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Buglasan king and queen 2014 torrent

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For as low as Php, you have access to the largest selection of content among all similar services, with the option of streaming over Wi-Fi as well as downloading content for offline use. Happy viewing folks! Post a Comment. When was the last time this happened for a cultural show in Dumaguete?

It was, to be sure, a resounding success. But it was mostly an evening for discovering world music and finding there is much to appreciate both cerebrally and emotionally. Three Plucked Strings' conceptual music energy rang close to the affecting and disturbing in turns , from the more traditional "Jewish Klezmer Suite" by Zeev Bitkin, to the playful "CODA" by Vyacheslav Ganelin, to the strangely hypnotic "Dark City Alleys" which the Israeli trio -- Avi Avital on the mandolin, Yuval Avital on the guitar, and Yizhar Karshon on the harpsichord -- played with Kwerdas as a soundtrack of sorts to a projected minute film of a walk-through in the dark byways of an Israeli city.

And then there was the comic folksiness of the Russian Quartette Phoenix. Their rendition of the traditional American melody "El Cumbanchero" done in bluegrass style , and Vasily Parhomenko's "Block-Fox" readily fleshed out the bright folksiness of the pieces, but made them resonate more with the skillfully appropriated humor of their act. At the end of their repertoire, the Russian musicians -- Inessa Gareeva on the domra, Anatoly Kazakov on the domra-viola, Radi Gareev on double-bass balalaika, and Alexander Ivanov on the accordion -- brought the entire auditorium to a standing ovation.

Beyond string music, there is also the independent filmmaking forum -- sponsored by Silliman's Cultural Affairs Committee and the College of Mass Communication -- with director Emmanuel dela Cruz and producer Raymond Lee, two cinematic voices responsible for two of the most acclaimed Filipino films in recent years: Sarong Banggi directed by Dela Cruz , and Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros directed by Aureus Solito. The latter -- the first Filipino film to be accepted at the Sundance Film Festival and the first to be nominated for Best Foreign Language Film in the prestigious Independent Spirit Awards, which is the Oscars for independent films -- had its showing at a packed Luce Auditorium as well, a good turnaround from its disappointing regular run last year in the city, when its showing at the decrepit Ultra Vision Theater did not even attract the haphazardly curious.

In the coming weeks, there will be more. MADZitawanan Na! And then the writers will come in May. And in the coming cultural season, perhaps we will have Tanghalang Pilipino. Perhaps even French Spring in Dumaguete. Perhaps more. A cultural avalanche in Dumaguete? That would seem to be the case. Nobody's complaining. Labels: art and culture , dance , dumaguete , film , music , negros.

And the world indeed will come together in Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental this year to celebrate the tradition of string music in the second edition of the International Rondalla Festival, slated from February It may prove to be an interesting musical combination, spanning generations of musical performers playing a wide variety of string traditions, each of which has a specific cultural expression.

The Kabataang Silay Ensemble , which started in as a group of musically-gifted primary school students in Silay City, has distinguished itself not only for the active promotion of traditional Filipino folk music and dance, but also for serving as an effective component for tourism promotion and youth development. They have extensively traveled within the country as Young Cultural Ambassadors, and have represented the Philippines in the Second Asian Children's Folklore Festival in Guandong, China in , where they received the Performance Memento distinction.

Russia's Quartette Phoenix was created in by a group of Ural State Academy of Music graduates that included Inessa Gareeva, Anatoly Kazakov, Radi Gareev, and Alexander Ivanov, all of them acclaimed laureates of various international competitions. They have been critically acclaimed for their originality as well as in their diversity of style and repertoire that has made them popular fare among Russian audiences.

Three Plucked Strings , playing a repertoire to display the colorful and diverse character of the Jewish and Israeli culture, is a contemporary ensemble dedicated to the performance of pieces by foremost Israeli composers, commissioned especially for this trio. It was founded in after the posthumous discovery of a rare work for mandolin, guitar and harpsichord -- never performed -- written by the acclaimed Israeli composer, the late Paul Ben-Haim.

Silliman University's Kwerdas is a six-member rondalla group composed of students, faculty, and alumni of the College of Performing Arts, founded in as an ad-hoc musical group for the classes of acclaimed ethnomusicologist Prof. Priscilla Magdamo-Abraham. Since that inauspicious beginning, the group has gone on to national acclaim, and has performed in international exhibitions and competitions. Kwerdas was among the pioneer participants of the 1st International Rondalla Festival in Bicol, and chosen to perform at the Cultural Center of the Philippines with four other groups for the festival's final concert.

