DEMENTIA_RELOAD

R . I . P

2005-05-07T20:05:00.000-07:00

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

2005-04-24T16:52:00.000-07:00

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

2005-04-18T03:56:00.000-07:00

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.

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?

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.

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.

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

2005-04-17T04:18:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-04-10T03:49:00.000-07:00

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

2005-04-08T14:42:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-04-06T05:16:00.000-07:00

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.

The relationship paradox: Why have them if they end?

2005-04-04T18:03:00.000-07:00

THE RELATIONSHIP PARADOX: Why have them if they end?

Growing up, I never understood the idea of making your bed. Sure, if you are having a party or people are coming over to look at the house, you want things to be neat and tidy. But for everyday living, why make the bed? You are just going to climb into it later and mess it up again. It seems like an exercise in futility, especially if you are the only one who ever sees the bed. To this day, I don't make my bed very often. Relationships are not exactly like making the bed. Certainly, they are more complex, with added benefits that the satisfaction of hospital corners just can't match. However, just like a made bed gets unmade, so many relationships end. This leads me to wonder this week if relationships are really worth the trouble.

I owe a debt of gratitude this week to a long-time friend that i'll have to cover up as GUS. I was having coffee with him recently and the conversation turned to relationships. Gus is a little older than I am, and he has been in his share of relationships, as I have. He was wondering aloud why we bother getting into relationships if they all just end. After all, we invest a lot into a relationship -- not just our time and money, but our emotions and the emotions of our friends and family. When a relationship ends through death, anger or attrition, it leaves everything a little worse than it was before.

It seems like a cynical view on the surface. Life doesn't come with guarantees, and relationships are always a risky venture. And just because life ends at a certain point, that doesn't invalidate the value of a lifetime spent together. The issue for me is about the effort of it. For most of us, we don't marry our high school sweetheart and stay together for 50 years. We string together a lifetime of fits and starts in the dating world, racking up experience points along the way. After a few decades of dating, bookended by "this is forever" and "it sounded good at the time," it is easy to feel a little battle-weary from the experience. Still, is that any reason to throw in the towel altogether?

Past relationships that have ended in failure can create better people to be in a relationship with, if the parties involved learn any lessons from the experience. Quite often, people stumble from relationship to identical relationship without ever recognizing their own patterns or mistakes. For them, I think giving up on the notion of eternal happiness with one other person is a noble gesture. Those who learn and grow from relationships might finally meet someone else who has matured, but the odds seem very unlikely. Statistics show that the majority of relationships are going to end -- so, clearly, your chances are slim indeed.

Despite all that pessimism, I think that there is great value in relationships, no matter how they work out. There are benefits in sharing experiences with someone, even if they aren't still around to share the memory with you 20 years later. Life is a great adventure meant to be taken in the company of others. Pain in life comes with the job, and shutting yourself off may spare your emotions but it also provides a life half lived. While it is true that I continue to have no interest in making my bed, I do think I will continue to give relationships a try. After all, it is more fun to spend time in an unmade bed with someone else.

2005-04-03T07:09:00.000-07:00

TWO NIGHTS AFTER . . . . . . . .

And the desert suddenly became my home . . . . .

I thought I would never escape the quicksand . . . . .

The sand storms that keep on blinding my vision . . . . . . .

The tormenting heat of the sun . . . . . .

My life is barren . . . .

As barren as the desert I'm in . . . . .

Dry . . . . .

All the time, I was wishing for an OASIS to come my way . . . .

An OASIS . . . . .

I hope I'm not only wishing . . . . . .

Suddenly, I saw a sparkling shine as the sun's light reflected on its blue waters . . . . .

My OASIS . . . . .

I hope this will bring life into this death trap . . . .

I hope this is not a MIRAGE . . . . . .

2005-04-02T01:46:00.000-08:00

I discovered the music of Damien Rice:

stones taught me to fly. love taught me to lie. life, it taught me to die. so it's not hard to fall. when you float like a cannonball

2005-04-02T00:12:00.000-08:00

ARMED and FAB

After the bickering, as I have promised, here's what I think about Ms. Congeniality 2:

Even though the original Miss Congeniality came out 5 years ago, which forces writer Marc Lawrence to avoid any pop culture or current events mentions, Miss Congeniality 2 takes us to THREE WEEKS after the events of the original. FBI Agent Gracie Hart is back on the job, but it's a little tough for her. Now, she is a world famous, recognizable face because she saved the day at the Miss Unites States Pageant, which makes working undercover quite difficult. After being dumped by her boyfriend (explaining why Benjamin Bratt is nowhere to be found), Gracie is reassigned to a public relations position for the FBI, and gets herself a princess makeover in the process. Ten months later, her pal from the pageant, Miss United States Cheryl Frasier (the lovely Heather Burns) and Master of Ceremonies Stan Fields (William Shatner) have been kidnapped, and Gracie wants to help solve the case.

Can Gracie save her friend and Captain Kirk (I couldn't resist)?

Damn that Sandra Bullock! I was ready to get a strong hate and rage worked up against Miss Congeniality 2(AKA The Most Unnecessary Sequel since Weekend at Bernie's 2), but Bullock is so funny and charming throughout most of the film, I can only loathe it just a little bit. Don't get me wrong. I have plenty of reasons to hate the movie, so let us list our grievances here.

It all starts with Director John Pasquin's drawn out comedy sequences that end up causing pain instead of laughter halfway through each one (have fun recognizing the moment when giggles turn into rolling of the eyes). After starting off on a positive note, Miss Congeniality 2 loses steam and lacks enough material to keep the energy up, so these comic moments are milked for everything they are worth, and most of what isn't worth it. Of course, the story calls for Gracie to solve the case by easily coming across important clues and information because Lawrence has to spend time on those comedy moments instead of creating a web of intrigue around the police/FBI work (It's set in Vegas, but it ain't CSI). Finally, Pasquin has a great deal of difficulty matching the comic tone of Bullock's scenes with the nasty crime drama of a kidnapping. If Lawrence had written the entire movie like a farce, it might have worked, but the kidnapping is too dangerous and the villains too scary to make you feel like laughing as they carry out the dastardly plot. Somehow, through all of this, Bullock and cast make you laugh almost enough for me to recommend you buy a ticket. Almost.

In a testament to the cast's professionalism and talent, they find some moments to make us laugh by forming strong personalities for the characters. Bullock, even though the Jersey accent comes and goes, maximizes her clumsy swan routine while forming a nice partnership with Regina King (last seen in Ray), who plays a fellow FBI Agent, Sam Fuller, with a bad attitude and no need for feminine frilly trappings. The two are traditional, buddy movie opposites who might discover they have more in common than they realized (You think so?). Meanwhile, Diedrich "Oswald from The Drew Carey Show" Bader keeps us laughing as Grace's stylist, Joel. Bader makes the character flamboyant.

Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous is not one you want to rush out to see, but anyone dragged to it will find the experience to be less painful than a trip to the dentist, or a blind date with me.

2005-03-31T06:08:00.000-08:00

. . . . . LYF after ALL

Last night, I finally faced the worst fear that haunted me for ages:

"GOING TO SEE A MOVIE BY MYSELF!"

The thought just bugs me. And until now, I can't still get over with it.

I was there, standing infront of the ticket booths of G4 Cinemas. Half of myself was browsing through movie listings and showtimes - half of myself was looking at the people in line. There were groups of people, bunches, barkadas . . . . . there were old couples, with their kids and all . . . . . and there were young couples, heterosexuals and homosexuals alike. And there was ME. ALONE.

(Wait, I have to throw up!)

(I'm back.)

As if I have other choices, I fell in line for Ms. Congeniality 2. I'm alone for chrissake, why in the world would I bother to watch a serious film? I would just end up committing suicide inside the moviehouse and cause a mass hysteria . . . . . then I'll just suddenly fade away as the lonesome person who watched movies alone. Errrr. Not my type of tragedy!

"For how many?" the girl in the booth asked.

I was just staring at her.

There was an impulse to lie. To buy tickets for two.

"How many tickets, sir?"

"One! Just for one," there! I finally said it.

I wanted to turn around but I'm damn sure that the folks at the back are gossiping, whispering . . . "Ooooooh. He's Alone!"

"So, you're alone?!" the ticket girl said.

Jesus! Lady do you have to put an extra emphasis on that?

"Yes! It's just me," I said with a sly smile.

Say it one more time lady and I'll shove this ticket through you nose 'till the MRT comes out from it.

"Okay! Enjoy the movie."

"Thanks!"

I was already stting enjoying the trailers of upcoming movies that I really do not intend to view alone in the future.

Suddenly, there's this funny looking girl, that looks like a shoe saleslady, carrying a 3-ft long flashlight, that BIG BOSS MAN would be ashamed if he sees it, told me that my seat is taken.

"Yes," I said. "By me."

"Can I see your ticket, sir?"

I pulled the ticket.

"You must be sitted there," she said pointing at a vacant seat in the middle of what I perceive is the lovers' lane. The whole goddam row is like cramped with couples as if a Korean Mass Wedding is about to precede.

"Can't I just stay here?" I pleaded.

"May uupo po kasi dyan eh."

"Then, you should've told me earlier. i can't even see if there are numbers in the seats!"

"Meron po," she said proudly. Then she hovered the glow of her flashlight at the back of one of the seats.

"Well, I'm sorry. I'm not nocturnal. And besides, you shoud not expect that people would come in here carrying a 3 foot long flashlight just like you do."

But then, I just decided to move. The movie is about to start. I don't want to be mugged by an angry mob of Sandra Bullock fans.

Well anyway, the movie is not as shitty as I expected it to be. (I will have to write a separate entry for the movie review, otherwise, I'll ruin this one)

I had some good laughs. Some fake laughs and some genuine laughs.

By the time that the movie ended, my stomach is growling.

So, I headed straight to Bread Tlk to indulge with the heavenly breads.

It was heavenly. I am not a bread conneisseur but when I say heavenly, you have to trust me.

Breadtalk is the only way that can make me believe that heaven exists. (Well . . . . . of course, aside from good sex! When you start calling god, louder and louder . . . . . . then aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh . . . . . HEAVEN. So, shame on those people who says that God doesn't listen when you call him.)

Anyway, I went straight home after the delictable bread.

I went online. An old friend asked me how was I doing.

When friends ask me how am I doing, I just usually answer them with sheer pessimism: "Heto, ganto pa ren! walang Lyf!"

Then, when I saw my answer on the chatroom window. I just realized, this line can't be anymore true, especially now that I have to watch a movie ALONE.

I wanted to commit suicide at that moment.

Then, I thought about OASIS, my OASIS.

I checked if he's online.

He is.

Then suddenly I thought . . . . .

I HAVE A LYF AFTER ALL . . . .

2005-03-29T05:14:00.000-08:00

The IT Phenomenon

Permit me to be overtly demeaning here as I just want to express my witheld longing to mortify a person, or rather a "thing", which seems to be a person.

I used to think that I would be able to stand other people that would eventually come my way. I used to think that I will always be able to learn how to appreciate and understand other people but this thing, errrr, person, which I really abhor, I really, really as Gawd! really abhor to the highest level of animosity. I just couldn't be in its presence for a long time and not throw up immediately afterwards.

Please do not see me as a person without manners or just being unfriendly in nature. Trust me, I am the most liked person in our office. I'm jolly, likeable and at the same time decent. I'm a good person! But sometimes, we do have our standards and limitations. Especially with the people that we are dealing with.

Now, let me talk about this IT.

I do not know why I really bother to write about IT, since he is not really worth my tendon strain but I can't suppress this.

I hate his guts because,

1) I feel ashamed everytime he's with me or with us. 2) He doesn't have a single clue on what he's saying. 3) he's sorta-lika pathological liar 4) a social climbing sanofabitch 5) with an ugly-looking, algae infested face 6) and the eyes that resembles tita swarding's 7) he's gay and i'm supposed to be close with him but noooooo. He's a gay who doesn't have a culture.8) he's loud as in fucking embarassing loud. as in everytime he talks, there's always the i'm-not-with-him-don't-look-at-me-that-way-feeling.

I'm not insecure with him or any of that bull crap because I'd rather be an orchid that be anything close to him.

I just couldn't understand, why are there such people, which seem to have no apparent purpose in this world, but only to remain a mere +1 to the population of mongoloids!

I'm sorry for these.

I'm back to reality.

Earlier this afternoon, while on my way to office, enjoying the breeze of the humid wind with a combination of the heat of the sun, which is really very tormenting, I bumped into another IT. I do not actually see him as a person but rather a penis. So, he's an it for me.

I am not very fond of ex's. Not because I'm bitter. But I'm lying when I said that. Because I'm bitter.

Well anyway, I met IT a couple of years back, when I was still bumming around and meeting all sorts of people and having sex like a rabbit.

We started out as fuckmates. Nobody could blame me, he got a humongous thingie.

When I bumped into him, actually I didn't notice his face at first. I was looking down in the pavement and my peripheral vision caught a huge lump in the pants of this guy that just walked past me.

Is there a kitten in there?

Then I realized, that lump looks familiar. I immediately turned around and called out his name with a question mark in the end.

He stopped. Turned around. "Melch?"

"Yes, it's Melch!" By that time, I wanted to pull my hair or dive into the nearest open manhole to punish myself for doing that.

He approached me with a sunny smile. I just looked at his face for a while and my vision started to crawl down back to where the lump is.

"How you doin`?"

"I'm doing fine. I'm working there." I pointed at the building where I go to work.

"It's been so long. You do not text."

"I lost your number."

"I want to have sex with you again."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, I hope we could get together, the two of us again, for dinner. I miss yah."

"And yes, you can drown me in alcohol so that you'll have the chance to rape me . . . "

"Huh."

"I'm sorry, I said why not . . . . . sure. Dinner. Here's my number (gave him the digits) I'm running a little late text me."

Then I waved goodbye and head my way.

"Yeah sure. I'll SEX you!", he yelled back.

Honestly, I really do not want to be with him again. We started out as fuckmates, as I have mentioned. But later on, my feelings developed to something that I have regretted. I fell in love with my fuckmate. Yeah! Yeah! Which I know is an ultimate sin. But, I did not push through it. I gave up and one time, when we were supposed to have sex again, I told him, I could no longer do it with him.

So, that's the end of IT.

ThE SeVen DeAdly GaY SinS

2005-03-28T13:53:00.000-08:00

THE se7en DeAdLy GAY SinS

LoSt?

This week, I am employing an arcane device for reviewing gay behavior. Well, this is not because of the passing of the Holy Week 'coz I really am not affected by it, but anyway, my Seven Deadly Gay Sins should be read with a dance remix of "O Fortuna" or any song form "GREGORIAN CHANT" in the background, or immediately followed by a viewing of the movie "Se7en." Not having been raised religiously, I have no proper sense of reverence or resentment toward papal proclamations. For the record, unlike Pope Gregory the Organized, I arranged my Seven Deadly Gay Sins list in alphabetical order, not by degree of severity.

Those of you who are Catholic and already feel guilty just contemplating the sacrilege of my entry should skip ahead immediately to the first deadly gay sin. If you are like me, just be prepared to be entertained. When you see yourself and your own terrible behavior in there, don't be surprised; that's just the way it is with my entry. Feel free to assign your own degree of severity to your sins. You will anyway.

Achievement

How many of you were class president, mr. campus or head of your fraternity? A need to hide who you really are often shows up as maximum-overdrive achievement. Gays have a reputation for being smarter and more successful, but I think the drive to succeed all comes from our need for acceptance. How can the world hate me if I own my own company at 16? Unfortunately, success never translates into the happiness and acceptance we crave, because it is only the achievement itself that gets the acceptance, and little gay you is still hidden away. Looks good on your resume, though.

Affectation

Gay is a world of inventions and secrets. Affectation runs the gamut from queening out in a mall to using a macho persona to get laid. Affectation is what the straight world mistakes for "gay culture." Gays can see it in the "straight-acting" illusion or calling friends "girl." Ultimately, the extremes of gay life are the affectation, because they came to us not naturally but out of a need to feel safe in a hostile world. You get an extra smothering with fire and brimstone if you insist on being offended by this one because you think it doesn't apply to you.

Denial

I think denial is our most powerful human emotion. Denial is what allows gay men to stay in the closet, even when everyone around them knows they are gay. Denial is what perpetuates unsafe sex in a time of HIV, syphilis and herpes. Sometimes, denial is what allows us to keep going from day to day against a tide of oppression, hatred and despair. Ultimately, denial costs us more than we get out of it, because without the truth, we are cast adrift in a world of shallow, easy lies that will wreck us on the rocky shores of reality. Still not sure if you're gay? Go back and read this paragraph twice.

Isolation

Gay life has been called lonely because it seems that no one can keep a relationship going forever. I don't think that gay life is any lonelier than straight life. I do think that the majority of gays are afraid of getting hurt. The coming out process is often fraught with rejection, as is the world of dating. We isolate ourselves from our own emotions, and ultimately each other. We slip into a comfortable world of our own design, where the potential for hurt is at a minimum. The trouble is that our isolation, which keeps out the lows, also holds us back from getting the highs, and our lives exist eternally in a bland middle ground of nothingness.

Regret

The evil twin of achievement is regret. The gay world is the land of the second guess and the "what if" scenario. On the one hand, our desire to be self-reflective and seek personal improvement by learning from our mistakes is admirable. Conversely, whenever our drive to win or to be in a relationship is thwarted, we crash into a swamp of regret and despair. Sometimes, there is regret for being gay in the first place, or in the difficult choices we have to make along the way. Regret is the hardest emotion to shake because, like being gay, it goes right to the core of who we are as human beings. The achievement/regret cycle is like the gay equivalent of manic-depression, which might explain why no amount of alcohol, casual sex or other self-medication can remove the underlying sting.

Restlessness

There is a constant state of restlessness about the gays. Perhaps it is a holdover from the days when we needed to hide who we really were. After all, we all know how hard it is to hit a moving target. There is an impatience with what we have and who we are. It is never good enough. So we keep searching. What are we looking for in that next sexual encounter, that next cute guy, that next gay film? Is it that we are always just searching for ourselves in others? Or perhaps we are afraid of what we might see if we stopped moving long enough to really see ourselves?

Worth

Our ultimate sin is found in our self-worth. This knife cuts both ways. Gays are infused with a sense of self-loathing built on a lack of acceptance and support from the world at large. At the same time, we are filled with all of the vanity of Vanity Fair. No matter how bad we feel about ourselves, there is always someone or something out there that we can hold in lower esteem. Our own low opinion of ourselves powers our desire to turn viciously on each other. Rejection abounds, and we are our own worst enemies. Just as the original seven deadly sins allowed for, we are dismembered alive, but in a novel gay twist, it's by our own hand.

2005-03-28T05:37:00.000-08:00

Let's just break sec here. I'm doing nothing here in the office. I can feel ferns starting to sprout from my genitals. It's boring as hell. But waddapak! This is better than like doing something you would really hate afterwards.

Well anyway, I just decided to post something because I just want to share the trailer of STARWARS EPISODE III, which I snatched from Mr. Schizo (I'll never snatch something from you again).

Well anyway, here it is:

STAR WARS EPISODE III: TRAILER

2005-03-26T05:38:00.000-08:00

HOPE + PASSION + MONOGAMY = FOREVER ?

The holiday is almost finished and it is time for a serious talk.

True, for a single gay man, the prospect of a town full of hot gay guys seems promising. The downside is that such a scenario is not particularly conducive to having a long-term monogamous relationship. Last week, after work, I headed straight to a close friend, who has been recently "attached". I saw him because there was something that he needed to ask me. So, Melch came to the rescue!

Now, let me look at the ultimate struggle between two primal needs: companionship and hot people.

Living in Makati meant that eventually the hot people started to become furniture to me. They were so ubiquitous that they just blended into the background, like nondescript sofas in a Levitz showroom. My horniest single friends were always the most aware of the delicious man-meat around every corner. Those in successful long-term relationships hardly noticed the Baywatch-like characteristics of their officemates, or had their heads turned by that adorable supervisor, who everyone else was trying to bag.

At the time, I assumed that when I met the right guy, I too would cease to notice any other man in the world. As I bounced from relationship to relationship without that happening, I started to think maybe there was something wrong with me.

After all, having been raised on the notion of true love, I thought it would be possible for the sexier side of my personality to shut down. On the contrary, it seems that being in a relationship can sometimes have the opposite effect. Men in relationships often seem more confident than single men because they aren't trying so hard. Suddenly, hot guys are more likely to come on to them. Being in love makes you feel sexy and desirable, which can also make you seem so hot that even the hottest bag boy in town is after your ass. While it's true that some people are completely blinded by love and can only see the person they are with, the people that this doesn't happen to shouldn't feel that their relationship is less stable or solid because of it. Different people just react to relationships in different ways.

Some people make the conscious choice not to choose between monogamy and random hot strangers. If you know that you couldn't possibly give up the eye candy without it turning into a more hands-on project, you should be clear and up-front about that, both with yourself and with potential dates. There is no dishonor in having an open relationship, as long as that is the plan from the onset. Too many people delude themselves into thinking they are ready for wholesome monogamy, just like mom and dad, when in their heart of hearts, they know they can't do it forever. At the same time, they don't want to be alone, and the hottest people out there aren't always the ones who are still there in the morning. They may not even stick around long enough for you to towel yourself off. I guess it all boils down to figuring out what is more important to you.

