Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Pupil

Once upon a time, there was a kid named Jose.

Jose was in elementary studying in St. Joseph's College. He was in Grade Six when this story happened. His classmates saw him as the weird kid who was too strange for their own understanding and his teachers thought that he was misunderstood. He was too detached and too strange as a student in their classes. The teachers had probably thought to leave him alone as long as he doesn't get into trouble with others.

The bullies would torment him during recess by shoving and pushing him out of the canteen lines. After all, he couldn't defend himself against them. The populars were even more cruel. Their myopic eyes couldn't see that he exist. For them, he was way too backward to even pose a threat to their quest for popularity. These populars left him alone. However, when it was time for them to look for someone they could make fun of or look down to in order to please their ego, Jose was their favorite target.

His so-called friends - who were mostly geeks and loners in his class left him alone as well. After all, who would forge bonds with someone who wore shabby uniform going to school, who doesn't cut his hair for half a year and who doesn't take a bath every day? Their only form of contact only happens when these kids would need his assistance. After the deal was done, it was back for him to his own little world

Yet Jose didn't took seriously what his classmates thought of him - except this one time when he created a commotion in the queue during the flag ceremony. As the story goes, one of his classmates complained that he stunk. Others went closer to validate what his classmate had just accused him. In the end, everyone was telling him "ang baho mo. lumayo ka sa amin yaak!!" Jose, in his silence flustered out of embarrassment. Even the pupils from the other section avoided him that morning.

Despite Jose's tormented existence at school, he found an unusual solace in his solitude. His class ends at 3 pm. The school bus that would take him home leaves at 3:30. He doesn't often take the first trip going home, except if he feels watching Peter Pan on Channel 2 at 4:30. Instead, he buries himself under piles of books in the school library and he learned a lot from his readings.

At an early age of 12, he was already aware of the Greek, Egyptian and Roman civilization, especially their warships. He knew the different Dinosaurs that walked the Earth millions of years ago. In fact, he was way too advanced that he knew the difference between the Jurassic and Cretaceous era during those Prehistoric times. In those days, nobody among his classmates would have known that such epoch in the planet's history exists. Who would have known, it wasn't discussed in class.

He had read books about local folklores written by Maximo Ramos. Later in his life, such books would remind him after his professor mentioned some titles during their discussion in class. At Grade Six, he was cataloging the different house plants and medicinal herbs that he collected from his wanderings. The books in the library provided him the names of those plants he had sneakily pulled out from someone else's pot.

After his stay in the library, he would sneak out of school and walk several blocks to commune with nature in a place called Little Banawe. His classmates gave the place such name, but its residents, who were mostly artists in different fields called the place Cathedral Heights. It was a small community at the back of Saint Luke's Hospital. Being secluded from the hustle and bustle of E. Rodriguez Avenue, the place had a certain feel of tranquility in it.

In Little Banawe, Jose would pull little plants to put them in plastic cups filled with water before transporting it home. In just over several months, his baby milk formula aluminum containers that he used as pots had doubled. He became the envy of housewives who were avid gardeners in his neighborhood. At the same time, doubts began to float whether he was an effeminate kid who has a future of becoming gay someday or a simple kid who simply finds passion in Gardening.

The question would be answered many years later.

---

As Jose's snapshots of life showed, he never really had a good elementary life. He was a loner, a kid who was bullied and was laughed behind his back because of his strangeness in attitude and how he saw life.

However, despite the bitter memories he had in elementary, he remembers those days with wonder and humility because it was in his most tranquil solitude that he learned to enjoy being alone. He found out that he doesn't need company to become a better person; that he only needs himself to see life in angles his classmates in those days had never seen.

That's why two days ago, he decided to pay homage to the school which he still considers his beginnings. Things have changed with the passing of time, but his respect and admiration to those who had shaped his childhood simply grew stronger.

"My name is Jose maam, I was your student back in 1994," he said to Miss Chua as he presents himself to his class adviser in Grade Six who is now a supervisor in the Filipino Department.

"Ah oo nga, natatandaan kita. Ikaw yung mabait at tahimik na estudyante ko na laging nakaupo sa harap ng klase? Kamusta ka na?" Miss Chua said a few seconds later, after she tried to recall the face of the man who suddenly showed up in front of her.

"Ok naman po ako. I was nearby St. Jo so I decided na rin to pay a visit."

