‘The Replacements’

List the locales you will consider to escape the cost of living crisis in Australia.

We live in a dog-eat-dog world. Bite or get bitten. Prices in the Great Southern Land are on the rise. This trend will continue. Interest rates are not being slashed. Grocery markups, the norm. More than ever, supermarkets are being scrutinised. Cheaper petrol has mile-long queues. Empty cinemas and department stores. People try to get by as they skip meals. Real estate and rent are exorbitant. Our city has been atop the world’s most expensive list. The beleaguered are thinking of exile options. With all the price jacking, where to? Thankfully, there are alternatives. Save for Chile, all of these places do not require a visa for Aussies. You can stay for up to ninety days. No worries. In one of them, we can remain indefinitely. Here are five destinations across five continents.

  1. Auckland, New Zealand. What better way to consider the hypothetical than by invoking the land across the ditch. Eleven years ago, I spent four nights in this magical town. We toured Coromandel, which was two hours away. Likewise shopped at Sylvia Park, which was large but not on par with Macquarie Centre in Sydney. We visited museums, the art gallery, planetarium and zoo. My pal introduced me to his para Christian school friend. They seemed like zealots.

    The people are warm and friendly, ready and eager to lend a hand. The streets are very tidy, with temps similar to Sydney. It’s a bit rainier. Altogether, NZ’s largest and oldest metropolis reminds me of the Emerald City. The joints, banks, malls, cars, museums, and attractions are Sydney-esque. These days, the AUD is not as strong against the NZD.


I doubt of much relief. The essentials would still be through the roof. Interest rates and inflation, the same. Auckland offers two things that others don’t: familiarity and proximity. Have lived in Sydney for a long while? A similar environ won’t hurt. Furthermore, Auckland is three hours away. Closer to the Harbour City than Perth, Western Australia. If you ever need to go back and forth, then look no farther.

Last year, I phoned Ikea for an order update. The lass on the phone was helpful. I detected her Kiwi accent.

‘You’re from New Zealand,’ I told her.

‘Yes,’ she replied with a chuckle. I chortled, too.

Aussies don’t need a visa for NZ, just a valid passport. You can likewise stay in Aotearoa indefinitely. Last time, the customs process was breezy. Returning to Oz, I had jet lag. A long queue greeted the visitors. Being Aussies, we bypassed that conga line, flashed our passports, and were on our way.

2. Alaska, USA. Ah, the old Alaska solution. This first came to my attention from WAY back. See also: The Simpson Movie. I forgot about this option, until streaming Into The Wild on Netflix. The Sean Penn production had spectacular visuals. I wanted to fill a rucksack, sell my belongings, and relocate there permanently.

The glaciers, landscape, and fauna were out of this world. You could spend leagues in the outdoors without gawking at a soul. The ideal place to escape, the ending of a Bourne movie, the great unknown. See also: The Revenant.


All material possessions are superfluous. If our ancestors survived on stones, bread, and meat, then so could we. They didn’t have language skills or five star hotels. No Coca-cola, sports, Internet or typewriters. No Macs or Hugo Boss. No devices, cars, probably sans mobile coverage. Yet they subsisted and carried through. Just you and the earth. Perfect.

3. Patagonia, South America. In consonance with Alaska’s snow, why not Patagonia? The region offers as much, along with condors, the Andes, and Spanish speakers. You must brush up on your Spanish. Patagonia covers southern Chile and Argentina. The renowned author and explorer, Bruce Chatwin, wrote In Patagonia, a revered and highly original travel book. A few years ago, I was lucky to peruse a copy. Though written a while back, the read remains relevant.

Patagonia is like Alaska…on steroids. If the latter is vast, the former is endless. Stretches of space on all directions. Plenty of uninhabited wildlife. The area offers a bit of everything, from bustling cities to birds of prey, snow-capped peaks to winding roads. East is the Pacific Ocean, straight to New Zealand.

The unpredictable weather and plunging mercury wouldn’t bother me. The chilly nights and winters are fine; just pack the right garments. If you’re savvy, you’ll escape the fate of those football cannibals. In the 70s, their plane crashed in the Andes. Unlike Alaska and NZ, Patagonia presents a language barrier. With sumptuous topography, unchartered terrain, and a diverse history, count me in.


4. Iceland. Another snowy locale. In the middle of nowhere, this country is between Greenland and Europe. Iceland was a Danish territory before gaining independence in 1944. An Italian acquaintance told me of the Baltic weather and dreary days. McDonald’s has long gone. In addition, there’s a growing Pinoy diaspora.

I recall catching Walter Mitty with a mate. The flick was made for the cinemas. Upon seeing it, I surmised that I wanted to go. Walter was much better than the critics suggested. Had a strong cast and delightful visuals.

If you want to escape, full stop, this is as good as it gets. Alaska and Patagonia have some traces of civilisation. No offence, but outside of Reykjavik, time has changed little. Iceland is Europe’s most sparsely populated nation. Almost four of ten Icelanders call the capital home. Like being in the TARDIS, it takes some adjustment.

Most Icelanders speak English. If you yearn for rugged terrain, lots of space, and few critters, this is the pick for you.


5. Tangiers, Morocco. To be fair, an African metropolis must be included. Tangiers is not as well-known as the US or New Zealand. The city resembles Iceland and Patagonia, minus the remoteness. Indeed, Tangiers is not Morocco’s most famous tourist spot. See also: Marrakech, with its maze-like alleys and vibrant street markets. In a strategic location, the city is an hour south of Europe.

The mix of old and new, diversity and colour, has created a favourite filming location. Blockbusters like James Bond and Jason Bourne have all maximised the town’s exotic charm. The fight scene between Jason (Matt Damon) and Desh in Bourne Ultimatum has been lauded as one of cinema’s finest. A friend told me that the movie’s Oscars were ‘well-deserved.’

With its Mediterranean climate, Tangiers is the odd one out on this list. Definitely no snow, swooping condors, or sweeping valleys. Closer to Sahara than the Alps. More inhabitants and fellow tourists. English has become the most widely spoken second language. Learning basic French or Arabic is wise. In terms of being culturally rich and diverse, this locus is at the forefront.


There you have it. Five distinct loci in five continents. To recap: Chilean winters to Morrocan spices, Auckland sights to Alaskan wilderness. To paraphrase Shakespeare, to wander or not, that is the question.

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The Dead Ref Day

This past week, we replaced our ref. The old one lasted for almost sixteen years. The right size too, and energy efficient. In 2014, a technician installed a new fan/heater. Recently, it acted up when the weather was Saharan. On Tuesday morn, before I left, it wouldn’t cool anymore. Arriving home that night, I deduced that the appliance was almost ‘dedbol’. The light was still working and the back was still heating, but altogether, a write-off.

Browsing online, I wanted this Kelvinator ref. Being the multitude’s pick, it was out of stock. No new shipments on the horizon. We went with this Westinghouse fridge. The Swedish multinational, Electrolux, owns both brands. Paid with Afterpay. By ten am Wednesday, they delivered the packag to a family member. Installed it, too. They scurried away with the conked out fridge for recycling. An eleven-hour turnaround from checkout to order fulfilment…too easy.