Nearly every single gay male friend I have says that he is looking for a relationship. Usually, he can't finish that sentence without craning his neck to get a better look at the waiter's ass. As appealing as all of these hot guys are, at a certain point, you need to make a fairly conscious choice. What is more important to you? Do you want to make a commitment and stick to it? Or do you want to bounce from hottie to hottie until there is no air left in the dodge ball?

If you aren't willing to have an open relationship or live in the land of the endless three-way, you have to face up to your choice. For so many of my friends, it seems like a choice they are unwilling or unable to make. So the parade of inferior and self-sabotaging relationships begins, and it's clear from the beginning that they are doomed to failure. For some people this might seem like a midway compromise: some relationship and some hot gay action. For me, it just looks like copout. Make your choice, whatever it is, and stick with it.

2005-03-24T08:18:00.000-08:00

Happy Maundy Thursday!

And since its Maundy Thursday, here's for a good laugh.

I really don't see the connection but what the hell.

Dear Manay Letty,

Nais kong ikuwento sa inyo ang namagitan sa amin ng aking itay isang gabi. Hindi ko kayang makalimutan kahit anong bahagi ng gabing iyon. Malakas ang ulan noon. Katatapos ko pa lamang maligo at nakatapis pa lamang ako sa loob ng aking kuwarto. Narinig ko si Itay na kumakatok sa
aking pinto. Nang sagutin ko ang pinto ay sinabi niya na kailangan daw naming magusap. Pinapasok ko naman po siya dahil ama ko po siya. Nagulat na lamang ako nang isarado at ikinandado niya ang pinto. Hinawakan ni Itay ang braso ko. Napasigaw ako, sabi ko"ITAY huwag, anak mo ako!". Ngunit hindi tumigil ang aking Itay. Ipinagpatuloy niya ang kanyang ginawa. Pumikit na lamang ako dahil sa ayaw kong makita ang mukha nang aking tatay sa kababuyan na kanyang ginagawa. Naririnig ko si Inay na binubulabog ang pinto. Sumisigaw na, "Hayop ka wag mong gawin yan sa anak mo!" Ngunit wala pa rin. Ipinaubaya ko na lamang ang sarili ko sa Diyos. Pagkalagpas ng ilang sandali ay natapos din ang aking Itay. Nang humarap ako sa salamin ay nagulat ako sa aking nakita. Magaling naman pala mag-make-up si Itay. Noong gabi na iyon ay nagladlad ng kapa si Itay. Natuwa ako at mahusay ang kanyang ginawa.
Naisip ko na ma tutuwa ang aking boyfriend dahil sa ganda ko. Nagyakapan kami doon at nag-iyakan. Masaya na kami ngayon at walang problema. Lubos na gumagalang, Badong

Dear Badong,
Wala akong masabi sa liham mo kundi...PANALO!!! Para sa iyo, Badong: B.U.R.M.A. - Between Us, Remember Me Always.

Nagmamahal forever,
Manay Letty

2005-03-23T04:56:00.000-08:00

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Let me take my breath first.

Whew!

I just got back from my lunch. Downstairs, while having yosi with some friends at the back entrance of our building (PhilAm), I just saw one of the goddesses that walked the face of the earth and I worhip her . . . . .

I was just a couple of feet away from IMELDA MARCOS.

I felt my heart beat faster.

My knees, weakened.

I wanted to ran towards her and kiss her feet but due to the fear of being shot by her bodyguards, I just stood there in awe. Hyperventilating.

It is one of the most unforgettable 2 minutes of my life.

She's still beautiful in her well fixed hair. She's in a red terno, and red shoes. She really is a queen.

Some of the old foreign guys are already saying farewell to her, she just extended her hand. And they kissed it as if she's a saint.

Dang!

Right now, I am very regretful that I feared to be shot while I should've just walked and I would have been in the presence of "MADAME" in the flesh.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

I think I'm going to faint.

I'm sorry for sounding so jologs but my gawd. If I have to be Imelda's yaya for the time being, I would.

Here's my tribute to Madame Imelda, IMELDIFIC , I've written this a couple of months back after watching the documentary about her.

2005-03-23T02:53:00.000-08:00

UNHOLY TUESDAY

Yes. It is still holy week and Tuesday had passed.

The theme for HolyTuesday: Repentance. The beautiful hymn of Kassiani is sung while we the faithful turn our attention towards the woman who anointed Jesus with precious myrrh and washed His feet. It is truly time to reflect upon our sinfulness and ask for repentance.

Firstly, if I am to talk here about sinfulness, my God! I would need more than a blog to enumerate everything.

I remember this time when I was kid when we were forced by our teachers to confess our sins to a priest. One Sunday, we were obliged to go to the church in our newly pressed church clothes, which I truly loathe. Anyway, we would fall in line to that funny looking box, were the priests, uhmmmm, do whatever in the bloody world they are supposed to do inside.

Then, it was my turn, I have to kneel and speak through a screen.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned. I saw a bold magazine and I enjoyed it!"

Hahahaha. Those were the days.

For all I care, sins are nothing but sins. Whether we like it or not, we commit sins and even though that we would keep on repenting over and over again, we still tend to commit these sins. I dunno but maybe perhaps it is in the nature of human beings to be sinful. But let me first be clear that I am not talking about sins here as prohibited by the church, for I really don't give a fucking damn on what they say that we should do and should not do. I'm talking about the sins that we commit to ourselves and to other people, not necessarily to their god. The sins, which we know by heart.

Maybe, perhaps we enjoy it.

We enjoy hurting other people.

We enjoy hurting ourselves.

Maybe that is just how the world works. Otherwise, there's no fucking thrill in living.

So . . . . . . for all the people that've hurt me . . . . . . . . don't worry . . . . . . . Melch knows who does not pay. I will not just smile at you and say that you are forgiven moreover I will make it to the point that I will haunt you 'till the last strand of my life, just to make you suffer and make you realize that, what you have done to me . . . . . is wrong. And even though you're already dead, if I have to revive you, I would, just to cease the life out of you again.

So . . . . . . for all the people that I've hurt . . . . . . . . . don't worry . . . . . . . . . . You can just fuck off and pray that I'll die soon.

Or maybe perhaps the sins that we know are in fact virtues. Our bloody society just twisted our minds to think otherwise. Ssssssssssssssssh! Who knows?

2005-03-22T01:49:00.000-08:00

UNHOLY WEEK

It has begun.

This is like my most dreaded time of the year.

But for this year, I wouldn't very much be bothered since I have committed myself to work overtime all through out. From Palm Sunday to Black Saturday.

Me and my officemates started the Holy Week with a blast.

For the real holy week the theme of Monday night is vigilance, symbolized by the parable of the ten virgins, some of whom were caught unprepared for the bridegroom to arrive. The parable suggests the need always to be ready, for judgment.

For our Monday night, buckets and buckets of SanMig Light were drained last night for one of those after-shift- -even-though-tomorrow-we-still-have-work-night-outs.

And for crying out loud we are not even close to be called virgins!

When our rational minds were soaked with brain-deadening alcohol. The divas were unleashed. And I swear to Gawd! My throat is still fucking sore/

Anyway, this is what I thought about on Holy Monday:

I usually wake up at around 1 pm. I got up almost the same time yesterday,
turned on the TV to shake the cobwebs of my nightmares of being molested by my
supervisor. And for chrissake, since birth eat bulaga is doing this holy week
special and Gawd! I couldn't be any more appalled from what I have seen for the
first five minutes of my conscious life that day. I really couldn't understand why this people act. They are good in making people laugh. They should fucking let it that way.

I'm addicted to TROPICANA, this orange juice drink that tastes like TANG.

Francis is quite devastated when he heard that Hershey would be
the new QA analyst of the account. Francis is like looking forward that
management would promote somebody within the account to be the new QA analyst
but the thing is, Hershey was transferred from an already non-existent account
so the company is just being practical in utilizing idle employees. That's why.

I still haven't seen Million Dollar Baby or any movie in fact
since Phantom. Shit!

When I opened my downelink, I saw a comment on one of my blog entries there:

comment lang ako ha. i wish there was
some kind of pill to help you forget him. he wasn't, or ISN'T for that matter,
up par for you. what kept you with him is the history you shared with him and
the fact that he will never see you the way you do him. sasamahan ko na ng
advice itong comment ko, stop hoping, it'll only keep on hurting
you.

Well, Arthur mah friend! Thanks for your deep concern. (Sabi ko na nga ba, mahal mo pa rin ako eh. Peace!) I'm over him. I can say that with conviction. It's
been so long (new year pa yata 'yon) since I last talked to him. Haaaaaay. I'm
fucking over him. I just want to have my memories and my previous feelings for
him be fossilized in my writings. Yun lang.

HAPPY HOLY MONDAY TO EVERYONE!!!!!

2005-03-20T06:53:00.000-08:00

When My VIRGINITY Flew

(Note: While writing this entry, I remember my virginity singing like Satine, "Someday, I'll fly away . . . . . Leave them all to yesterday . . . . ")

First and foremost, here's a disclaimer: (Haha! I want to be in the safe side). I'm not as promiscuous as I seem or as I will eventually seem after this entry has been finished.

Sex for me is nothing but sex. It is like a necessity. If we are thirsty, we drink water. If we are hungry, we eat food. If we feel itchy, we scratch. If we are horny, we do all sorts of stuff just to get laid.

And there's nothing more effective, for the gays of today, than going online and look for fast and effective sex.

However, if there's no luck, there's no choice but to resort to porn and jerk the horniness off.

This time, I do not want to talk about my sex life. Well, not my current sex life, at least. I want to tell the story when my virginity flew away.

Let me see, uhmmmmm, I had my first sex when I was in third year high school, I was fifteen then. I participated in a certain youth leadership conference in Iba, Zambales that time and there's some sort of a contest in public speaking on the side. Actually, that's the reason we joined the conference, just to bag the trophy for the public speaking contest. And guess what? I was the contestant for the oratorical contest.

Allan, who was my coach slash Fairy Gay Mother, told me that if I won the contest, he would give me a surprise.

Well, I was a kid then, I'm very much excited when it comes to surprises so, I won contest. Well, with or without a surprise, I'm a good orator; I would win the contest both ways.

It was evening of the third day in the school, where we were sleeping in makeshift beds and suffering from the malignant irritation of mosquito bites. Geeesh! Those mosquitoes were like having a "piyesta" by that time. They were having the times of their lives.

The contest was just concluded and suddenly I'm the star of the event.

Anyway, Allan whispered and asked if I was already asleep. I told him, with the presence of the large congregation of mosquitoes there, even I dinosaur would find it hard to sleep.

"Pwes, rumampa tayo!" coach Allan said.

Rampa for me then was an alien word, it's not part of my vocabulary yet at that time but I was very well aware of what it means.

WHY NOT?! I thought. It was better to be anywhere else aside from that place where the mosquitoes were like trying to form a republic.

Basically, we sneaked out. Of course, the guests were prohibited to go out of the venue premises, especially if its late in the evening.

Allan and I walked a couple of blocks away from the school until we reach the palengke of Iba. Then we sat in one of those stone benches under a waiting shed.

I heard somebody called Allan's name.

Well, well, obviously somebody did the negotiating behind my back.

Then, I saw a group of guys approached us. First, I felt fear. Well, not fear of being mugged by a group of guys but fear that this might be it. The one that I have been eagerly waiting in my entire gay life. Allan, whispered it to me. That that night would be the night when titans would bow down infront me and declare me as ....... a demi-god . . . . . . ess.

Allan introduced me to this guy, he's name was Ivan. He was eighteen then. He's cute, I can say it. Allan said Ivan would join me, when he and the boys would go for a walk.

Ivan smiled at me and boasted his dimples.

I was just silent.

Ivan put his arms around my shoulders and he lead me away from the palengke.

We just walked along the silent streets of Iba. It was like a ghost town especially when its 10 past midnight. Ivan said that people there were already snoring by 9pm.

We passed through a church, I realized that it was one of the uniform churches of the Mormons. Then, Ivan stopped in front of vast field with tall grasses just beside the church.

"Tara," he said while going down the slight slope.

I just followed. The hell! I never thought that I could be the next chop chop lady.

Anyway, I saw him quite far off, in the middle of the field, where there's a papag. He was just sitting there.

When I sat beside him, I was literally shaking from I don't know fear or excitement but God! I was shaking like hell that time.

Then he told me, "Relax ka lang. Aalalayan ko naman eh."

By that time, I do have a concept of homosexual sex but that was just an idea, I never thought about the practical application of it.

He took my right hand and put in on top of the crotch of his pants. Dang! It was fucking erected. It's not that that was the first time that I touched somebody else's crotch but that was the first time that I touched a crotch while expecting what it look like. Then he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.

I saw the largest thingie I've seen in the flesh (by that time), because it's the first thingie I've seen . . . erected.

He took off his pants and briefs completely. He touched my head and kissed me in the cheek. He motioned for me to kneel in front of him. So, I did it and I felt the wet ground touched my knees. And I started doing the most-of-you-would-know-so-I-don't-need-to-elaborate-thingie.

And my virginity just flew away in the middle of the grassfield, while my back is against a cold papag, slightly wet due to the dews of the evening, looking at the dark and vast sky where the stars were shining brightly and the moon seems to be a king watching over his people, amidst the sounds of one or two tricycles roaring along the road and the sounds of crickets, which seemed to be well rehearsed while the fireflies were dancing in tune of their orchestra.

someday i'll fly away . . . . . leave them all to yesterday . . . .

2005-03-18T22:39:00.000-08:00

BE MY OASIS

Let me be your retreat,

From the stress of life,

From the battling children,

From the bills and fights.

Let me be an oasis,

Your fantasy realized,

Your secret lover,

Your intimate soulmate.

Let me into your heart,

Just into a corner,

I know it's filled,

With the love of another.

Let me be an oasis,

To quench your thirst,

Ease your restlessness,

Soften life's blows.

Be there for me,

As I am for you,

Sharing, loving and nurturing,

Be my oasis.

******

I never thought taht it would come to this. I have relentlessly given up my confidence to anything taht concerns romance. I was numbe, unfeeling and pessimistic. I was astray. My spirit was wandering in the blissful idea of being unattached.

Then came one night, when I was just drifting in my illusions, I spotted you or rather your words. You caught my attention. Not because I felt something different in that instant but rather because of the need to talk. I really like to talk. So, I grabbed the idea and asked you, "what's there to talk about?"

At first, I felt uneasiness on your end and that concerned me. You have a lot of questions and issues that you need to deal with but during the course of our conversation I realized, that there's somewhat a reason in you, pulling you away from dealing with it.

You said that you feel something for this person, whom unfortunately couldn't reciprocate the affection taht you are showing him.

At that moment, I felt a similarity in what I am feeling or rather what I felt.

I told you that I could emphatize with you because I have been there myself and I really could relate on your feelings. It just so happened, that on my side, it took me countless of years to get over it.

Then we just talked and talked. And that night was not the end of it, rather the beginning.

The past few days are very confusing for me. One part of my body says that I am just being presumptuous abiding with the call of desperation and hopelessness and another part of my body is saying that, "this is it", "this is really really it!"

I am not afraid to admit that these things don't come to my life like an everyday thing. It is very seldom for me to feel attracted to a person, albeit the person is somebody whom I haven't met yet.

But you liked me. And it is something I haven't heard, directed to me, for a long time.

I like you.

Not because you like me.

But because you are honest, sincere and true to yourself and your feelings.

I like you.

Because I felt a connection in our words and in our ideas.

I like you.

Because you are different from all the people that I have met in the same way that we did.

I like you.

Because you make sense.

Because you did not look at me in the way that most people do.

I like you.

Because you made me not lie and to say things just for you to like me.

I like you.

Because you're afraid. And that is the feelings of a true human being.

I like you.

Because you made me realize that emotional and mental attraction could surpass any superficial attraction there is.

I like you.

Because you are making me think.

I like you.

For the simplest things.

I like you.

Because of the "kilig factor" that I am experiencing everytime you are talking to me.

I like you.

Because of the smiles that I make, even though that when I am alone, most of the time the people around me would look at me and think crazy things.

I like you.

Because of the tingly feeling in the lower abs that you are telling me.

I like you.

Because . . . . . . . .

I like you so much.

Because I am hoping that someday I would love you and you would love me in return.

And the qualms of one-sided love would disspate into the nothingness once and for all.

And like an OASIS . . . . . you're a treasure for a person lost in the desert.

2005-03-16T05:18:00.000-08:00

"And then the day came when the risk

To remain tight inside the bud was greater

than the risk to blossom"

Yesterday was one of those days, with an extra headache because of work, with another extra headache because of this guy who keeps on passing by my station. I found him irritating not because he is irritating in nature. His presence is very unnerving, anyway, I doubt that he still remembers me but still, the thought . . . . we almost had sex the first time we met but luckily we decided not to pursue our carnal intentions for each other as we have learned early that the two of us belong in the same company.

Honestly, I do not have any problems with the idea of having sex with somebody who's working in the same place where I work BUT what I do not like is the idea of socializing with the person that you had sex with in the past.

I dunno . . . . for me the idea of sex . . . . it's just SEX, unless I really like the person. Once I had sex with somebody just out of need or promiscuity, I don't want to see or to meet or to talk to the guy again. It just doesn't feel right for me.

Two ounces of headache and a pound of heart problem.

Risk. I want to talk about risks. While growing up, my parents never see me as a coward. I'm the kid who would go anywhere just to satisfy my curiosity. I remember one time that I got stucked in a drum because I insisted to my friends that I could fit in. Well the good news was, I fit in, and my friends lost a handful of toys, but the bad news, I couldn't get myself out.

The kind of attitude still runs in me as of today. I would jump off a cliff to prove gravity-however, gravity has been proven already. Darn! I would try to breathe underwater if I do not have the knowledge that humans doesn't have gills. I would go through countless adventures, as I said, just to satisfy my curiosity.

If there's RISK, of course, there's FEAR. I found the two inversely proportional; a person couldn't be a gambler if he is fearful. Of course, I am not superman to be fearless, but I have learned that I couldn't be happy without risking and facing fear.

A fear to get hurt is never in my senses. I dunno, I do not consider myself as a masochist to always crave for emotional torture but I am not afraid to get hurt. I've been there a lot of times, I've been hurt countless of times but I never seem to get tired of it.

I keep telling myself that life is a game or rather a gamble. In able for us to get what we want we have to always place our bets. If we fear that we will lose everything we have because of betting countless of times, we wouldn't achieve what we want. However, there are people who will just bet and bet without thinking. On the other hand, I could say that I am an intelligent gambler. There's study, there's observation. Once I see the right chance to bet, and then I'll give in. Of course, it's silly to place your bet if you really know that on that chip you wouldn't win. And I am not fucking silly or stupid to do that.

And not all game could be won. For me, it's better to be lost than to just sit in one corner and watch life pass by.

*sigh*

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool . . . To weep is to risk appearing sentimental . . . . . . To reach out for another is to risk involvement . . . . To expose true feelings is to risk exposing your true self . . . . . To place your ideas, your dreams before the crowd is to risk their loss . . . . . To love is to risk not being loved in return . . . . To live is to risk dying . . . . To hope is to risk despair . . . . To try is to risk failure . . . . But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing . . . . The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has Nothing and is nothing . . . . .They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot . . . . . Learn, feel, change, grow, love, live . . . . . Chained by their gratitude they are a slave, they have . . . . . Forfeited their freedom Only a person who risks is free

2005-03-15T01:18:00.000-08:00

ODE TO NONSENSE

Before I start this bullshit, I have to give credit to XANGA for providing me the music here in my blog. Because of the endowed with blessings from XANGA I am now listening to CELL BLOCK TANGO and sheeeeeeeet! I'm singing my heart out and the people here in the office thinks that I am being possessed.

Anyway, no need for exorcism, don't worry. I need to be in the right mind to write something about reality.

By far, I have written so little about myself and what is happening around me, NOT because:

I do not want to face reality square in the face
I do not want other people to scrutinize my life

But because:

I have nothing worthy to write.

Let's just pretend that this has worth:

Last night, after shift, my officemates, again dragged me to drink and be merry,
or I dragged my officemates. Anyhow, it doesn't matter. We went home like 6 am,
not thinking that I would still have to work in a couple of hours. We ended up
eating goto in JP Rizal where most of the tricycle drivers and jeepney drivers
hang out and eat. In fairness, that a good goto.
I told Macy that she is already going overboard with regards to her behavior with Neil. I mean. Yes! She has the hots for the guy, who looks like a pirated version of Piolo Pascual (in fairneeeees, the guy is cute. So beat it!), but they're like tropa and everything. Macy just wants to get it over with, she says that "sex lang naman, talu-talu na!"
While on my way to work earlier, I dropped by in ChinaBank to deposit some dough. I enjoyed walking the sidewalks of Makati, especially in the afternoon when the sun is not bitching around and the wind is blowing against my face, watching people. I like that. I really like that. I love Makati! Anyway, from ChinaBank, I went to McDO to treat myself a large coke and large fries, that's what I got from my suweldo. Then I just noticed these two guys, who were like holding their hands. Not holding but holding -holding their hand as in hold or more of grasping each other’s hands. Well, it's shocking at first but well, waddafuck! As mushy as it may sound . . . . . it was sooooo sweet. Now, I'm wondering, when can I do that with someone! Hehe. While eating fries in McDo.
Until now I am still dreaming of watching Million Dollar Baby and still, I couldn't figure out a plan or a schedule and besides I need a date. Not because it is a somkinda uber-mushy film to drool about but I am not just used to watching a movie alone.
I feel like I am starting to get into the light again. I dunno but I feel my life force is starting to rush into my system again. There's a certain feeling that I really really want to write about but I think that this is not yet the proper time to divulge my thoughts to other people. As you know, I am crazy at times, or rather crazy all the time.