The second edition of the International Rondalla Festival, which is presented by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts and the Province of Oriental Negros in cooperation with the University of the Philippines College of Music and the Musicological Society of the Philippines, aims to explore the uniqueness of the Filipino rondalla as national heritage with a long tradition evolving from the Spanish and Latin American comparsa and estudiantina, which the rondalla has adapted to express a nationally specific consciousness.

A late 18th century tradition, the rondalla in the Philippines has come to encompass a variety of folk songs, dances, and short pieces from full-blown classical to modern compositions and adaptations. The festival also aims to showcase the international expression of the Filipino rondalla, and how the national musical culture has proliferated in the current Filipino diaspora, serving not only as a symbol of national identity but also as a link to the expressions of the mother culture.

It also takes into account its musical connection with string music covering the Arab region and cultures around the Mediterranean, as well as Western and Eastern Europe and various parts of the Asian continent Aside from the four ensembles mentioned, Cuerdas sa Panaghiusa -- the Cebuano equivalent of the Strings of Unity or Cuerdas de Unidad -- is a week-long event slated from February featuring other local and international rondallas and plucked string ensembles, totaling some artists and practitioners.

They will engage in daily concerts, multiple outreach performances to outlying localities such as Cebu, Bohol, and Siquijor island, a conference on aspects of the rondalla tradition, historical and national styles, workshops in performance techniques and instrument-making, exhibition, and an international rondalla congress.

Other special events are also being lined up by the organizers. The event is intended to promote the UNESCO-International Music Council action program on cultural and musical diversity, a standing commitment of the Filipinos to advance the cause of world peace and understanding through the celebration of shared cultural heritage. Tickets are available at the College of Performing Arts, the Luce Auditorium, and at the theater lobby before the show. Season passes are honored.

For inquiries and ticket reservations, please see posters and banners for more details, or contact loc. Labels: music. Spending your whole life imbibing film can give one a cutting edge. Why don't you try your chances. But until this problem gets resolved, I'll be doing it only when I can. Hopefully by Monday. Come back then. Rene Estella Amper , Cebuano poet, doctor, and politician whose Palanca-winning poetry was both a sad and funny indictment of our quirks as a people, has died.

I wouldn't have known about this if I weren't googling him today. We will all remember him for his very funny "Letter to Pedro, U. The bulldozer has messed it up while making the feeder road into the mountains to reach the hearts of the farmers. The farmers come down every Sunday to sell their agony and their sweat for a few pesos, lose in the cockpit or get drunk on the way home.

The mayor owns a big sugar plantation, three new cars, and a mansion with the gate overhung with sampaguita. Inside the gate are guys who carry a rifle and a pistol. Still only a handful go to Mass on Sundays. In the church the men talk, sleep; the children play. The priest is sad. Last night the storm came and blew away the cornflowers. The cornfields are full of cries. Your cousin, Julia, has just become a whore.

She liked good clothes, good food, big money. Now our hometown has seven whores. Pete, old friend, every time we have good reason to get drunk and be carried home in a wheelbarrow we always remember you. Oh, we miss both Pete and Pedro. Remember us to your American wife, you lucky bastard.

Islaw, your cock-eyed uncle, now calls himself Stanley after he began wearing the clothes you sent him last Christmas. Tasyo, the old goat, Sends your lizard his warmest congratulations. Doc Rene, say hi to the Big Pete for us. Computer back home is still feeling dramatic. The radio is blaring out the inane Valetine advice by this deejay, and his guest whose English is beyond atrocious. One such: "Don't gib yur gerlprend linjeri. Yu might gib da wrong says.

It's painful. Labels: holidays , love. Bombarding the hard disc with so much movie files torrenting taken to the extreme, I guess Then again, the computer I have -- which dearest Francois gifted me a few years back -- is a little old and cranky now, and the many, many trips to the computer shop to repair this and that may have taken its toll on the poor old and faithful thing.

Which is why I am back in Scooby's doing my online work now -- and right in the middle of the semester, too. Which is why I am sad, and stressed out. Which is why I'm spying somebody's brandnew-looking laptop computer a few feet away from me, and I find myself drooling. Oh well. I've been subsisting on coffee lately -- mostly black, which is an acquired taste but proves eventually exquisite.

