A disappointing interview with Paulo Coelho

Monday, October 30, 2006

Paulo Coelho holding flowers given to him by his life partner, Leif (also in picture)

Mike: I am here today in Rio De Janeiro Brazil waiting anxiously for the arrival of today’s interviewee, Mr. Paulo Coelho. For those of you unfamiliar with Paulo Coelho’s work, he is the author of the best-selling book The Alchemist , a book which to date, has sold well over 11 million copies and has been translated to 41 languages. Oh here he is now! It’s my honor to finally meet you Mr Coelho—
Paulo Coelho: “The moment of that kiss contained every happy moment I had ever lived.

Mike: Um…sorry?

Paulo Coelho: Ah. You cannot possibly understand.

Mike: Understand what? With all due respect sir, your statement didn’t even make sense—
Paulo Coelho: We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It’s one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it’s another to think that yours is the only path.

Mike: Rrright. I’ve always thought you were the master of esoterocism but I never thought that you drivel this much even in person.

Paulo Coelho: …

Mike: …Okaay, now that we got the pleasantries out of the way, shall we move on to the questions I prepared?

Paulo Coelho: We have to stop and be humble enough to understand that there is something called mystery.

Mike: [getting pissed] Whatever dude. Let me get on with my questions. So Mr. Coelho, how do you respond to criticisms thrown at you saying that your books are nothing but a bunch of glorified self help books and that your writing is mediocre at best?

Paulo Coelho: A warrior of light who trusts too much in his intelligence will end up underestimating the power of his opponent.

Mike: Again Mr. Coelho I don’t see how that statment answers my question. But yeah whatever. Since we’re on this topic, why don’t we talk about this Warrior of the light thing. What is it with the black turtlenecks, the carefully groomed goatee and the fake sword?

Paulo Coelho: Tonight his eyes were shining-he looked wonderful.

Mike: You’re not even listening to my questions are you?

Paulo Coelho:—They were seeking out the treasure of their destiny, without actually wanting to live out their destiny.

Mike: So I could pretty much say whatever I want and get away with it because you’re too far gone with all your esoteric bullshit that you couldn’t even say anything that makes sense.

Paulo Coelho: The biggest mistake of the man is that he thinks he doesn’t deserve the good and the bad things from his life.

Mike: Well, Pablo, I’ve always wanted to say this to you: Can you like turn down the gayness? Just a notch dude? I mean the black turtleneck and the fake sword should go man.

Paulo Coelho: Why do we have to listen to our hearts? Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your treasure.

Mike: Also, One of your books, The Zahir, was given to me as a present and guess what I did to it? I ripped it apart and used its pages to wipe shit from my pale white ass.

Paulo Coelho: The biggest mistake of the man is that he thinks he doesn’t deserve the good and the bad things from his life

Mike: And oh you know, By the river Piedra I sat down and wept is quite possibly the worst writing I’ve seen in my life. It has the complexity of a can of rocks and has about the same emotional impact as a mosquito bite.

Paulo Coelho: Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience.

Mike: Fuck you dude. Do all of us a favor and stop writing books man because seriously, all who ever read your shit are pretentious, coffee house-going yuppies and corporate drones who spend their days sitting around cubicled offices in fancy chairs with their Starbucks commuter mugs.

Paulo Coelho: When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.

Mike: I want to punch you so much—
Paulo Coelho: Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.

Mike:—And all the Paulo Coelho fanbois/fangirls who clog the aisles over at Powerbooks talking loudly about how you’re the best thing that happened to literature. Damn you! Damn all of you to hell!

Paulo Coelho: Everything that happens once can never happen again. But everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.

Mike: I am going to hang myself now. Go back to beating on your bongos and lamenting about “sticking it to the man!” you hippie!

The Man Blog is giving away 10 thousand pesos!

From this post:

I am asking all you delicious ladies out there to send us your photos while holding up a sign that says, “I love The Man Blog.” or anything to that effect.

The 5 hottest, sexiest and/or naughtiest pics will be featured here on TMB and compete in an online poll for a whole week. We will treat the winner to a 10,000 peso shopping spree. No. I’m not kidding.