TO YOU:

Right now, I am thinking about you. I do not know why or I do not know how you keep on popping in my senses every now and then. I know that you are a person of reasons, on the other hand I’m a person of "wala langs". I know that everything happens for a reason but I'm sorta like feel that it would be better to leave the reasons behind at times when I experience magic. And yes, you told me that if I am expecting magic, you are not the right person for that. I know that I might just be rushing into things or perhaps indulging into wishful thinkings but I want you to know that you are different. I like to talk to you. I enjoy your words and the way you "type" melch. I really hope that we could go to CCP and play bumcars and you can teach me how to ride a bike. Well, that's it for now. I miss you.

2005-03-12T06:16:00.000-08:00

LOVE at FIRST SEX

Are there any chances for a person to fall in love at first sight? . . . . . . . Love at first sight is such a wonderful and yet at the same time a mythical approach of exaggerated romanticism. In my own words, love at first sight is a sugar-coated candy, embittered at the core. If there are no chances for a person of falling in love at first sight, how about falling in love at first sex?

It would be very hard to admit that gays have a distinguished reputation of being sexually active. Apparently, it is quite true. Ask a gay man when was the last time that he had sex and his answer would be predictable, if not then probably he is lying. An average mature gay man should have sex at least once a week. What I meant by mature by the way is someone who's a full-blown active homosexual. (But of course, please note that I am not taking this into a general perspective) Because of this kind of trend, gays have a mutual understanding of segregating sex and love. Now, we all seem to know the difference, gays and heterosexuals alike. However, there are still some cases of gay men who may occasionally misconstrue the difference between a spark of sexual desire from a spark of romantic desire. This may lead back again to my question: WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF A PERSON FALLING IN LOVE AT FIRST SEX?

This idea was brought to my attention due to my fortunate meeting with this very very special person, whom I hold so dearly in my heart for the longest time - ROJ. I would be foolish if I am not going to mention here that I was once in love with Roj and only God knows if I still do. Anyway, Roj invited me out for a drink while I was on the bus on my way to Subic to rest from the previous week's toxic work. And I know from the beginning that this is not an invitation brought by vanity. I sensed that there is something going on with him. I could not blame him for this, making me his constant shock absorber, for I have committed myself of being his Fairy Gay Mother instead of being his lover. As pathetic as I was before, I knew that we would not work out fine. So, I guessed that it would be better for us to be friends (for the mean time).

I received news a week ago from a friend that Roj is going out with this certain person. And when my friend told me the name of that certain person, I swear to God, I could never have been more shocked. Well, maybe, I may put it as the next most shocking thing next to Princess Dianna's death. Anyway, I was told that he was dating Mark C., whom I know very little of. However, this Mark C. is quite popular in our circle. First and foremost, he went to the same highschool where Roj and I came from but we never came across him because he was like half a decade older than us. Aside from that, part of his popularity is brought about by winning Mr. Pogi, I'm not really quite sure what year it was. His quest for stardom started and ended there abruptly in Eat Bulaga, after being launched as part of this Boy Group. It was the hey-days of Boy Bands. (a very sad point of history, which I wouldn't try to remember as long as I live) Anyway, another part of his popularity is his notorious reputation of becoming a closet gay, which in turn was attested by a lot of people close to him and as time went by he just went out. As in totally out. That is how little I know of him. (Well, aside from a childhood experience with him, that is not really relevant.)

When Roj and I met last night, I made an impression as if I don't anything by that time. I just wanted him to spill out everything to me. Even though, I knew that he already knew that I knew something. I could never erase that kind of reputation because one way or another, I’m always aware of everything that goes on in his life. He knows that for a fact.

We went to this very unpopulated sing-along bar because we wanted a place where we could talk and at the same time we wanted to sing. Singing is a passion for Roj. Nobody could blame him, he's good at it.

First two beers and we were casually talking and making the usual "kamustahan". How's my life? How's my work? How’s everything going on? Yadda-yadda . . . . which is completely irrelevant for him. Then, how's his life? How's his school? How are the other friends, because I heard that you went out a week ago . . . . . yadda-yadda. And my usual spiel, "Are you seeing someone?"

He answered, "Yes." He smiled. Chuckled. And yes, I dropped the bomb too early, we were only on our second beer.

Then, I went on-stage to sing my own rendition of Erik Santos' "This is The Moment", which I'm proud to say, I got applauded by . . . . . . hmmmmmmm . . . . . . I just remembered there was no one there, well . . . . by the staff and crew. In fairness, it was not just a courteous response to a trying-hard customer, but hell, it is applause-applause.

After my ball-wrecking number, we were on our fourth beer. I lit a cigarette. Moved closer and rested my arms on the table. "So, what about Mark C.?", I just asked, realizing that he did not mention the name yet. Anyway, he didn't react perturbed at that careless question. As I mentioned earlier, he knew that I knew something.

He did not respond quickly, he smiled. Sighed and adjusted himself, as if he'd be more comfortable sitting in a new position on a monobloc chair.

Then after a few long gulps of San Mig Light, he started to talk, "Last week pumunta kami sa Malate nila Grace."

"Ah okay! Anung meron sa Malate?", I asked. Which is again, I know irrelevant.

"Wala lang. The usual. Tapos inaya ko sila sa Timog."

"Anung meron sa Timog? San kayo pumunta don? Sa Padi's Point?", I just wanted to insult him in asking if they went to Padi's Point even though I know that he didn’t and he wouldn't.

"Pumunta kami sa Remission? Alam mo yon?"

"Remission? Hindi!" Honestly, Timog is so out in any of my itineraries. "Okay. So anung meron don sa Remission?"

"Si Mark C. Nagpe-perform siya don."

Ha? Don't tell me showgay na si Mark C.

"May gig sila don ng banda niya," he continued.

"Okay? So, what's with Mark C.?", I finally asked. Hindi pa kasi diretsuhin.

"Kasi, ininvite niya ako na pumunta sa gig nila."

"Teka, pano naman kayo nagkakilala ni Mark C.?"

"Sa friendster," he said.

Ahhhhhh. The POWER of friendster.

"Sa friendster?" I asked, while chuckling. Then I couldn't help myself. I laughed at the thought. "so, nagsimula ito sa friendster?"

"Oo. Nagexchange kami ng number sa friendster, then we started texting."

The age of modern of Romanticism!

"Ininvite niya ako nung gabing yon. Tapos sabi ko parang hindi ko sure na makakapunta ako dahil wala akong pera. Wala naman talaga sa plano ko ang lumabas. Pero, sabi niya, pumunta lang daw ako don, tapos, siya na ang bahala sa akin."

Wow! How very "dirty-old-mannish"

"Tapos?" I knew there's something more.

"Ayun, nung pumunta ako. Inentertain naman niya ako. Nag-stay kami don nang matagal-tagal. Uminom. Hanggang sa nalasing ako. Tapos, tinanong niya kung okay daw na mag-stay ako sa kanila for the night. . . . . . . "

"Pumayag ka naman?", I interjected,

"Oo."

Then there was silence. I anticipated the answer, but I was still stunned.

He continued, "Ayon. Sumama ako sa kanila. Then we did it. Nag-sex kami."

"Nag-enjoy ka naman?"

"Siyempre, I like him eh. Maski na pinagawa niya sa akin yung bagay na hindi ko talaga ginagawa, at first time na nagpaganon ako."

With those words, I looked at him as if I am about to throw up. Then he raised his hands on the air.

"Promise! Talaga! Totoo. First time ko talagang nagpaganon."

"Okay! Okay! Can we just not talk about yung 'nagpaganon'. Kasi hindi talaga magandang pakinggan! Okay!? So, nag-enjoy ka. Then, after that night, what happened?"

"Well, after two nights, ginawa na naman namin. We met again, tapos, I stayed over at his place, again, and we did it . . . . . again. . . . . . . . . . Pero after non, wala nang text-text. Tinext ko siya kinabukasan. Walang reply. Tinext ko naman siya the following day, wala na namang reply. Tinext ko lang siya ng tinext . . . . tapos. Walang reply."

Now, I see where the problem is.

Then Roj started to be more mellow, I sensed pain. He continued, "Alam mo yon. Hindi lang naman ganon yon di ba? Dapat, sana nagtetext siya. Hindi yung after naming magsex. Eh wala lang."

And I have to ask the inevitable question of the day, "Don't tell me you fell for me him na?"

"Well, parang . . . . . siguro. Kasi alam mo yon. Almost eight months after KARL (the infamous ex), wala akong kinasama, wala akong nakasex. I mean, I dated din naman a couple of guys pero hindi ako pumayag na makipag-sex. Sa kanya lang. After eight months . . . . . . sa kanya lang ako pumayag na makipag-sex. And alam mo yon, nagpaganon pa ako. Na maski kay KARL ay hindi ako pumayag. Tapos biglang ganon lang."

By that time, I know that Roj is deeply troubled and perhaps in-love with Mark C. otherwise, he would not react like this.

"Tapos, after a week, nagtext siya sa akin finally. Nangangamusta lang. I took the chance, tinanong ko sa kanya, kung bakit hindi na siya nagparamdam tapos sinabi ko na we really really needed to talk. So nagkita kami. Sabi ko sa kanya, hindi naman ako galit. (He was lying, I can sense, galit siya) Gusto ko siyang, murahin alam mo yon, pero hindi rin eh. Nagsorry siya sa akin, tapos sabi niya na parang we could no longer see each other dahil committed na raw siya. Bullshit di ba? Bakit kailangan ganon? Bakit kailangan magsex kami, alam mo yon? Tapos, committed pala siya?"

I really found that moment very very amusing. Roj is waiting for my reaction because I was like smiling foolishly all the time as he told his story.

Basically, I felt bad for what Roj has been going through at that time and yet equally I felt that he deserved it. Well, not in the sense that he deserved it because he's such an asshole but rather it is worth his experience. I explained to him how he looks at things and how he should not look at things. I told him that he is still new to this kind of lifestyle. He's been gay for like one and a half years most of which were spent in a relationship with Karl. And falling in love with someone who's older than you and obviously whos more sexually active is something better to beware of. Sex is sex and love is a totally different thing while love at first sex is definitely way out of bounds.

Roj told me that Mark is sweet, and kind. Who wouldn't be? You're having sex for crying out loud. Roj also told me that there are certain things in Mark, which is very KARL-like. By then, I knew why this boy was feeling that way. I explained to Roj what I think about this. I told him that pretty much, he's still not over with his previous relationship with Karl. He fashioned a template from Karl, and he might probably feel attracted to any person that resembles that template. I told him how he might have just mistook this feeling of his towards Mark into something deep and romantic, which should not be the case because they just had sex. They met for the first time and they just had sex. He might just be one of Mark's strings of one-night-stands or in his matter, two-night-stands.

As I have mentioned earlier, there is a big difference between sexual need and a romantic need. Sometimes, when we are at the peak of our pleasures, in an orgasmic state of being, we might think that the person who gives us this kind of feeling is the "one" that we should love. At the same time, when we are alone or when we are romantically deprived, the first person that comes into the picture who would eventually give us extreme pleasure might be mistaken as "love", which should always not be the case.

I strongly pointed that out to Roj. I told him that he should learn to pacify his feelings. Love at first sex is just something that is very hard to accept. Especially, when you have sex with this person, who's goodlooking, who's in-demand, whose ass would obviously be grabbed by anybody, at any given time and whose homosexual resumee would include countless sexcapades.

Roj might have not accepted or understood my point but I'm pretty sure that sooner or later, he would learn how to be stone-hearted when it comes to sex. I told him, "It is better to be a bitch than to be someone's personal whore."

My agendum that night is not to convince him or to make him believe what I say to him. I just wanted to share to him my experiences and I just wanted him to hear another point of view with regards to his feelings.

After we parted, I know that he would still long for Mark C., even though that he was already turned down. I know that he would still be hurt, one way or another. He would still fall in love again with somebody else. A fact which is very hard for me to accept. But that is reality. I could not do anything about it.

2005-03-04T05:21:00.000-08:00

THE NIGHT WHEN TWO KINDRED SPIRITS MET

I have been lured to believe that the only matter I love the most is my lovelessness as if I elicit pleasure from pain and animus. Countless nights were spent conspiring with myself and myself only the design of eternal happiness of being alone. I am ready to yield and embrace the defeat that I long thought destined to be mine for I have struggled to win the battle of love. I was about to give up and relinquish my agenda.

You have haunted my dreams for a long time. Dreams that has extracted from me the most miserable of all thoughts of desire. I knew then that dreams were just dreams and were conjured by the mind to satisfy itself as in reality it may not come to be. And yet, I let myself be enslaved by it, satiating myself of lurid imaginations of bountiful love. The illusion of you and your love made me endure the sweetness of the amorous heaven yet sensing the touch of the fires of hell scorching my skin. It is sometimes so shameful that I refuse to look at myself in the mirror, afraid that my own reflection would turn its back on me.

And yes, I grew tired of it. Exhausted, I confronted the harsh reality that I have so dedicatedly ran away from in my entire life. The truth that I was alone, I am alone and I will be alone.

Then suddenly, you were there. You came into my life like a misguided mist, swiftly enveloping my fragile body and made me shudder and felt you in every tissue . . . . . . in every vein. There are times that I caught waking myself up thinking that I am in a long and deep slumber. You were there in the flesh and you made me believe that I am dreaming no more.

You came to me saying, "I'm handing my pride to you on a silver platter. Take over me and I’m yours and I will love you and trust you enough to be vulnerable."

Those words were like wings, which lifted me up to the clouds, words that sounded music coming from the strumming of a harp. Those words are so sincere it hypnotizes. I was captivated as you look into my eyes and speak to my mind. I was struck in awe.

The fire with which you burned me exhales such fine smoke that you cannot deny having been dazzled by it, though you may find blame in those blackening fumes. The sole power of your gaze made me abandon the weapons of pride and leads me to implore you to demand of me my life. How much I myself have fostered your victory over me, I who began fighting as one who wishes to be defeated, offering to your attack the most vulnerable part of my body: a heart already weeping tears of blood, proof that you have deprived my house of water to make it prey to the fire whose victim I am, through your so brief regard.

There are myriad of thoughts blurring my mind at that time. They are like birds in the sky, flying endlessly into the void. But among those birds, only one stands out - like a phoenix whose fire never seizes, whose brightness outshines the sun. You are that phoenix. Neruda, whom I worship, is no match against you.

I used to discard the notion of reincarnation but the moment that you stepped into my door, I have reincarnated as if resuscitated. I resurrected from the dead and for the first time in my life I felt the warmth of my blood flowing in me like a wild river borne upon the passing of a storm. The moment that you kissed me, you breathed life into me. Finally, I sprang from the deep paralysis of a living dead.

I loved you so much that I offered you the life, which I believe is not mine for you have given it to me. And if you would take it away from me, I would give it to you wholeheartedly.

When I felt your flesh touched mine, I couldn't help myself but relish that moment, which seemed to last an eternity. Time was non-existent. You made me surrender all that I have built for the previous years of my life. You gratified the frailty of my emotion as my reasoning collapsed like a castle made of sand washed away by the sea. You made me devour my arrogance and confess to the sins that I have committed and would eventually commit.

As you whispered the words that I longed to hear ever since my mind could conceptualize sense, I felt completed. And as our hands locked together, they were one.

Fortune favors the unfortunate. You have taken my life again. Yes, you are a mist that comes into the night and soon evaporates as the night gets older. It didn’t take much time for my veins to be dehydrated of blood and my heart stopped beating as my body went back to its natural home: death.

I was once again, frail and fragile, lifeless and insensible.

As I look back at that moment, I could sense no regret or whatsoever on what I have done and what you have done to me. The night when our souls are one seemed to be eternal. I would hold it dearly in my heart not as a scar but as a monument that would remind me that once in my life, I felt alive and rejuvenated. No matter how brief the time was, it was still the night when two kindred spirits met and there are a thousand and more words how to portray it. This is just one.

2005-03-02T05:40:00.000-08:00

This entry has been brought by idle moments and also, by the need for something very funny yet insensible to write about.

This is my first tagalog entry. But you will difinitely enjoy this:

ISANG DAAN AT ISANG PARAAN UPANG SABIHING SEKS!

- higupin mo ang nektar ng kaligayahan
- kilitiin mo ang burol ng aking dibdib
- pasukin mo ang malasokolateng bituin
- namnamin mo ang mainit na tsmaporado
- nang humampas ang alon sa kagubatan
- amuyin mo ang damo
- himasin mo ang kapatagan ng aking puson
- araruhin mo ang talampas ng aking kasarian
- pasukin mo ang masikip na pintuan ng aking katauhan
- himurin mo ang naguumpugang bato
- tikman mo ang tamis ng ating pagmamahalan nang maramdaman ang lasa ng aking papaitan
- nang dinuraan ng manok ang pugad
- lapirutin mo ang tonsil na wala sa lalamunan
- ipasok mo ang bangkay sa kabaon
- paliparin mo si shaider sa time space warp
- paghampas ng alon sabay pagyabong ng punong naghuhumintig
- diligan mo ng suka ang nauuhaw na lumpia
- ang pagputok ng bulkan sabay pag-agos ng namumuting laba
- ang pamamanhikan ni Adan sa puerta ng kalangitan
- ang pag-agos ng kesong puti mulo sa tore ni babel
- nang binuklat ang libro sa gitna
- gatasan mo ang galit na toro
- iboundary mo ang tricycle sa iskinita
- nang humilagpos ang dalag
- balatan mo ang madulas na saging
- ang pagsuko ng bataan
- bayuhin ang palay nang magkaroon ng bigas
- ang pagtuka ng ibon sa palay na natutuyo
- nang pinaupo ang manok
- nang sumakay ang kabayo sa kutsero

2005-02-22T03:26:00.000-08:00

The FIVE people I meet (where?)

A quintology

As you might think that this is like just Mitch Albom's Book "The Five People You Meet in Heaven", you're definitely right. However, I'll just make certain adjustments because: 1) I'm not dead yet. 2) I do not believe in heaven and 3) I'm GAY. I do not know the necessity of the third reason but hell! I don't fucking care, I just feel like saying it. Haha.

THE FIRST PERSON MELCH meets (in his dreams)

It is Thursday and it is my day off from work. Days like this, away from the office, not thinking about rules, not thinking about deadlines, not thinking about your daily performance is heaven- and Greenbelt is heaven.

However, that day in Greenbelt was somewhat different. Most of the time, I usually come late at night together with friends to make chika over coffee or party to death in Havana. That Thursday, I came alone, around 4 in the afternoon. Dreary-eyed, and my mind still bears the cobwebs of my recent sleep. I dreamt of Lauralei.

So, you might be asking "Who in the bloody world is Lauralei?"

She haunted my dreams for the past weeks. At first, I didn't mind her. She might be just one of my passing nightmares, but one night, she introduced herself. She said her name was Lauralei and I was forced to talk to her and look at her sorry miserable face. She exactly looks like as somebody who has been pulled out from a set of a certain shake-rattle-and-roll film. However, she didn't scare me that much, especially when she started haunting my dreams every god-forsaken night.

I got used to her explosive hair, twisting and curling in all known directions. I got used to her fractured skull spewing out blood, parts of her brain and glop over her face. And her smell, which always reminds me of the horse I used to ride when I was a kid in El Kabayo.

She always comes before 4 am. We have a little talk and I always wake up exactly at 4 am. This had happened for the past 5 days. Straight. Irritated, I always asked her to go away and let me be in my sleep but she kept on insisting, she said she has something to tell me.

Last night, I finally asked her the inevitable question, I asked her how she died because for chrissake she's dead, otherwise she won't be haunting be. She might be a pigment of my imagination but honestly, she is more of a ghost. As much as I don't want to think of that fact, for fucking out loud – that's the truth, SHE's A WANDERING SPIRIT - restless - without a peace.

I f only I knew that this is what I am going to endure, I should have not budged to open my media (commercially known as the 6th sense).

Anyway, after I asked her the question, she smiled at me sheepishly as if a little girl talking to her puppy love. She touched my hand and suddenly we were on a certain street. I did not recognize the place, I have never been there, but judging from the street signs, we were still in Makati.

I saw a tricycle drove past us. It's fast as hell. And everything happened in a blink of an eye. I heard a loud horn. A passing truck. A screech. A BANG. Then everything just ended. I saw Lauralei in the tricyle, skull split open.

