Skip to main content
Two guys walk in a bar…

Well, it doesn’t have to be a bar. It could happen in a café, in the bus, or in the elevator.

… and they start about girls. About the girl they’ve always lusted after, about the girl they loved, about all the trouble they got into because of girls.

You don’t always get the complete story but you hear enough to know enough.

Sometimes, there’s just that one guy who does all the talking and he’s delivering his sermon on girls, he’s laying out his manifesto on the problem with women, he’s confessing why he can’t live without them.

You know what I’m talking about?

Then that’s exactly what you’ll get when you read Alan Navarra’s GIRL TROUBLE.

It reads like a transcript of several guys (or is it just one guy’s) discussion of women. It reads like rambling poem, like two DJs who thought they were off the air and talked about the things that shouldn’t be broadcast.

Aside from the rambling transcript, GIRL TROUBLE is told through a series of black-and-white photos and graphic designed pages. There’s a certain point when the book just shows you all these images and doesn’t make sense (but it does); same way when you see non sequitur visuals in a dream (but it’s now someone else’s dream).

If you’re going to read GIRL TROUBLE, I suggest you don’t try to read all of it in one sitting. Read a couple of pages. Do something else. Then come back to it. Maybe it’ll make more sense that way. It’s as if you were listening to the conversation of the two guys in the next table, but had to leave and when you got on the bus, you start to overhear the conversations of two other guys.



GIRL TROUBLE by Alan Navarra
Published by Visual Print Enterprises

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Budjette Tan 2023 update

Hi all! If you have somehow stumbled upon this old blog looking for something TRESE related, then you've come to right place.   Well... kind of.   Hi! I'm Budjette Tan, the writer of the comic book TRESE, which I co-created with Kajo Baldisimo.  You can get updates about the book over at https://www.facebook.com/TreseComics   I sometimes talk about the other things I'm writing about at https://www.facebook.com/BudjetteTanStories   And I'm also on Instagram, where I post about what I'm reading, eating, and of course about Trese https://www.instagram.com/budjette/   Over at Twitter, I'm just RT-ing and posting about comics, movies, and whatever else pops up on my feed https://twitter.com/budjette  I'm also on TikTok, but I don't know what to do with that account, so there's nothing to see there. And here's a picture of me about to enter a balate tree... it's not the Great Balete Tree and it did not transport me to another realm. But it wa
PANDAY RIDING THAT HEROIC CYCLE Below is an email ELSA BIBAT posted in the Alamat mailing list , prompted by a thread about making/writing/creating a new Panday story. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Okay, okay, I'm back...and I was hoping to have a break from writing stuff. Anyway, it is incredible that someone actually remembered the post. It's been lost to time for exactly a two years now. Thank you for notifying me. Let's begin with the original videotapes. My original videotapes are lost to time, but, I caught all three of the trilogy in ABS-CBN's FPJ Theater... or was that Saturday Action Cinema? GMA 7 went the entire nine yards and showed the entire series in one of their old Tagalog action film shows that were on Saturday nights. The sight alone of the aliens of Panday IV raising the undead and turning innocent villagers to badly made-up extras makes my belly ache. As an aside, FPJ should exercise the rights a

I AM A FILIPINO

I am a Filipino – inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future. As such, I must prove equal to a two-fold task – the task of meeting my responsibility to the past, and the task of performing my obligation to the future. I am sprung from a hardy race – child many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the centuries, the memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in ships that were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come, borne upon the billowing wave and the whistling wind, carried upon the mighty swell of hope – hope in the free abundance of the new land that was to be their home and their children’s forever. This is the land they sought and found. Every inch of shore that their eyes first set upon, every hill and mountain that beckoned to them with a green and purple invitation, every mile of rolling plain that their view encompassed, every river and lake that promised a plentiful living