I have so much work to do that's why this computer problem is a inconvenience to me now , and I need all the energy boosters I can get. Sometimes I wish there were more hours in the day, and sometimes I wish I could have the power to will myself not to sleep for a week straight, and not ravage my body. Sometimes I wish I had the foresight to buy a laptop years ago Early this afternoon, I was part of the panel to pre-judge the competing pieces in Silliman University's annual Valentine Songwriting Competition for tonight.

I know which one I will make win. Some of the compositions were amateurishly written -- the same casual nod to the romantic tropes in lyric-making. Nothing new here. I loved one or two songs, but the rest were forgettable pieces which had no more ambition beyond two or three chords. Parang Yeng Constantino, only less poetic.

Some of the lyrics were brutally bad. One "love song" is a horrifying paean to domestic violence, while another one was completely murderous, with lyrics that alluded to "human shields" taking in "bullets," "stabbing," and what have you. The frightful thing is that many of these composers are former students. How do I make judgment without making any of them cry?

I should write about this soon, on Valentines Day. Speaking of songs, I watched the Grammys last night, and was exhilirated when the Dixie Chicks -- Dubya's foes and country music's elegant outcasts -- walked away with all the major awards, and swept the rest. The New York Times called the wins a "vindication. I love this part of the article: Mr. Ayeroff said, "I got so disgusted, I turned around and said: 'Dude, you're in California now. Even our Republicans are Democrats.

Labels: blogging , love , music , politics , web and tech. See, I've been downloading movies like crazy, and it can take forever to download. Still, the results are simply astounding. You get to watch all the movies you've been dreaming of seeing, but can't seem to find in your local video store. That's the reason why we pirate, my dear MPAA.

I've been watching a lot of Woody Allen films, a lot of classics, and finally a lot of Ingmar Bergman. You can't imagine that cineaste that I am, I haven't seen a single Bergman movie -- until last week, when I stumbled on this treasure trove. There's GayTorrent thanks, Aldwyn and Daz! Treasure trove, I tell you. Now let me plan on getting meself a DVD burner And yet, still no Splash anywhere.

Strange one, that. Grab the nearest book. Turn to page Mark the fifth sentence. Pick up the next three sentences and post. In other words, post sentence nos. Acknowledge the book and the author. Tag 3 people in turn. Gibbs, the first book I grabbed had no page , but here's the second one It's Jan formerly James Morris's acclaimed autobiography of gender reassignment, Conundrum: An Extraordinary Narrative of Transsexualism , which Cecilia Hoffman gave me a few nights ago because I'm always interested in reading about In this passage from page , Morris recounts her children's gradual acceptance of her new gender, confronting the necessary dilemma of having a father one day, and then a mother the next: Helped along the way by sensitive teachers, they seemed to escape the miseries of school taunting, and the more feminine I became, the closer to my own reality, the closer I felt to them too.

There was no moment of instant trauma in our relationship, no matter when, standing before them as a man one day, I reappeared suddenly as a woman. The process was infinitely slow and subtle, and through it all anyway, as I hope they sensed, I remained the same affectionate self.

It's a delightful, and sensitive read. Mark read it in half a day. Then they become gods; then they become demons. Then they will destroy us, and also destroy themselves. For natural loves that are allowed to become gods do not remain loves. They are still called so, but can become in fact complicated forms of hatred. Die completely into loving. When you return, when your sense of self is recollected, you will be refreshed through and through, washed awake by the innocence lying wide on the other side of surrender.

The First was my awakening, and the Second has become my eternal anchor. They do not cancel each other out, and while one belongs firmly to the past and the other to my present and hopefully my future , they both finally come together to define who I am. For what is love except an untidy measurement of our humanity? There are those who are most perceptive among us who are able to see beyond the initial giddiness of newfound love or the routine companionship that becomes the years of staying together: they are able to realize the confounding capacity in us to envelop another into our emotional lives.

When I first fall in love, first comes wonder: that I am actually able to love this much. Who knew? And so, as I walk down the street lost in my smile and my reverie, the whole world becomes a bursting experience of color and sound, and I heave a dramatic sigh and acknowledge the sudden fullness of being that only falling in love can bring. But to go back to lovers Both of them are vastly different from each, almost like fire and water -- and if anyone must ask me how I came to love either one of them in the first place, I would not be able to answer in exactitude.

