Pounding The Keyboard

       So I overheard this conversation of two men (jokingly) calling out female cyclists and motorcycle riders. And it reminded me of some of my memorable experiences with them as an occasional cyclist, which all happened last year.      One, I was waiting for the traffic light to turn green when I felt something repeatedly nudging my rear tire. I glanced back and saw a nervous-looking female motor biker (who looked in her early twenties) behind me who seemed to be having a hard time controlling her scooter, like it would scoot anytime, even before the light could change. I got out of her way, and true enough, when the light turned green, she scooted ahead of all the other vehicles there, almost hitting another motorcyclist on her way.      Next was when I was attempting to get in front of the vehicles while it was a red light. But before I could do it, a motorcycle with two women on it suddenly came out of nowhere (they squeezed unseen in between the stalled vehicles in perpend

       I once read that animals, especially dogs, like humans, can be traumatized.      Then, last week, Thursday afternoon, March 10, our small gate was left open, and our 11-month old beagle, as usual, took the opportunity and rushed out, and as he was crossing the street to go to the house of his BFF Chihuahua, a motorcycle barely avoided him, but a bicycle hit him. Fortuitously, the boy on the bike was able to stop before he could run over him. We (his owners and some of the neighbors) yelled at him to come home, and he came home indeed, looking very confused. He walked back to our house slowly and with his shoulders hanging down. We checked if he was hurt, and luckily he wasn’t—but he was traumatized.      And for the next hours, he was lethargic and despondent and would barely move and eat, preferring to stay under the couch, embracing the sadness and the darkness and the hopelessness it offered. His favorite activity of looking out the window and barking at cats and other

       Fresh (2022) is like the horror version of The Tinder Swindler (2022). Sort of. I watched it because of Sebastian Stan, who is good as the Winter Soldier from MCU. He’s the only actor I know in the movie. The film’s premise: a nice, pretty but sad woman regularly searching (and failing) for love in a dating app, who thinks she finally finds her very charming Mr. Right who, it turns out, is a psycho who only wants her for her delicious body.      The movie is glossy, stylish and has nice cinematography and the two lead actors are good, but scriptwise (especially the climactic scenes), I didn’t really like it. But yes, it has the same message with The Tinder Swindler : never trust men easily, especially the man you've just met who instantly showers you with love and affection, pretending to be your soul mate but in reality is just a younger version of Hannibal Lecter.      Who then to trust? Those whom you’ve known for a long time, who may not be a debonair and handsome

       Last night, I received a text message that said, “Beloved, kindly reply on my email now.” It included an email address, and I don’t know, I assumed its owner was male. And Sun promptly declared that it was a spam message. Still I thought of replying to that message, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t a scam, and that the sender was just trying desperately to connect to someone beloved to him. I wanted to tell him that he had missent his message to me. I also wanted to tell him to “Move on, bro, no need to push it, don’t pursue her, the fact that you’re trying to communicate with her through email means that she has blocked you on Facebook and Messenger, and possibly, also on Twitter and Instagram. Man, she'd never reply. So let it go, once a woman decides to dump a man, it’s final. You can’t change her mind. Believe me, I’ve been trying to change a woman’s mind for eight decades now, one who seems to hate me for imagined transgressions, and I’m still a failure. The f

  “You know that I can’t love you more…”                                                 “The Tipping Point,” Tears for Fears       After eighteen years, Tears for Fears released this February a new album called The Tipping Point and it’s brilliant, possibly their best. All the songs are superb and exquisite, music and lyricswise, but my faves are “No Small Thing,” “Master Plan,” and “Please Be Happy.”      Note that some of the songs (“The Tipping Point,” “Please Be Happy”) in the album were inspired by the sickness and death (depression and dementia) of Roland Orzabal’s first wife.      Five stars out of five.