have to do is find a really, really long wig, but I'm afraid that if I walk around in the nude people will throw garbage at me.

Are you guys going out for Halloween this year? Who'd you like to go as?

More Free Books!

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 14:05:14 GMT

More books to give away! Still in the process of clearing shelves and trying to find new homes for some books. This time here's a bunch of them by Joyce Carol Oates. Have at it! Some people have already expressed interest and that makes me happy.

~~Bellefleur~~
We Were the Mulvaneys
Freaky Green Eyes
I'll Take You There
~~You Must Remember This~~
~~Solstice~~
~~Because it is Bitter, and Because it is my Heart~~
The Falls

Just leave me a comment (here or on twitter) and let me know which ones you'd like (don't be afraid to ask for more than one title) and we'll figure out how to get it to you, okay? Okay!

A Tall Tale

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 07:25:50 GMT

A conversation between my two young cousins, Tough Cookie (age 15) and Munch (age 9), while watching Cinderella on the Disney Channel.

Munch: (frowning) Ate...
Tough Cookie: Hm? Bakit?
Munch: I don't like it.
Tough Cookie: Don't like what?
Munch: It just seems like Cinderella got noticed because she was wearing this really beautiful gown. The prince was just yawning and yawning and yawning and then he looks up and sees her but she's still kinda too far away for him to see her face so what? Ano yung napansin nya, yung gown?
Tough Cookie: You might be overthinking this. Relax ka lang it's a fairytale. Sakyan mo na lang.
Munch: Ayaw! Kaya natin dapat gusto si Cinderella kasi siya yung mabait diba? Hindi naman dapat dahil maganda lang yung damit nya.
Tough Cookie: Okay, ganito na lang. Ang lesson ng story, if you're good you're rewarded, but if you're going to a party it doesn't hurt to make a splash.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 09:47:06 GMT

I don't remember when or where I once read that the time it takes you to get over someone is half the amount of time you were together. Now, I don't know if it's true and it doesn't sound much like a trustworthy formula or standard. "Anyway I don't think it helps," says a friend of mine when I tell him about it. "Nine, remember? Am I really supposed to mope around for four and a half years?"

Anyway, they are now broken up and he has "been forced to re-evaluate his situation". His words, not mine. So there I was, called down for an emergency lunch to look for the ever elusive way to fix a broken heart, with the brokenhearted party and another friend, who I assume was called in to offer a different point of view. She suggested that he should start seeing other people. "Nine years is a lot of time. You got into a serious and meaningful thing fast. The problem is you never got to just look around." The way she emphasizes the word 'look' makes the word sound like it means everything but. She adds, the best way to get over somebody is to "get under somebody". Her words, not mine.

I tried to tell him that I thought it was a bad idea, that it might be too soon, that he might still be hurting, that although it sounds like a line from a Hallmark movie, he might actually need to give it some time. It doesn't have to be four and a half years. I tried to tell him that this isn't the kind of thing he wants to rush because he might get hurt even more, or worse, hurt other people in the process. I tried to tell him that there will be a time to go out and have fun and meet new people, but maybe it should wait more than a week after the break-up. And I did my best to tell him these things, but I could already see him shifting in his chair, being more interested in our other friend's suggestion.

For the rest of our lunch hour they made plans to go out on the weekends. She had started to rattle off a list of names of people she wants to introduce to him. That emphasis again. It's always funny when we use a word for something else entirely. I sit, mostly quiet, thinking. I don't want to tell them they're wrong - and I can't anyway. It's always different for each of us. Maybe this is what he needs. Maybe it'll work for him. I hope so. It's never easy to deal with a break up because there is no formula for getting over someone. Nothing set anyway. Maybe it's just me. I'd never been able to understand how the pain of losing something "meaningful" could be made okay by experiencing something less. Maybe the excitement will do him good and maybe he'll "get over the whole thing". Their words, not mine.

When we left, I gave him a big hug and wished him luck. Just to be safe, I told him to be careful anyway. Hearts and minds are fragile things.

