R . I . P

DEMENTIA

november 11, 1980- may 6, 2005

now a dead person

(just for the lack of euphimism)

"a person like me doesn't deserve to live. DEATH came by. I embraced him"

goodbye world

HABEMUS PAPAM! . . .You be the JUDGE

He is Pope John Paul II's sidekick, his confidante and his enforcer. But when the fading Polish prelate met his maker few weeks ago, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger was the next in line to become the world's top Roman Catholic, the corporal representative of God's word on Earth.

And now, yes, he is!

And that should give us all pause, Catholics and non-Catholics alike.

The suave, white-haired German Cardinal used to run the Church's Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. This august organization is occasionally referred to as the Holy Office but it is perhaps best known by an older name - the Inquisition. You history buffs will remember the Inquisition: those Catholic zealots who in the Middle Ages couldn't abide apostates and doubters of the One True Faith. They perfected the use of thumbscrews and the rack to force Jews, Muslims and other dissenters to adopt the Vatican's more 'accurate' understanding of Christianity.

Joe Ratzinger is no spring chicken. He was born in Bavaria in 1927 so is only six years younger than John Paul II. However, he shows few signs of slowing down. He has been the Vatican's top doctrinal officer since 1981 and is a recondite intellectual, fluent in four languages. His intellectual searching began as a seminarian in Nazi Germany where he rounded out the experience with a brief fling in the Hitler Youth, though he was never a member of the Nazi Party. He was later conscripted into the German Army from which he eventually deserted before ending the war as an American POW.

After completing his doctorate on St Augustine in 1953 he made the rounds as a professor of 'systematic theology' before ascending to the position of Archbishop of Munich in 1977. From there John Paul II invited him to Rome, where he took up residence in 1981.

Once settled he was quick to make a mark with his old-fashioned dogmatism and conservative values. He was particularly upset by what he saw as destructive, liberalizing influences unleashed at the Second Vatican Council (1962-65). These 'wild excesses' extended to the introduction of a non-Latin Mass after Vatican II which Ratzinger characterized as a 'tragic breach' in tradition. But the Cardinal's discomfort with modern life and yearning for the good old days also extended to the social realm, especially into the areas of gay rights and women.

In 1986 Ratzinger issued a letter to the Catholic Bishops in which he wrote that homosexuality was a 'tendency' towards an 'intrinsic moral evil'. A few years later, in 1992, he rejected the notion of human rights for gays, stressing that their civil liberties could be 'legitimately limited'. He followed up by remarking that 'neither the church nor society should be surprised' if 'irrational and violent reactions increase' when gays demand civil rights. Not a man to mince his words, Ratzinger urgently set to work to ferret out gay-sensitive clergy.

The good Cardinal also extended the Papal principle of 'infallibility' by declaring that the ordination of women was impossible because John Paul II said it was so. Ditto for the use of the word 'priest' by the Anglican Church: not on, said Joe, because Leo XIII in 1896 said it wasn't allowed.

The Cardinal is also not happy mixing religion and politics - at least not the kind of politics which suggests the Church has an obligation to assist the poor in their fight for justice. So he set out to muzzle outspoken 'liberation' theologians including Brazil's charismatic Leonardo Boff. He also replaced the now-deceased Archbishop of Recife, Dom Helder Camara, with Monsignor José Cardosa - a conservative right-winger - and warned the ex-Bishop of Chiapas in Mexico, Samuel Ruiz, to preach the Gospel 'in its integrity without Marxist interpretations'.

As if that weren't enough, the ever-busy Cardinal has used his privileged take on the Truth to set back inter-faith tolerance and religious pluralism a few decades. In 1997 Ratzinger annoyed Buddhists by calling their religion an 'autoerotic spirituality' that offers 'transcendence without imposing concrete religious obligations'. And Hinduism, he said, offers 'false hope'; it guarantees 'purification' based on a 'morally cruel' concept of reincarnation resembling 'a continuous circle of hell'. The Cardinal predicted Buddhism would replace Marxism as the Catholic Church's main enemy this century.