It would be foolish to. Because what is exact in the mysterious chemistry of loving? Perhaps the best way to understand it all is to subscribe to the maxim that one cannot possibly choose whom to love; it is love that finally chooses you. That is, of course, a convenient excuse to explain away the sheer lunacy of falling in love. Maybe that is exactly why loving someone always merits metaphors of accidents: falling in love, love is blind , a broken heart, a certain madness.

Because "love" does not make sense. Because it plays a juggling act of reason and logic. Because its overriding drive springs from the animal truth that starts out as a fluttery ache from within, and finally spreads as a lightheadedness or a warming to the nether regions between our legs or inside our hearts. And when it catches you, it completely overwhelms.

The only way to survive love's onslaught is to succumb to it. In my life, there are, of course, the other minor lovers in between, but they are lost in the shadows of consideration -- fleeting and stupid romances whose gravity existed only in the moment, but became only a blur in the final analysis. Sometimes I ask myself whatever possessed me to consider these unfortunate creatures as contenders for the heart: and how unthinking I must have been to stake happiness in their possibilities of loving me.

They are faceless. Only the two remain clear as the insistent tugging of the heart. When I met the First, it started out as a slow evolution that became a consuming passion. We met in rehearsals for a musical play, and discovered we had so much in common -- similarities that provided the engine for more discoveries, and so when the season was over, we came together.

It was inevitable. We fit. We loved the same things. We finished each other's sentences. We connected in the strangest ways. We were both young, and that added fuel to passion. But sometimes the young have expectations of loving that exceed their capacities and sometimes their destinies. When I left for schooling outside the country, the distance between us ended everything. That was the start of how I became intimately acquainted with loss. Sometimes I tell myself that I became a writer because I tried to use words to create a suitable fiction to explain our breaking separation.

How many stories did I write to explain you? Most of which saw only the darkness of trash cans. For those which saw print, they became exorcisms to soothe a ravaged soul. It took many years, but wounds did heal. When I saw the First again, it would be years later. Ten years had passed since our youth. We were much older. And I have become a better man -- someone no longer in love with a ghost, but knowing nonetheless that we were both important parts of each other's lives.

Still, the First told me once: "I am not sure I was ever in love with you. Unsettled my past again. Because how then could we come to explaining those letters sent between us, those thousand "I love you's" becoming litanies on paper? The realization came that if this latest pronouncement was in fact the true state of old things, then what I must have lived through -- those two years when we were young together -- was all a lie.

That all those tears I had shed were all for nothing. That all those "I love you's" were as empty as a soulless ghost. You must understand that was when I knew hate. When I first met the Second, we knew at once that there was a chasm of differences between us.

I had seen the Second around the city before, but we finally met through some strange circumstances when I was speaker for this or that, and the Second was the volunteer to assist me in what I had needed for the occasion. When we met again, many days later, there it was: that undulating possibility of connection.

Still, I was wiser now, and more discerning, and too afraid of loving again. But how do you say no to falling? When the gravity strikes, there is no other choice but to dive into the abyss. Only to find, in the comforts of the eternal falling, that while there are paramount differences between our character and between everything else, it is the opposite polarity that strangely binds. And the love endures. Because the Second is capable of love, and is not afraid. In the end, you must understand that this is really the story of a boy who first falls for one, and then falls for another.

And becomes, finally, a man. In each falling, he finds a paragon of how to love, and consequently how to live. In the first there is heartbreak -- no matter the similarities -- because there is denial. In the second, no matter the differences, there is life, because there is finally an infinite acceptance.

This is my love story. Labels: life , love. So then, let's not go. Who needs corporate-sponsored stupidity anyway. Lovapalooza is for loozas. Labels: issues , queer. That is to say, smart, socially awkward adults and all year-old boys. It also says that this fascination is a harbinger of eventual "social decline. Unlike most friends who are similarly addicted, I didn't find the third season disappointing -- but I do acknowledge their growing antsy-ness and frustration over where the whole island mystery was taking them.

Plus, too many characters we came to love were dying away. And the whole Jin-Sun relationship squabble angle was getting a little too old. Then again, I came to the TV show waaaay later than most people.

