I like kittens better than puppies. But I like dogs better than cats.
Boy, those Fatima brats sure knew how to bullshit.
The world needs more dream sequences.
I shit flowers.
When I was growing up in Los Bastos, we didn't have malls. We had a big-ass mountain. It was entertaining if you were retarded.
Pull an all-nighter for a script. Sleep all the way to Zambales. Wake up not knowing where I am. Rockstar, baby.
ProTip: WAR IS PEACE. FREEDOM IS SLAVERY. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.
On Rockstardom Again
It's not that I'd given up the dream of becoming a rockstar. It's just that my definition of rockstardom has evolved.
On Fetish Porn
My laptop, the source of my livelihood, conked out due to the staggering amount of fetish porn I've been downloading. Fuck you, universe.
On Taxi Drivers
Taxi drivers say the most ridinkulous excuses.
The laborer-type dude in front of me in the train is wearing leggings with SEX printed across his ass. I love the 3rd world.
I'm using an awesome browser called GOOGLE CROM! It's inspiring me to drink mead from the blood-encrusted skulls of my enemies.
On Knowledge and Faith
Remember the Tree in the Garden: Knowledge is the greatest enemy of Faith.
Question. And question everything.
On Movie Sequels
My wife told me Salt will have a sequel. She said it'll be called Pepper. My knuckles turned white with rage.
On Unsaid Things
The things that are still too fragile to say out loud: even they have their own magic.
Finding a sane writer is wishful thinking. The trick is to find a brilliant one with a tolerable level of insanity.
Remember that we are all walking tragedies in this world and so must bear each other's pain.
On Shampoo Blurbs
Whoever thought of putting pseudoscientific blurbs on shampooo bottles is pissing brilliant.
And so, I once again walk the fell streets of this hungry and desperate city with my heart scarred, my mind unrepentant, and the opening theme of Shaider playing in my skull.
On Rockstardom Yet Again
The taste of tequila and vomit still in my mouth. Rockstar mode.
Again we sing our savage cantata.
While taping an episode of a horror show, my boss asked me...
BOSS: Randy, wala ka bang kinangangaragan at all?
SQUID: Uh, nothing that I know of. I think it's a gift.
BOSS: Well, your gift is my curse.
On God and the Devil
Why believe in God when the Devil is more interesting?
What is it with breasts? They're GLANDS, for Christ's sake! So why do I fall into a trance whenever I think of them?
"Anal Vulva Red Yin" is an anagram of "Randy Villanueva" and might be the universe's way of telling me that I am creepy.
On Facebook Status Updates
Status Update Protip: Instead of saying "is eating dinner," try saying "NOMNOMNOM dinner!" People may actually, you know, care.
On Sounding Smart
Imagine a world where a man with a gun is the ultimate image of chever anachro-primitivism chever I hope I sound smart now chever.
On the Lowly Danggit
I therefore submit that danggit is one of the most awesome things on the face of the earth.
Scripts only need a brain, a pair of hands, and a computer to revise. Be imaginative. But be kind to production people too.
On Selling Out
I'm was the same room with Lualhati Bautista. As a TV writer, I felt like the jejemon in the meeting.
Sharing everything has always been the core philosophy of our relationship. We are fucking communists, you and I.
I'm actually hoping that cigarette manufacturers are forced by taxes to jack up their prices to ridinckulous levels so I can quit smoking, thereby telling the tobacco industry to go screw itself.
Call me uncouth, call be barbaric, call me uncultured. But I prefer my liquor hard, fast, godless, and nasty.
Because we all have our neuroses. Though some have more than others.
On Internet Memes
We Filipinos had a term for the Internet meme long before the Internet became a big deal. We called it PAUSO.
On Pen Medina
When Pen Medina steps into a room, you know someone's going to get raped.
On Philippine Movies
Watching Ligaya ang Itawag Mo sa Akin on Cinema One reminded me that the Philippines once made great mainstream movies.
Brain and Coffee
Brain running on coffee. Jeyzus.
Dear Buddy: Stop grieving for things you haven't lost yet.
On Writer's Block
Strangely, I cannot think of anything outrageous to say. I think this is what they call Internet Asshole's Block.
I'm headed for a meeting with blood on my shirt. I hope it makes me look manlier.
On Facebook Popularity
Bud, if you want more Like and Comment Dollars, post during the daytime. Or be entertaining. Or find more jEjEmOn FrEnDzZ pPoWh.
Hotdogs & Spam & prawns & hoisin sauce & oyster sauce & bell peppers & garlic & onions: SQUID'S +1 GUMBO OF AWESOMENESS!
The meeting taught me that I shouldn't blurt out classic porn titles when someone asks me for a movie recommendation.