And now it has been declared. Habemus Papam. Joseph Ratzinger. Pope Benedict XVI. As Ratzinger himself has said: 'No-one expected the present Pope (John Paul II) to be elected either.'

You be the judge.

Sources: Cardinal Ratzinger Fan Club, http://members.xoom.com/_XMCM/ratzinger/ ;
National Catholic Reporter, April 19, 1999;
The Statesman, April 26, 1977;
OutRage London, www.outrage.cygnet.co.uk/catholic.htm

LOVE STORIES

Love

Stories

Love

Stories

Love

Stories

Please do not be judgmental towards this article. From the title I can see eyebrows being raised and eyeballs rolling to the back of heads. Give me a chance to be mushy sometimes for I have been super-negative these past few months.

As I mentioned from my previous post that I have been out of the office (thank God!) to rest and unwind (as if I was really able to). I've met with my friends that I haven't seen since dinosaurs walk the face of the earth.

We did nothing but drink, be merry and be gay as ever. In the morning, I would sleep, snore and do whatever it takes so that the sun would not touch my skin. At night, I would wake up, wait for my friends to fetch me and another night of alcohol and partying.

After the nightlife and chasing our sober selves, we would just drive around Subic.

One night was different, because suddenly we shifted on our "senti" gears and started being melodramatic. I dunno if it is because of Gary V's music, which is playing on Boboy's car sounds:

Puso ko'y . . . .

Narito . . . . . .

Naghihintay . . . . . .

Sa pag-ibig mo . . . . . .

Ikaw . . . lamang . . . .

Ang inaasam . . . . . .

Tanggapin mo . . . . . . .

Ang puso ko . . . . . .

Narito . . . . .

Hanggang . . . .

Matapos ang kailanman . . . .

Well, it is pretty obvious that the four of us (Kirk, KC, Boboy and I) are partnerless . . . . loveless . . . I guess that's why.

With the super romantic ambiance in Subic. It is indeed pretty sad to be there alone.

Haaaaaay.

Anyway, while Gary V was singing his guts out, Boboy suddenly exhausted his angst. It has been a year since he broke up with Yosef, that guy that he is claiming to be the "this is it".

"Bakit ba may mga times na hindi talaga pwedeng maging kayo maski gusto 'nyo naman ang isa't isa?", Boboy blurted out.

I told Boboy that I really do not believe in that case. For me, if two people genuinely like each other. Why not? No matter what. If not forever, maybe perhaps for a long time, they should end up together

*

Boboy told me his most recent love story:

Boboy's family is from Olongapo. He studied Dent in CEU.

He had this long time crush with a guy, who's taking up nursing.

Boboy when travelling from Olongapo always takes the bus bound to Pasay because he lives in Cubao.

One time, he was really in a hurry to go to Manila and doesn't have the time to wait for the next bus bound to Pasay. The only bus that was about to go was the one to Espanya, so he had no choice. He got on the bus.

While choosing a seat, Boboy felt uneasiness and his heart skipped a beat. He was there, the long time crush, the Nursing student from CEU . . . . he was there in the bus that Boboy thought twice to take. But he was there. So, he definitely made the right decision.

Boboy being the demure type, took the seat infront of the guy, only to regret later that he would not be able to steal a glance because he would had to turn his head, which would be too obvious.

So, he just prayed for a miracle.

1 message received . . . . .

He needed to reply to this one, an important one.

Check Operator Services

In the bus stop, Boboy was looking at the guy. The guy was looking at Boboy.

Blush moments.

Boboy took the initiative to borrow the guy's phone so that he could text the very important person who made the very important text (which a person in his right mind would not do for the fear of being thought of as a cellphone thief). The guy, let Boboy borrow his phone (which a person in his right mind would also not do for the fear that the cellphone would immediately run, together with the cellphone thief).

Thanks yous and you're welcomes.