Never really followed the series, because the first time it aired over AXN, Mark wouldn't let me watch it. Many months later, I decided to buy the DVD of the whole series from the pirates, and that was when I got hook. I remember skipping work just to find out what happens in the next episode. I saw the first two seasons in roughly four days. You can imagine how that marathon felt like.

And when the third season aired last year, I breathlessly downloaded the contraband copy of the first episode in YouTube now whisked away, and slapped with a "copyright infringement" tag -- and loved the shock of seeing The Others in completely new light. Why do we love Lost? Because it's a good story. Because we love mysteries. Because it is patient and surprisingly believing in our capacity and smarts to follow convoluted narrative arcs unlike most of episodic TV that has absolutely no faith in such.

So now this TV bitch is telling me that my fascination with Lost is a sign of societal decay? It's the whole silly argument over realism vs. And really, that's old hat. Labels: television. The literary awards is open to all Filipino citizens and former Filipino citizens. The Futuristic Fiction and Teleplay categories have been discontinued this year.

This is a special category open to persons below 18 years old. Established in , one of the objectives of the Palanca Awards is to serve as an incentive for Filipino writers to craft their outstanding literary works. It is noteworthy that more and more first-time entrants are winning in the contest. National Artist for Literature Edith Tiempo noted that writers should take full advantage of the annual literary competition to hone their craft. Palanca Jr. Complete contest rules and official entry forms may be obtained from the Carlos Palanca Foundation office or via e-mail to cpawards info.

For inquiries, please call , local Or go to the Don Carlos Palanca Awards website for more details. Labels: palanca , philippine literature , writing. Labels: art and culture. I don't want to do anything. I feel like a slob. I'm behind most of the deadlines I've set for myself.

I'm a zombie. Wake me up when this is over. Labels: life , psychology. I have just discovered Bit Torrent. Well, not really discovered, because I had it before, but didn't exactly know how to use it. So I erased the program from my computer. Mark's been on a mermaid addiction lately, and so we'd constantly hunt down every pirate stall and every video outlet in the city to find a copy.

We tried YouTube and Limewire. Still nothing. Finally, I tried Bit Torrent once more. But what did I find instead? Fritz Lang's M. Michaelangelo Antonioni's L'Avventura. Luis Bunuel's Un Chien Andalou. Robert Altman's Short Cuts. Francois Truffaut's Jules et Jim. Francis Ford Coppola's The Conversation.

It was like being a kid let loose in a candy store. There should be more movies out there, but I'm limiting myself to these classics for now. It does take a while to download a movie, but I just leave them to slowly trickle in while I surf the Internet or watch TV. And suddenly, you have all these masters in your hard disk. I love Internet technology. Labels: film , life. But who cares. I'm also doing this on a dare. And like what BV said, it's fun.

Patrick Wilson actor The first time he enters the frame in Mike Nichols' adaptation of Tony Kushner's Angels in America , you will want to convert to Mormonism forever. If a missionary like him does appear in your doorstep. Ian Lawless model Most of us only got the PG version of his Lacoste commercial, and so there were only hints of what he had to, umm , offer. Find the uncensored version here. But he made nudity look like a wholesome thing, you just want to hug the man. Yes, it's that smile in the end that does you in.

But when he does appear as himself, he is strangely composed, and gentlemanly. And his villainous French race car driver in Talladega Nights was inexplicably sexy. Must have been the accent. Barack Obama U. So he's not that experienced in politics. I'd still vote for him any day of the week. Tom Ford fashion designer The eyes! The eyes! And the fabulous cut on those clothes! Even with all that fashionista air, he exudes a musky machismo that overwhelms.

Reynaldo Gianecchini model This guy is said to be the most beautiful man in the face of the earth. I wholeheartedly agree. I mean, wouldn't you? Those intelligent articles. It's impossible not to like the man. He makes brainy sound pervertedly sexual. Jonathan Bennett actor I hate Lindsay Lohan. But I completely empathize with her character in Mean Girls. I mean, I'd fail math, too, to get the guy.

Jude Law actor He has an odd look that is at once mesmerizing and dangerous. And he simply smolders, right from the very beginning when we first noticed him coming up from the surf in The Talented Mr. Venus would be jealous. He's got that puppy look that blends well with his nerdy, but I'm-cooler-than-you persona.

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