Our fam threw out quite a bit of stuff as a result of Dead Ref Day. Some salmon. A kilo of banana prawns. 200 grams of uncooked beef sizzle steak. 300g of sliced deli ham. A box of Drumstick ice cream. Light milk. A large bottle of Korean Yakult. Glad we got rid of that hehe. Açai berries. Home cooked menudo that smelled incredible. Streaky bacon. Most of the fruit and veggies survived the onslaught. We disposed of some blueberries. The eggs and jam made it through. The sauces did not.

About the title

A bestselling novel and its movie adaptation inspires this week’s catchy title. The Dead Duck Day was significant in About a Boy. I had the privilege of catching it at the cinemas, before devouring the Nick Hornsby novel later. I do not intend to watch the TV series.

Our oldest extant appliance is a Samsung top loader, which has been spinning since mid-2008. Last year, we said sayonara to our electric stove, which served well for a few…decades. Here is a rundown of our most tenured appliances.


Samsung washing machine. We bought this way back. Our first ever Samsung purchase, it has not disappointed. It’s a simple 7.5 kg top loader, grabbed from The Good Guys. At the time, it came with a $150 cash back offer. Sweet. Before, the store’s mantra was ‘Pay less, pay cash’.

Their locations are not very convenient, as their stores are large-scale. Since then, we have also bought a Canon printer and a vacuum cleaner. All of these purchases lasted at least ten years. Our most recent buy was an Aussie-made Westinghouse stove. We bought all these big ticket items at their Alexandria outlet.

The Samsung is your standard no-nonsense washing machine. It has a few cycles: delicates, fuzzy, spin, normal, and quick. The latter does two rounds of washing, making clothes drier. Delicates is obvious: cotton, polyester, acrylic, and linen go on this cycle. It takes longer, with three washes. As the name suggests, it’s gentler on the fabric.


Use the spin cycle to make the items damp instead of dripping wet. You can set the time, too. The clincher is the music, which signals the end of the job. We believe a dryer is impractical as you can’t tumble dry most of these pieces.

Samsung TV. Thirteen years ago, we scored this Samsung TV. Purchasing in store at Myer, delivered to our door. The set has stood the test of time. The remote may have changed, as have the channels. We don’t watch as much telly but try to catch the evening news. The daily weather report is paramount for my sis and me. Free-to-air here is bland. Definitely no NBA. The summer of tennis and the Olympics are the sporting events that excite me. I am a casual rugby league fan. I haven’t watched a full match in ages. I hate cricket, even though it’s iconic to Aussie culture. Ditto Aussie rules football. These days, the telly is rarely the main attraction. With iPads and 5G smartphones, we are often ahead of the evening news bulletin. By the time we bought the set, we had Macs. Hence, the blu ray player was for music discs. The TV technology has improved and prices have dropped.

Kambrook toaster. Purchased in 2017. A two-slicer from Harvey Norman. Tough and made with stainless steel. Comes with a one year warranty. Has a slider which you can adjust from one to five minutes. Heats up quickly. Hopefully, would continue to serve well for breakfasts.


Sunbeam kettle. Also bought in 2017, from Myer. We loved the transparent look and the conspicuous water level. It comes in a steel/glass colour way. The handle and sides are grey. Can heat up to 1.75 litres. Once it boils, the kettle automatically stops. Presto, hydro. Along with the unit, we purchased extended cover for another two years. It’s still going strong.

The rest of our small appliances are novel. This excludes the Nutri Ninja blender. In 2015, we claimed it from Flybuys. Last year, we replaced our Sunbeam air fryer with a new nonstick one. In 2023, the old rice cooker was supplanted by a fresh model. The upright Breville sandwich maker was bagged from JB. For free, with my gift card. We got the microwave from the same online store as the fridge. Shopping from cart to our premises was breezy. There have been other pretenders, but make no mistake. This retailer rules them all.

The new fridge has a bigger freezer and more compartments. Conversely, the main section has a smaller capacity. A slightly larger ref would’ve been sweeter. Given that we needed one right away, this will do. Here’s hoping it’ll last another decade and a half. As a Professor in my fave movie once proclaimed, ‘Sixteen…remarkable.’

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Word of the Month

What’s your favorite word?

At the moment, the phrase ‘conked out’ represents my favourite English words. I first encountered it in Stephen King’s 2019 novel, The Institute. The expression may mean a) asleep b) passed out or c) silenced. The phrase’s humour resonates with me. It brings back memories of anime, where a character would have beach balls in their eyes. I have since utilised the expression heavily in my own writing. A few of my stories bear these words. Ditto my blog posts. Having read some of King’s work, he’s a master wordsmith. He has the uncanny ability to find Le mot juste (the right word). His so-called veteran smarts are discernible in every one of his manuscripts.


In case you’re wondering, ‘bonked’ is the runner-up. I’ll leave it to you to check the definition. Using context clues, M.A., a character in my fiction, declares, ‘Elmo was the guy who bonked Lupe.’

Banal

My class tutor at uni also had a favourite word: ‘banal’. Whenever he couldn’t think of a better word, he’d say ‘That’s so banal’.

To be honest, that guy was universally regarded as a dickhead.

‘I love it when he scrunches his eyebrows’, Scoot said. ‘It gives the impression that he’s got a brain somehow.’

In his class, I met Joe U, a breakdancer who worked at Coles. We became friends, though we never hung outside of uni. To be honest, he was a much better person than that four-eyed train wreck. He is also Filo like yours truly. Even Joe noticed that the guy had a favourite word.

After class, we were waiting for the train. Only twice did I bump into him at the station. I removed my earphones.

‘What’s his favourite word?’

‘Banal’, I replied.

Joe wasn’t a morning person and wouldn’t touch kebabs. We would always sit together during lectures, even though I found these sessions rather boring. He told me that he’s from a well-off family in Dumaguete. He’s one of the friends I mentioned in my memoir. Last I heard, he did a second degree at our Alma mater, works in finance, and had gotten hitched.

Senior high

In senior year, I had a female classmate. Flamboyant was her favourite word. In the off-chance that she heard it, this would light her fire. Soon, everyone connected the dots. I impressed her very much, though she wasn’t my type. A varsity bloke once said that she looked like a real chick…when she was facing away. She was also the batch’s gossip queen. Once joking that she desired my mind, she also wanted the inside scoop on everyone.

That year, I had two favourite words: juxtapose and paradigm shift. I learned both from my mentor, then known as Bro Ed.

Meanwhile, in first year, our English teacher and class adviser introduced the word chivalry to us. Every time one of the girls needed a seat, they’ll say ‘chivalry’. It became their favourite.