I woke up. Looked at the wall clock in my room. 4 am.

GOSH! This girl is freaking me out.

From then onwards, I wasn't able to catch any sleep. I just found myself wandering in the lavish stores and coffee shops of Greenbelt.

~ end of PART ONE ~

2005-02-19T07:17:00.000-08:00

BATMAN OF THE OPERA

Christine and the Phantom

The film adaptation of "Phantom" (now known as "Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera") stars Scottish singer/actor Gerard Butler, who vigorously gnashes his teeth, confidently strides through secret corridors and diligently attempts to express his all-consuming passion for the innocent soprano Christine (Emmy Rossum), the Paris Opera Populaire ingenue who falls under the Phantom's spell as he helps her become a sensation.

But despite Butler's enthusiasm, most moviegoers are likely to feel like they're seeing the understudy, not the star. Butler trained in rock (he fronted the Scottish band Speed) and his thick voice lacks the flexibility and shading necessary in performing musical theater material. He's notably more comfortable with the Phantom's darker moments -- such as the gloriously lusty "The Point of No Return," one of the film's notable high points -- than he is in putting over the score's ballads, such as "The Music of the Night," a pivotal number that sounds uncertain and rather unconvincing here.

Unfortunately, Butler's miscasting is hardly the only problem evident in this "Phantom." Director Joel Schumacher (who was almost certainly operating under the watchful eye of producer/composer Webber) has brought the show to the screen, yet large portions of the movie have the feel of a photographed stage production. As Christine mournfully makes her way through an obviously artificial graveyard, singing "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again," a blanket of meringue-thick fog lingers along the ground and confetti-like snow gently falls. It's the kind of scene that might work perfectly well in the theater, but when it's blown up to fill a Cinemascope-sized screen it looks slightly ridiculous.

The same thing happens when the Phantom whisks Christine away to his elaborate underground lair, which he describes as a "vault of unending night." With its numerous candelabras held by gilded human arms (an idea stolen from director Jean Cocteau's "Beauty and the Beast"), stylish full-length mirrors and translucent drapes, however, they might as well be in the basement of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. The crucial atmosphere of menace isn't there; suddenly, we're watching "The Batman of the Opera."

Underground Labyrinth

"Phantom" also conjures up another unintended homage in the would-be show-stopper "Masquerade," as dozens of partygoers in black and white outfits whoop it up at an opera gala. The sequence is attractively shot, but the moves choreographer Peter Darling has come up with make you half-expect Madonna to drop in and shout, "Strike a pose! Vogue!"

The Masquerade Scene

Speaking of Madonna, the "Phantom" filmmakers could have taken some cues from director Alan Parker's rousing screen adaptation of "Evita." That 1996 success had an energy and ingenuity that's conspicuously absent from much of this movie, which frequently suffers from a cautious stiffness, as if most of the cast was afraid they might destroy this supposed work of art if they allowed themselves to have fun.

At least Minnie Driver, outfitted with a burgundy wig and puffy pink gowns, manages to be a high-strung hoot as the vain diva Carlotta, and Miranda Richardson builds the mysterious ballet mistress Madame Giry into an intriguing character.

MINNIE DRIVER as CARLOTTA

Rossum and Patrick Wilson, who plays Christine's secret fiancé Raoul, aren't permitted to do much in the way of actual acting (their big dramatic moments call for them to part their lips slightly and admire each other with a slightly dazed expression), but their singing is considerably stronger than Butler's. Their rooftop duet, "All I Ask of You," becomes one of the rare sequences in which "Phantom" actually achieves the air of breathless romantic fantasy it continually strives to capture.

Too bad Schumacher didn't do the same for Butler, whose inadequate voice makes it all the more baffling that the filmmakers refused to cast Antonio Banderas, who had lobbied for the role for years. Banderas may not have turned this "Phantom" into a good movie, but he would have brought more to his performance than snapping his cape in anger, which is all Butler knows to do. Zorro, at least, would know how to handle a cape.

While The Phantom of the Opera is not the greatest movie I have seen this year, it certainly deserves a chance.

It's a decent, sometimes breathtaking film.

Just do not expect that you are going to see Moulin Rouge or Chicago, or else, you'd be disappointed.

This is really hilarious. I bumped into this livejournal of cleolinda who writes brilliant and super hilarious fifteen minute movies, this one is for the Phantom of the Opera, you would DEFINITELY enjoy this. I literally died from laughing. Here's the link:

http://www.livejournal.com/community/m15m/6231.html

For some genuine PHATOM OF THE OPERA MUSIC (Sarah Brightman and Michael Crawford):

Maintheme

Hannibal

Think Of Me

Angel of Music

The Mirror

Music of the Night

Masquerade

Wishing You Were Somewhere

All I Ask of You (Barbara Streisand)

Phantom of the Opera (Jose Carreras)

2005-02-08T08:33:00.000-08:00

BOYs IN love

Look at them! Aren't they SWEET?! God I want to DIE!!!

I do not know if this is a pre-Valentine sickness or what kind of shit but I really don't feel good about these. But it's fun anyways!

I just feel like posting this fucking quiz that I got somewhere in DOWNELINK. This is like a masochistic ecstasy on my end . . . . torturing my self with thoughts of love and all those CRAP:

1. are u serious wen it comes to relationships?

ummmmm. yes. (discount the fact that I haven't had a relationship for the past 6 years) Wait a minute! I dont even know what "serious" means these days!?

2. are you afraid of commitments?

no . . . i guess commitment is afraid of me

3. are u a risk taker?

yes . . . i'm the absolute adventurer / gambler / I could trade anything for a much higher price!

4. wat can u say abt. long distance relationships?

it really wouldn't work knowing how carnal most people are nowadays.

5. can u luv a person hu doesnt love u?

whoah! been there! did that! actually, most of the people the I have loved for the past years didn't love me ... as in.

6. do actions speak louder than words?

absolutely. (though sometimes, there are good actors out there) We can put it this way: Actions can lie better than words!

7. hav u felt/found true love?

yes. and it hurts! I found it! It left me! Ummmmm. Are true loves bound to be forever? Naaah, I don't think so . . . not all true love are forever.

8. how can u say that a person luvs you?

I haven't felt that yet. there's no way of me knowing if a person already luvs me.

9. are you good in handling relationships?

ummmmm . . . . . i can try. (Uso pa ba 'yon?) I am fragile! I should be handled with extra CARE!

10. willing to give everything?

nooooooooooo. i wouldn't dare give 100 % of me to anyone.

11. best thing uve learned from loving?

the feeling of hurt and desperation of an unloved is like an opium. sweet . serene . gruesome . yet . addictive.

12. do u demand ur luv1 to change into someone that pleases u?

well . if there is a certain change that he really needs to do for his own benefit / why not? but when it comes to petty / shallow / superficial things . . . i would rather not.

13. wud u let go of some1 u love?

im still trying. but sabi nga ni eco, once you let go, there would no longer be desperation and sorrow. without desperation and sorrow, there's no love. Actually, that's the most exciting and sensational when it comes to LOVE: the challenge and feeling of longingness and hopelessness.

14. are u a one man-man & vice versa type of person?

well. not yet. (Is monogamy still in trend?)

15. is sex important in a relationship?

absolutely! do I need to expound? I guess no.

16. how do u express ur luv to sm1?

i would confront him and tell him how I really abhor his personality.

17. wat is the major reason of a break up?

i'm insane!

18. most important ingredient in a relationship? ::

TRUST (condoms)

19. ever regret loving someone?

no. i would never regret love . it's an addiction (as I've made decidedly clear)

20. one thing u hate abt love?

mushy things . . . constant machinations of the superficial . . . . . ewwwww.

21. one thing u like about love?

being able to learn the dark side of human beings / and being able to like it in the end.

22. worst thing u did to a loved one?

making him learn more about himself.

23. are you in love?

well ...... i think I am in love because if not, I wouldn't lift a finger to answer this fucking survey

24. are you a hopeless romantic?

OOHHHHH YES! What can I say, I like the feeling better than the real thang!

25. do you get tired of loving ?

I guess, I will not.

29. who has changed your view about loving?

Baz Luhrman, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return". I realized how pathetic I was.

I committed suicide.

I failed.

Dang!

(Better luck next time Melch!)

2005-02-06T07:57:00.000-08:00

Random (useless) Thoughts!!!

Don't you love these?! (Don't you LOVE ME?) Hahaha. I'm just startin' and suddenly I can't seem to focus. Well, I find this blog thingie very fantastic. I have been writing online journals for like fucking ages and until now I still do not know why? Hmmmmm. Maybe the thought of sharing your thoughts . . . . . putting it in writing . . . . . . philosophizing . . . . . et cetera et cetera, while imagining that there are gazillions of readers out there waiting for you new post. Well, with or without those readers, I wouldn't give a fucking damn! For I am the princess of the Damned! Hahahaha. (Melch: Stop being a BIATCH, your time had passed!)

Right now, I am stucked here on a chair which is making my fucking ass swell, I have been sitting here for the past 9 hours. This is my work. I earn my living by sitting on a fucking chair for 9 hours. Staring at the computer and cracking my knuckles to death, incessantly typing using an age-old keyboard that sounds like a typewriter everytime hit the keys.

Aside from that, I guess my ears are about to bleed. I have been listening to an online radio,which doesn't broadcast anything very appealing to the ears aside from the god-forsaken ghetto music. Y'all. AYt? I'm begning to sound like my HOMIES! Ewwwww. Over my dead and gay body.

Let me tell you a secret. A very close friend of mine just got back from the US, I'd rather not tell his name here because I know for sure that he would definitely castrate me once I announce to the whole fucking gay world that he works in a ship. Well anyway, he is not a seaman or something (as you might expect creating a complete oxymoron : a seaman who is gay, a seagay!), well in fact he works for a cruise line or a cruise ship, he's some kinda accountant-slash-auditor-slash-closetpinoy. I always imagine him counting the screws in the ship's engine. Anyway, he brought with him a set of TAROT Cards, which immediately captured my attention and my emotions. Suddenly, I realized, I'm a born tarot reader!

DEATH card

About the TAROT thingie, my friends urged me to go to Greenbelt last Thursday to do some readings to random strangers to test my abilities to "foretell". Lo and behold, people stood in line after a couple of readings and suddenly I was totally burnt out. As in fucking burnt out.

I felt my psychic powers being drained bit by bit with every reading. Anyway, most of the people I read if not all were very satisfied and some were even aghast on how precise I retold and foretell the story of their lives. I dunno, but I know by heart that I'm fucking good.

Hmmmmmmm . . . . . . .

Ace of swords! Universe! The sun!

I'm gay and I'm a gypsy!

Turn your eyes on me!

2005-02-05T07:55:00.000-08:00

101 THouGhTs Of DeMEntIa

While browsing through my previous (precious) journals, I came accross this veru funny entry, I want to share it to all of you right now:

January 17, 2003:

Do you know what am I doing at home when I'm not writing or glued on the TV set?

I smoke (chain-smoke), string at a mirror and talking to myself. Then stupid thoughts come rushing into my mind in a stampede, I end up talking to myself. I'll share some of my schizophrenic moments.

- Love is a sordid excuse to have sex.
- Sex is a gross expression of emotions through the exchange of body fluids
- Anal sex is a painful way of reaching heaven
- There's no such thing as heaven, there's only hell – and we're on it right now.
- Love is hell.
- I hope of having an all-experience paid luxury vacation in hell
- I'm in hell, I don't need a vacation
- Im too stupid for not looking for love
- I should not look for love, love should look for me
- Only stupid people look for love
- Forrest Gump is one of my most favorite films
- Tom Hanks and Anotnio Banderas' love team in Philadelphia was perfect
- No one is perfect, only a god is perfect
- I am a goddess!!!!!
- I'm not perfect
- There's no God
- There is God but people are just worshipping the wrong entity.
- What if Alanis is the real god?
- I guess Madonna is a better real god!
- Casper Van Dien is perfect!
- Casper Van Dien is God!
- If Casper Van Dien is God then Britney Spears is Satan!
- Satan can be deceiving
- Britney Spears is deceiving
- Matet's forehead is deceiving!
- Matet's forehead is so huge, it can serve as pastures for cows.
- Is the grass greener on the other side of the fence?
- My mind is definitely greener!
- Ask Matet if the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.
- Are cows more intelligent than pigs?
- My brother is not a pig!
- My brother is worse than a pig!
- Nora Aunor is a great actress.
- Nora Aunor is small.
- Is her dick small?
- No, Nora Aunor has no dick she only has balls!
- If she has balls – where did Ian de Leon come from? …. Anus?
- Ian de Leon must be a smelly baby
- Nora Aunor might be hermaphrodite
- How does it feel to be a hermaphrodite, having a dick and a pussy at the same time?
- If I'm a hermaphrodite, will I fuck myself?
- Nora Aunor has no dick, she only has balls!
- Nora Aunor is a pseudo-hermaphrodite!
- I guess being a gay is better than being a hermaphrodite.
- What could've I become if I'm not gay?
- I maybe pushing carts in the nearest wet market.
- I may become a president of the Philippines.
- Only intelligent people become presidents!
- Yeah right, and my mother is an alien!
- GMA is small
- Nora Aunor is small.
- GMA is Nora Aunor!
- It might be very tiring to be a president and tape a teleserye at the same time!
- GMA is a pseudo-hermaphrodite!
- Well, she's the first lady president who has balls!
- What could be the shape of GMA's pubic hair?
- Why is it that all pubic hairs are crooked?
- Can pubic hairs be rebonded?
-
- I wonder what my pubic hair will look like if I'll rebond it
- I cannot rebond my pubic hair, only professional parlorists can rebond it!
- I wonder what my pubis hair will look like if professional parlorists rebond it!?
- Maybe I'll look like Pia Guanio.
- Does Pia Guanio's pubic hair rebonded?
- I wish I can be a guy so that I can be in bed with Pia Guanio.
- No! I wish Pia Guanio is a guy so that he can be in bed with me!
- I like Pia Guanio
- I like cars!
- Is Pia Guanio a car?
- I wish that all cars are guys so that all of them can be in bed with me!
- I wonder what's the feeling of being fucked by a car?
- It might hurt.
- It will hurt!
- Depends on what part of the car will be inserted.
- The bumper will surely hurt!
- I like Gregg of powerboys
- Is Gregg of Powerboys a car?
- No! he only drives car!
- Does car drives a car?
- He's not a car!
- Did he get fuck by a car?
- I wish I could be a car so that I can fuck Gregg of Powerboys!
- Am I a car?
- The last time I checked, I don't have a stirring wheel and a muffler in me!
- But I'm sure I have a stick and lots of lubricant!
- Im not a car!
- I'm a pseudo-car!
- Then – can I now, pseudo-fuck Gregg of powerboys?!
- How does it feel to be fucked by a car?
- Ask Gregg of powerboys, how it felt when a car fucked him!
- Is Gregg of powerboys hermaphrodite?
- The powerboys are so unlucky that their group possess no collective talent at all!
- If Gregg of powerboys is a hermaphrodite, they might gain more popularity!
- Who might be the most popular gay?
- FPJ! (Melch: God bless his soul)
- Is FPJ gay?
- No he's not, but I bet he's popular.
- Ernesto Maceda is gay!
- No questions on that one
- I am gay!!!!!
- I am Ernesto Maceda!!!!
- If I'm Ernesto Maceda, what am I doing here?
- I am Ernesto Maceda, that's why I'm here!
- If I'm not Ernesto Maceda, would I still be here?
- If Im not Ernesto Maceda, I will still be here!!!!!
- I'm here!!!!
- Where am I anyway?

^_^

2005-01-24T08:09:00.000-08:00

Let's Talk STRAIGHT!

I have to admit that suddenly I feel engulfed in this DOWNELINK thingie. This is just like friendster! An online community for gays and lesbians only (www.downelink.com). By merely looking at the pictures of the guys in my friend's list and in my friends' friends' list, I just couldn't help but ask myself where in the bloody world did this people come from? It's true that pictures may be deceiving and I'm one of the persons who really doesn't give a damn on how hottie or how buff a guy is but I have to tell you this, that they are worth to titillate about. It's good also to read through their profile and realize that not most of them are for "gung-ho" purposes only.

*

Anyway, today is Monday and I feel straight! I feel like a straight gurl! Wahaha . . . . No pun intended and I feel like I am going straight to hell in a few days. Something is bothering me. I love my work, my work loves me but sometimes, my alter-ego comes kicking in, which starts to take over my mind and my body. I do not need to hide it, apparently it is quite obvious, I'm demented, crazy, insane, demented! I feel like I am Roberto, Umberto Eco's protagonist in The Island of the Day Before. My life is like the Daphne, I'm shipwrecked in a god-forsaken ship, I couldn't go anywhere because I do not know how to swim, never to reach the paradise of an island just miles away and amidst the dilemma of these, I'm scared to hell of Ferrante, my non-existent brother born upon the wildness of my imagination! Yes! I feel I am Roberto.

*

Straight! Straight! Straight! I am beginning to fall in love with a straight guy! Darn! (I wonder if that is the reason why I feel like a straight gurrrl today?) I would have to cover his identity under the pet name "Daddah". I do not know how to describe him because I may not be worthy to do such for a godly human being. Well, Daddah is humongous! As in Huge. He stands like 6 foot and a little less built for his size. Okay! Okay! He's kinda chubby but it is just well proportioned to his height and all. His voice resembles of Geoff Eigenman's husky semi-post-stroked-like voice.

When I see him, I think of him as a teddy bear. A huge, cuddly teddy bear. And he's sweet as hell!

Why?

Christmas! He gave me this parker pen, customized, with my nickname engraved on the tip. In the office I'm the only gal who received a gift from him.

January!

I found a powerbooks bag on my table. A note was attached:

"Hi, I saw from friendster that you like Fyodor Dostoevsky, well here's my favorite book of his: The Possessed"

I shriveled as if possessed; I did not react and let my stimulated femininity explode discreetly. I have to go out of the office and hyperventilate without anybody seeing.

I do not want to misinterpret his good will but I can't help but asking why?!?!?!

I am not actually longing for anything more than a kolehiyala-kilig-bolts every now and then. And now this!? Why?

My friends tell me that he is just doing that to make friends with me, and his actions mean nothing more than that because he is a straight guy. (By, the way, I forgot to tell you that he has a girlfriend). Straight or not straight! I don't care.

I would have to end this with a question that has been a prevalent dilemma in all of gay history:

"Would a straight guy fall in love with a gay guy?"

God! Give me strength.

Ciao!

2005-01-20T07:56:00.000-08:00

BOUND TO BE LIKE THis?

2005-01-01T08:13:00.000-08:00

NOTES FROM THE UNWANTED: IS BEING UNATTRACTIVE A BURDEN?

Earlier last week Arthur had already made an early reminder for us to get together again right after he celebrated his birthday in Subic together with Kirk and Arthur's lover, Albert.

Thursday came and it's the only day in a week where I could take a rest from work. It is definitely my favorite day, however, last Thursday wasn't that interesting at all. The previous week gave me a lot of pressure and a lot to think about. Annual Appraisal is just around the corner and I'm eyeing a higher position. I am a little bit confident on getting the promotion but that is not enough reason for me to be laid back and ignore the significant things that I need to do and think about.

I really don't want to go out that night. First and foremost, I slept late that day and I’m thinking of getting enough sleep and eventually go to the office still to finish piled up work but Arthur is insistent in waking me up and dragging my ass all the way to Glorietta and afterwards a Thursday night gig in Malate.

When I say that I'm not in the mood to go out and mingle with party freaks it means that I'm not really in the mood and I will never be in the mood.

The three of us grabbed a beer each in New York Café while debating on where to go. A table in front of us are two cutie and buffed guys. On our left side are four buffed and equally cutie guys. As in Heller, as if I'm not used in this kind of scenery in Malate but that night, it all sank in me. "I'm not as goodlooking and as attractive as these guys!"

I never felt so left out before, I don't know if its Thursday night or it was caused by my stressful week, but that was the first time in my life wherein I never felt so belonged in a Malate crowd. In all honesty I never used self-pity and the word "I" in the same sentence before, and there is always a first time for everything. As we have all agreed to go in BED, for obvious reasons that it was the only hyped place around Nakpil and Orosa at that time, I was plagued by an enormous amount of self-pity. I know that it is a haven for gays and a congregation of topless, well-buffed, attractive guys dancing and flirting around maybe a wonderland for most of us. But that night, I never felt the Judy Garland feeling of wearing the Ruby Shoes but if ever I did, I'd sure tap around the way to bring me back to reality.

Is there something more than having a broad chest, a complete pack of abs and a complimentary pair of dimples or that's just it and you'll survive in the gay world of today? And if you have none of the above, are you doomed to feel misery and frustration in the rest of your life?

I never took this issue seriously for I really do think that there's more to gay life than being super-attractive but as of that moment, it took me some time to feel reality slap me on the face so hard I felt my face numb for like thirty minutes. It didn't take me two hours to stand in a place like that, I gave up, for the first time, I turned my back on the only place where I thought I would be accepted. That night, it was definite, there was nothing more than having a broad chest, a complete pack of abs and a complimentary pair of dimples.