Yes. I know sexual contact can be impersonal. But I still don't see why it has to be.

Sandworms Oh No

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 07:19:22 GMT

Lizzy: i am a ginormous dork
Lizzy: these two girls were like
Lizzy: oh no the worm is after us!
Lizzy: and i have no idea what they were joking about
Lizzy: but before i knew what was happening i was telling them to walk without rhythm
Lizzy: halp i am still making references to dune
Phil: heehee
Phil: maybe they'll think it's a fatboy slim reference
Phil: that's more recent

And speaking of things I still quote/make references to, there's always Dune. But I know I'm not alone. Come on, show of hands.

I have a cunning plan

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 07:25:22 GMT

And to this day, you can still find me quoting people from Blackadder.

“You see, the thing about heaven is that heaven is for people who like the sort of things that go on in heaven. Like, well, singing, talking to God, watering pot plants.”

Stay Safe, Everyone

Fri, 02 Oct 2009 06:27:25 GMT

o1 Mahirap gumising ng maaga. Pero iniisip ko na lang, buti ako maayos ang tinutulugan. At tsaka sandali lang naman akong maabala, sandali lang naman mababago ang komportable kong routine na pang-araw araw.

o2 There is word that in some areas the flood may remain for a month.

o3 Kasama na sa mga maeengkwentro mo yung mga makukulit at pilosopong bata (Lugaw/Noodles na naman, ate? Wala bang fried chicken dyan?!) at tsaka yung mga lasing na poporma pang shirtless at nakalabas ang mga tiyan (Ikaw din ba, pinapamigay din? Pwedeng akin ka na lang?). Game face na lang, wag ng pansinin, lalo na yung mga lasing na magtatanong kung ano ang bust size mo. Amf.

o4 Ang pinakanakakagulat sa akin yung mga areas sa Patero at Taguig na naapektohan. Taga-Pateros din ako, at salamat na lang madaling humupa yung baha, kaya malamang naisip ko na ring hindi ganun kalala ang kalagayn ng ibang lugar. Tapos nalaman ko na lang na nagsalit si Vice Medina, humihingi ng tulong sa mga gustong mag-volunteer at mag-donate kasi hindi daw dinadatnan ng tuling yung ibang mga lugar. Sabi pa sa akin ng kapatid ko, nagsalita daw si Vice sa TV Patrol, humihingi ng tulong sa gobyerno kasi ubos na ang pondo ng Pateros.

o5 Marami pang kailangang gawin. Sana pagputuloy natin lahat ng ginagawa natin ngayon hanggang makakaya.

o6 Minsan okay din maging packrat. Ang dami ko nagyong damit nakatago na naibigay. Sabi ni mama, nung makit nya yung mga kahon "Ang makakuha yata nyan eh yung pinakafashionable na nasalanta."

o7 May parating nanaman na bagyo. I'm not the praying kind, but I am using all the powers of my mind to send this storm away and keep everyone safe. It's not a lot, but aside from going to relief centers it's all I've got and I'm just making sure I'm doing everything I can. Stay safe, everyone.

Free books!

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 11:27:38 GMT

In an effort to free up some much needed shelf space, I am giving away free books! Below are some titles that are up for grabs, look them over and let me know if you want any (don't be afraid to ask for more than one) and then we'll try to figure out how to get them to you.

Survivor, Chuck Palahniuk
Invisible Monsters, Chuck Palahniuk
~~Misfortune, Wesley Stace~~
Wickett's Remedy, Myla Goldberg
~~Amrita~~, Banana Yoshimoto
~~The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery~~
Don't Tell Me the Truth About Love, Dan Rhodes

If they're struck out that means someone's already asked for them. Hopefully we can find these books some new homes.