Sometimes, being a fine gentleman could backfire. I had a classmate, a consistent honour student. That year, she borrowed a ruler and I gave her my best one. When I asked for it, she did not return it and, ages later, left me with a cheap one on my table. I trusted that, as a high achiever, she knew what is right and wrong. She’s now in Australia. Hopefully, she’s stopped STEALING things.


‘Spoiled ballot’

The following is an excerpt from my memoir:

Moving on, at the back end of third year, my classmates ran for student council. They were mostly honour students who wanted to bump up their general average by serving the student body. During the tallying of ballots in my section, Miss Maleta (our class adviser) announced, “From President to Governor, nothing.”

There were gasps among my peers.

‘Grabe!’ Someone exclaimed: Holy cow!

‘Pungal!’ BJoy declared: Damn.

They were all flabbergasted. How could anyone waste their vote like that? I was surprised that nobody laughed out loud.

They took their cries to our other adviser, Miss Yayo. When Meyers broached the subject, the former said that such things happen during election. When pressed, Miss Yayo told us that perhaps the candidates didn’t meet the voter’s criteria. She admitted that this instance is called a “spoiled ballot”.


Freya, who sat behind me, was disbelieving. She had heard about it for the first time. A few days later, my nemesis James asked me if I authored said ballot.

“No,” I answered too quickly.

Many moons after the fact, I wish to come clean. I was the renegade who refused to exercise my right to suffrage for one election. To this day, I am surprised that my classmates have no idea as to the culprit. I managed to keep my reaction in check. While Yayo was explaining, I couldn’t look straight at her. I feared that I would blow my cover. When Maleta revealed the ballot, I just tried to act as shocked as everyone else. As per Yayo, their policies did not float my boat. Gauging by the room’s shock level, this was their first such encounter. I did not understand all the brouhaha. As they said, “It’s a free country.”

In Australia, this practice is more widespread and is commonly referred to as a “donkey vote.” During the 2010 Federal Election, I witnessed it firsthand as the public weighed the lesser of two evils. While I stood in line, one older guy took a ballot, folded it, and immediately deposited it into the drop box. Meanwhile, the former Labor leader announced that he would do the same and urged others to follow his lead. My friend chuckled at this but acknowledged that he was tempted to do likewise. He ended up voting for Labor. Prior to his decision, he told me that “I don’t want to waste my vote.”

Fair enough.

Speaking of donkey votes, a sequel was released this morning. Being Aussie, I had to vote for the local council elections. Like Tatang, I decided not to support any party today. Why? There hasn’t been genuine change. People come and go but it’s only the faces that shift. There is no considerable progress, at least in the facet that matters to me. In short, personally, these parties have done nothing of consequence. They’re all the same, and it’s disgraceful. Until they finally get their act together, I don’t intend to vote for Labor or Liberal or the Greens or the bonk party.

‘Sharing is caring’

We are largely who we read. We take the best bits from the finest authors. Once we’ve noticed these terms, they become part of our arsenal. If a phrase works, we employ it to great effect. For instance, ‘see also’ from Chuck Palahniuk. ‘Main Street’ from John Grisham. ‘If you wanna know the truth’ by J.D. Salinger. ‘And so it goes’ by Kurt Vonnegut. ‘I’m not thinking anything’ by Michael Connelly. You get the drill.

At the same time, there are turns of phrase that are better buried. ‘As we all know’ was my classmate’s favourite. I hope he’s outgrown that. My erstwhile gym teacher, Miss Puma, should retire ‘basketball ball’. I’ve discussed these and more at length in Topher Wins, my self-help/memoir.

Reading doesn’t mean failing to filter. You must take the good and discard the bad expressions. Like the classroom, being an autodidact is a continuous process. While learning something new, assessing this info is the best practice.

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The Hoarder of Chucky Street

On the fringes of humanity, beyond the realm of decorum and sensibility

As you fixate on typos, malapropisms, and tenses, before guzzling a calzone

They’re shown foraging through mountains of trash

Upon them a radical regression; yearning only to make a splash

Clothed like Little Bo-Peep with tousled hair just doing their thang

This disease does not discriminate: tall or Mini-Me, yin or yang

Their determination as ominous as a basilisk fang 

We think we’re better, but are we, really?

In our suburbs and alleys are growing signs of this sad reality

They are someone’s parent, partner, or dog walker; their actions speak volumes

Older denizens burying their faces looking for bottles, not perfumes

At ten cents a pop, there’s the rub

Rummaging through the abject, handling waste welcome to the hoarder’s club

Serving the community before bedtime, extending the garbo’s job

A large station, Sydney, months back: glimpsed an older bloke hefting a sack chock-full of plastic

Where ‘Santa’ got that mattress bag defies logic

An inner west suburb, a couple of times

Elders hunting through trash as though they were vintage wines

In south Sydney, a senior scouring for bottles at the bins

Surveying the landscape, securing his golden wings

My pa told me to be grateful, your parents will never collect such things

Honour your family and inspire warm feelings

Wouldn’t do deeds that diminish me, he professes

An acquaintance in Canada had the same illness

Not just total strangers either

A family friend’s affliction beats a raging fever

From salvaging used rugs, graduated to hoarding

Tin foil, apple cores, bickie wrappers, broken things are her calling

Waste is absent from her dictionary

The intrepid collector, the polar opposite of stationary

Cleanup time may arrive, with Juniper, her daughter, chucking them

But dear old Tita Nena would rescue her precious subsystem

Scavenging bins and returning with her finds

Nothing’s safe from those bloodshot eyes

Always with the goodies to stack at her Chucky Street home

Bag guy was nothing compared to her zone

House literally bursting with bottles, her room packed to the rafters

A museum of litter and knickknacks a pile gone bonkers

Her late mum was an earlier convert, a curator like Auntie

Hands up! This is the rubbish patrol, everything has a bounty

She hangs out at the Filo shop

Seems so at home, ‘tis now her regular pit stop

Brings them cheap rejected veggies which were scored for free

Lucky that third-class produce ain’t for me

Owner Tulip’s got creases on her forehead

Said she should see a doctor and have that thing checked

Tita keeps on meddling, demands that they should be sliced this way

The kitchen crew has surrendered, troubled that she’ll forever have the last say 

Tulip asked for the daughter’s number

Told her I didn’t have it leaving her to wonder

She’s given the owner a real headache

Confessed to me that she’s gassed and thinking of hatching an escape

With Aunt’s two trolleys and her bad back

Even a savant may not exorcise her subluxation attack!