After a few more exchange in pleasantries. Miss Chua introduced Jose to her colleagues who turned out to be his other teachers when he was still studying in elementary. Looking around and reminiscing his early days, he whispered to his now aging adviser,

"Things have changed maam, but I'm so glad you're still here..."

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Tag-Araw


- Manila Bay Sunset, SM Mall of Asia


---

Ikot ng mundo, tila ay bumabagal
Ngunit alam kong di na rin magtatagal
Ang aking hinihintay ay makakamit
Pagkat bughaw na ang kulay ng ating langit
Pilitin man ay di mo na mapipigil
Ang kanyang pag-ahon, ang kanyang pag-gising

- After Image, Tag-Araw

A Break In The Clouds

"It's nothing serious. Relax ka lang..."

---

These were the very words I've been wanting him to say. Three weeks and many sleepless nights later. I had my answer.

Suddenly the gloom around me has been partially lifted. He gave me the breather I've been desperately longing to have.

I can finally ease up.

However, the search for the complete answer is not yet over.

Weather Disturbance

"Alam mo Mami Athena, lately narerealize ko na ang lungkot pala ng buhay kapag puro sex lang ang laman ng utak mo. "

Itong mga katagang ito ang nasabi ko sa kanya kanina matapos dumaan ang isang bading sa harapan namin na may kasamang dalawang binatang nakabuntot sa kanyang likuran. Hinala ko na sila ay kanyang mga alaga.

In fairness naman, may itsura ang dalawang binata. Sa tantya ko, ang mga edad nila ay naglalaro sa pagitan ng 19 hanggang 22. Parehong matangkad, payat ngunit malapad ang katawan. Ganun ang mga tipo ng lalaki na siyang magpapalingon sa akin. Gusto ko pa ngang sabihin kay Mami na nagwa-gwapuhan ako doon sa isang binata eh. Ngunit, ayoko na lang magbitaw ng salita at baka marahil sabihan pa ako ng aking nanay-nanayan na isa akong malanding nilalang.

"Sabi ko sa iyo eh, ayaw mo lang maniwala." Ito ang kanyang tugon sa aking bagong realization.

---

Hindi ako pumasok sa trabaho kanina. Dala na rin siguro ng katamaran at sakit ng katawan dahil sa gym kagabi kaya pinili kong lumiban muna pansamantala sa opisina. Dalawang araw rin kasi akong na mental torture matapos akong iwanan ng mga ka-team mate kong umaayos ng problema ng iba sa aking Psychic Account. Kaninang hapon, ako naman ang bumawi sa kanila.

Sa kabila ng aking pagliban, nagkita kami ni Mami malapit sa kanyang bahay upang may ipaabot sa kanya. Hindi na mahalaga kung ano iyon, pero dala na rin ng aming bihirang pagkwekwentuhan sa opisina, ang aming pagkikita ay naging sort of bonding para sa aming dalawa. Nasabi ko sa kanya kung ano ang napapansin ko sa aking mga bagong katrabaho at mga kunsuminsyon na nakikita kong dala ng iba sa kanila. Nakwento ko rin sa kanya kung gaano ko namimiss ang mga katropa ko sa umaga at ang dahan-dahan kong pag-slide sa pagka-burn out dala na rin ng paikot-ikot na takbo ng aking buhay nitong mga nakaraan.

Nararamdaman ko na rin kasi na parang ako'y nakakulong sa lumiliit na kahon.

---

Gaya ng sabi ko kanina, unti-unti kong nakikita ang kawalang-sigla ng buhay kung libog lang ang papairalin mo sa iyong utak. Hindi ko alam kung kailan ko ito unang naramdaman, ngunit malaki ang hinala ko na simula nang pakawalan ko si Kitsune isang gabi sa kanyang pinanggalingan, dahan dahang ring nawala ang thrill sa tuwing sumasagi sa isip ko ang kantutan.

Dati rati, nanalatay pa sa dugo ko ang mga katagang "sex makes me feel." Pero ngayon, natatawa na lang ako sa tuwing naiisip ko ang mga paniwalang ito. Kahit flirting, nawalan na rin ako ng gana. Hindi ko na rin kasi makita ang excitement sa pakikipaglandian sa iba.

Hindi ko alam kung ito'y isang phase lang na natural lamang na dinadaanan ng isang tao. Dumating na rin kasi ako sa point noon kung saan tila ba nag-walk out ang lahat ng libog sa akin at tumagal ito ng napakahabang panahon.