Cemetery Gates

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 13:29:32 GMT

Every time I move to a new neighborhood I always find myself at least a ten minute walk away from a cemetery. I'm not complaining - far from it. As luck would have it, I am very fond of walking through graveyards and cemeteries. I like it especially on late afternoons, when the sun is on it's last hour and a half or so, because it's during this time that it becomes a really strangely lovely place. There will be some people about, but it won't be crowded, so the place is quiet, but not too quiet. You'll even hear the noise coming from the roads outside if the cemetery isn't in a particularly secluded place. I walk around and read the stones and, yes, wonder about these people, every now and then pause and let myself be shocked when I read on someone's stone that he or she only lived until about the tender age of three or four or marvel at stones that tell me someone lived until the age of ninety-eight. And yes, I wonder where they are, or at least I think I used to wonder, but not so much anymore. Whether we move onto some other place as some other thing is a question I cannot answer while I'm here and so it doesn't seem to matter now.

...

I've been seeing people comment left and right about 2009 being a terrible year because people keep dying, but that can't be right because that's what every year is like. That's what every day is like. Death is part of life, a simple fact of life, we're always told, and so it shouldn't be so terrible. But it is. It is terrible because it is loss and we don't know how to handle loss. We make connections to so many things and so many people in our lives. We can't help it. It is terrible for those of us who are left behind, for us who make use of words like "meaningful" and "senseless" and "love" to describe the things that happen.

I'd like to borrow from Octavius Caesar who said, "The soup is hot. The soup is cold. Antony is Dead." and found it just wasn't enough, and so he yelled to the whole room, to the whole world that Antony was dead.

Yes

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 08:13:55 GMT

Lucy Van Pelt is such an inspiration.

Sometimes, you've got to fight for what you love.

Random Things

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 10:27:55 GMT

o1 Like me, you've probably been bust listening to the remastered albums of The Beatles (and if you haven't, better get to it). I'm taking it slowly, concentrating on an album a day and it's been mind-blowing. You can really hear Macca's bass and Ringo's bongos and at times they're so good it feels like they're going to knock you over. Beatles for Sale, Please Please Me and A Hard Day's Night still rank high among my early album favorites. Rubber Soul hasn't aged a day and the line-up of I'm Looking Through You and Wait and In My Life and If I Needed Someone is almost too much. I'm just about to get to Revolver, which is exciting. I can't imagine what hearing Eleanor Rigby this way will do to me, but I suspect at the very least there will be weeping.

o2

You, Macca. Yes. You, you, you.

o3 If you want to feel young again, talk to your mother. It works every time. I don't care how old you actually are, what you've done or how far you've come in life, your mother will always be able to turn you into the young, unsure thing you used to be. All your well-thought, practiced and seemingly reasonable arguments will immediately sound childish, weightless, even simple. You might feel your confidence slowly drain away. Try it. Go up to her, give her a call or something. Works twice as well if you pick a fight with her.

o4 Dear NoyNoy Aquino: Your family achievements will, unavoidably and perhaps deservedly, always be brought up, but it's also important that you emerge as your own person here. We don't need anymore politics of personality. More than being Ninoy and Cory's son (or even Kris' brother), we need to know who you are and what you want to do. Also? You may want to rethink the combover, man.

o5 My friend, ZombieGwenStacy has decided to adopt two cats. In her excitement, she decided to buy all sorts of expensive toys for the darling creatures. Rookie mistake. Of course, once the toys arrived and were unpacked they were immediately ignored by the cats who clearly favoured the boxes they came in. Remember dears: kittens + boxes = hours of fun. The good news is, ZombieGwenStacy now refuses to be called a 'cat owner' because she doesn't feel like she owns the cats. Quite the opposite, in fact, she says she feels like the cats have decided to adopt her. That just means she's learning.

o6 For the past few days, I've been having recurring dreams about talking cats. I've been told this is a side-effect of Murakami reading. What have you been reading lately?

o7 All this listening to The Beatles all day is making me think of years ago, when I was about ten years old and all I ever did after school was come home and listen to their albums all day long. I don't miss being ten (I could never understand when people would say they miss being a kid) but there's something comforting about remembering all of this. I was probably eight when I first discovered these albums (Please Please Me was the first) and I'm now twenty-six but they're the same, if not better. It does the heart good to know they'll always be there.