Trolley pushing gives her joy and peace, an iota of control against Tito Elmo, her abusive ex

Tall, dark, and never mind, that dude was only trouble, made her feel vexed

He said he was five foot eleven

When asked why he didn’t join the PBA, told me you should be at least six flat to make the dozen

Hailing from the countryside, he never spoke about his family

In Sydney, started work at 4am lost his hair like a mummy

He was into fishing and gambled his earnings away

Flashed his Citibank card, with a toothless smile, trying to hide the decay

He always wanted to be on ‘the road less travelled’

Went with a telco that nobody wanted

I called them a few times

Tito said hello very softly, like meek flies

I immediately hung up, which led to obscenities

He fancies himself a handyman but his work is a joke and causes maladies

Auntie Nena asked me if I called

Lied that I didn’t, said her hubby was seeing red; I almost cackled

The trolley practice has since been adopted in her area

Nena was the originator, the commander with the brilliant idea

Mother’s Day, I penned her a long poem

Her three kids were impressed my verses looked like a tome

A drifter with no time for chores

Rarely washes their clothes or sweeps the floors

Been ages since she last cooked, the fridge hasn’t been sorted

She recycled her laundry water, the dandelions neglected

She’s such a roamer can never sit still

Sydney’s her oyster exploring is a must to fit the bill

She heads to the RSL Club with mates and dances the flamenco

Heard she was graceful and swayed like a pro

The friendly atheist couple always gives her a lift

Told me they returned past midnight they’re not that swift

Each day, Auntie devours her favourite, Indonesian instant noodles

Her teeth have disappeared lost poodles

She preaches against drinking cola and coffee

Bad for your pearly whites keep you awake at night like the mad doll, Chucky

A self-styled doctor, she solves your maladies

Again, just like her late mum, a supposed subverter of tragedies

She trusts no dentists or doctors

Even with ill health, she won’t give in like meek donors

She once had a pet rabbit ate all the lettuce and carrots

Loved that hare so much, too bad it wasn’t in the tarots

Buys the same products, hates trying new things

Her fridge is filled with mango ice blocks, pineapple juice, and Aldi clippings

Previously a functionary: was tidy and well-groomed and has remained kind

Always the same questions: your age, height; she’s left her sharpness behind

Thoughtful and very giving, her family forever in her mind

Protects her brood, guards their secrets

Her eldest returned, their abode now spotless yet Auntie made no banquets

The ‘heiress’ had been gone for three months, no note for her mum

Aunt is penniless while June is off to the Taj Mahal she’s numb

Flawed me could never do that to my parents

Felt bad for Tita wished I could realign the heavens

Hope tomorrow would bring better news I’d erase her burdens.

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Spotify: A Music Odyssey

A couple of weeks back, I wrote too soon. Then, I mentioned being a die-hard CD enthusiast. Surprise, surprise…turns out I’ve adapted. Yes, I still run CDs on my music player. However, more and more, I’ve been listening to tunes on my 5G Oppo phone. I’ve discovered this app called Spotify. Though a late bloomer, this is the way to go for me. Previously, I discovered the wonders of Apple Music. Like Spotify, three months’ free access was quite enticing. I used it with my old Apple account. Aside from my faves, I played mellow and meditative music. I even sampled some white noise.

Cobra bye

A quick look at JB’s shelves will reveal that CDs are a dying breed. You’d spot the odd vinyl purchase but the good old cd seems antiquated. In that sensei, I’m probably the last shogun. All those eBay sellers are being ignored. JB’s disc stock will never be depleted. Even the thrift stores are crying crocodile tears.


I’ve used iTunes. Spotify seems more straightforward. The Swedish company has been around since 2006. It has really taken off in Europe. On the App Store’s music category, it’s number one. It competes with Apple Music for tune streaming supremacy. Unlike the former, it’s available on Mac, Android, iOS, and Windows, in 184 markets. In other words, it’s accessible outside the Apple ecosystem. Their site is one of the net’s most visited, with a massive catalogue. You won’t physically scour the music section for obscure releases. I’ve found singles by Wannabe Jalva, The Moffatts, countless Pinoy artists, even Fleetwood Mac. They have the stars, superstars, and indie musicians.

‘Stubefy!’

Furthermore, their logo is quite minimalist. A three-line image with a green background above the word Spotify. It’s as straightforward and unpretentious as Apple’s. However, don’t let this simplicity fool you. Spotify is one of the most valuable and recognisable Swedish companies, worth tens of billions of dollars.


The name is not the easiest to remember. It’s not as common as Band Aid, IG (Instagram), or Coke. I’ll provide some examples to illustrate my point. Apple is really breezy. So are Oppo and Nike. Coles only has one syllable. Superdry makes you think of beer. Conversely, Ikea might be four letters, but is three syllables. Still, it’s relatively swift to recall. In terms of banking, NAB (National Australia Bank) is most painless to memorise. CBA (Commonwealth Bank of Australia) might be somewhat more challenging.

If you’re having trouble recalling Spotify, just remember this scene from Harry Potter. His peer, Neville Longbottom, was injured. Instead of saying ‘Stupefy’, he utters ‘Stubefy!’

That’s close enough to Spotify.

Searching for singles

Their app’s search function is both handy and accurate. Once you’ve found your artist, you can listen to the song and add it to your curated playlist. You have the freedom to name the latter, so you won’t get confused. Sometimes, they even include the song’s number of streams. Their homepage likewise has a long list of music genres. When you play a song, it comes with recommendations. Like iTunes, albums, extended plays, and singles come with artwork.

On eBay, there are no Moffatts albums in Oz. You’d have to do with used singles. As a 90s relic, they’ve been subsumed to history. If you find a Duncan Sheik CD, you’d fork out a ridiculous amount. There is no local stock of Pinoy musicians, even big bands like The Eraserheads, Rivermaya, and Hale.

Nostalgia

Spotify has these, and more. They have both the latest drops and one-hit wonders. You will get dizzy from all the genres. Whether country or punk rock, alternative or jazz, there’s something for everyone. So far, I’ve found all the artists and songs that I wanted. You’ll feel nostalgic by playing the hits from your school days. I turned sentimental with ‘Ang Huling El Bimbo’, a mini epic by the Eraserheads. Often, you wouldn’t even have to leave the app, unless you research some artist.


This makes bricks and mortar retailers, and even online stores, anachronistic. They are like the ‘Shaq attack’ in today’s three pointer era. Or a landline in the age of mobile phones. There is no waiting around for the pickup email, or next business day delivery. If you like a song, listen to it and it’s yours. With eBay or Fishpond, you’d go through ten mediocre tunes when all you were after is two or three standout singles.

Thus, it’s incredibly painless. You could even call it hands-off as, often, there’s no need to push any buttons or menus. It works offline. Take your picks, stay in or head out. Listen on the go, on the train, in your room, or to lull you to sleep. Your music could inspire you and generate more creativity. As mentioned, it can bring back memories. Outside, you can use some earphones and forget the world. Like iTunes, there’s no need to hit pause. Just shuffle your playlist and you’re good to go. Everything is there, no need to import CDs or use gift cards to make purchases. I am a big fan of their model.

NAB headquarters


Embracing the new

Collecting CDs means taking up more space. This is the old methodology, one that has declined in relevance. Nowadays, peeps have gone digital. A month of Spotify costs $13.99. The Ed Sheeran CD that I bought was $12. Imagine how much dollars and real estate you’ll save by choosing the road more travelled. $12 will net you maybe ten or twelve songs. $13.99 gives you a repository’s worth. The best value I got from JB was three brand new albums for $20. On eBay, they were preloved and pricier. Buying new (or used) CDs isn’t very practical. Hence, there are so few loyalists.