Another blush moment.

Back on the bus. The guy invited Boboy to take the seat beside him.

Boboy, why not?

Another blush moment.

Followed by a series of blush moments all the way to Manila.

The guy's name was Yosef.

He was the guy that Boboy was fantasizing all along in CEU, which he learned is also from Olongapo.

They have reached Manila.

Yosef asked for Boboy's number.

Battery Low

Then that awful toot . toot . toot .

Then, the phone went dead.

Yosef still asked for Boboy's number, said that he can memorize it.

After an hour and a half, thanks to iodized salt for a sharper memory, Boboy received the first ever text message from his Dreamboy. Boboy not being the demure type this time, asked Yosef to be his boyfriend.

Yosef: Why not?

Then, the two became "them".

That is how their love story started.

*

One time, Yosef called Boboy.

Yosef: Hey, sunduin mo 'ko sa Chowking. Pauwi na ko ng Gapo.

Then, Boboy scrambled to his car and went to Chowking immediately.

After 1 hour. Boboy called.

Boboy: Nasan ka na baby? Nasa Chowking na ko.

Yosef: Anu ka ba? Naniwala ka naman. Niloloko lang naman kita. Hindi ako makakauwi ng Gapo.

Bad trip moment for Boboy.

Boboy, who looked like that inverted smiley went back to his house without his baby.

He parked his car and in his doorstep was Yosef, carrying a bouquet of flowers.

Blush moment.

*

It was December, Yosef would be celebrating his christmas with his aunts and uncles in Manila.

Boboy would have to spend his Christmas with his family. His father just went home from Thailand.

No chance for the lovers to get together.

One gloomy December morning, Boboy received an LBC package.

He didn't know where it came from.

He opened the package, there was a scented handkerchief and a letter:

"When you feel lonely this December,

just get the hanky and smell it.

This would remind me of you.

I'm just here.

- Yosef"

Boboy smelled the hanky, ooooh. It's the coolwaters.

*

January, back to school.

There were rumors about Yosef and Boboy being together.

Yosef, by the way is still a closet and is not comfty with his sexuality (Uh-oh).

Boboy knew that from the very beginning and took the risk.

Yosef was being nagged by his "barkada".

Boboy didn't know what to do when Yosef told him that he was somewhat falling in love with a GURL!

Boboy said, "Fine! Okay! Have a girlfriend. That would not matter to me. She has something that you could not get from me!"

One day . . . . . .

1 Text Message Received.

Yosef: Baby, ssnduin kta ha. Dnt wrry. Lam kng wla na kng tym spent w/ u. Fnish clss k round 1130.

Reply

Boboy: Okay baby, wala na kong class pero wait kita.

Message sent

11:48a

Compose

Boboy: Baby, san ka na? Wait kta dto lab.

Message sent

12:00nn

1 Message Received

Yosef: Sorry baby, meeting p kc kme ng grp k 4 prjct. cn u w8 4 me til 1?

Reply

Boboy: Ok. w8 kta s cfetria. lunch tyo.

Message sent

1:30pm

1 Message Received

Yosef: Baby, sorry nxtend meeting nmin, gulo kc nila. w8 mo ko hanggang 3. lst na 'to. sorry talaga.

Reply

Boboy: Putang Ina mo!

Deleted

Boboy: okay. baby w8 kta hanggang 3.

Message sent

Groooooooowl (stomach)

4:00pm

Compose

Boboy: Baby, san k na?

Message Sent

1 Message Received

Yosef: Sorry, baby wg m n k w8. kc ndi pa kmi tpos. nxt tym n lang promise.

Reply

Boboy: Putang Ina mo TALAGA!

Deleted

Compose

Boboy: Ok.

Message sent.

Around 4:30pm of that day Boboy decided to finally go home. On the way outside the campus, he saw Yosef, but there is a huge crowd on the way out blocking his view. When he finally catch up and a couple of feet away from Yosef . . . . . he saw him, holding hands, with the girl.