Now for some ground rules because I really don’t want to get sued. You need to be at least 18 years old to participate. All entries should be sent to: editors [at] man-blog [dot] com on or before November 30, 2006. All entries will become the property of TMB and by sending your picture to us, you give us express permission to use the said picture as we see fit. Photos that have been altered, digitally or otherwise will not be accepted. You can wear as much or as little clothing as you like, as long as it is tastefully sexy. I repeat, you do not need to be topless to join. We will unveil the top five pics on the 7th of December and we will announce the winner of the poll a full week later, just in time for her to do some Christmas shopping! Ok. Serious stuff done. So what are you waiting for? Get out those cameras and start clicking away!

To which Steel commented:

Also, we can throw in an all-expense paid dinner date with a man-blog editor(s)of the winner’s choice. I hope that doesn’t discourage anyone who’s planning to join.

Then I added:

Preferably me. The tagline for this contest would then be “Win 10 large, get to date an internet celebrity and go home feeling violated.”

Lots of great ideas were bounced off us including Richelle's:

have shirts or stickers made so you can give them out as consolation prizes

Squid tells it as it is in his blog:

The nastiest bunch of internet retards in this steaming pile of Third World shit called the Philippines just came up with a new scheme to exploit women!

The hottest gang of rising internet rockstars came up with a novel way to feature the beauty of women over at The Man Blog. What’s in it for you? Well, do the words TEN THOUSAND PESOS and SHOPPING SPREE ring any bells? Yeah, I bet they do. So what are you ladies waiting for? Details HERE!

And yes Roanne, the possibilities are indeed endless:

It’ll be a nice birthday treat if I win *hint, hint*. Plus, a date with the Man-Bloggers that will probably end with me getting laid, or even gangbanged? Awesome.

What are you still doing sitting around? Think about it: 10 large. A dinner date. With me. Date rape. Jail time. Awesometown!

Getting married

Thursday, October 26, 2006

On my way home from work earlier, I got a text message from one of my long lost college friends, Missy, who just flew in from Australia. A little backgrounder on Missy and I: As juniors in the business school I attended, we were both transferees from different schools. We pretty much attended the same classes until we graduated and naturally, we hung out a lot. If you've read even one post from this blog, you'll know that for that span of two years we hung out, I tried as much as I could to get into her pants. The farthest I got was a drunken, steamy make out session with her in one of those crazy college house parties we attended on our senior year. Nothing ever came out of this. Probably because after a couple of minutes of intense lip locking in my car, I started to get into my “Vampire: The Masquerade” character and began speaking in weird old English as my right hand made a sortie over her bra strap. It ended in something like this:

Me: [Kissing passionately, using a lot of tongue] mmmfff [trying to unhook her bra]

Missy: [Tenses, pulls away] Mike, I'm not ready for….

Me: Thou Protesteth too much. [Still trying to unhook bra]

Missy: [Unsettled] Sorry?!

Me: Thou shalt let me taste the warm wine of your heart with nary a protest I said.

Missy: Please take me home [about to cry]

Me: Okay.

Missy: Okay.

Lil Jon: Okhayyyyyyy!

After that, a lot of things changed. A couple of months later, she dated and went steady with this jock and I was vehemently shoved into the friend zone where, for a long time I would play the commiserating best friend who listens to her talk about her love problems over the telephone while I silently sob and masturbate on the other end of the line.

We went our separate ways after college: She, leaving for Australia to work for her aunt and I, becoming a successful junior executive/Marketing consultant/Rising Internet Star/Unhaver of consensual sex/Rapist.

Anyway, I'm usually hesitant to go out and have drinks with a girl straight from work. This is mainly because I'm a fat guy who sits in a hot, small workstation for 9 hours and because I sweat easily, I usually end up smelling unpleasant come the time I get off work. Plus, the aforementioned sweatiness was augmented exponentially today since being the pretentious douche/fashion victim that I am, I decided to go to work wearing a ratty wool sweater which I wore over a thick, cotton shirt. Why? Because, asshole, I am a 90's kid and I am a big fan or Rivers Como and Weezer. Don't ask.