To be honest, I wouldn’t have noticed Spotify if not for the three months. This year, Spotify ranks second best in terms of value among my subscriptions. I was able to get twelve months of Uber One for free. In 2024, yours truly only paid for one month’s access. Spotify has quickly become one of my phone’s most-used apps. Though a long time coming, I’m glad for making the switch.

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Real Talk: My Fave Music

What is your favorite genre of music?

Most purists would not consider soundtrack as a music genre. However, my interests align with it. I have a large CD collection. I bought most of them back when iTunes was still a thing. Usually, this was after a trip to the cinemas with friends.

I’d import them into my laptop, which in turn expanded my iTunes library. Most of these discs were purchased at JB HiFi. This was before I got into online shopping. I was an avid music fan. I’d browse the CD aisles of JB. They were never crowded. Most people were more interested in snagging games or DVDs. Others were after cheaper CDs. The rest were drawn to music players. Half the time, I knew what I wanted. Other times, I would browse the racks, looking for inspiration. Given their large range, it was a daunting task. Regardless, all of their CDs are brand new. Yes, in case you’re wondering, they have a specific section for ‘Soundtrack’.

Since iTunes conked out, I have only sporadically embraced music subscriptions. I used Apple Music a few times but not Spotify. My first music player was an iPod Touch. The line has since been discontinued. As the smartphone, the iPhone could function as a music player, negating the need for the former.


Zone out’

One of my personal faves is Walter Mitty. Interestingly, I nabbed the CD from eBay. It was sent brand new from the US. I love the motley of songs. Artists such as the late David Bowie, Mumford and Sons, Jose Gonzales, and Of Monsters and Men make this a must-hear. There are soft ballads and intense tunes. Examples of the former are ‘Don’t Let It Pass’ by Junip and ‘The Pina Colada Song’. Step Outside and ‘Dirty Paws’ embody the latter. ‘Lake Michigan’ by Rogue Wave is another winner. I don’t normally purchase CDs from overseas. Nor do I buy stuff on New Year’s. Yet this was well worth it.

Curiously, Walter only got mixed reviews but was a box office success. In spite of the varied critical response, me and my friend loved it. With Ben Stiller and Sean Penn, you can’t go wrong. The killer tunes, employed at genius moments, only added to its allure. For most of us, Walter’s humility is very relatable. He represents the common man, the battlers, the forgotten. When he zones out, we grasp his daydreaming. When he yearns for Kristen Wiig, we remember our desperate crushes. His Greenland treks light a scent.


‘Soup Questions’

Finding Forrester is, hands down, my favourite movie ever. It has the late Sean Connery and Rob Brown. Matt Damon, F. Murray Abraham, and Anna Paquin round out the Oscar winners. Rapper Busta Rhymes tops off the stellar cast. I can relate to both Jamal and William. Gus Van Sant, my favourite director, helmed the production. Observers would note that there are strong similarities between Forrester and Good Will Hunting. Both of his efforts are laudable.

Forrester was about my two top pursuits: writing and basketball. In one scene, Jamal poses a harmless question. His mentor says that he asked a ‘soup question’. This pertains to a query that does not concern the asker.

Of course, I had to score the CD. ‘Over the Rainbow’ by the late Israel K. is a beauteous take on the timeless ballad. In no time, you’ll be singing along to stars and rainbows. ‘Coffaro’s theme’ is sentimental in its simplicity. In the movie, it plays during the scene where Jamal’s flubs cost them the city title. The theme was perfect for the film’s climax. William asks Jamal if he missed those freebies on purpose. Jamal responds that ‘It’s not really a soup question, is it?’

The jazzy album is not for everyone. Listening to the songs brings back memories of a more innocent time. Despite my familiarity with the disc, it never fails to cheer me up and give me a dose of nostalgia.


The Curtain Rod

Spider-Man 2 has some good tunes, too. Dashboard Confessional offers their hit song, ‘Vindicated’. As the lead single, this really gets you in the vibe. Other notable artists include Hoobastank, Maroon 5, and Switchfoot.

My uni friend once told me that this is his favourite Spidey movie. He loved it as it humanised Peter Parker. Seemingly invincible, he was a lot more grounded in this outing. He learned how to channel his powers and to deal with steep challenges. For the first time, he lives away from his Aunt May. He earns a wage and pays rent. While I saw the original Spidey, I did not behold the second one at the theatre. The first instalment was a big talking point in class. Not as much with the second salvo.

‘Vindicated’ was playing while I sat this big exam. My seatmate, Barba, sung along. Suddenly, a big ‘Southerly’ swept the curtains to his face. The buster also ruffled his feathers, I mean, papers. I half expected Robert Frost to nudge Barba in the back.

The proctors quickly fixed the nuisance. They should make a movie starring Barba. ‘The Windy City’ would fit the bill. Wow, I couldn’t believe that his singing was that bad. In case you’re wondering, Barba flunked that exam. Of course, I passed it.


‘Topnotcher’

Juno was an Oscar winner way back in ‘09. At the ceremony, it took home Best Original Screenplay. The storyline was good. Ellen Page and Michael Cera were an adorable couple. Nowadays, the former goes by Elliot Page. ‘Loose Lips’ by Kimya Dawson was nice, if a bit political.’Tree Hugger’ and ‘Sleep’ by the same artists are likewise solid efforts. ‘Vampire’ is also robust. By far my favourite song is ‘Anyone else but you’, which was performed by the two leads. Cera and Page rock guitars as they duet in the closing scene.

The soundtrack topped the charts, a testament to its marketability. Likewise, the film did quite well at the box office. From an initial limited run, it went on to gross $231 million and garnered universal acclaim. It was regarded by most outlets as one of the year’s finest.

Subjective

I own other soundtracks, including The Beach, Stranger Things, and Crazy Rich Asians. They usually have a couple of standout songs, but a lot more mediocre tunes. In particular, Stranger has all these bland eighties hits that did not strike a chord with me. I also have American Pie, an older soundtrack. The songs are more punk-rock and in your face. I also bought A Walk to Remember for the sister.

These CDs are far from the latest. It doesn’t have to be a newness contest. It’s about quality, timelessness, and personal preference. Sometimes, the date and chart rank is irrelevant. Satisfaction is relative.

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Winter ‘24 reads

This season’s catalogue starts off with a classic. Since its publication in 1952, The Old Man and the Sea, received tremendous acclaim upon its release. Subsequently, the novella would take out the Pulitzer. Santiago is the eponymous ageing fisherman who gets the catch of his life: an eighteen-foot marlin off the coast of Havana, Cuba. Only about a hundred pages long, Hemingway’s obra packs a lot. Subsequently, I vanquished this memoir by Jim Boeheim. Astute observers would know him from his lengthy Syracuse tenure. Finally, I tackled Grisham’s latest chart topper. With a killer plot, Camino Winds continues his winning tradition. This is a riveting attempt at foregrounding Black Lives Matter. Interestingly, this list’s first two items were ebook purchases while I loaned the Grisham paperback.