Yosef saw him.

Boboy immediately ran outside the campus to the nearest FX terminal.

Yosef chased him but too slow, Boboy was a varsity runner.

He finally got Boboy when Boboy was about to enter the FX.

"Mag-usap tayo," Yosef.

"Wala namang dapat pag-usapan," Boboy said.

Boboy got on the FX. Closed the door.

Tears flowed down from his right eye. (Judy Ann, isdachu?)

*

"I want to have a family someday. Growing up with no parents and no borthers, no real family is hard. I want to have a family, which I can call my own."

Yosef's sentiments to Boboy.

"I know. And I can't give you that family."

Boboy decided to break it up.

"But I love you, I still love you."

"Me too. But we can't go on like this."

That is how their love story ended.

*

Up to this point, I know Boboy still feels the same love he had with Yosef, as if he just broke up with him yesterday.

So, the big question is why?

I told Boboy that they might not really meant for each other, since the guy has not yet faced the worst fear of all: to face the fact that he's gay.

Being optimistic, I told Boboy that that time will come to Yosef - and maybe after that time, they will be together . . . . . . forever.

*

Actually, I'm not an expert when it comes to relationships and especially, I'm no love doctor.

Most of the time, I am just being rational. I think. But sometimes, there are things, which transcend rationality. Things about love and crap. We would only know what to do, when it happened, but sometimes we wouldn't know the reason why.

Right now, I am making a new love story for myself.

A love story that I can call mine.

But this love story is yet to be written.

An ENTRY for the SAKE of POSTING

I have been out of the blog world for almost a week! Yes! I'm out of the office for almost a week. No office means no blog. Wait? Hey! I am not being paid to blog. But anyway, at least I'm making the most out of my idle time.

I had the chance to go to Subic and reunite with my very special and gay friends that I have last seen since God knows when.

Actually, I'm supposed to have a special plan with a special person last Friday but due to "unforseen" and "inescapable" circumstances, we have to cancel that date. Well, I had the chance to stay two more nights in Subic and help in the production of Slimmers World Bikini Bodies 2005.

I have been in the world of live events for almost four years. At the same time, I have been engrossed in the world of beauty pageants. I dunno but maybe perhaps gays and beauty pageants are considered inseparable. The difference is that, I always work backstage. Jeeez! Let's talk about missing all the fun.

Anyway, most people think that it would be heaven-like to be surrounded by gorgeous guys (or gals), yeah, that was exactly what I thought but when you are already there, in the event itself . . . . knowing that the show is in your hands, it would be very very hard to focus your attention to those lumps and those bumps.

Well, I really do not want to sound harsh here or something but there are certain candidates who appear to be old enough to be my mother or my mother's mother. But, as I think of it, this is a Bikini Contest, even my lola could join the contest as long as she has that killer figure. Hmmmm. The gurl who played "Tutubina" in Marina competed and so as Joan Padilla, Robin's sister. When it comes to the boys, I really do not have anything to say because all of them are exceptionally hot and sexy, well aside from this: You Gooooooo Gurlsssssssssss!

Haha.

Anyway, congratulations to Daryll and Sharmaine for bagging the trophy, both of them represent Subic and they were my bets.

I really do not want to write this, without the pictures but I will immediately post 'em as soon as I have uploaded them.

AND THE QUEST FOR THE OASIS CONTINUES

A vulture hovered overhead, casting animated shadows on the sand. The vulture has been there from the first time I set my foot on the loose grains of earth.

As I continue walking, the vulture never ceases to lure. I almost believe that this ave is my guardian angel - angel disguised in in the ugliest skin, bald and yet the thick black feather never fails to mystify me.

Angel of life?

Or . . . .

Angel of death?

The latter would be more acceptable and appealing. Death has become me. Death has been lurking in my shadows under the heat of the sun, even in the cold mist of the night.

It is waiting.

I know it is.

Waiting for me to open my arms and feel its presence. To embrace it, wholeheartedly.