Also, I was really spent after a day's worth of hard work but decided to see her nonetheless if only for old time's sake (and of course because she's eligible prey and because I'm an alcoholic who'll never pass up on free drinks).

So I drove over to Metrowalk and was surprised to find that Missy in fact wasn't alone. She has been chilling with Cristine, another one of our college friends since 5 in the afternoon. I walked up to their table and sat down, the beers being nothing less than soothing after a rough day. However, the bar we stayed in was motherfucking hot and I, wool sweater and all, continued to sweat like a bitch.

Despite my profuse sweating, things were going pretty well. I was checking out Missy and found her to be really attractive. I learned that she is playing guitar for a band in Sydney and she was wearing a simple baby tee, distressed jeans and a pair of pink Chuck Taylors which I find absolutely adorable. (Again, I don't know what it is about me and Chicks who can play the guitar and wear chuck taylors but let me just say for the record that I find them to be absolute turn ons and if any chicks are reading this and you're into this shit, please drop me a line so I can date the fuck out of you) Things were going well– Missy and I were flirting, chatting, boozing, more chatting. We spent a good three hours shooting crap and around 10pm, the crowd in the bar started to thin out. Missy stayed but so did Cristine who I'm totally not attracted to.

A couple of minutes more passed, more beers were served and Missy and Cristine both had a good buzz going on. Then Cristine told us that she had to go which accounted for a few awkward seconds where each of us were thinking something different and trying to read each other's body language, and what each other was thinking:

Cristine: “Missy looks like she's about ready to make out with Mike and no matter how hard I don't want that to happen, I have to go home. Oh well, I guess Missy knows what she's getting herself into, I mean she did make out with him once. Although I'm kinda worried because Mike's sweating really bad right now and I don't think any girl could endure the way he smells when he sweats like that.”

Missy: “I am so fucking drunk”

Mike: “I am so horny right now I'm willing to suck the security guard's bird. Cristine, what are you still doing here? Get the fuck out before I punch you in the throat. God, I'm so horny, anybody here with a piece of warm ham I could stick my penis in? Fuck, I'm really horny”

So Cristine left before Missy and and a couple of minutes later, Missy said she's just going to finish her glass and head on back to her hotel room in Discovery Suites which is like only two blocks away from where we're drinking.

I found the perfect opportunity to pounce. It was definitely on at this point, Missy and I are both fucking drunk and have been flirting for most of the night. So I moved in for the kill and tried to kiss her.

[Insert sound of broken record, needle scratching here]

Bad idea.

As I moved in (slowly, if I might add), Missy pulled away and said something that would, for a long time, be responsible for my steeply declining self esteem and be the cause of my severe depression.

“I'm Engaged” Missy said showing me her ring finger.

I am not going to even try and dignify this with an account of how I felt. Let's just say that I am going to spend the rest of my night listening to Boyz II Men and crying in the shower. I mean, Good lord. Wow.

–

Remember that Thrash metal band I told you about a couple of months ago? Well I'm proud to say that it is now starting to take shape. We have a gig a month from now at a local bar and we have been practicing really hard (10 hours a week)

So you know, stop listening to Hale, Cueshe, Callalily and whatever faggot band you're listening to right now and start listening Thrash Metal. If you don't know anything about Thrash Metal, you can start by downloading a few Metallica, Anthrax or Megadeth songs and E-mailing me requesting for a ticket to our gig. That is all.

 

What a fucking faggot I am. Playing Thrash Metal and doing the patented funky Brandon Boyd microphone grip at the same time

.

In this shot we were playing Master of Puppets, arguably the heaviest Metallica song there is and the best expression I could come up with is one where I look like I want to suck my bassist's bird.

  

The Webbies

Sunday, October 22, 2006

It's been a year and a half now since I started this blog and it's been one hell of a ride. For a few weeks when I first started writing I had around three people reading my blog and one of them even stopped visiting after I wrote about our surreptitious, real-life sexual relationship (again Jake, I'm sorry. For writing about how bad you were at sex. And for trying to set your house on fire). 