1. The Old Man and the Sea (Hemingway). For the second straight list, I’m featuring an Ernest read. This represents his last completed long-form fiction piece. The protagonist is ancient. He has spent his lifetime fishing. When he sleeps, he dreams of lions. He has hauled in many big fishes in his lifetime. Among the townsfolk, he’s sort of legendary. He can’t afford to buy a portable radio or scour the sea in a modern vessel. His abode is bare bones. He strikes a friendship with a boy, who brings him coffee and visits him each day. He taught the ropes to the kid, who is becoming a gem himself.

On this particular day, the old man sets out alone. He wants to show the community that he could still be a force. He ventures out further than necessary, where help is miles away. There, he sights a massive marlin. Half the story is dedicated with his to and fro with the big sea creature. During this time, his lack of preparation is evident. When he catches a dolphin, he eats it raw. The same goes for everything else. No salt, no lemon. A few times, he yearns for the boy’s company. The latter would’ve definitely helped his cause. Though still strong, he contends with an injured left hand. He feels his body’s aches and pains.

After two nights, he reels in the marlin. This was the happiest day of his life. He pictured going to shore with the catch. His marlin would be in great demand. He promised to pray a hundred Hail Mary’s and another hundred Our Father’s. Sadly, he didn’t keep his promise.

‘…he had only to look at his hands and feel his back against the stern to know that this had truly happened and was not a dream’.

Alone ashore, he mostly talked to himself or to the giant fish. The carcass’s scent drives four waves of sharks. Though he fights back, he could only do so much. Half of it was gone, before a whole school of sharks leave him with no weapons and nothing to show for his diligence.


‘When the fish had been hit, it was though he himself were hit’.

‘He could not talk to the fish anymore because the fish had been ruined too badly’.

Back on land, utterly defeated, he then slumbers for days. The boy is back, crying but eager to help. For the most part, the book is hopeful. Santiago is battered by both sea and age. No matter how weary and old he is, the protagonist soldiers on.

‘What’s that?’

She asked a waiter and pointed to a long backbone of the great fish that was now just garbage waiting to go out with the tide.

‘But man is not made for defeat,’ he said. ‘A man can be destroyed but not defeated’.

Personally, the marlin is a metaphor for success, material possessions, and even power. The book shows us that these are fleeting things. As a former peer once wrote, ‘The nature of life on earth is touch and go.’

Even an empire would tumble down like a block of bricks. Our victories on earth are temporal. There will always be others to take our place. Envious people, like sharks, would seek to destroy us. The heavy inclusion of the winds, the stars, the sea, and the sky help ground us readers. Whether we reel in insignificant prawns or the catch of the century, we should always appreciate what we have. Others have gone deeper. Many have equated Santiago with the apostle, Saint James. They have likened his journey with the Camino. The apostle was also a reformed fisherman. Others have gone even further, comparing the old man with Jesus Christ himself.

This was shorter and easier to digest than Sun Also Rises. Someone once told me that you need to know about fishing to better appreciate this one. Fishing was one of the author’s many interests, together with bullfighting, travel, big game hunting, war, and journaling. These are well-represented in his oeuvre. In case you’re wondering, yours truly lives in books, ballgames, movies, poetry, naughties music, gastronomy, and writing new projects. I also yearn to travel more.

Rating: 4.5/5


2. Bleeding Orange (Jim Boeheim). A Times Best Seller, this is a memoir by the famous Syracuse Orangemen coach. He cracked the varsity as a lanky freshman. Since then, he has stayed on as the squad’s helmer. He gives us an inside look at the All-Americans that he’s managed. From Pearl Washington to Carmelo Anthony, Derrick Coleman to John Wallace. He has played alongside Dave Bing and has also coached with Mike Kryzewski.

Boeheim is best known as the zone guru. His erstwhile understudy, Rick Pitino, brought the full court press to the common man. Meanwhile, Jim popularised the 2-3 zone. Instead of guarding man-to-man, his players settled on areas of the floor. He wasn’t the originator, but, unlike other coaches, he stuck with the zone for full matches, seasons, and decades.

He’s one of college’s winningest helmers. He likewise writes about the Big East and its mastermind, the late Dave Gavitt. Coaches like John Thompson, Pitino, PJ Carlesimo, and Jim Calhoun, are discussed. These directors represent his biggest rivals. His days in the conference defined his tenure. Boeheim tackles the flights, the freezing upstate New York weather, the debacles, his relationship with referees, his rotations, and March Madness. He reminisces their mighty home court advantage, which cheered them on through thick and thin.

In 2003, he won his lone national title. In a team bannered by Melo, they outpointed a strong Kansas team with two All-Americans. Down big at halftime, the latter rallied until Hakim Warrick sealed the win with a late rejection.

Aside from his coaching tales, Boeheim writes at length about his family. While obstinate, he allowed his younger bride to overhaul his wardrobe. Fans of college basketball will love this memoir. It’s easy to read and compelling.

’Life is tough. It’s not supposed to be easy. Problems occur.’

Rating: 4.8/5


3. Camino Ghosts (Grisham). This marks the third book in his Camino series. Ghosts has been the most highly rated of the trio. We return to the eponymous island, where Mercer Mann returns to spend the summer with her partner.

‘He immediately lost interest in writing fiction and began studying her.’

‘The old man came to life. He smiled more, flashed his dentures, and had a sparkle to his eye.’

Bruce Cable rounds up the gang. In so doing, he gives Mercer the idea for her next book.

He introduces his favourite writer to Lovely, the last owner of Dark Isle. Problem is, she has no proof of ownership. We alternate between her ancestors’ murky past and the present. The place, long ignored, wants to be developed by lions. They would erase her people’s history and toy with the ecosystem. For ages, her progenitors have protected the isle and handed down their chronicles. They escaped slavery and lived in the wild. They built their own schools, cooked their meals, and crafted their clothes.

Lovely has Mercer and Bruce in her corner. Soon, a pro bono lawyer, Steve, would join them. So does his assistant, Diane. In a nod to her culture, Lovely always turns up in traditional robes and headgear. They win the case against the vultures. This marks a big and well-earned triumph and proves that money can’t buy everyone. In this case, neither the adjudicator, the lawyer nor the client wanted their dollars. They were blessed with an impartial judge who empathised with her plight.

The ending was bittersweet. There are only twelve long chapters but each one has many sections. To paraphrase Dobby the house elf, I’ve heard of Grisham’s master storytelling, but never that he’s woke. Once again, this proves that Grisham’s at the top of his game. At 292 pages, it’s also the right length. An easy five out of five from Topher.

Rating: 5/5

At the moment, I’m going through Storm Child by the veteran, Michael Robotham. I love his wit. The Cyrus Haven series is a must-read.