Just a Movie

Sun, 13 Sep 2009 12:38:51 GMT

The movie was over and they exited the cinema along with the rest of the crowd. Except, no wait, crowd isn't the word for it. The place was almost empty save for a few people sitting by themselves, maybe another couple or two, and only the type who got excited about going to run-down theatres on late weekday afternoons to catch an obscure film with subtitles. They walked out of the theatre quietly and went out into the cold night. It was early yet and there were plenty of other places to go. He was about to suggest getting a late dinner but before he could she said, "Wasn't that amazing?"

"It was...okay."
"What do you mean it was okay? Didn't you love it?"
"Oh there were a lot of good things in it."
"Good?" She asking, saying the word so that it sounded like the most offensive word he'd ever heard. "It was more than good! It was incredible!" She was mad at him for being late earlier that evening. They missed a good ten minutes of the film. He apologized and she said it was fine, except in the theatre she didn't hold his hand or let him put an arm around her like she usually did.
"Oh no I mean it was very interesting. I just thought the last act didn't hold up very well."
"You're looking at it the wrong way."
"It just made me a little tired, is all."
"You mean it made you uncomfortable."
"I just wish it felt more like a narrative than a bunch of vignettes or actor's exercises."
"Why are you resisting it? Don't resist it! We should see it again! And when we do, you shouldn't resist."
"Hey, it's just a movie."
"That movie," she said, making the word sound like the only thing in the world, "is everything I have ever felt and thought. Ever."
"What? You're nothing like that movie."
"If you really knew me - if you really loved me - you wouldn't say that."

He watched her walk ahead of him in an angry huff and argued with himself if he should follow her or let her go. He also wondered how many other couples were there in the theatre and if any of them were having this kind of trouble too.

Variations on a Theme

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 06:33:08 GMT

existentializzy: David Bowie? lifetime pass?
femmefatalistic: is that even a question? come on!
existentializzy: even if he came to your house and wrecked your stuff?
femmefatalistic: which stuff?
existentializzy: you know, stuff. papers off desks, chairs knocked over, cups out of the cupboards!
femmefatalistic: why would bowie toss my cups out of my cupboards? oh oh is it berlin-era bowie? awesome! experimental! hell yeah!

Starman

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 08:00:16 GMT

Liz: David Bowie? Yes?
Phil: Oh. Lifetime pass?
Liz: Yes. Yes?
Phil: Sure.
Liz: Like even if he came to your house and knocked all your shit off desks and and stuff? Cups out of cupboards and all?
Phil: Well, that depends. Which David Bowie?
Liz: Would it make a difference?
Phil: Absolutely. I think any but Ziggy Stardust. Because if Ziggy Stardust Bowie came to your house and knocked all of your cups out of your cupboard you'd be like, "Goddamned Spaceman!"
Liz: Hmmm...
Phil: Right? Because we don't take no guff from spacemen.

The Time Warrior

Fri, 04 Sep 2009 08:28:34 GMT

Jon Pertwee was my first.

It's true what they say, you know: you never forget your first. I certainly haven't. A relative from abroad sent me VHS tapes (state of the art, baby) and included a note that read: Watch immediately. You've never seen anything like it. And I hadn't. And still haven't. The silver hair. The yellow roadster. The opera coat. The smoking jacket and tuxedo trousers. An intergalactic man of action - and wisdom.

He was, I found out later, a world away from his previous incarnation. Patrick Troughton's second Doctor was childlike, mercurial and completely adorable. They were so different from each other that it was a lot of fun watching them argue in the Multi-Doctor episodes to come later on.

The third Doctor was a little grumpy at times, but that was okay. You would be too if you were facing exile from your own planet by your own people. Anyway, after a while he grew to love us Earthlings, showing great concern for companions like Jo Grant and Sarah Jane Smith (who is still up there as one of my most favorite companions of all time). He sure did reverse the polarity on a lot of things - and hey, when that didn't work, he didn't hesitate to give an evil alien a good karate chop.

Hey, Whovians! Who was your first?