If the desert has been my home, death is my mother.

The frailty of my body and mind has been complimented by the lifeless desert I'm in.

How can you continue to live if there's no life.

Nevertheless, I never loose the courage to traverse the almost never-ending desert - as infinite as the mounds of sand may be, I will never give up . . . . . .not yet to give up.

My feet turned callous . . . my skin burnt . . . . . my vision blured . . . . . .

There's no point of turning back.

There's no way to turn back . . . .

The Oasis is near.

I could feel it. . . . . .

It haunted my dreams for a long time as I sleep bare on the sand, unshielded from the cruelty of the piercing winds.

That is all I am hoping . . . . . for

Or else . . . . . .

I'll just have myself be devoured by the vultures . . . . . by death . . . .

But I am not yet to give up

Not now . . .

Not now that I feel that the Oasis is near . . .

Not now . . .

ABOUT the OASIS

Related to OASIS

A CLOSER LOOK at CLOSER

Finally, last Thursday I got to see a movie, which I desperately hoped to see (unlike my mishap with Million Dollar Baby) in the previous weeks. I first heard the movie "Closer", from an officemate, whom I really trust when it comes to these kind of things. (So . . . do I have to thank her for this?) Anyway, it is not easy to be detached in the real world when you are working almost 18 hours a day, seven days a week. Huh! Deparment of Labor, anyone?

Anyway, enough with the babble, this entry is supposed to be serious. (Please note that while writing this, Damien Rice is shouting in the earphones stucked in my ear.)

"Closer" is the kind of mind-blowing film that will leave your head ringing for hours afterward. It's not profound or preachy, but rather so subtle and smart that by trying to unlock all of its cleverness and irony, you'll likely be as frustrated as a high school dropout trying to solve algorithms.

"Closer", set in modern-day London, is actually a pretty simple story once you drain it of heartbreak. It follows four strangers who meet up by chance. They pair off, dance the tango, switch partners and repeat. It's the square dance of infidelity.

Obituary writer Dan (Jude Law) meets stripper Alice (Natalie Portman) by accident - literally - when she's knocked down by a cab in front of him, soon after arriving in London from New York. He takes her to the hospital, and they fall for each other. Dan meets Anna (Julia Roberts) because she will be taking his pictures for the cover of his book. He hit on Anna, Anna declined. Dan frustrated went in the internet posing as a sexually aggressive female, met with dermatologist Larry (Clive Owen) in a sex chat room, Dan, introduced himself as Anna. He plays a practical joke on Larry which ends up with Larry meeting photographer Anna at her favourite spot: the aquarium. Anna's exhibition of photos brings them all together under one roof, where the two men are attracted to the other's woman. As time goes by, the relationships criss-cross as the four characters love, lie, betray and abuse each other.

Each of these characters is plagued by a striking duality. There's Dan, the obituary writer and failed novelist who fancies himself a dashing Romeo but manages to self-destruct after wooing women way out of his league. Alice, a stripper who's probably the most polluted yet still innocent of the group. Anna the photographer who wants order and control, but invites chaos into her life. And finally Dr. Larry is the Brit dermatologist who's savage or rather a Neathertal yet sweet...kind of. If there's a God, they're all going to hell.

The movie is a movie. It is not a movie that is likely to make you think that, "Hey! This can happen and this is happenin"

Well, there is a possibility but goodness gracious! If that is case! Let's start praying for redemption.

This is the kind of movie that will make you hope not to happen in your life (of course, not if you are manic depressive, you'd enjoy the brou-ha-ha).

Anyway, in one of the scenes, during the arty photo exhibit of Anna, Alice offers a critique:
"It's a lie," she says. "A bunch of sad strangers photographed beautifully."

Gazing at an oversized portrait of herself crying, she adds that the pictures allow the sharply attired patrons to feel superior to the pathetic mopes on display, but in a culturally acceptable way because this is art, after all.