Take away the claptrap of superstition and the hoodoo of pseudoscience, dreams are still oracles. They don't let us predict the future. They don't reveal our past lives. They don't let us speak with spirits. They don't let us see other people's thoughts. But they do tell us a lot about ourselves. So, yes, we should pay attention to our dreams.
Meatspace Versus Innerlulz
Don't worry, I'm more well-adjusted in meatspace than I seem to be on the Innurlulz.
On Having Children
I wonder how much trouble I'm gonna get when I finally have kids and they see what I've been posting on the Innurnez.
On Scriptwriting Again
TV stories are often rushed. If you can detect the bajillion gaping plot holes in each of my stories, you'll probably murder me.
On Eating Pork
Pork is forbidden in Abrahamic religions like Judaism, Islam, and some Christian denominations because of the Book of Leviticus (and in Islam's case, the Qu'ran, which is basically Mohammed's ret con of the Hebrew Bible). The Book of Leviticus, however, also tolerates slavery, says homosexuals should be put to death, and treats menstruating women like lepers. So I hope you will understand, Mr. Preacher Man, why I refuse to use ancient religious texts to guide my life.
What the world needs is a more believable Messiah.
On Sharing Wisdom
It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside whenever I can share the gems of wisdom I've gleaned from my life experiences. In that meeting, it was the word FRENULUM.
On Marketing Schemes
I've come up with a new marketing scheme wherein I'll sell the customer a burger and then punch him in the guts. I call it "Buy One Take THIS!"
If God is real and he is sane, do you really think he'll mind when we question him?
Some will inspire you. Others will support you. Both are equally important.
Jedi Mind Tricks
I'm a pretty neurotic dude. Please don't play Jedi mind tricks on me.
De brain is drained. Try again later.
On My Youth
When I was a teenager, I always wanted to be that nerdy guy who's always close to the girlies because they think he's harmless. Instead, I became that nerdy guy the girlies kept a wide berth from because he looks like a sociopath.
On Domestic Violence
I have many sins but one thing I've never done is lift my hand in anger against a woman. And I loathe men who do.
On Emotional Exhibitionism
I deal with my issues by scourging them in the market square. The issues don't really go away but people sure are entertained.
Is a system where some of the guilty go unpunished better than a system where some who are innocent are convicted?
We connect. We disconnect. Sometimes, we reconnect. Most times, we just move on. Hopefully, a little wiser.
Kill All the Lawyers
Untalented lawyers are pretty funny. They think that by parroting Latin phrases in arguments, they'll look smarter. Lulz.
Exaggeration is the essence of a good tale. I'm not a historian, bud, I'm a storyteller.
Professional writing means working at home. My neighbors probably think I'm an unemployed douchebag who sits around the house all day while his wife works her ass off.
May bulbol sa kanin kooooooo!
On the Amish
The more uptight the culture, the better the porn. I heard Amish squirters can blow barn doors to smithereens.
On the Amish Again
I love learning about other cultures online but I can't seem to find any of the Amish on Twitter.
On the Philtrum
You know what that little groove under your nose is? It's called a philtrum. I learned that from Batman when I was ten years old. What I didn't learn from Batman is that in Jewish mythology, that's where the angel Gabriel touches an unborn baby to shush it and make it forget the secrets of Heaven before it leaves the womb.
I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I actually knew what I was doing.
On Japanese Orgasms
Japanese adult video idols seem to have better orgasms than American porn stars. Shit, I said that out loud.
When you reach your thirties, your body starts breaking down. I can tell by the little aches and pains I feel from time to time nowadays what I'll be suffering when I get older. My only comfort is that the beast inside my skull is still as lean and as mean and as ravenous and as rabid (and, yes, as rude) as it ever was. I'll be telling stories long after my flesh starts rotting, mark my words.
Writing in textese reveals a couple of things about you. One: you're young. Two: you're stupid.
Stories Tell Us
The stories we tell also tell a lot about us.
I think I'd been spoiled by my stint in animation where 90% of the time you get exactly what you wrote in the script.
On Stephen King
Please, God, don't let Stephen King write any more teleplays.
Writers are a dime a dozen. Better make sure you're fucking brilliant if you intend to have that Alan Moore attitude.
On Neighbors Again
There's a weird household in every neighborhood. My wife and I just realized that in our compound, we're the freaks.
Life is good. And if I hear you telling anyone I said that, I'll deny it. I have my reputation to protect.
I write vignettes because I'm too lazy to make up a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end. Shit, I'm post-modern!
On Horror Movies
Demonic horror stories naturally gravitate towards occult easter eggs. Secret messages, hidden meanings, subliminally planted bits and pieces of information, subtle references to esoteric sources... the game is to catch them. Occult knowledge, after all, is hidden knowledge. Knowledge meant only for those who have the power to unlock them, for those who can stand the darkness, for the acolyte and the hierophant.
Ya know the best part about getting locked out of the house? NOTHING!