But to think of it, my ego is still battling with myself, it kept on telling me that it is senseless, shallow and not worth bothering about. There is definitely more to life than that. It just so happened that I was not blessed with godly looks that would qualify me to be in the front covers of GQ, it doesn't matter that I'm worthless. I feel a strong amount of pity to those who would take into priority the looks or the physical quality of a person as the basis of ones existence. Lets not be hypocrite and all, we all know that we are still dreaming of meeting a Marc Nelson or a John Hall that would love us forever. But it would be very hard to accept that we are pathetic in wishing for that to happen. Because of that, for the previous years, I developed a mindset of not having too many expectations on the guys that I would eventually meet or get involved with, in fact, I never looked forward on having somebody as a partner or a lover. If it would come, then it would, and it is only my prerogative to accept or decline.

Being judged by just the way you look is a patented action of a witless person. No one could be uglier than a person who says that someone is ugly. I am not afraid to admit that there are a couple of times that I was pre-judged as being a lesser person just because I'm less attractive and I let those events slip into my hands. All of us have the right to be judgmental, all of us tend to be judgmental and I for one is guilty of that. For now, I am being judgmental to those persons who would lambaste somebody because of his/her "apparent unattractiveness". But take note that the quoted expression is based on their close-minded opinions. Just because somebody is attractive (on their personal belief) doesn't give them the right to be the head of the flock, to be the authority of attractiveness. If ever they do have the right to be like that, equally they also do have the right to be a residue of civilization. I am not taking this into a general perspective, but there are still some who are indeed more moronic than anyone could have ever imagined that any adjective would no longer be applicable for such lesser kind.

Indeed, there is more than having godly looks, there is educational attainment. There is more than having a "sexable" appeal, there is personality. There is more than having a complete pack of abs, there's professional excellence. There is more than having a well-sculpted chest, there is a well-sculpted brain, mind you, functioning brain. There is more than having a perfect-featured face, there is etiquette and being cultured. There is more than being a hotshot gay, there is being a rational man.

I'm sorry, but I'm not interested on somebody who would look at me in the face and say 'hello'. I am more interested on somebody who would look into me and say 'goodbye'.

2004-12-17T02:37:00.000-08:00

For you . . . .

OVER-THE-COUNTER-REMEDIES

An old friend, whom I used to love before, came to me one night and exhausted his worn out emotions from his recently broken relatioship; A new love, he says, that comes at the tail-end of a failed relationship can be any of three things: a band-aid (otherwise known as panakip-butas), ointment (think Tiger Balm, Omega, or Ben Gay), or a painkiller (Alaxan, Aaaaadvil, or Midol. Take your pick).

Flings, One-night-stands, FUBUs - are all short-term or short-lived so - called solutions to the problem at hand, otherwise known as band-aids. As you already know band-aids cover up a wound, keeping the bloody mess from plain view. And like they say; out of sight, out of mind. But if you really think about it, band-aids don't really take away the pain. Of course they do keep the thing all neat and tidy on the surface while the wound continues to fester underneath.

Next thing you know, you're lying on your back in the dark, staring at the ceiling, and the pain starts creeping in. Through the ache you wonder what the hell you are doing in some strange bed, who the hell you're with, and why the heck you do it. Then you remember why and you groan inwardly. But what's the point of it all if not to keep from hurting, right? Still there you are . . . in the dark. Hurting just as much (or perhaps even more) before you hooked up with the one snoring next to you.

Then there are those who are so great to be with, you simply forget about the pain. Let's face it. The world is full of wonderful, lovable people who could be the next best thing that could happen to you, only you won't let it because you're too tangled up in your own hang-ups to notice. But in the event that you do allow yourself to have a bit of fun every now and then, they're there, ready to wrestle a smile out of your gloomy disposition, fill your ears with phrases of encouragement, and inflate your ego with unadulterated adoration. Fortunately for you they don't ask for much save for your being happy. They're the bosom buddy, no. 1 fan, on-call lover rolled into one.

They're the balm to your wounded soul - if only for a few hours to a couple of months or until you finally get yourself together and let yourself love again... though not necessarily with them.

Lastly we come to the human versions of ibuprofen paracetamol. People proven to stop the pain before it stops you. And you go to great lengths to find them. It doesn't matter that it's only been a week since the break-up, all you know is that you've hit rock bottom and there's no other way to go but up, right? Through sheer determination you might even be lucky enough to find someone. Suddenly life is beautiful once again. You're overwhelmed, overjoyed, head-over-feet for someone again. You're so happy, you can hardly remember whats-her-name or whats-his-face and why the heck you were so miserable in the first place. But then, every beginning has an ending. Yes, for a moment there he or she definitely took the pain away but then the effects wear off and you're back to hurting all over again. What happens next? Should you go on another fervent hunt for "The One?" Take down the numbers of a prospect or two and call them in the morning?

Then again I'm just talking about if you manage to find someone to address your aches and pains.

But what if you don't? What if, despite your efforts, there's noone there?

What then?

* * *

I've learned that in the end you need three things to remedy a broken heart, ego, and soul. Time, distance, and yourself. As words come, those three aren't so difficult to pronounce but it's a hell of a lot to really apply. But anyone who's had his or her heart broken before can tell you that if there are tried and tested elements into getting over someone, those would be it. It may sound a bit sanctimonious but if you even start looking to others for happiness and healing, then you will always do so. Old habits die hard. Believe me, I know.

How will you know when you're finally okay? I can only speak from experience - when the titles of self-help books, particularly those that sound like "How to handle hurt" or "Love conquers all - even broken hearts" won't catch your eye in a bookstore. When you can do things you used to do together and feel nostalgia and not nausea. When you can hear certain songs played on the radio you won't feel even a slight twinge. Basically if your can go through your every day without sparing a thought to the pain you used to harbor because of the past and if you can honestly wonder about the person without plotting elaborate schemes of revenge or without having your vision suddenly going blurry with tears, then you're on your way to recovery, if not already.

My unsolicited advice to those still in the process of getting over? Live. Just live. And when I say live, don't just drift through the days like a ghost of your former self. Really live; and if you can, live it up - with friends, family members, loved ones, your dog, etc. Obviously his or her life didn't stop for you, why then should you let yours?

And it always helps if you have a sense of humor.

2004-12-16T04:26:00.000-08:00

G. E . B in CRAME

It was lonely Saturday night for me. I am supposed to have a date with the love of my life and unfortunately, a "field trip" of his came on our way. He said that it is his prelim, so he couldn’t afford not to join the "field trip". I have no choice but to cancel our date and pray that fate could provide me an alternative.

Early afternoon, I started to fish out people from Bi-Manila and of course, I had no luck. Most people I talked with are either too horny to talk sense or too horny to think.

I just slept the whole afternoon, got up at around 10 in the evening. Ate dinner and went to Malate. Alone. I don't know why in the hell I dragged myself alone there but I did.

At around two, I'm drinking Vodka Tonic and beer in BATH, watching guys/gays/or wutever they want to call themselves, dance their souls out. I've been in that bar for a couple of times already but most of the time I went there with my gayfriends and we'd just drink and drink 'til somebody blows his mind off. I dunno, but I just feel more comfortable with its crowd compared to BED or wherever.

Then, the music faded at around three, the DJ is mumbling something about a second set. Then I realized, that BATH do have special shows for Saturdays, immediately, people flocked towards the small platfrom in the middle of the bar, which serves to be the stage, and a guy wearing only a black thong and boots went and danced in the most seductive way he could. Teasing the flock around him.

On the other hand, I was left on the bar, gulping every drop of the Vodka Tonic and chasing it with San Mig light. Thinking things, which mostly come to me, when I am alone and slightly intoxicated. The first dancer got his queue and left the stage, I heard a handful amount of comments of how stiff, large, or whatever they are referring to. After a couple of seconds, the second dancer sashayed his way to the platform.

My original plan is to get drunk with someone, have a sensible conversation while the alcohol is slowly numbing my neurons and go home satisfied. But something beyond my expectations happened. While, the second Macho Dancer is riding the stage, a commotion suddenly erupted from upstairs and then there were a couple of shrieks and sounds of beer bottles being smashed. At first, I thought that there were just a couple of war-mongers fighting over a guy or something. Then, suddenly somebody screamed "Raid! Raid!". I felt my eyeballs turned to the back of my head.

"This night couldn’t be any more worse," I mused to myself.

I couldn't do anything, as far as going out of the bar, I knew that there is no way to get through the raid team, so I just sat there calmly in the bar, still drinking what was left of my beer.

In a flash, there were comments, shouts and violent reactions from all around and I just felt bodies pushing me to the edge of the bar. I couldn't breathe, people massed around me in the bar area.

"This couldn’t be happening," one person said.

Others are holding one another, embraced tightly. Almost crying.

I heard one guy said to the guy he was with, "Sabihin mo sa 'kin hindi tayo dadalhin ng pulis sa presinto. Hindi ako pwedeng dalhin sa presinto."

Then another guy at my side said, "Hindi pwedeng malaman ng parents ko na nahuli ako sa isang gay bar."

I just stood there, barely breathing, succumbing every drop of beer I had because I knew that would be my last beer for the night.

"Hay naku! Heto na naman po kami," one guy said. That comment made me smile. I realized that somebody is not new in this kind of stuff.

I felt the tension grew in every second, people are holding their cell phones, calling and texting incessantly, as if that would free them from what was about to happen. I don't know if it is the mild intoxication or my sheer hunger for something different that had made me calm and a bit happy about the situation.

The lights finally went on, I could not see beyond the crowd around me, aside from the back of the heads and hair worn-out by gel. Somebody, who I knew is a police, said that we would be asked to join them in the precint. These cause a lot of reaction from the people. It did nothing. Everyone was loaded into three jeepneys. Outside BATH, a crowd had also assembled to witness the uneventful.

I suddenly found the situation funny . . . . that reminded me of the Police Reports that I used to watch from TV Patrol.

We were hauled into the jeepneys, every person is accounted for and after almost half an hour or so we were inside CAMP CRAME. I knew there’s nothing to be done.

85 gays all in all were gathered inside the CIDG offices plus the staff and crew of BATH, and of course, including the 2 macho dancers. For the first hours, everyone never left their phone, calling or texting whoever could help them. The scene is gloomy. There are people who are talking, making friends, some just found a place to recline and rest their tiring bodies. Some just found a spot on the floor.

We have no way of knowing if we are to be released soon.

Early in the morning, we heard the news that we are going to be charged of a crime. This stirred a mixed emotion from us. The police said something about violating Article 201 of the Revised Penal Code of the Philippines:

Art. 201. Immoral doctrines, obscene publications and exhibitions and indecent shows. — The penalty of prision mayor or a fine ranging from six thousand to twelve thousand pesos, or both such imprisonment and fine, shall be imposed upon:

(1) Those who shall publicly expound or proclaim doctrines openly contrary to public morals;

(2) (a) the authors of obscene literature, published with their knowledge in any form; the editors publishing such literature; and the owners/operators of the establishment selling the same;

(b) Those who, in theaters, fairs, cinematographs or any other place, exhibit, indecent or immoral plays, scenes, acts or shows, whether live or in film, which are prescribed by virtue hereof, shall include those which (1) glorify criminals or condone crimes;

(2) serve no other purpose but to satisfy the market for violence, lust or pornography; (3) offend any race or religion; (4) tend to abet traffic in and use of prohibited drugs; and (5) are contrary to law, public order, morals, and good customs, established policies, lawful orders, decrees and edicts;

(3) Those who shall sell, give away or exhibit films, prints, engravings, sculpture or literature which are offensive to morals. (As amended by PD Nos. 960 and 969).

As far as I know, this law is only applicable to the owners who operate an establishment and anybody who is caught in the act performing “immoral” or “obscene” exhibition. But our reasoning didn’t appeal to the police officers, they refused to hear our side and continued to ignore our qualms of being detained for the whole day.

Without any immediate resolution coming our way, we stayed there in the CIDG office. But the happy thing is, we are GAYS! And there are 85 gays hauled in one area at a time.

This is what I’m proud of for myself and my peers. We always tend to find a way to be happy and joyful amidst any crises or dilemma. There are singings, jokes being thrown in and out and there had been a beauty pageant for crying out loud.

No matter what they do to us. Nobody could keep us from talking and laughing.

From the fears of not going home . . . . from the fears of being exposed to the media . . . . .from the fears of family being notified about the incident . . . . . something more than what we expected has been brought from that event – camaraderie was developed. From mere strangers who were on the grab for a quick trip in response to the calling of the flesh – a different calling has been answered – there has been friendship.

Time flies so fast when you are in a Police Office doing nothing but “makipagbaklaan sa mga bakla”. Early in the afternoon, Danton Remoto arrived together with some lawyers who guaranteed us that we are not to be charged with any crime and be released earlier before 8 pm.

After the negotiation, a police officer came out with a sheet of paper and made us gather around a small table. Danton read what the paper contains; as it is, we are not to be charged with any crime as we are the customers of the bar and we were not hurt, molested nor pressured by anyone during the time that we were detained in the office. We are to sign the paper and be released immediately.

There was applause when Danton finished reading the one page document. After almost 12 hours of no sleep – we are to be released.

It’s a worthwhile experience for me. Not because that I was in a bar, which has been raid. Not because I was detained in a Police Office in Crame for almost a day but because now I appreciate more the gayness in me as I was submerged in a sea of homosexuality. And I became more proud of myself.

ALEXANDER THE "GAY???"

2004-12-10T04:29:00.000-08:00

ALEXANDER THE "GAY???"

At the three-hour "Alexander," fortune favors those who can hold.

Just as its subject, Alexander the Great, never met an army he couldn't beat, "Alexander" the three-hour movie won't meet a bladder it can't bust. Only those as bold as the Macedonian will ride into battle with 32-ounce sodas.

Director Oliver Stone isn't about to shortchange the life and legacy of his favorite historical figure, and of course he'll have to tack on a few conspiracy theories.

The result - a sword-slashing, sandal-stomping indulgence of historic grandiosity - holds its oversized length reasonably well. Those who prepare for a long, engrossing march will appreciate the gorgeously shot, operatic film. Anyone expecting a slam-banger in the line of "Gladiator" will feel as beaten as the marauded Persian forces. Stone has been lauded as an imposing talent, but not for his narrative economy or subtlety. "Alexander," like Martin Scorsese's "Gangs of New York," is an overindulgent, sprawling specimen of the director's lavish strengths and harrowing weaknesses. Long-gestating dream projects - Stone has been trying to make the film for at least 13 years - have a way of paralyzing a filmmaker's raw instincts while enlarging his blind spots.

That's not to say that Stone doesn't have fun. Party boy Colin Farrell adds a sense of devilish glee to the king's glorious conquests. The battle scenes are immaculate, with gory special effects and trembling hand-held shots to simulate a ground-shaking onslaught of war elephants. The downtime from the fights is filled with togas, booze, orgies and dancing. If Alexander's exploits don't facilitate a truly great movie, they at least make for a slammin' frat party.

Ptolemy (Anthony Hopkins), an aged general, narrates Alexander's life, teaching students about his former commander. After an opening sequence of Ptolemy's dry as-a-History Channel-doc pontificating, the story kicks out of neutral as Queen Olympias (Angelina Jolie) borderline-incestuously tends to her young son, whom she coaxes into becoming a new Achilles.

Much of Alexander's lust for power is attributed to his love and disgust for his overly doting, wormtonguish mom, who coaches him against his father, Philip (Val Kilmer).

A timeline jump surges ahead to the coronated Alexander's exuberant victory over the Persians. His stated goal is to unify the people of the known world and allow for racial intermixing and travel he believes will lead to the good of society, but relentless narcissism is just as much of a motivator. A drawback is Alexander's cloudy romantic life, which includes his greatest love, Hephaistion (Jared Leto) as well as one of his wives, the dagger-swinging Barbarian Roxane (Rosario Dawson).

Hephaestion : Jared leto

Stone's choice to have the Macedonians shade their lines with Irish highlights pays off, because the speaking style hints at put-upon anger and stoic matter-of-factness that well suits Alexander's people.

The only truly bad accent is the one from Jolie's Olympias, whose dialect is an amalgam of a 1960s Eastern Bloc Bond girl and Natasha Fatale from the "Rocky & Bullwinkle" cartoon.
Alexander was a complicated man with disjointed ideals and drives, and so is this movie.
"Alexander" is overblown, but rarely less than fascinating as it wobbles along, a Stone's throw away from brilliance as well as disaster.

"Life As A House"

2004-11-08T13:00:00.000-08:00

Kline

I have reviewed a film that touched me in a very appealing way next to "Pay it Forward". The movie is "Life as a House".

I have also read so many reviews of "Life As A House" and have come to the conclusion that the critics seem to be pretty well split--they either love it or hate it. I've heard some say it is the best film since "American Beauty", while I have heard others say it plays like a Lifetime TV movie of the week. I judged for myself.

"Life As A House" is an unusual movie. Kevin Kline stars as George Monroe, an overworked, estranged man who finds out that he doesn't have long to live. So, he decides to pursue his lifelong dream of building a home. Sounds easy, huh? Wrong. George finds contentment from family, friends, neighbors, and the authorities--all seeming to not want the house built. The building of the house is a metaphor for George's life and George is portrayed in a touching, comedic, and miraculous performance by one of the greatest American actors today, Kevin Kline.

Kristin Scott Thomas co-stars as George's ex-wife who use to share his dream of building the house. Hayden Christensen stars as George's dark clothes wearing, pill popping son Sam, and the vivacious Mary Steenburgen stars as a sexy neighbor, pretty much reprising the same role she had in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" Director Irwin Winkler does a fantastic job of not letting this film get too sappy--it could have easily turned into another "Sweet November" or "Autumn in New York", but steered clear of such a disastrous end.

The comedy in this film is so sincere and so unexpected at time that there is a visible natural chemistry between all of the actors, especially between Thomas and Kline. Steenburgen is delightful, as always, and Hayden Christensen pulls a tour-de-force in his first major film role.

Hayden

After seeing the film, I sat down and re-read some of the reviews for the film and realized that most of the critics who gave the film a negative review were evidently expecting something completely different. I don't know if they went in expecting a hilarious comedy or what, but they missed the entire point of the film altogether. I must agree with the critics who lean towards "Life As A House" being the best film since "American Beauty", even though I don't totally agree with that.

"Life As A House" makes you laugh, makes you cry, and make you re-evaluate the relationships you maintain with your family. The outcome of the film is inevitable and I don't want to give anything away that the trailers already don't, but let's just say there was not a dry eye in the theater when I watched it. This film is extraordinarily touching and truly one of the best films of the year.

THE LITANIES OF THE HOPELESS ROMANTIC

2004-10-07T19:40:00.000-07:00

THE LITANIES OF THE HOPELESS ROMANTIC

"do i have a choice?"

Darn! I don't even know how to start this madness that I am writing. Last week we just saw each other in an event, which I thought would be "the" event. Then nothing! It was just one of your once-in-a-blue-moon session with your psychiatrist.

1998. I realized that I am gay because of you. You knew that. (Until now, you still know that I do.) I told you that I love you. What was your reaction? None. You detached yourself from our friendship and seek solitude with another guy. And yes you were straight.

1999. I was so madly in love with you. Nothing from you. You even hated my guts. I reciprocated. You hated me. You experienced the consequences of hurting me. Was it my fault?

2000. Nothing. Nothing. We had a mutual understanding. We hate one another. But I still love you. You knew that. We said our goodbyes, indirectly. We parted ways. So was that goodbye? That is what I thought.

2001. I was in a blackhole. I was still longing for you to be mine. Nothing. What could I do? You were miles away. I lived my life. Met a couple of guys, which I thought would lead me in forgetting all about you. I was wrong. Nobody could compare to you.

2002. I discovered you went "out". Not just out but you were like having the time of your life. Having three boyfriends at a time. Should I name each? Nah. It's not worth my tendon strain. You said sorry and explained. I committed myself on becoming your fairy gay mother, if not your lover. What's better?

2003. You were having problems with your lover. Why were you telling me that? So that I could sympathize? No. Deep inside I laughed my guts out. I even wanted to sponsor a feast. That was what I felt. But then no, I felt sorry for you. When your heart bleeds, mine feels twice the pain. I told you it's not worth the tears. (Hey! I'm still here for crying out loud) Then, we went out a couple of times. I thought those days would make you realize how much you were missing. But again, I knew, you don't have nerves. You're paralyzed. You're insensitive! Or maybe perhaps, I am just a nothing to you. Your fairy gay mother.

2004. I still keep your picture in my wallet. For six years now. Can I do anything about it? None! I’m still hoping that Barry Manilow's words would come into reality – "Somewhere down the road". I hate love! The word itself makes me want to throw up. I hate mushy things! I hate romantic people, I want to plunge a pencil through their nostrils. I hate love so much I have launched a smear campaign against it. I hate you so much that I still love you. I still love you, yes! After six grueling years! That's why I hate you. Why? I dunno. Do I deserve a slap on the face? Yes. Even so, thousand slaps may numb my cheeks, but it would never numb my heart. I love you. I really do. I still do.

Last week. We met. You texted me. Asking if I am free that night. I said I am. You knew that, I will never ever say no to you. You knew that, I still love you. That makes me free forever.