Judging by Alice's denunciation of Anna's photos, self-loathing runs deep in "Closer." Playwright-turned-screenwriter Patrick Marber could apply her speech (which he wrote) to his own work.

Marber, like his characters, also may loathe those who admire him. The type of people who would applaud his play and Nichols' screen version are precisely the type of people in Anna's gallery, young urban snobs who consider themselves aesthetes because they use the word "transgressive" to praise the latest incendiary play, novel or film.

"Transgressive" is pseudointellectual for "shocking." Nichols and Marber use a barrage of vulgar sexual dialogue to shock the suburban bourgeoisie who will wander into this snake pit of a film because that nice Julia Roberts is in it.

And I am not one of those aesthetes. And I'm not a Julia Roberts fan either!

The movie is simply a love story but not quite. There is nothing simple about love - how can anything be simple if you cannot even define it? "Closer" puts the magnifying glass on that intangible bubble that envelops us when a magic spell is cast between two people. A man and woman meet, are attracted to each other, begin a relationship.... It is what happens next that is the complicated part.

We do not need a movie to tell us what's the next thing is.

The next thing is, we are all lying.

"Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off," Alice says performing a lap dance for Larry after returning to stripping.

"What's so great about the truth?" Dan asks Anna, after she has divorced Larry. "Try lying instead. It's the currency of the world."

Ironically all this talk of lying means "Closer" will be praised for its "brutal honesty."

Love is a double-edged sword: it can destroy or inspire. As barriers and shields are stripped away and Dan symbolically puts on his glasses at the end of the film, we can all see more clearly.

TRIBUTE TO "GLAM" ROCK

I would not let this moment pass without bloggin it.

It was two years ago when I borrowed a couple of VCDs from a friend.

It was years ago when I first saw the movie, "Hedwig and the Angry Inch".

I just remember it now when I was browsing through the music that I have, thinking what to upload and what not to upload and I came across the Soundtrack of "Headwig and the Angry Inch" movie.

Suddenly, I felt the rock 'n roll blood in me.

Who knows exactly why, but there's something thrilling about rock 'n' roll that involves cross-dressing. Perhaps it's because rock 'n' roll is all about adopting a persona or a stance anyway -- why not try on the other gender while you're at it, see what it feels like? Smearing lines across the sexes has been a feature of rock since its beginnings.

Suddenly, the multiplied permutations of possible identities were blissfully freeing: A man could look like a woman but sing like a man; a woman could look like a man and sing like one, too. And anyone could look good in a dress -- depending on what form of "good" you were after.

"Hedwig and the Angry Inch" is a story of a tortured rock star who was born a man but who performs as a woman after a botched sex-change operation, "Hedwig" is only partly a meditation on one man/woman's search for identity; assigning too much depth to the movie's themes is a mistake. More important, it's that rarest of creatures: a rock musical that actually works.

"Hedwig and the Angry Inch" is largely about spectacle; the story unfolds in the background, and while the songs support and enrich it, they're not planted sternly like giant signposts to its meaning. Hedwig, a transplant from the tragically divided city of Berlin, is divided himself: As he travels the States with his band, playing a string of Red Lobster-type restaurants to audiences rendered incredulous by his boyish brand of girl glam, he reveals his story in flashbacks between musical numbers.

His most recent heartbreak involves his affair with a rock superstar named Tommy Gnosis (Michael Pitt), who has catapulted to success on the basis of songs that were actually co-written by Hedwig. Hedwig is in the process of suing Gnosis: With the help of his manager, Phyliss (played wonderfully by Andrea Martin, who's like a tart and tarty den mother), he's in the process of a messy lawsuit to get credit (and royalties) for the songs.