On Robin Padilla
90s Robin Padilla with greasy hair, an arrogant sneer, a crazed look in his eyes, and an Armalite is the best Robin Padilla.
On Painful Memories
Painful memories are goddam ninjas. It's when you least expect them that they'll leap at you and slit your throat.
The most successful species on the planet need to kill and to consume flesh to survive. If there is a God, he didn't mean for us to live in peace.
Flaws. Every hero, to be lovable, needs flaws. Characters who have no flaws are forgettable. Flaws could be as juvenile as Kryptonite or as high brow as hubris.
Dear Wife: Si Steven Tyler ba naglilinis ng tenga? Si Jim Morrison Ba naglilinis ng tenga? Si W. Axl Rose ba naglilinis ng tenga? Si Jon Bon Jovi ba naglilinis ng tenga? Si Slash ba naglilinis ng tenga? Si Kurt Cobain ba naglilinis ng tenga? Si Robert Plant ba naglilinis ng tenga? So bakit ko kailangang maglinis ng tenga when all my idols do not?
On Aling Bebang
Aling Bebang sucks giant, sweaty, barnacle-encrusted monkey testicles.
Listen, kiddies: old wounds won't bother you as much when you grow up.
A good day is when the stories come out of my hairy asshole as quickly as last night's rancid kare-kare. A bad day is when I have to stick my finger into that horrid orifice, put the fear of Jesus into that tale, and force the bugger to come out.
I think I spent most of my childhood delivering nihilist speeches at the electric fan so I can pretend to be Megatron.
You can do everything to tell it well but once that script leaves your hands all you can do is pray for justice.
For we should allow our hearts to break from time to time so that we may not forget the taste of tears.
My greatest superpower, I suppose, is looking like I know what I'm doing.
Tower of Babel
The Internet is the new Tower of Babel. And God will not tear this one down.
Remember this well, teller of tales: All stories are love stories.
For I am uncouth, unapologetic, and unwashed.
Los ojos de la noche. Las manos de la muerte. La lengua del Diablo. Y aves de rapina.
On Poetry Again
For my heart is as savage as a beast, as hungry as a cannibal, and as vulnerable as a child.
On Live-Action Television
Back then, I was sort of revising a script over the phone because the taping for the episode was going to start a few hours later. I was walking all over Ortigas, gesticulating wildly with a cup of iced mocha, staring back at people who were looking at me like I was rabid, ranting about blood and sacrifice and spiritual currency and the occult and portals to the world of the dead, gasping for breath, my brain in a creative seizure. That hour and a half high-octane problem-solving session was nothing short of exhilarating. I'm glad to be back in live action.
Dunno about you but I prefer my briefs no-nonsense white. Mebbe that's why I never got laid much. Aside from being creepy.
On Horror Movies Again
Clever ideas in making ghostly effects without resorting to digital altering is at the core of making horror movies. That's part of the reason why Asian horror has become a phenomenon.
I'm writing. By hand. By candlelight. All I need now is for the Guardia Civil to haul my twat to prison.
A word of advice, overimaginative scriptwriter: If you can help it, don't show your face when they're mounting your work. When the taping gets too long and the sun is coming up and weariness has crept like ghouls into everyone's bones through and through, they'll all look at you like they want to eviscerate you, wear your innards around their necks, and then dance with howling abandon on your corpse.
Life should be lived with a fragile and vulnerable heart. Or else we're just the living dead.
I don't really mind the natural tug of war between Production and Creatives. Left to my own devices, I'll give a script that would drive a director to throw an ashtray at me and ask me what I've been smoking for the last couple of days. Viva synthesis.
On Fame and Fortune
Apparently, sitting on your ass and staring at the wall while you wait for fame and fortune DOES work on a certain level. The rest is up to you.
On 1984 Again
Whenever I see how atrocious kids spell nowadays, I'm reminded of George Orwell's dystopian novel, 1984.
On Speaking Out Loud
Making up horror stories reminds me of how I used to dabble in the occult as a child. Shit, forget I said that out loud.
On Underwear Again
As a sign of respect for the people I have to see in this afternoon's meeting, I will change my underwear today. I don't want my bosses to think I'm rude.
We tell audacious stories audaciously because there's too much mediocrity in the world.
Starting school is the first cruel blow that hits a child. Imagine how he'd been led to believe that he is the center of the universe because of all the attention his parents have showered upon him since his birth. All his life, he has seen himself as a benevolent god who bestows joy and laughter upon the vast cosmos of his home merely by existing. When school starts, he suddenly learns that he is but one of a great, nameless legion and that there is a shortage of adoration in the world. Indeed, the world will not spare him attention unless he can shine brighter than the rest and burn like a supernova. He must read faster, draw better, remember more, compute bigger numbers. Merely being alive on the face of the planet doesn't cut it any more. School, then, is a child's first real clue that life is a crappy affair.