That night. I braced myself for the inevitable. I even thought of injecting sedatives into my system so my hormones wouldn't come kicking in. That night, you told me you were hurt, devastated. You were in love. How I wished it was me you were complaining about. You were in love with this person who stole your virginity. You should have stolen mine long ago. You know I wouldn't mind. You were sad because you know that that person doesn't feel the same way towards you. Now, I hope you knew how I felt and how I still feel. You're hurt and devastated. And so am I. I am more hurt and devastated. I told you that you should not invest your emotions to this person that you know would not love you. You should not clamor for a thing you would not have. Same words that my friends were telling me long ago. About you.

That was it. Then there was goodbye once again. And I am still here waiting for another event. Patiently, waiting when our roads would meet again. Hoping that when our roads meet, your head is no longer turned on a different direction rather, I hope, that it is turned towards mine.

"May Uwi si Nanay . . . . "

2004-10-01T04:58:00.000-07:00

"There was a time in Filipino society when there was no questioning the choosing of dignity and pride over ill means of gaining wealth and status. It was a deed to be unfortunate than to commit crime or any such misdemeanor. But times have changed. In an era of poverty and desperation, Filipinos seem to have neglected the value of character. Although traditional, others have chosen to put their fate and fortune in items of luck. What does it take for one to realize the wrong in this?"

"MAY UWI SI NANAY . . . . "

This afternoon after a sleepless night I just decided to dress-up and drag Kirk to Glorietta to watch one of the most talk about movies of the season. Star Cinema`s FENG SHUI. Of course, the movie is causing so much news and I'm so left out, I need to watch it, and on top of that that is a KRIS AQUINO movie. Okay! Say whatever you want to say but I am not afraid to admit that I'm a KRISSY fan. I wouldn't survive a week without watching "The Buzz" and one episode of Morning Girls would be enough to start my week right.

Anyway, I assume everyone had already seen the movie so there's no reason for me to say the gist here. Let me first hit the good points:

First; I give the entire production value of the movies A+, as always, Star Cinema never fails to create the illusion that they wanted to portray. I like the main setting of the movie. These newly constructed subdivision in Laguna. And the Jimenez househould is also quite appealling. The colorful walls and everything. The lightning is perfect.

Second; Of course, this is supposed to be a "horror" film and its key elements would be the "scare effect". Special effects, the music and sudden "tuhogs" were well fit and cleanly done. Aside from that the make-up and prostethics of the "supposedly" dead beings are brilliant. Something of an international quality.

Third; The concept itself deserves an appreciation. The story is well-thought off. Even though scenes were not perfectly designed to fit one another, the entire flow of the story is quite flawless, of course, minus some loopholes. I really like the catch about the "bagua", which whoever owns it will receive countless luck however the lives of friends, relatives and closest family are in its expense.

That is what I like about the movie. Now, let me dig deeper.

- Lotlot de Leon should never have been given the chance again to act in movies. For crying out loud she throws her lines like as if she's in Batibot or Atbp. I really couldnt imagine how could an actress survive with that singsong monotone.

- Jay Manalo's niples are always in a revolution. It is just so bad that Kris and him doesnt have a sex scene. Darn!

- What happened to Jenny Miller's skin for crying out loud!? Heller! Haven't she ever heard Vicky Bello or Dr. Calayan? Her skin gave me more scare than Luz Fernandez did. It truly is creepy.

- Luz Fernandez is a classic. I remember the Okay ka Fairy Ko days. Her being the LUKA. Clap for Luz Fernandez.

- Yllona Jean is fat. But I swear to God she's still pretty. Her eyes are huge.

- The death because of Leptos Pirosis is perfect, "year of the Rat". The death caused by a Rabbit Bus liner is dumb. The death caused from falling from a window landing on bottles of RED HORSE, is something very funny. I thought that LOTLOT would die because of the KABAYO of "plantsa""

- The "chunkee" endorsement is not so very obvious, it's already obscene!

- I dont like Kris Aquino's wardrobe. It makes her look like a "corrupt" public teacher.

- Gerard Pizarras is GORGEOUS! I'd opt to look at the bagua given the condition that i can spend a night with GERARD PIZARAS. God! I hate Jan Marini!

- I couldn't say anything about Cherry Pie Picache. Really I keep my mouth shut. Her presence in the movie is . . . . . . . disturbing.

- Kris should have used the Bagua in her own advantage. Aside from getting the LUCK that the Bagua would give it, it would also eradicate Kris's mortal enemies in the film. Kris should've brought the Bagua with her and have Daria Ramirez or Jenny Miller look at it.

- The ghost with the Lotus Feet. Her face looks like as if it was stung by one hundred bees. I thought she died of burning.

Well, all in all, maybe i just raised my expectation so much because of the news that I heard, that's why I am quite dissatisfied with the movie. Anyway, it is still a good watch

A Shot of Espresso

2004-09-29T13:37:00.000-07:00

A Shot of Espresso

Courtesy of dscythe of peyups.com

Come on phone . . . . ring . . . .

As if the phone heard me. Never has its ring sounded like an eighty-piece orchestra to my ears, until now.

"Of course I have to keep up with my reputation of being late. Did you wait for my call?”"

My heart flew in the air as if it were a professional trapeze artist.

Hell yeah. I stared at the phone for about an hour just so you know. I was just about to throw it.

Of course not. I expected you to be late. What's new? Joke! So?

I could hear drum rolls in the background. Will I make it or not?

"I’ll meet you in about two hours. Starbucks Katipunan?"

By all means! Even if you want to meet up in Timbuktu I don't care.

"Ok. See you later. Bye."

Whipee!!! I'll do a cartwheel. Oh I forgot, I don't know how to.

I took a bath, not missing to scrub an inch in my body and after dozens of wardrobe changes, leaving my closet topsy-turvy, I finally managed to find something to wear. A tight-fitting shirt which you like so much that you always complimented me whenever I wore it.
Concealer, foundation, bronzer, eye shadow, blush, lipstick, gloss . . . . done.

Darn! I forgot to curl my lashes.

All set, I headed towards the hustle and bustle of Katipunan Avenue. I looked at my watch, one-thirty.

I'm early, now I'll really look excited.

I grabbed the newspaper from the other table and read every page from the headlines up to the obituary. At long last I saw you from my peripheral. Though I did not see you completely, I've already memorized every article of clothing you have. Every gesture that you make, the way you walk, grin and even how you comb your hair with your hands is imprinted in my memory.

"Did you wait long?"

Again you played your cards well. You were wearing your blue plaid polo and khaki pants. I have always had a penchant for guys wearing khaki and polo. Brilliant combination, of course you knew that ensemble of yours is not only my favorite. Its effect on me was like Achilles being struck on the heel, lethal.

"No, just arrived."

Of course that wasn't true.

"You really look pretty."

See? He really likes this shirt. I would like to thank Artwork for my outfit. It always work wonders for me, never fails. I'd buy something from there again the next time I shop.

"Thanks, you look nice yourself. Polo and khaki?"

Actually you looked so nice that I could stare at you forever.

You smiled. Your smile always made me weak on the knees. I felt like a candle which was slowly melting. Was it my imagination or did it really get colder in here. It's as if a breeze suddenly blew and made my hair fly smoothly in the air. Ok, I’m turning into a cheesy hopeless romantic freak now.

"Uhmmm, I have a confession to make. I made sure to wear this. If my memory serves me well, you've always thought I look good in this. Plus, I want to be the nicest-looking guy in polo and khaki you'll see today."

Now the candle's completely melted and all liquid. God, why did you have to be so good with words?

"What are you having? Oh I shouldn't have asked. Caramel Frappuccino with a shot of amaretto and a bagel. Right?"

What you said made me smile. You still haven't forgotten what I want. But I don't know why I did not want to order that this time. Maybe it was because I have always associated us with caramel frappe, overflowing with sweetness. But we're not a caramel frappe anymore.

"You got the bagel right, but I'll have espresso instead."

"Huh? You never liked espresso. You have always found it bitter."

Exactly. Bitter.

"I want to try something new. Besides there's so much calories in a frappe, I'd probably swim for five hours to burn it. And I really need something to wake me up…badly."

Yeah I need to wake up. As soon as possible.

After five hours of talking and caffeine overload, you brought me home. Just as when I was about to get off the car, you held me back and gave me a peck on the cheek. My hand still perfectly fits yours but it doesn't feel as perfect as it used to.

"I'm glad we're friends again."

Friends . . . .

I could not look straight into your eyes.

"Me too . . . "

I went straight to my room, took a bath and lay on my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut but I can't seem to fall asleep. I don't know if it was the caffeine or my logic battling with my emotions that is keeping me up. Pain is just like espresso. Bitter, but its effect is awakening and takes a long time before wearing off.

Friends. . . . .

I'd be happy with that. It's better than not having you. It's better than losing you completely.
That was the happiest five hours of my life. I am willing to trade everything for a few moments of bliss even though it means enduring the pain that seem to go on for eternity. I develop amnesia every time you are around me. I've already forgotten that you took me for granted. Never mind that you made my eyes sore for weeks. I forgive you though you don't show any signs of being sorry. I don't care. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much that I can't seem to let you go. I don't want to let you go. But I know that I have to, I don't know when, but not now. Pathetic as I may be, I am still holding on to the very last hope that someday we still can be.

If only sanity could be awakened by a shot of espresso, then I would probably be heading towards Starbuck's right now. Not only will I gobble up gallons of it, I would munch on an entire bag of coffee beans.

i have no right bringing you here
knowing what i know feeling the way i feel
i have no right being so uncontented
being so confusedbeing so not for you

LOVE STORIES: A Lesson in Goodbye (by garnet_fire)

2004-09-24T10:46:00.000-07:00

Hello island of the natives,

While browsing in friendster i came across this article that has been very well recommended by Alden, a well-respected friend. This article is an excerpt from the UP Online Community (PEYUPS.COM)

"The article brought back feelings ages ago. Hayyy. It's a good read. Ako, medyo naluha. Hope you'll enjoy!" - alden

A Lesson in Goodbye

So here's the narrative:

It was such a beautiful beginning for a love that would never be fulfilled. We started innocently enough - as friends. We talked day and night, exchanging witticisms and amusing comments on the ironies of life. You stimulated my interest, and pretty soon, you captured my heart. I used to laugh at couples who couldn’t get enough of each other, when I suddenly found myself reluctant to say goodnight after spending the whole day with you. I couldn’t sleep, wondering why tomorrow was taking so long. It was never like that for me before…

I had to laugh at the irony of it all. I used to dream of a Prince Charming who would sweep me off my feet in a dazzling romance, but there I was - in love with a guy who, for all his eloquence, barely knew how to tell me he loved me. Didn’t you know? Each time you smiled, you were winning my trust. And every time you held my hand, you were touching my heart. In your arms, I was in danger of falling deeper, yet I knew I couldn’t be more secure. You reached me in a way nobody else has before, and you gave me faith in things I’ve never had the courage to believe.

Still, I held back. What we had was wonderful, and it was so perfect, so absolutely perfect, that I was afraid to believe it could last forever. You asked me to stay, and I longed to say yes, but something was calling me to find another path, to discover what my dreams could become, to explore everything that I could be. I longed for adventure, for experience, for knowledge. Please understand that I loved you, but I couldn’t give you my self without fully knowing who I was. I had to be certain I was the person you believed me to be.

And so I left to study in a world entirely different from ours. You came to say goodbye, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask you to wait. How could I possibly tie you down after you had set me free?

And now, I return. I’ve learned enough to realize that what I had with you was love. And every time I look into your eyes, I know that I have lost it. What I haven’t learned is how to stop loving you, and how to stop being hurt because somebody else is spending forever in your embrace. You were the first to touch my heart, the first to win my trust, and the only one who could make eternity come true for me. You were also the first to show me how painful love can be, how it hurts, and how the wounds it caused will never truly heal.

I’m sorry. I do not regret that I left; only that I hurt you, and that I couldn’t make you wait. Try to forgive me, and try to forget. Let me be the one who remembers, the one who keeps the memories alive. They are more than memories to me now, they are souvenirs of a love I know I will never again experience.

I am leaving again soon. Perhaps in my search of where I belong I will discover happiness. And perhaps this time, I will find the reason and the courage to stay.

Judge not lest ye be judged

2004-09-12T09:59:00.000-07:00

Judge not lest ye be judged

Some of the gays have a terrible reputation. I am not talking about sluttiness here. After all, some of the gays wear sluttiness like a badge of honor, no matter how many right-wing fantasies about the community they confirm. Instead, I am talking about how judgmental they can be. In this, the gays are also aligned with the extreme right. No matter how down in the mouth they are themselves, it doesn't take much effort to get the gays to insist that they are at least better than someone else. The sea of judgment in the gay bars, in malls and especially in Malate sometimes seems so deeply rooted in our culture that it feels like it would be impossible to be gay without it. I just wonder how we got this way in the first place.

Let the record show that no one is more Judge Dread and executioner than I am. I love to judge people. It has been a part of my job once when I was still in events and shows. You pick a cute guy, put him up a little higher than everyone else and wait to see what the reaction is. Some guys will agree that he is smoking hot, and others will insist that they are better than he is. It is classic gay conflict. "I'm hotter than him" is the gay community version of a schoolyard chant. And for the record, it is just as annoying.

I think it's a great idea when people take pride in themselves. There is nothing wrong with lauding your own achievements. But why does it have to be at someone else's expense? Can't your own just success just be about you and not about how you passed someone else in the race? Perhaps it makes our own successes a little sweeter knowing that not only have we improved ourselves, but in doing so, we have moved beyond our peers. That would be just fine if we weren't all so totally unbearable about it.

I have many single friends. They are often single for weeks, months and even years. However, there isn't a dry spell dry enough to keep them from excluding thousands of men as potential dates. Naturally, the easiest way to get crossed off the list is to not flirt back or even look over from across the bar. Someone who didn't notice you standing there suddenly has "attitude" and "isn't that cute anyway." The root of that particular problem is wanting to feel adored and hoping the cute guy will suddenly cotton to your charms and ask you to the dance. If he doesn't, the clearest fallback position is one of abject hostility. After all, the best offense is a good defense.

Perhaps it all comes down to feelings of rejection. The gays face rejection from their family, churches, society, co-workers and friends. Rejecting strangers before they can reject you has to feel empowering on a certain level, particularly if the world has been tough on you. The problem with that is that it cuts off our chances of meeting someone potentially great. No one is perfect, and if we use tiny flaws and our own insecurities to dismiss them entirely, we lose out on one more possible chance for happiness. As life goes on, those chances get fewer and fewer. With a less judgmental attitude, we might find all sorts of great guys falling for us.

2004-08-13T15:29:00.000-07:00

THOUGHTS FOR TODAY

Brought to us by one of the DEMI-GODS that walked the face of EARTH

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

"If you want to be respected by others the great thing is to respect yourself. Only by that, only by self-respect will you compel others to respect you."

"Neither man or nation can exist without a sublime idea."

"The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons"

"The second half of a man's life is made up of nothing but the habits he has acquired during the first half."

"Talking nonsense is man's only privilege that distinguishes him from all other organisms."

"If there is no God, then I am God"

"In an abstract love for humanity one almost always loves only oneself."

""The complete atheist stands on the penultimate step to most perfect faith."

The unattainable ideal: Is that what we want?

2004-08-10T17:04:00.000-07:00

The unattainable ideal: Is that what we want?

As i engulf myself inside the chatroom and while i wander the gay district of metro manila i feel a very strong sense of wanting and craving not only from me but also coming from all of the gay people around me. There is so much wanting.

It is clear that when gays cluster together in bunches, they like to look good. Sometimes, they like to look pretty, with perfect teeth, good hair and no wrinkles. Other times they like to look hot, with good teeth, perfectly mussed hair and just the right amount of rumple or abs perhaps. However they express themselves, they are usually going for the best possible presentation of self. In fact, it often seems that they are more interested in how they look than who they are. Not surprisingly, shallow behavior begets more shallow behavior, and the hotter a guy is, the more gay society encourages his extreme notions of preening.

I will be the first to admit that I have been party to such behavior. One night, I was out with friends at a popular gay club after work for happy hour. The ex of one of my friends casually dropped by on his way home from kickboxing class, his hands still taped up. He looked as hot as I remembered the DLSU Gymnastics Team being. As the work-weary drunks drooled over him, I too joined in the ogling. The guy was hot. That being said, the whole thing was an act. Sure, he had been kickboxing, but did he really need to come to the hottest weeknight bar in town wearing his masturbation-fantasy outfit? In order to feel attractive to a room full of men, sometimes it is hard to stop at just an outfit.

Now, I know this hot guy reasonably well, and he is a decent, interesting and humorous guy. He really has no reason to go to such extremes to meet a nice, handsome man. We do go to those extremes, though, because in a way, we are looking for those extremes in other people. While on the surface, millions of single gay men insist that they are just looking for a nice man to settle down with, the reality is that they are looking for an unbelievably hot guy to experience nonstop bliss with. Our hot kickboxing friend was a catch without taping up his hands, but who would have bothered to find out if he wasn't showing off his hot arms in a tank top?

This leads me to my concern about an unattainable ideal. Whether we look for it in others or in ourselves, it just slows us down. A guy can go kickboxing or save a kitten from a burning house, but that doesn't mean he is going to be a good boyfriend or rock your world in the sack. The more we try to be someone we think other people will be interested in, the further we get away from who we really are. The more we look for shallow attributes in other people, the harder it is to make good, lasting choices. Don't discount the good-looking people just because they look good. Just make sure there is more going on for you than just something nice to look at. It doesn't take any courage at all to give people what they want and not be yourself. The real you is always the best ideal.

DO STUPID PEOPLE HAVE MORE SEX?

2004-08-09T17:44:00.000-07:00

Hello Island Natives!

I don't know if it was the endless sunshine or the polluted air that made everyone so horny, but living in MAKATI, I never had trouble getting laid. Sure, most of the guys are as dumb as a box of hammers, but it's not like you can make a monogamous relationship work anyway. So why worry about it?

Now that I live in Makati, where everyone likes to think they are more sophisticated, I still haven't had any trouble getting laid. I have noticed, however, that even in an allegedly smarter environment, guys with more muscles and dimples than brains always get quick action. No one is scrambling to marry these guys, but I have to wonder: Are the rest of us too smart for our own sexual good? They say an unexamined life is not worth living, but upon further examination, I can't help noticing that people who lead unexamined lives seem to get laid a lot more often.

I don't think blondes have more fun, per se, but since blonde is code for stupid, I have to agree that stupid people do have more fun. From the get-go, people whose minds aren't cluttered with concerns about ARROYO's 2-child policy, the crongress' endless politicking or the abject poverty of our country probably find it easier to laugh at "PALIBHASA LALAKE" reruns.

Almost every week in Malate, I had the opportunity to view the behavior of gay men up close. Not that living in MAKATI didn't give me a lot of insight, but closet models, "male" celebrities and wannabe actors aren't considered a diverse cross-section of gay culture outside of a petri dish. With gay men from all over Manila in the streets' gutters and cramped bars, it was like a social scientist's wet dream, a crucible of bottled sexual energy.

With nothing to do but eat, drink and be Mary, I noticed, even among my friends, a dangerously rapid drop in brain power. I remember one night, we met one guy at the beginning of a wild party who was very attractive and seemed reasonably intelligent. By the time we gulped almost three bottles of San Mig StrongIce, he was borderline retarded, with the carefree personality of a Smurf crossed with a pool toy.

I have always thought that the experience available to us in all-gay circumstances like urban ghettos and gay vacations is like high school redux. Being in an all-gay environment creates opportunities to replay our past while allowing us to cast ourselves in new roles. Since nearly everyone in my general age range and older was in the closet in high school and missed out on a lot of the social machinations, being in this gay environment allows them to be the snotty cheerleader or football player they always wished they could be. Why come together as a community when there are geeks to be tormented?

Ever since "Charlie's Angels" ushered in jiggle television, the gay male population has jiggled right along with it. The macho man late '70s dissolved into the '80s' Soloflex guy and the 1984 Men's Gymnastics team, which sporty spiced us right into the current A&F revolution. The circuit boys lead the dumb jock charge into the new millennium where drugs and unsafe sex are the new red badges of cool. Maybe it is all about the myth of straight guy seduction, where clearly the straight guy involved is so dumb he doesn't realize he is participating in gay sex. In order to fulfill their straight-acting destiny, it is imperative that gay men drop their IQ at a pace that would make the Microsoft stock price look like a leisurely decline. So forget everything you ever heard about the mind being the most important sex organ. It has never been sexier to be stupid. Heaven help us all.

IMELDIFIC

2004-07-22T13:45:00.000-07:00

the LADY!!!!

Earlier, Ate Malou gave me an early call. Early call would be 5 in the afternoon for me. She knows that its my off from work, so she has a right to drag me anywhere. She called me, forced me to get up and break off from my dreaming to watch "IMELDA" in Glorietta. Well, its IMELDA! I had no reason to say no. So, I got up. Took a quick bath and by quarter to eight I'm already in G1.

