The pessimism of Ricky Lee on love was outrageously high. After reading his first novel, I had the urge to find a rope and garrote all those who have written or produced anything saying that love conquers all. It has never been known that love never read Para Kay B.
The main character Lucas writes five sobering stories real and not, including his, to his unworthy promiscuous girl Bessie (revealed later as B). It sort of reminds me of One Tree Hill‘s, yes, Lucas who created a novel for Peyton, and subsequently become bewilderingly forgotten by the same girl for a Hollywood career. I then rise to my minute antifeminist frenzy. Bessie is the subject sought as inspiration, which could turn a Herod’s heart soft. How could girls like B reject genuine literature just like that? Could they possibly not think how thick the guys’ calluses have grown, from eternal jotting down? Did the guys just develop pasma for nothing? ( Read more… )
I don’t get how my brain works lately but over-thinking have somehow resulted to twirling my night dreams such that for example, what I’m thinking as of this moment would somehow be the one I’ll dream tonight. That’s how one to two-year old babies are supposed to have their dreams, right? Does that mean I’m… isip-bata? Lol.
Anyway, I’ve just joined the One Tree Hill craze for the past week that I can’t believe I have this inner-fanboyittude hidden in my ribs. Let me elaborate: Hilarie Burton is the hottest in the show, admit it or not. In my first dream, the cast of OTH taped in an ancestral house, which resembled a hacienda type of atmosphere, in Ilocos Norte. (How’d I know it was I. Norte? I have no idea). I actually dropped by while they’re shooting a particular scene and the directors were talking with all the production lackeys making the others especially Haley and Lucas bored. ( And then… )