But Hedwig's real troubles start much earlier, when, as Hansel, a teenager in Berlin, he falls in love with a seductive hunk of meat masquerading as an American serviceman (Maurice Dean Wint). The G.I. claims to love him and wants to marry him, but in order to get a marriage license, Hedwig would have to undergo a physical exam. His mother helpfully suggests a sex change, and even knows just the doctor to do it. But the operation goes awry, leaving a sewn-up gash and a stump of flesh ("the angry inch") where Hedwig's penis -- or was it his identity? -- used to be. As he explains in one of his songs, his major feature has been reduced to a sorry mound with "a scar running down it like a sideways grimace on an eyeless face."

Hedwig becomes consumed with finding the other half of his innermost self -- the part of himself that has somehow gone missing or, worse, has been stolen. His existential angst is a suitable excuse on which to hang songs, and it's also a rich playground for both Hedwig as a performer and Mitchell as an actor. Mitchell's Hedwig, with his bitten-fruit lips, assortment of glamorous stripper wigs and wardrobe of trashy-fishnet finery, earns both our sympathy and our frustration as he muddles his way through his identity crisis. We see him hurting the people around him, like the biker-masculine Yitzhak, his bandmate and lover (played with the right mix of poignance and humor by Miriam Shor), who harbors a secret desire to be Hedwig.

Mitchell plays all the stock angles of femininity that every drag queen worth his salt has to: He's pouty, petulant and possessive, always the diva. But he also lets us behind the false eyelashes. There's a massive shot of theatricality in his über-feminine Hedwig -- he's scoldingly funny when he bitches out a bandmate for throwing one of his bras in the dryer -- but his fragility pulses beneath the surface in waves. You feel something for him even when, at his invitation, you're laughing at him.

There's not much gloriousness in the movies these days -- not many moments that deliver true spectacle, that make you realize you've stopped breathing for a few seconds. I had a few of those moments in "Hedwig," all of them during musical numbers. (Especially the Wig in A Box Number)

"Hedwig" is aggressively, winkingly glam. Trask's songs are enjoyable as both sendup and tribute. Sometimes their drama is almost inextricable from their knowing sensibility, as in the ballad "The Origin of Love," where Mitchell's "Velvet Goldmine" crooning explains how men and women became divided from a single being in the first place. It's a little corny, but it still sounds damn good. And the sight of Hedwig and his band transforming a trashy trailer into a glitter-rock stage during "Wig in a Box" was so exhilarating I almost died. The movie is pure theater, as it should.

Oh . . . well you can be hard in a dress, or soft in a pair of leather trousers. The blood flows to every extremity from one source: How fast it beats determines how hard it rocks, whether you're working with 1 inch or 6.

(I have uploaded by the way a couple of Hedwig's songs in my music box . . . you can check it out)

****************

A BRIEF note:

LOSING MY RELIGION

I have this very funny feeling right now. I was like hopping and browsing through the blogs in my friend's list. And listening to REM's LOSING MY RELIGION. I was unconciously singing along with the song and at the same time, reading SWIMBUD's entry about the POPE's passing.
For the past days I have seen countless of articles, news and so as blog entries dedicated entirely to the "unfortunate" passing of the Pope John Paul II.

I HAVE VOWED NEVER EVER as in NEVER EVER to write anything about that. But I just felt the need.

Remember, coincidentally while reading an entry about the Pope, REM is singing in my ears:

Life is biggerIt's bigger than you
. . . . .
I thought that I heard you laughing

I thought that I heard you sing

I think I thought

I saw you try
. . . . . .

Losing my religion

Actually, in the real world . . . . I have already lost my religion . . . it has been so long . . . or rather, I'm not very sure if religion lost me. Anyway, does it really matter who lost whom?
Now, if you are religious . . . one who follows the dogmas of the church and all. Just skip this entry. Promise! I really do not want you to feel that itch of being burned in hell after life for reading my "immoral" and "diabolical" thoughts.

First and foremost, I'm not very affected by the death of the Pope because, I really do not belong to the Roman Catholic Church.

I'm just a bit weary because this might be the sign for the end of the world! Waaaaaa. And I'm still SINGLE!

So THAT. I feel sorry for the rest of the world for losing their POPE.