At first, I felt sorry for Mommy Meldy being shown here in the corners of Glorietta. I'm expecting something like a G4 extravagance but hey! It's a documentary film, people won't bother to be in line to watch Imelda. They'd rather do it for Will Smith in I ROBOT.

Anyway, I've been hoping to watch the documentary since it was shown in the States last year, then I got frustrated when Imelda herself went berserk and decided to put a TRO on the film when it was about to be opened here in Manila. Finally, the TRO got lifted and Imelda is back in the limelight.

Of course, as expected the documentary is nothing but about IMELDA, and Imelda herself is doing the talking with just some clever "TUHOG" and sidelights, which contradicted every word she said.

I am not a Marcos baby, rather a Cory one. So my knowledge about the Marcoses is brought about by stories from my parents, history books and classroom lessons. But even though, I had a clear picture of a better Philippines during their reign.

The film struck me in a way that I never thought that the Philippines reached that kind of grandeur, which everybody around the world envied and respected. The film contained rare footages and interviews from the past. How the Marcos couple played around with so much money and the economy is very much controlled on the palm of their hands. Infrastructures were built that even as of today couldn’t be matched. After all the developments and all the spending for the Philippines, "I still have $100 Million to play around with," Imelda said. With so much money and with so much power, whether it is for good or bad, they made a name for the Philippines. No doubt about it, it was the golden age of our country.

I saw the different side of Imelda, the Imelda that cared, the Imelda that served, the Imelda the is wise contrary to the monstrosity she was described by most of the people today. I don't know if that is the purpose of the film or what. Even so, I would know if the film is just a political brouhaha trying to brainwash the younger generation but the film is balanced. The film also showed the other side of the coin, the side, which we are all familiar with.

Well, aside from that, of course the film wouldn't be titled such if it didn't probe on the woman herself. It focused on the beauty, extravagance, and grandiosity of the woman behind the most powerful man in Asia next to Mao Tse Tung.

Imelda was and still is beautiful and she did not put that beauty and charm to waste. She used that beauty and charm at its most advantageous way. Flaunting it to the outside world and making them realize that the Filipinos at that time were not still in their "bahags". She was like a queen and she made not only a name for herself but also a name for the country she is representing. She said that that was her job. To serve as a role model for the rest of the Filipinos. "If I can make it here, so can all of you", she said. Having tea and going to the opera with the President and the First Lady of the USA is already a big thing to do for the country. There is even a footage that showed Imelda going to Libya and meeting with the Libyan President Janjalani, trying to talk him out from supplying weapons to the Muslim separatists. The Libyan President said, "I like you", to Imelda. With her charm, Janjalani agreed to no longer send weapons to the Muslim separatists in the Philippines.

Beauty, extravagance and grandiosity were never a question to Imelda. Of all the backlash and condemnation thrown at her, she didn't deny the fact that she is beautiful, grand, and extravagant. She claimed that being beautiful is the essence of her life . . . . . the center on which, her body, mind and spirit revolve around. That made an impact on me. I never thought that Imelda would hold such a philosophy so dearly and with the fact that she has a philosophy in life after all. I always thought that she is a woman, rich and beautiful, void of anything else. And what struck me the most is that she never even mentioned the word power and authority in the film. (I just realized, is there any person in politics who would?)

After all, I learned a lot from her. One statement from her that made such an impact on me was, "There is a thin line between being wise and being a crazy person." And also when she said, "I'm just being misunderstood".

I don't know but I admire the woman whom after all those tumultuous events in her life still manage to speak up and express herself. Having dignity and philosophy. Being able to stand up for what she believes in. In the end, after hearing such person, there are only two conclusions we can draw from her, its only either she's wise or she's crazy. I won't cast my verdict, know for yourself.

In the end, we would realize that indeed there is a little IMELDA in all of us, not only because we adore shoes, not only because we put beauty with high regard, not only because we're vain and all but also because we are all human beings, susceptible to all mundane things and most of all, because sometimes we are perceived as crazy even though we know for ourselves that . . . . we are just being misunderstood.

A TWIST OF “FAITH”

2004-07-19T13:08:00.000-07:00

A TWIST OF "FAITH"

Few years back, I have been very well indulged in books that deal with the occult and most especially books that can be regarded and perceived mostly as "anti-christian". In fact I came from a pure Catholic family. Both of my parents have religious bloods. However, the faith on the catholic church was not effectively passed on to the next generations. I am not saying that my catholic faith has a very weak foundation, in fact I even aspired on becoming a priest. In my younger years I had embraced and practiced the dogmas and the morals that the church had set for me to follow. But I guess that the age of innocence had ended in my lifetime. Time came when I started to question, time came when I started to not believe, time came when I sought for answers, I did not find it in the place or institution, which I long thought would enlighten me and clear my doubts away. Fortunately, I found my answers in my quest for the truth. It is not in the faith that some people hold dearly, it is not in the church where I found my answers. Answers to the question that you would be forced to ask when you face the greatest troubles of your life. Questions that you utter unconsciously in the middle of a dreadful event. Questions such as "Does God exist? If he does, where is he in times that I needed him?" I know that these questions can be considered as FAQ (frequently asked questions) and there are a hundred and one answers to these. But I am not merely looking for answers, answers that are based on "holy" literature, what I was looking for is proof, what I was looking for were solutions. It is true, and I am not afraid to admit it that I once had an extreme animosity against the Catholic Church, one-time I could even brand myself as an anti-christian. Then, I became an atheist but later on as I try to mend my angst and found more answers through philosophy and life itself, I went on becoming more subtle and subdued.

Anyway, this entry is about a book that I can't get my eyes off for the past few days. I first heard of the author some time like two years ago with his bestseller "The DaVinci Code", (that time I really never thought that it will make it bigtime) but I just shrugged my shoulders in response to some recommendations, I even chuckled to the fact that somebody is writing a fictionalized novel based entirely on what I have been reading few years back. Last Thursday out of curiosity, on my way to meet Ate Malou and Kirk in Seattle's Best in Megastrip, I came across a book of Dan Brown, the acclaimed author of DaVinci Code, in Powerbooks. Out of curiosity and maybe just a lack of something worthy to read, I got my hands on his prequel to the "Da Vinci Code", the novel is called "Angels and Demons".

I am not a fan of suspense-thriller paperbacks. I am very choosy when it comes to reading paperbacks, of course, Grisham would be an exception. But I did not choose him that time in powerbooks even though I saw that he has a recent novel "Bleacher". I just thought that I'm becoming to old for a Grisham. Well, I am not saying that Grisham is for teeny-boppers, what I'm trying to point out is that maybe it would be the time to graduate from his courtroom-suspense thrillers. Finally, I decided to get "Angels and Demons" and from that point onwards, I never put my eyes off it.

I tried to first look into Dan Brown's website to have enough information for me to be oriented as I read the book. Brown made it clear to his readers that the information that he had provided to serve as the framework of the story is completely non-fiction. They are facts. He just used the facts that he has to form a story and the plot. And the plot is more than what interests me, the destruction of the very foundation of the Catholic Church, the Vatican City, by a long-gone underground brotherhood that the Catholic Church had condemned centuries ago, the "ILLUMINATI".

Eventually the book turned out to be a good read. Gripping, should I say. The main point of the novel is the battle between science and religion. Some of us may agree in saying that it is the age of science and religion has become a pigment of our past. It is because science is able to answer all of our questions while religion on the other hand relies merely on how we believe. It is fact versus faith all along. So the big question is . . . . Is science the new god?

The main character of the story is a man named Robert Langdon, a Harvard scholar who specializes in symbology. The story began when he was awakened by a phone call coming from the director of CERN in Switzerland asking for his expert advice with regards to the death of a certain scientist with an esoteric symbol branded on his chest. The scientist by the way made a very remarkable and phenomenal discovery of the century or maybe of all of human history. The scientist just discovered how he could prove the Genesis by making something out of nothing. He had found the answer on how the universe was created, and he had discovered it in his lab. Like God, from his experiments, he eventually made something out of nothing but unfortunately the something would be all too dangerous being highly volatile once exposed. He had made a tiny globule of "antimatter", the something, and it would be a perfect energy source and at the same time, if fallen at the wrong hands, may be used as a weapon for mass destruction. From then onwards as soon as Langdon sat foot on CERN in Geneva, Switzerland, it seemed as if he couldn't get enough of surprises or maybe, surprises couldn't get enough of him.

Later on the book divulges the reason behind all the events that had unfolded, which resulted to:

First, the death of the Pope

Second, the occurrence of the conclave wherein all the cardinals around the world gathered up in the Sistine Chapel to elect a new Pope from the four Prefiritis (best candidates for the Papacy).

Third, while the conclave is not finished yet, the Camerlengo (Pope's Chamberlain), is in command of the whole Catholic Church, especially the smallest country in the whole world, the Vatican City.

Fourth, a newly discovered bomb, which was stolen from the dead scientist in CERN, was placed in an unknown location somewhere inside the Vatican City. The bomb has a 24 hr lifespan and if ignited, the quarter of a gram globule will explode as strong as a nuclear explosion, destroying the whole Vatican City.

Fifth, the kidnapping of the four Prefiritis, and their gruesome death in every hour, being televised worldwide.

These and more are the events that would unfold in front of Robert Langdon as the story moves on. However, in the end it would all be the same thing. There would always be a litany on how the church is crumbling at the foot of modernization and how the fate of the people is clouded because of their lack of faith in the Church. Most specially, how the Church would soon be replaced by science.

That is a very delicate matter that Dan Brown tackled in his book ANGELS and DEMONS. SCIENCE and RELIGION, what's the angel and what's the demon? Basically the book dealt with the church's survival in the modern times. At the end it is for us to decide on which to side, but of course there is still the option of believing in both. We can accept the facts at the same time not lose our faith on whatever or whoever we believe in.

If you are really interested in such topics MELCH recommends:

1. Holy Blood, Holy Grail
2. The Second Messiah
3. The Hiram Key
4. The Templar Revelations
5. The Woman with the Alabaster Jar
6. The Dead Sea Scrolls
7. The Apocrypha
8. The Messianic Legacy

LOVE is like . . . . . . . . . HELLER!!!!!!

2004-07-12T13:34:00.000-07:00

Give me the definition of love and I'll give you a slap on the face!

That is my bitter reaction ever since, pertaining to my most dreaded four-letter word. Therefore leading me to my everlasting quest for the true meaning of it. Let's probe:

Love is "a sordid excuse to have sex."

Love is "a hopeless devotion in a lifelong search for genuine happiness."

Love is "hypocrisy at its best."

Love is "loving yourself first."

Love is "hitting a gravel pavement once you realized you are just daydreaming and hoping for a person you know you wouldn't get".

Love is "companionship and at the same time gives you the reason to be a psychic and emotional vampire to your partner (victim)".

Love is "a fad that never wears off in the limelight".

Love is "a constant irritation that makes you believe that you are desperate and alone".

Love is "proclaiming to the whole world that 'Hey! I’m not alone!"

Love is "the prodigal brother of hate".

Love is "felt when you want to hate and hurt (either yourself or somebody else)".

Love is "a yearning for another person to the point of not knowing why!"

Love is "a masochistic ecstasy for others".

Love is "a sadistic ecstasy for those who are not masochists".

Love is "mistaken with infatuation".

Love is "infatuation in its first level".

Love is "unconditional (Like heller!!!!!!"

Love is "like experiencing heaven when you are in hell"!

Love is "the last resort for optimistic whackos".

Love is "said and felt when you are having a good sex and after the preceding minutes of it".

Love is "expressed in the words 'I LOVE YOU' which is tantamount to like 'HELLER!'

Love is “like buying a one-way ticket to IRAQ".

Love is "a socio-economic cancer".

Love is "a sugar-coated amplaya chocolate (you'll never know what you gonna get)".

Love is "being a fool for someone who's fooling you".

Love is "a bid to prolong ones existence".

Love "hurts, wounds and scars".

Love is "a knife you are holding and stabbing it constantly through your flesh".

Love is "like a 'champorado', which is not brown".

Love is "hitting on someone in a bar and ending up with him naked on the comfort room".

Love is "a procedure in playing the game of survival of the stupidest or fittest, I should say".

Love is "the greatest thing you'll ever learn! (yeah right! The greatest thing I have learned is like sucking somebody else's dick)"

Love "sucks".

But I should say. I SUCK BETTER!!!!

(No wonder I'm still single!)

“COLOR ME PINK”

2004-07-05T18:07:00.000-07:00

"COLOR ME PINK"

Hello island of the natives! Do you know how it feels when you know that you are not just GAY but GAYER than GAY? It feels very good. Especially when you know that you are not alone and there are movements around the world, which demands for acceptance and equality. Last Saturday I had proven again how the gays would rule the world someday, filling up a whole cinema to watch gay films.

As I have mentioned the other day, Arthur, Kirk and I had a date for Saturday, to watch the Pink Festival in SM Manila.

Aside from the movies, the reason that I went there is the feeling of existing as a gay person. It is very overwhelming. Just to have a small contribution by watching such films to the gay movements spawning. Becoming larger and stronger than ever when more people are coming out and unafraid of the consequences that they might encounter on the latter end.

DUDA

The first film that we viewed is DUDA, written and directed by CRIS PABLO, and if I'm not mistaken, a product of UP Filming. It was a good watch even though it can be expected that it will going to have a poor production because it would be very unlikely for a project like that to get a good funding. It is true that gays and gay culture are very well accepted in Philippine society already but it doesn't necessarily mean that it is already well-accepted in Philippine cinema. The odds of a gay film hitting it big time in major production outfits are small. Being compared to gay-oriented films made in the past by Lino Brocka such as "Macho Dancers" and all its contemporaries, those films were made at the time when gay revolution was at its peak in the Philippines. Such films were intriguing by that time and at the same time, they were more of FYI films that targeted mixed audiences, to inform and to make people know or realize their questions of "hows" and "whys" with regards to the prevalence and presence of homosexuality. Now, gay films that are being produced are 100% gay oriented or gay-centered so to speak, which targets only the homosexual market, that if a heterosexual would view it, it would be very implausible that he or she can relate to it. Gay films of the 70's and 80's were made with a general perspective, as if you are looking from the outside of gay life and seeing what is inside, that's why it would be easier for someone who's not gay to appreciate and relate to what they were watching. GAY films of today were written and made entirely from the inside, meaning that most of the people who can relate and understand the stories were the one who were already inside the circle of gay life. That's why it would be all too risky for mainstream movie outfits to produce and gamble money for such stories and screenplays. Quality films produced in a year can be counted with a hand, it would be harder to lobby quality gay films. So, in fairness, with gay writers and directors, they would rather go with the flow and write and direct what the majority of Filipinos would watch, not the people would rather not watch.

Anyway, the production team of Duda made a very effective alternative to conceal the inadequacies in the production value of the film. The movie was presented in a documentary-type of filming, which in all fairness, got the audience by their throat and let them swallow the illusion of reality. But as you may know, it has its drawbacks, that's why that type of filming was not generally used by filmmakers. Well of course, aside from the makers of "Blairwitch Project".

The story was cleverly written, simple, with a pinch of absurdity and surrealism, it was blended well. One moment you are in the real world, one moment you are in somebody else's mind, one moment you are even in a memory. The narration was effective and so as the style of supporting characters speaking to the audience fits well to its documentary theme. And the talk show at the climax of the film is very well put, the music made it better, and I have to admit that the appearance of John Lapus helped in a way, whatever way it is, it helped. I know that the filmmakers wanted it to be as unique as possible, even though some audience may not appreciate it and find it too absurd or too obscure, but that's the essence of "experimentation". That's art! And that's being creative is all about. The filmmakers found a way to express and establish a climax, which is alternative, not taking up too much time and effort but at the same time efficient and prevent the viewers from drowsing off.

As the title suggests, the film is about doubt. The story revolves on the main character "Cris" and his lover, "Erik", the famous 4001st guy that Cris met in a Puerto Galera escapade. The story has the perfect ingredients that can make a gay film portray modern gay life in the Philippines in a very detailed spectrum. It tackled the main aspects of living a gay life; unstable relationships, paranoia and jealousy, promiscuity, intellect, confusion, friendship, loss, desperation, search for true love, posh, and sex. As you watch the film, you will realize that what you are watching are not gays but rather persons. And what sets it apart from other local gay films is that the film has a heart, an authentic heart that one may find at a time quite melodramatic or perhaps even "over"dramatic. But you know that it happened, it is happening or it will happen to all of us sooner or later. But I don't know if this is an advantage or it is the other way around; the film didn't even bother to tackle the issue of discrimination and blending in the heterosexual community. As I have mentioned, this is a 100% gay-centered film, a story in a "eutopic" state. Well of course, aside from the appearance of a guy, who demanded money in return for the sex even though there had been no negotiation done, who scandalized and even stabbed Cris on the side. Well, it wasn't Cris who picked him up it just so happened that he arrived at their house when the turmoil was happening. And of course, a gay film wouldn't be complete without somebody uttering the words, "Salot kayong mga bakla." It was the callboy who exclaimed that, which is pretty funny, 'coz without gays callboys wouldn't even eat a complete meal in a day.

In the end, it would still be love that made the story go around - the search for it and the undying quest for it. While Cris and Erik had a very traumatizing break-up, Cris would still have found the perfect someone when the sun sets. I said to myself, that it is a happy ending just like the usual films I watch. But the difference here is that, Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks were not the ones giving me the assurance of love and that I wont have another sleepless night, Adam Sandler was not the one singing and saying that he'd grow old with Drew Barrymoore, Rico Yan was not the one who believed in magic and fell in love with Claudine Baretto. It was Cris, who was standing on the shore, pondering on his lost love, while the sun was setting in front of him . . . . . . he came to offer love to Cris.

After the chains of smoke in the carpark, we headed straight back to Cinema 3 of SM Manila, struggling to get through the chaos that was going on in the cinema area, which at first I thought is brought about by the film festival. Later we realized that it was Spiderman, who's causing the chaos. Anyway, I'm never a fan of such films, well aside of course from the fact that it is Toby Maguire who's appearing on that film. I viewed it also, but I let the commotion subside first, a few days after.

Ian Veneracion

The second featured film of the Pink Festival that day is from Tojaro Productions, a film written and directed by Hamilton Macleod, whom I'm not so very familiar but I promise that I'll try to research on him the soonest possible time. The film is INTERM@TES.

INTERM@TES was done in a very professional manner. As a viewer, you'd know that what you are watching is a "movie". You'd know that the team behind this movie is all well experienced and have been making films for a long time.

Let's go down to the basics. In terms of the production value of the movie, irregardless of the budget constraint, which is quite obvious, I felt that all measures were done just to execute exactly how the script was written or what the script was asking for, such as the sets, locations and other detailed sequences. So, it's a thumbs up for the filmmaker to face and solve the dilemma of poor production value. But as far as the technical stuff are concerned, I saw that the most collegiate equipment were very well provided and utilized, such as the lights and the sounding.

But one thing that really bothers me is the type of film used to shoot the movie. As the movie opens and the credits rolled in, you have this feeling that what you were watching is a very old movie made in the times of Tina Paner's and Manilyn Reynes' heydays. Even how the lines were delivered, anyway all dialogues were in English, maybe because that the movie is an entry for international gay film festivals, were so in a way nostalgic. The way it was dubbed and the accent of the actors reminded me of Filipino films in English made in the 70's. I thought that that was part of the illusion but later on I realized its not when I saw that the production design and the milieu of the story is in real time. I felt a little weird while having that illusion of the past when I can see are "San Mig Lights" and "Expeditons" as if I'm watching an old movie set in modern time.

Speaking of modern times, the story was supposed to be about internet gay lifestyle, as it was based on a story entitled "Welcome to Gaymanila". Gaymanila by the way is a channel in MIRC way before bi-manila. But the story delved on the life of chatters outside the chatroom not inside it, which I find not so very fit on the main theme of the story, which, as I said, supposed to be about the internet gay lifestyle. Well, in a way, that was what I was expecting when I have read the publicity. I really don't know what the writer really wanted it to be.

The movie begins with different types of gay men, logging in the channel #GAYMANILA. They were all in front of their computer screens talking about a Grand EB that'd going to happen later that night I suppose. And finally the conversation was shifted to a particular chatter who died, STARMAN, and that is where the story begins as one chatter tells the story in detail to the gossip-hunger chatmates.

The story unfolds nine months ago in, guess where, PUERTO GALERA as a group of chatters arranged a get together vacation escape. And there, STARMAN, appeared, played by IAN VENERACION, one guy whom my fantasies cant get enough of. IAN plays a sought after actor, heterosexual in the silverscreen, homosexual in real life. Is that something new?

Anyway, the character of Ian Veneracion pushed the story to revolve as he later on played around with his friends' lovers one by one. Right there in Puerto Galera, he caused the break-up of an eight-year relationship, when he was caught having sex with the lover of his friend in the cottage. Few months later, he seduced the character played by William Thio, lover of STARMAN's bestfriend, played by Raymond Bagatsing. After which, he then thrived on the "straight" lover of another friend by helping the "straight" with his finances that his lover couldn't give. And that is basically how the movie went on ending in an unfortunate accident that caused the life of STARMAN and the "straight" guy, after the "straight guy" made a scene in STARMAN's movie premier, because he contracted HIV from him.