I really didn't have an inkling that a year later, I would become one of the hottest commodities in the local internet scene. I mean sure, all bloggers out there have been offered an all expense paid trip to Australia because one of their readers can't get enough of them and loved the shit they write online so much that they wanted to meet them in person;  all bloggers out there get an average of six thousand hits a day on their blogs; and all bloggers out there masturbate to their blog's traffic stats using a dirty pantyhose– oh wait, actually, these only apply to ME. Sorry about that.

Okay let's stop beating around the bush here. Over the span of a year, I have written 200,000 words of pure entertainment for you guys and have asked nothing in return(Blatant lie. There're the occasional "So you love my blog? Let's have sex and not see each other again. Come on it will be fun" appeals I throw here and there but you get the picture. Don't be a harpy.). Until now that is. You see, one of the blogs I write for, the infamous Man Blog, has made it to the pre-finals of the 9th Annual Philippine Web Awards and in light of this development, I would like to ask, nay, beg everyone to vote for us.  Help us win the People's Choice award so I can hock whatever the prize is(which Im hoping has monetary value) and spend it on cocaine or transgender whores. Or both.

Also, if you haven't already, tell all your friends about The Man Blog! Make us famous! Get us a coffee table book deal that your grandmother and her cohorts would enjoy reading in their palliative care facility. Forward the link to your college mailing list or whatever. I've actually created an email template to make things easier for you:

So yeah, vote for us. But really, who gives a fuck? I'm Mike "Fucking" Villar goddammit. Have you heard of the Philippine Daily Inquirer? How about the Manila Bulletin? The 1992 Saint Lukes School Spelling Bee Championships? How about the Vizconde Massacre? I don't need some stupid award to tell me how awesome I am. Who the fuck wants to challenge me to a fist fight?! I did two pushups earlier and I feel like I can kick anyone's ass right now! Bring it!

[sorry, I got a little carried away there. Have a great week everyone!]

another reason why I need a girlfriend. Or Sex. Unpaid sex.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

If you've ever read a single post in this blog you'd know how desperate I am when it comes to female companionship. So yeah, nothing new there but lately, it seems like I've hit an all time low as far as being a lonely, sexually deprived sap is concerned. I mean you know you're in a rut when your sexual aggressiveness has reached a point where you'd willingly  fuck any random tissue box just to get by.

But the crushing validation did not come until earlier this afternoon. I got off from work around 3pm and enjoyed a leisurely, uneventful drive most of the way home. The only congestion I encountered was on this intersection about 5 kilometers away from where I live. Traffic was backed up for at least a kilometer which is unusual since traffic on this stretch of road never gets backed up until around 5pm when all the schools in the vicinity simultaneously dismiss their students from their last class.

After what it seems like a year of crawling through bumper to bumper traffic, I finally reached the aforementioned problematic intersection and found out what's causing the traffic: Cows. Two of them. A calf and its mother. In the middle of the intersection. The calf sucking milk out of the mother's ginormous teat with such blithe unconcern towards everything and everyone around them.

Now I could imagine most drivers were cussing their heads off or at the very least, mildy aggravated.

Me?

I don't know if it's the Sarah Mclachlan CD playing in my car or the way the calf's head was violently thrashing around as it fervently sucked milk out of the teat, but I got a major fucking erection watching them.

Getting a fucking boner watching bovines. Good lord.

Also, for some reason, a feeling of bitterness towards my last ex girlfriend is engulfing me. I mean what the fuck Nixie? We had such a wonderful thing going on! I was willing to give you everything in exchange for mild cuddling and letting me smell your hair while I cry. Why do you have to break it off? Was it my ineptness at the ways of pleasuring a woman? Because you really can't blame that on someone like me whose knowledge as far as physical sex would go is limited to what he learned through Betamax tapes or paying some girl (Or guy. One time)an exorbitant amount of money to attempt to have sex with him then later on beg for a refund because he cannot sustain an erection. That's just unfair. Did I say I hate you already? Well I do, and I hope you get attacked by mutant pigeons and hit by a car.  Also, I hope that car explodes and somebody spits at you. That is all.

[By the way, are you guys watching Entourage? If not, then I'm afraid we cannot continue to be friends. Please find another internet star to send your weird naked pictures to. Thanks]