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Four Tons

This marks my 400th career WordPress entry. I’ve written on a diverse range of subjects. Love and loss. Basketball and movies. Tennis and Netflix. The annual New Year’s post. The changing weather in Sydney. Poetry samples. Book reviews and story excerpts. Food and education. Personal vignettes and top ten lists. My different collections. The occasional foray into politics. Menulog, DoorDash and my other favourite brands. In basketball, I’d be a 3-and-D player. In tennis, a jack of all surfaces. On film, a versatile actor.

I’ve passed ten thousand cumulative views and have nearly three hundred followers. I wish I could write more book reviews, get more reading done. Recently, I’ve channeled my efforts into poetry. Though I’ve only posted one of them, there are more on the cards. In the past month alone, I’ve completed four poems, all of em at least sixty lines. The lengthiest is 200 lines, an extrapolation of my prom verses.

In case you’re wondering, here are a few comparable milestones. Only one NRL player has reached 400 matches. His name? Cameron Smith. He’s widely regarded as the finest hooker ever. Smith suited up for Melbourne and captained Queensland. In short, we Sydney fans hate him.


The NBA

In the NBA, the premiere hoops league, only four players have ever notched up a quadruple double. The latter means garnering double figures in the five major statistical categories. For the uninitiated, this refers to points, rebounds, assists, steals, and blocks. Chicago Bulls Nate Thurmond became the first to do so, in 1974. Other big men such as Hakeem Olajuwon and David Robinson followed. Former Spurs guard, Alvin Robertson, is the only non-centre to achieve this astounding feat. Robinson was the last cager to pull this off, in 1994. Since the, a few have flirted with the mark. Tim Duncan was most obvious, when he had an 8-8-8-8 stat line in the Finals. However, he couldn’t finish the job. He did bring his people to the Promised Land.

Instead of quadruple-doubles, five by fives have been more common. As this suggests, it involves getting five each of the aforementioned stats. Even borderline All-Stars have been able to norm these numbers.

Still in hoops, there’s this rarity called the four point play. This occurs when a three point shooter is fouled while making his attempt. If he converts the ensuing free throw, he completes the four pointer. Owing to his long, decorated career, Jamal Crawford is the all time leader in four pointers. By far the most famous four point play is Larry Johnson during the 99 playoffs. It was actually a bad call as Johnson took another step before launching the triple. I guess being the home team worked in New York’s favour.

Gettysburg

Another notable use of the number is in Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. The famous speech begins with ‘Fourscore and seven years ago….’

As juniors, we had to remember all 272 words and recite it before the class. Four score means eighty years. From my understanding, Lincoln was a great orator. His words were simple but that didn’t deduct from his eloquence. In school, I was a plus speaker. From freshman till senior year, I always brought my A game.

As a writer

It took me over four years to level up as a writer. In the Chinese school, my work was sloppy and full of typos and inaccuracies. A few weeks after transferring to a Catholic school, my output was greatly improved.


Four hundred pages is a good length for a Michael Connelly thriller. Almost all his books are rated highly, especially the Harry Bosch and Mickey Haller series. 300 pages is not detailed enough and five hundred is just okay but pushing it. Four hundred is the sweet spot.

At one point, I’ve penned a manuscript that was almost 400 pages long. It was a novel set in the UK. I had done a few drafts. However, I abandoned the project as it wasn’t very marketable. For my next fiction output, I’ve talked about making a novella. Either that or a play. At uni, I studied some of the finest playwrights, from Eugene O’Neill to Tom Stoppard, Jean Genet to Henrik Ibsen. I got to know a new play every week.

Finding a way to win

It’s been an eventful ride. I reposted my earlier work way back in 2013. Restarted my journey in 2016. Since that August, I’ve soldiered on and have never looked back. Whether battling a cold or tackling adverse weather, I always find a way to keep this online journal. The times and clothes may have changed but my spirit remains. Here’s hoping for another ten thousand views and yes, a further four hundred hearty posts.

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Our JS Prom and the Capulets

In year nine, I took part in my only prom night

Juniors and seniors got the afternoon off to prepare we took it light

Each participant was handed a meal ticket

We’d exchange it at the door to guarantee our seat at the banquet

Sadly, the girl I desperately wanted was not in the building

Then, she was in year eight, without her it was an okay, if unideal, evening

The event coincided with Valentine’s Day, there were roses and dresses, tuxes and ties

Everyone was dressed to the nines 

When I turned up at the gate seemingly the whole high school faculty was there

They checked that our attires were square 

The prom differs from our American counterparts 

Bringing a date was not a must, though some proudly showed off their sweethearts


Beforehand, we had dinner via catering

On stage, this ball hog belted love songs his voice was so irritating

After supper, the dance floor was open

Later, there were class photos and group pics good there was no sign of McLovin

Did I dance enough? Should I have approached the prom queen? Was everyone accounted? 

Sure, I could’ve been more inclusive shoulda coulda woulda

On a bathroom break, I overheard big Christian Calleja

Turns out he had a thing for this chick he was irked that she had someone else

He and his friend, Don Anthony, thought they had the restroom to themselves 

When I emerged from the cubicle it was as though they’ve seen The Revenant

Should I have patted and reassured him? I said nothing turns out he was unpleasant

Once, Alex told me that Calleja always changes their conversations 

To a different direction; no doubt, that bugger did not have pure intentions


That night’s prom princess was my friend’s long-time crush

I thought that there’d be a repeat of this heart’s day bash

Next year, I mused, she‘ll be there

Guess what? In senior year, our prom was cancelled that wasn’t fair

This pissed everyone off no one wants to be a goner

I never got my chance with her

Spoke with her a few times she ogled as I smashed my intrams hoops audition 

Only to miss everything as I dumped basketball and became the scrabble champion

She asked me my name as we flipped through Guinness together

I saw that her hands were delicate she was clearly not a homemaker

I wrote her a recollection letter, it was stamped with ‘I like you’

She penned me one as well, complete with an astronaut she hardly knew me too


Some of my classmates suspected something was up

When asked to describe my crush, Jelai M. almost gave a close-up

It’s obvious when a guy likes a girl, she said

Indeed, a friend asked me on what I had planned ahead

I was content with watching her from afar

Was too young to date or drive a car

Her sibling was vehemently opposed 

Whenever I asked about her, they changed the topic and imposed

Indeed, after my nice game, the sibling was fuming

Couldn’t believe I could pull that off got primed for fighting

Before the sports meet, my lass kept turning up to play chess at our room

Could’ve reconnected with her to get out of doom

During the intrams match, the sibling asked me to check the team’s roster

Seemed so glad that my designation wasn’t on the folder

Ours was forbidden love, Romeo and Juliet, Rizal and Leonor Rivera

The sibling thought that I brought her bad chakra

The siblings seemed to be warm-blooded

Once, I was passing by her room she sweated

Maybe I should’ve made my move in front of her peers

That would’ve been some talking point: Topher takes his pick and faces his fears

Before Christmas, I served as an acolyte during Mass

Thought she was in class 

Turned out she remained at the gym

She spoke with her pal I could’ve talked to her on a whim

She must’ve been embarrassed I could’ve tried harder

She would’ve appreciated that, a guy who was an initiator

Once, I clocked her as she walked past

Her new friend and classmate lightly teased her this chick was a must


During graduation, my muse was one of the usherettes

There was a recess she came up was probably going to congratulate me

Just stopped short of doing so I was about to make conversation

Behind her, the sibling’s face was so fierce it was an abomination 

So, being the peacemaker, I left

My peer informed me that my girl looked distraught and bereft

Later, I was told that the sibling could do nothing

If I fought for her, the sibling could sulk all they wanted it wouldn’t change a thing

