Saccharine Irony

This site is a compilation of fluid thoughts, a collection of poetry, random glimpses of humor and tragedy, spontaneous notions of an extremely sensitive mind.

Two Words February 26, 2008

Filed under: Faves — Aimee @ 6:00 am
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creamy-hayden.jpg Two words: Hayden Christensen. Film critics can bash him all they want, but I’ll remain a stupid, dreamy girl at heart. It’s guys like these that turn any headstrong gal into soft mashed potatoes. Let’s just say he assuaged my broken spirit after rumors on Wentworth Miller’s homosexuality were started, circulated, and are now left in limbo. LOL.

Enough said.


Strawberry Fields in My Mind January 30, 2008

Filed under: Movies — Aimee @ 5:54 am
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51v60r1lril_aa240_.jpg This movie musical – Across The Universe – is lovely. The timeless Beatles’s songs are rendered exquisitely, and the production is a visual pleasure. After watching it, I can’t keep Strawberry Fields Forever out of my mind. Oh, and did I mention Jim Sturgess is the ultimate eye candy? 😉


Lucky, lucky Worms January 25, 2008

Filed under: Mortality stuff,Strange Men — Aimee @ 5:34 am
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v9m7u9-brad.jpg 20080123ledger_ag8888393611.jpg Yeah, this is kind of old news, but there are days when a girl just has too much on her plate that even the deaths of two heartthrobs cannot afford her to make an early reflection on such unexpected tragedies. Again, I was sacrificing sleeping hours for writing, and exploring the sunny world outside when lethargy strikes. Anyway.

Ten days ago, on the 15th of January, Brad Renfro died in his sleep. His Hollywood star sort of waned over the years, but he had such a brilliant career in his youth. He was unforgettable in The Client (1994), and I remember watching a few of his movies in the mid nineties (Sleepers, The Cure, and Tom and Huck) with only as much as a perfunctory interest in his acting prowess, because I was to busy swooning over his lovely brown eyes. Anyone will excuse me for doing so, I was a dreamy adolescent back then, and Brad Renfro was one of the few swoon worthy icons of his time. Then, as most disturbed young actors are wont to do, he grew drug dependent and his movies have become few and far between. Up until his death more than a week ago, my closet still had a few magazine cutouts of his boyish gorgeousness, an outdated remembrance of my silly-shrieking high school years.

Then Heath the sensual Ledger died seven days later, again in slumber. This guy had jawbones that’s to die for, and a burning stare that makes you want to strip down to your underwear and soak in an ice cold bathtub. Brokeback Mountain established his acting skills. He was always excellent in period films. Then, all of a sudden he was reported not to have woken up one gripping afternoon. Sleeping pills overdose, perhaps.

The price actors had to pay for all the glory and red-carpet attention. When people are blown-up to such larger than life proportions, it’s quite hard to believe that they can fade away just like that, and then we are reminded again of the flimsiness of mortal existence.

Such youth, such beauty ought not to be wasted inside rotting mounds of earth, I should say. But it just might as well, for all the grandeur and eminence and possession that one life can hold. Brad and Heath have had their share of the best, so everything is not really wasted. Dying in your twenties however is not a thing worth celebrating, when there are people in their fifties who are just starting on the rosiest time of their lives.

Such a huge regret, whenever those lucky earthworms get their fair share at a most ill-gotten time.


Rumor has it November 22, 2007

Filed under: Strange Men — Aimee @ 3:03 am
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That Wentworth Miller is gay. Gawd. And it has taken me all this time to write about it. Of course I did not readily believe the reports months before; could not bring myself to make sense of it all. I literally drooled over his Michael Scofield in that highly preposterous suspense-drama series on television, and watched his love scenes in The Human Stain with a thousand “damnits”. I’m no schoolgirl anymore but what the heck, nobody coud have stopped me even if I filled my bedroom walls with cheap reproductions of his smoldering gazes, or watched schmaltzy Mariah Carey music videos ad nauseum because he appeared in two of them for all of thirty seconds.

That’s how pathetic I get whenever I’m smitten.

But rumor has it he’s gay. And that he’d been openly dating. Openly. Oh well.

And to think that I’ve been seriously planning on buying a black, fitted baby t-shirt and have it emblazoned with “Mrs. Scofield” on the front in red, bold letters. Imagine that. My sister would have rolled on her belly, and laughed maniacally like Bella Flores… :p