The actors are all brilliant and fantabulous, aside of course from William Thio, which I heard is longing to have a second chance in showbusiness appearing in 30 Days, a reality TV program that promises to let a star shine again in thirty days after their luster got busted. (I loathe the concept of that show). No doubt that Raymond Bagatsing is super perfect for the movie, he is magnificent in playing gay roles. Among all the gay roles that he played, I'd say that he deserves an acknowledgement this time. And so as Ian Veneracion who's so realistically gay, the nuances, the expressions and the movements were all very well learned and executed, even the first and only sex scene made my blood curdle.

All in all, the movie is worth it. So, I am wishing them all the luck as they pursue the international gay film scene. It is just so sad to see how the gay filmmakers were deprived when it comes to budgeting and funding so as they lack the resources to put together a perfect film. But, hopefully someday, producers and so as the audience will realize that what the filmmakers and writers are putting up are not just "gay" films, but rather a work of art that deserves the attention and commendation. So that, there would come a time that we would all color the world, pinker than pink!

RIDDICKulous

2004-07-04T17:46:00.000-07:00

RIDDICKulous

Vin Diesel

Hello my dear darling island of the natives!

Yesterday I decided to give Arthur a call because I could feel that I'm on the brink of insanity due the pressure that my new work is exerting on me. Wednesday and Thursday are two rest days for me, a co-worker swapped a rest day that's why I have to spend two idle days. I asked Art if he had plans for Saturday, I told him that if I'm not going out, I may explode and turn out to be a psychopath because of excruciating boredom.

Art told me that if I'd really like to go out we could meet later that day, watch a movie and have dinner. It was a good offer and I immediately grabbed it.

I took a bath, packed my dirty clothes and took it to the laundry, went to the grocery and bought necessary things, afterwhich I headed straight to G4 where Art with his boyfriend, Albert were going to meet me. I overestimated their travel time because they were coming from Ortigas Extention and my apartment is just 15 minutes away from Glorietta. So, I was like thirty minutes late.

Finally, I got to timezone where we were to meet while Arthur and Albert were strolling by that time so I have to wait for them to get back. While waiting for them, I browsed a couple of magazines in the nearest stand and saw a couple of local magazines with the face of Hero, the Star Circle person, on some covers. I’m not actually a fan of xeroxed star searches but I have to admit, that Hero got a certain charm, which I find not so very "jologgish". Then I received a call from Art, and he was in front of me at that time. I could not blame him because of his height, and I'm a midget when I'm with him. He's gigantic; I have to tell you that.

Then, I met Albert, finally, Arthur's lover for a year or more. That was the first time that I had the chance to meet the "lover". Well, Arthur told me earlier that Albert is very eager to watch "Riddick", which I agreed to watch also, not knowing at first what am I going into. I realized that it is a sci-fi flick starring Vin Diesel. It was a so heterosexual film, basing that observation from the posters, hanging there. Do I have a choice? None! So, we let Albert to wait in line to buy the tickets while Arthur and I grabbed some gigantic popcorns and sodas. I just remembered I got myself a lemonade that time, which is so very unlike me but I have to because I can feel that my body is already oversaturated with carbonated drinks. The other day while at work, I gobbled up 1.5 liter of coke in an hour and it made me overhyped 'till 12 noon. Jumping and goofing around at a time when everyone seemed to have already drained their day’s energy.

We got in the cinema in time and, honestly, I prepared to force myself to watch and like a movie I really would have never consider watching if I would be given the chance to know first who appears in it.

The first sequences killed me. I told Arthur in a halftone that what we were watching is a sort of recycled film that wanted to follow the footsteps of Matrix or Star Wars perhaps to the box office. Even the costumes and the sets are recycled from other sci-fi flicks like Planet of the Apes, and Scorpion King. Vin Diesel is a walking muscle but unfortunately I guess that the actor really finds it hard to memorize lines because of his one-liner dialogues with other characters of the story. Speaking of characters, I was stunned when Judy Dench appeared in the film as an elemental goddess or some sort of a spirit-like persona. I went like "Heller!!! What in the world is Judy Dench doing in that kind of film." I guess she got frustrated because she's supposed to have the character of Cate Blanchett in LOR but casting directors eventually found her too old to appear as a Queen of the Woods with a Goddess-like aura. I’m not being harsh, I really find Judy Dench as a very very good actor, which is very unlikely to be found in films such as Riddick. One movie that I really like with Judy Dench is "Tea with Mussoulinni" and the other film, which I regretfully forgot the title, where she played as a very good writer that had alzheimers later on in her life. Aside from the appearance of Judy Dench, another thing that stunned be the most is the sort of an underlying message of the film, which is so very anti-born again propaganda. I know that it may sound preposterous but that is the closest thing I can think of even though I really didn’t take offense with regards to that matter, I'm not a born again myself nor a Christian.

After all, I can say that the movie should be re-titled as "RIDICULOUSLY RIDDICK".

For heaven's goodness, finally the film ended and the three of us made our way through Glorietta to go to Greenbelt. Of course, Arthur and I would not survive the night without going to an arcade and play "Dance Maniacs", one of the reasons why we became close friends two years ago.

After the adrenaline rush brought by the game, we went to Kroc Bar in Greenbelt 3 where I spend most of my vacant nights to eat and drink. The place is cool, aside from the fact that it's inexpensive, they serve good food. Exotic and Filipino and yet, they can still make those good. Also, I have to admit that some waiters are hot. As far as my diet is concerned, I always find them appetizing.

Anyway, over dinner, I couldn't stop but notice the book, which Albert had been carrying all along. I found out that it was a Terry Brooks book, at least we've got something in common and something to talk about because I was quite thinking earlier on what are we going to talk about knowing that it was my first time to meet him. Arthur is a very good friend and meeting his lover is that important. I have to dig up the remnants of the memory that I have regarding the last series of books written by Terry Brooks, which was like three or four years ago. Fortunately, we connected afterwards and talked casually.

He knew that Arthur and I went through a lot and been friends for quite a long time. He asked about my assessment of Arthur's personality, which I find very unnatural for a person to ask while his boyfriend is present and at the same time awkward in my end to do the talking. Originally there were four of us. Perfect fit as the gay version of Sex in the City. But that was before, when the four us were inseparable. KC had gone somewhere else far away and we lost contact, Kirk is still around, and Arthur, meeting him once in a while, and there comes me, who’s always available and always on the go. I told Albert a little less what I know of Arthur, of course I really have to sensor the details because I’m still kind of uptight with regards to talking about him. If you would only know what I had been through with Arthur. I really don't want to bring it up anyway.

As far as my friendship is concerned with Arthur, I know that his happy with his lover even though I can sense a little negative vibe between them but I guess that I might just being too scrutinizing and at the same time judgmental when it comes to their relationship. And how would I know? I knew Arthur as a friend, never a lover, so there's no point of me criticizing their relationship in any way. Oh my God! I’m being too good. They seem to be doing fine. So I’m giving them the benefit of that.

As the night faded away and so as our dinner, we got deeper into our conversations. Of course, as always, it would be me who will always to the talking or the "kwento", I was known to be good conversationalist and a perfect story-teller. A person that I have just met would not escape my unforgettable anthologies regarding the love of my life – ROJ. Haha. Sounds stupid to think of it that way, but that is the truth. Coincidentally, Albert happened to know the person that I'm talking about and the persons behind the story. It so happened that he konws one of Roj's infamous first boyfriend, who caused a little dilemma. I really wouldn't bother to talk about them here. I finally have proven how small the world is or rather it would be better to put it this way, it's a small "gay" world after all. Arthur know about everything that I'm talking about, he met ROJ, he knows how I drool over that guy and how desperate I am to get him back in my life. And he has been there in my moments. So, basically he couldn't help but chuckle all the time that I'm making 'kwento' of those moments.

On the other hand, I also talked about Arthur's past sexcapades and past lovers. Its good a thing that Art is very transparent with regards to that to Albert.

To sum it all up, I can consider that a good night and it wouldn't happen if I haven't agreed to watch a "RIDDICKulous" film. But the next night would be better when Arthur made an arrangement for us to meet the next night to watch the pink festival in SM Manila with Kirk, minus Albert.

THe ThIn DarK LiNe

2003-04-01T10:46:00.000-08:00

WhErE Am i ?

THe ThIn DarK LiNe

"Red is the color of violent death. Red is the color of strong feelings – love, passion, greed, anger, hatred.

Emotions-better not to have them. Luckier not to have them.

Love,

Passion,

Greed,

Anger,

Hatred.

The feelings pull one another in a cricle. Faster, harder, blurring into violence. I had no power over it.

Love,

Passion,

Greed,

Anger,

Hatred.

The words pulsed in my head everytime I plunged the knife into his body.

HAtred,

Anger,

Greed,

Passion,

Love,

The line between them is thin and red."

There are certain things in our minds and in our personalities that we cannot explain, we cannot decipher, sometimes we don't even know that they're there. Maybe because we are too preoccupied by our routines, our work or by the shallow things that we crave for, that we desire. There are times when we catch ourselves being not ourselves, rather being someone that we don't know, we don’t even recognize.

Our attentions are drawn to the superficial world that we are living in now, that we cannot even hear the soft cacophony of sounds our inner selves are trying to tell us. Life is not only about achieving, succeeding or being the best, it is more of a struggle, a fight of emotions and spirits, a fight between you and yourself, a fight that we don't even know we are trying to win, or maybe we already lost. Man lives, then dies, but nobody knows what happens to him after he left the material world. Time passes, culture changes, the world is in constant metamorphosis but the challenge posted within ourselves are just the same from the very beginning of time, only the factors that alter ourselves is the environment that surrounds us, the so-called "culture" that we are trying to live.

How can we know the truth, how can we identify that a certain belief is indeed true? Is history a basis to tell us what's true and what's not? There is a thin line between reality and fantasy, how could we know if we are crossing it? Are we quite sure that we are not on the other side of that line that we long before believed as an illusion?

Who is dellusional? Who is sane?

Our minds has the power to control ourselves, but most of the time we don't have the power to control our minds.

If we look at ourselves in the mirror do we see the real us, or just an image we want to believe it's us? When was the last time that we look into ourselves and ask what have we done? Money isn't everything, career is useless, material things are just a product of mind-altering culture. What matters most is the person who lives inside us. The human being that has emotions, that knows how to love and equally how to hate. Who we are is not important, what we are is vital. There is no point of living when we are just aiming to succeed and be rich and not touch the sensitive part which overlay our personalities. Is it religion? Is it our relationship with nature? Is it how we co-exist with our fellowmen? Maybe yes, maybe no. But the answer is far more vague for human knowledge to comprehend. It is only intended to be felt. Science does not solve everything, man doesn't know everything. We cannot fully define love, passion, greed, hatred and anger, but we can feel it. And we know they're there. Its just, the line between them is thin and red!

2002-11-24T11:43:00.000-08:00

Gay "RiGhTs": ThE se7en hEaVeNLy Gay ViRtuES

Hello My dear island of the natives! Last week I wrote about the seven deadly gay sins, and boy did I get a lot of messages. Nearly all of your messages praised my article, but also mentioned how depressing it was to see gay life so accurately displayed. Well, as the cliche goes, the truth really does hurt. However, before a rash of suicides causes my page views to drop, I thought I would follow up this week with the seven heavenly gay virtues. While I appreciated some of your suggestions about what some possible gay virtues might be, I don't think brunch, cock rings and Liza are broad enough to make the list. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate them, though.

Contribution

There's a biological theory that the rise of homosexuality is a result of increasing population. Gay people are vital to a growing community because they contribute more than they take away. For instance, we generally don't have children, so we can provide more time and effort to the group while not adding additional members. In a larger sense, gay people are the essence of behind-the-scenes effort in daily life. We do all the heavy lifting, from UPS truck driving to writing jokes on sitcoms, that is unseen and taken for granted.

Invention

There is a reason that Madonna and Cher are gay icons. Invention is an important aspect of gay life, and it's a big part of what people like about gay people. On one level, invention can be the ability to transform yourself from the nerdy kid who got picked on into the world's leading style expert. It's also about creating unique change, the kind of primordial leap that wouldn't have happened gradually on its own, like when gay people move into a neighborhood and turn it trendy. Being forced to live life outside the norm causes us to look at things very differently. That's what allows us to have ideas, perspectives and outfits that revolutionize the world.

Lightness

Gay men in particular have a reputation for flakiness, but I think it is just a byproduct of lightness. We have an ability to make things light that goes beyond just being able to tell a well-timed joke. Everyone knows gay people throw the best parties. It's because we take fun very seriously and hold it in very high regard. This is an asset in a difficult and sometimes troubling world. Our ability to ease the crushing stress of daily life makes us a vital part of the human experience.

Risk

While it isn't necessarily an asset in the realm of casual sex, gay people are good at taking calculated risks. Coming out is a risky proposition, but so is staying in the closet. As a group, we like to take chances and put things on the line. There is a core of bravery in gay life that is essential for continued existence. There is no risk in doing what is expected of you, which is why risk is so important in the gay community. Everything we do defies expectation, so our ability to take a risk often pulls us ahead of the pack.

Spacuna

Yes, it's true. One of the gay virtues doesn't even have a word in English, so I am resorting to colloquial Italian. Spacuna is the quality possessed by someone who isn't rich but who lives like they are. Basically, it means living well within your means. There can be an inherent richness to gay life no matter how much money a person has. It's this ability to live well, to flourish with few resources, that is a hallmark of gay life.

Cohesion

Not all of us are terrifically organized or anal-retentive about the details, but we do have an inherent gift for bringing things together. Sometimes it's pulling together disparate elements or strangers and creating just the right fit. It might be an ability to mix and match a great outfit or arrange furniture in a room that goes behind pure creativity. Getting things together is about creating something that's right in its own time and space.

Call it fairy dust if you like, but gay people have an X factor that makes them unique and better than ordinary people. It's the combination of our sins and virtues, our outsider status and our unique sexuality that come together to give us that essential element that sets us apart. It's impossible to fully explain, but the X is what gives us our gay culture. More than who we sleep with, it is what identifies us as gay people. Thank God for the X, because it's the reason I write my column every week and it's the reason you are reading it right now.

MELCH: tHe OtHer SiDe !!!!

2002-10-10T13:21:00.000-07:00

MELCH: the OTHER SiDE

I've had enough talks and compositions about my life and my wasted personality. This time I'm going to share to you my insight/opinion on some delicate issues and topics: RELIGION, particularly the VATICAN RELIGION.

I was brought up in a Christian family, in a Christian way of life, baptized, practiced and received the chrurch's so-called "holy" sacraments but my admonition to the Church that I grew up with cascaded and ended just recently because of sheer curiosity - which in turn lead to my resignation as a Catholic. I renounced by baptism and divorced myself from the Church. They say that curiosity kills the cat, I say curiosity kills the cat, and afterwards, the cat had found the answer.

Being unattached to any religion doesn't make me an atheist nor a devil's advocate - let's just say that I'm a freelance believer - I still believe that there is a supreme power/s, supreme entity/ies which are beyond human comprehension, understanding and knowledge - when we say beyond, it means it is unreachable and unattainable, making it impossible to measure or to judge.

I believe in a God but not the God that is being preached around the four corners of the Church, I also believe in Jesus Christ, I believe that he existed sometime but fanatics' intolerable exaggeration about him, that I no longer believe. I believe in a Jesus Christ that became a revolutionary, a political leader, who aimed to free his people from the chains and whips of the monstrous Roman Empire. I believe in a Jesus Christ who once belonged in an "Essene" sect, a believe in a Jesus Christ that once walked the face of the earth, a human with no supernatural powers and godly abilities. If you are to look at the new testament, try to look for the complete detail of the life and works of Jesus Christ, you will never find anything useful, because the New Testament only narrated the birth of Jesus Christ, then there is a large gap, then he re-enters the stories again during the last three years of his life. You might be asking, what was he doing on those times that he was not mentioned in the New Testament?

The 'holy" Vatican Church was once the most influential and powerful institution in the world, and I guess it still is. Who founded it?

Many Catholics are strict followers of the Church and many of them are also ignorant about the facts. Most of us know a little background about the Church but is it easy to accept that most of these knowledge were based from distorted and falsified facts? No!!!! Definitely, it is not easy to accept!!! - because what the majority today believe is perceived to be as the "absolute" truth - truth by majority? - if that is the case then the forerunners of these "truths" were successful in their mass propagandas or maybe mass-psychology?

It is logical, let us try to re-enact how these "truths" were manufactured. The time and the event: the world is less civilized, men are in chaos. A group of people need something to gain power and influence so that they would be able to rule. They have it: WHY NOT ESTABLISH A RELIGION???? So they did – due to fortunate incidents, thus new-world religion is much acceptable thus it was well-accepted, and alas! the promoters gained trust. They used this trust to climb the pillar of ultimate ruling, proclaiming: HEAVEN & HELL: Heaven: no pain, no suffering, perfect, utopia for the soul; Hell: full of suffering, pain and chaos for the soul. "You follow us, you go to heaven, you don't follow us, you go to hell!" So, what will you choose? Again, given the time and circumstance. Then it went on from generation to generation until now thus making their DOGMAS and BELIEFS as "absolute" truth.

Historically speaking, who really founded the "holy" Vatican Church? Did Christ really establish it? Are you aware that it was 300 years after Christ's death that the Holy Roman Catholic Church was formally established? If not, check your history. It is because of Constantine's political aspirations, he adopted the Christian religion - not only adopting it but he also made some alterations and fussions from other non-christian or pagan beliefs. For example, the most celebrated date of the year for Christians, DECEMBER 25TH. Did it ever cross your mind what is the real significance of this date to the Holy Roman Catholic Church? It is called Christmas - it is assumed that it is the exact date when Christ was born but in fact it is only Constantine's decision to make the 25th of December a holy day for it is a known pagan celebration in praise of a pagan Sun God - sol invictus

The primary question that should be answered is that, "who is Paul?" Who is this controversial shanannigan who was believed to be a Christian advocate that brought Christianity to Europe? According to history, the Christian religion was not really meant to be spread out as far as Rome, but Paul insisted, so he splitted from the original Christian form of belief which was the "Church of Jerusalem", founded by James, brother of Jesus.

It seems Ironic that the land which 300 years before, terrorized, devastated, massacred and razed Jerusalem, the Holy Land, suddenly becomes the seat of the Holy Catholic Church. Next is "How reliable is the New Testament?" The earliest known book in this compilation is proven to be written sixty years after Christ's death, after the genocide and Jerusalem was ransacked and burned down. Who were the authorities responsible for compiling the books of the New Testament? How can we be so sure that the New Testament is a mere piece of literature written by men whose sanity is on the brink of collapse and not factual events?

There are the APOCRYPHA, books that were supposed to be parts of the New Testament but were discredited by the authorities, one great example of an Apocrypha are the Dead Sea Scrolls found in Qumran, in early 1900's, the Book of Mary, etc. The Church forcibly concealed the messaged of these works and declraed them as fallible and untrue – messages such as Christ's belief of reincarnation and the like.

The question now is, "Who is fallible and who's not?" What to believe and what to discredit by us?"

How credible and reliable is the Holy Roman Catholic Church? The same institution that ordered the medieval inquisitions, the same institution that launched the crusades against "heretics", "witches" and "non-believers", the same institution that enslaved my own country for 333 years under its habit, forcing poor people to pay indulgences, the same institution that corrupted the minds of millions and millions of people around the world? They are preaching "thou shall not kill" but they were guilty of committing mass-murders. They are preaching "thou shall not steal" but then how come this institution is one of the richest among others?

Was there no resistance against this monstrosity? There was, but they were too feeble, too weak, and they have too small voices to be heard. Also, they are fond of declaring people who go against their flow of beliefs as "heretics", "charlatans", "anti-christ", "demonic" or even "Evil". But these are people who found mistakes and loopholes in their system, people who know the truth aside form their own "truths"

Is it easier to believe Christ's resurrection, Lazarus rising from the dead, a blind that saw, a cripple that walked than to believe that Magdalene had bore the child of Jesus, that Jesus' bloddline still exists up to this day, that Jesus indeed studied Tibetan Buddhism in his wandering years?

This is not a matter of faith - this is a matter of FACTS, facts that were concealed and hidden for a very long time which were eventually discovered and found.

This is not a battle of good and evil - this is a battle of the powerful and the powerless, a battle of authority and credibility, who is to believe and who is the real charlatan.

I'm writing these because I had enough, the Chruch's strings were no longer attached to my body, for I no longer want to be a blind, deaf, irrational puppet!

I believe that faith in a Supreme Entity is independent from a certain instituion, whose credibility is being questioned. We can be good men without going into a worship building regularly. We can be good samaritans without bowing our heads to those who claim reverence and pureness. In our small ways and means, we can be better persons.

And this does not end my quest, its just the beginning, I will continue to wander and look for the answers. My other side will always be open to any possiblities and change that I might encounter.

With this, I'm going to close this entry:

"THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS INSIDE YOU AND ALL AROUND YOU,

NOT IN BUILDINGS MADE OF STONES AND WOOD!!!!!"

- from the movie "STIGMATA"