Like a love triangle, them on one side and us two on the other

In school, she inspired one of my poems was a real looker


After high school, I sent her messages she almost never responded

Forgot to tell her about the ‘killer eye’ maybe she would’ve conceded 

The sibling joked that her birthday is near she deserves a gift

I believe that they were just insulting me, if you get my drift

I levelled with her and she told me she was grateful that I was feeling that way

Unfortunately, that was a rare response she had little else to say 

They understood that, after the debacle, their sister would want no part of me

She’s finished her degree and moved on has a successful journey 

The sibling invited me in both Facebook and Friendster 

I ignored them as they were a romance wrecker

They probably felt guilty as they did not treat me right

They got what they deserved silence like the dead of night

I’ve pursued my passion but I’m still looking for my lobster

Hopefully, in God’s grace, I’ll find her


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Lost hobbies

Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?

There are a few. ‘Let us count the ways.’

1. Going to the cinemas. Movies have always been a big part of my life. As a teener, I saw a bevy of films at the local cinema. Most of them were big budget blockbusters like the Bourne series and Harry Potter. Upon our return to Sydney, the tradition continued. I beheld the work of the finest directors: Steven Spielberg, David Fincher, Robert Zemeckis, Martin Scorsese, Bong Joon-ho, and Steven Soderbergh. My closest pals were firm nuts like me. My last incursion was Bad Boys for Life. Prior to this, I had taken in Parasite, which would win Best Picture. Two months before COVID, the cinema was packed. The latter had gotten rave reviews.

The theatres are an experience. The price of admission keeps going up, and so do the snacks. You head to the theatre, hoping to nix the booking fees. However, upon turning up, there’s no one to serve you. Customer support, whether online or in person, is a joke. Movies are subjective. What’s amazing for critics might not be for you, and vice-versa. I saw both Age of Ultron and Arrival, which were media darlings. I didn’t get the hoopla as the pair were train wrecks. Not to mention that we live in sequel-ville. Despicable Me 4? I’m getting sequelitis.


Streaming services will likely kill the cinemas. For the price of a single admission, you’ll get a catalogue of international productions. From miniseries to indie films, dramas to comedies, action to reality TV, you’ll get a lot more for your buck. Before Netflix (NF) became a thing, there were literally a few souls crouching in the theatres. Avengers and Boxing Day were the lone exceptions. Now, with the cost of living crisis, I doubt you would count eight loyal critters in there. Higher groceries mean wiser shoppers. In case you missed it, spending eighteen bucks on one film is unwise.

Furthermore, these services offer one thing that the cinema couldn’t: convenience. Instead of fighting for parking, you can watch it on TV, on your device, and even on the go. Once, my friend and I were to see Venom in Gold Class. It was the school holidays and we were unable to secure parking. With NF, that’d never happen. DVDs did not topple the cinemas, but the latter is not as cruisy as NF. You could stream your series virtually anytime and anywhere. You’re not tied up with a 2:30 pm Saturday session. No need for vouchers, which often can’t be redeemed on weekend evenings. Too easy!

Don’t think that this platforms offer viewers diminished material. Squid Game and Queen’s Gambit have both swept up the Globes. At the Oscars, Coda, from Apple TV, won a historic Best Picture.


2. Playing sports. Back in the day, every Saturday, I shot hoops at the park. It was a nice change of pace from uni. We’d often play two on two or in threes. Afterwards, I’d attend the evening Mass with family. At uni, I also played ball. For two hours on Thursdays at the gym, I’d go up against stiff competition. We played in the half court and were all students. On these courts, I met new people and discussed hoops. I also tried tennis and football.

Having pay TV certainly helped. Tuning into my fave sporting events was a breeze. I saw Ray Allen hit the dagger three. Kyrie burying the Dubs in Game 7 of the 2016 NBA Finals. The Socceroos emerging victorious at the Asian Cup. I still follow basketball and read hoops books. I’ve gone through a lot of Michael Jordan sketches. Ditto Kobe Bryant and other superstars. Haven’t dribbled in ages. Gotta get rid of the cobwebs.

3. Reading dailies and magazines. I used to devour those periodicals. In school, I read the Inquirer and other papers each weekday. I also scanned Time magazine and National Geographic. I bought copies of Tower magazine and FHM (insert devil smile). The former was always well-written and presented. To this day, I still dream of chancing upon a copy of Tower while browsing the news agent.

In Oz, I binged on SLAM, Handle, and Hoop. Many moons ago, I had a subscription to Reader’s Digest Australia. At uni, I subscribed to this paper. Got my copy before attending class. Some of these mags have folded. I got letter of the month for Handle before it waved goodbye. SLAM and Hoop are still in print.

Gradually, the trend was to move online. Yes, these mags continued to offer printed copies. We still have dailies. They are both greatly diminished. Yet more and more of us are going online for our news fix. It’s just handier and more up to the minute.

4. Watching anime. In school, anime was in. Aside from Slam Dunk, Ghost Fighter was also popular. Pokémon was another top pick. Doraemon got a few laughs. Samurai X was surprisingly deep. The girls love Fushiigi Yugi. All of these series were dubbed in Filipino. If it were broadcast in English, I would still comprehend all of the dialogue. It would only be an issue for everyone if it were in Japanese with no subtitles. Post-school, I withdrew from anime. I only watched Slam Dunk in English and that was it. Even as I tuned it, I felt that I’ve outgrown this fare. The show was too corny.

These days, I doubt that even the little ones are glued to their TV sets. Sesame Street and The Wiggles are synonymous with the days of yore. This new generation consume media differently. They have iPads and ultramodern gaming consoles. They listen to music. They read ebooks instead of picture books. They spend a lot more time in front of screens than say playing sport. Anime are kids’ shows. Ditto comic books. I don’t get the fascination with being a kid at heart.

Buzzer-beater

When I started writing this, I had only two lost habits in mind. I was surprised that there were a quartet of interests that I’ve discarded. Some of them betray the status quo. Movies and productions have worsened. They’ve become ‘artistically challenged’, expensive, not to mention stingy. RIP Handle mag. Vale! The old dailies. So long, anime!

Hobbies are ephemeral. As a child, you’ll have vastly different interests as opposed to when you’re enjoying your twenties. Hobbies come and go and are emblematic of a point in your life. Learning lasts a lifetime. As we gain years, we become wiser. Keep the interests that matter. Most importantly, treasure the souls that count.

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