Kung tutuisin, ito ay isang napagkagandang pagbabago. Kahit minsan ay natutuwa rin ako sapagkat natututunan ko na ang makisama sa mga tao na walang halong malisya sa panig ko. Nakakabawas rin ito ng guilt dahil wala na akong nasasagasaang tao. Hindi na rin masusugatan ang emosyon ko sa tuwing na-aattach ako sa mga taong naka-trip ko.

---

Marami pa ang nagbago nitong mga nakaraang linggo. Kapansin-pansin na matapos kong gumawa ng multo na maninindak sa akin sa entry na How To Be Dead, How To Be Alive, agaran rin akong nawalan ng interes sa maraming bagay na dati ko nang gawain. Nabawasan ng husto ang mga night-out ko. Higit na mas naging taong bahay ako ngayon, at madalas mas gusto kong nagkukulong sa kwarto, sa aking kama kung saan nakatalukbong ako buong magdamag.

Anuman ang mga senyales na nararamdaman ko, nawa'y dala lamang ito ng malamig at maulap na klima na dinaranas natin ngayon. Nawa'y mga agam-agam lang itong dala ng multo na ginawa ko noong nakaraang linggo.

At sana'y bahagi lamang ito ng mga pagbabago na hinaharap ko sa trabaho. Nahihirapan rin kasi akong makibagay sa bago kong mundo eh.

Sapagkat kung hindi...

I'm losing ways to understand the phase I'm going through.
And I know nobody could help me, except my own struggling self.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

To Write A Life

"nice to have met ya during the bowling thingie I'm an avid reader of you blog! keep on postin'!"

- .dot.
Pinoyexchange Hanap Barkada Thread.


---

It humbles me whenever some acquaintance from one of my groups turn out to be my reader.

Alam mo yun, natutuwa ka at nafla-flatter pero at the same time nahihiya ka. Nahihiya ka kasi tinanggap mo sa sarili mo na hindi ka dapat binabasa; na ang sinusulat mo ay puro kadramahan at kasentihan lamang ng iyong mundo. Pero kahit ganun, binabasa ka pa rin. Hindi mo alam kung bakit, pero binabasa ka nila at nalalaman nila ang laman ng iyong utak.

I'm not sure if it can be considered a form of exhibition, pero if it's my life that i'm baring to others, then I don't see anything to be very proud of it.

Writing is a therapy. That is something I have proven many times over. It also complements my love for history because I'm writing events in my life that will eventually become my past. I write not because I wanted to be read, but because I wanted to unburden myself of the things I feel, I see and I observe around me. One of the reasons why I enrolled in the graduate school program is to improve my ability to convey my thoughts. I want my words to pulsate with more life.

Nakakatuwang isipin na apat na taon na akong blogger. From a very humble beginning, I rose to become one of the long-standing writers in cyberspace. Wala naman akong sinusulat kung hindi ang buhay ko lang at ang mga taong nakakasalamuha ko. The journey I took was never a rosy one but I've learned so many things from it.

Looking back, what kept me afloat was the things I did in past. From my shortcomings to my overwhelming achievements, they became the drive that kept and still keeps me moving. Also, there are some unfinished businesses that I still need to settle. The blog reminds me of these settlements since I wrote most of them during the course of Pulsar's existence.

The blog saw me evolve and mature and it continues to see me as I enter new phases in my life. It has become an enduring symbol of my existence and what's so great writing about my life is that it kept my feet rooted on the ground.

The blog kept my humanity intact.

Four years ago on this same cloudy afternoon, I found myself seated in front of the computer. I was a bum and life then for me was a string of parties. The Odders kept my social calendar busy the whole month. In fact, we were about to hold another contingent that evening I created this blog.

Life was relatively simple and more securing then.

And to remember those early beginnings is like looking at a familiar portrait, an old sepia picture revealing a life that will never be mine again.

Things pass, they say.

Fortunately, my sentience has awakened so that I can write them down and remember them for all time.

---

"This is the first time I'll be posting in my blog. Phew, it was a very long time since I did this journal thing. Maybe its time to move on... everybody's doing it so why can't I?

I can't remember who said it but when a friend posted at the Yahoo Groups that my friends would get bored posting their thoughts at the online message board, a sudden bite of reality caught me. Everybody's migrating already and I guess it's also time for me to go. No matter what assurance I get from them, I think that the exodus bound to happen. I dunno but the migration thing really got me."

- Colony Ship Landed,
February 24, 2004.
First Blog Entry



Saturday, February 23, 2008

Sick Sad World

From G4M:

i had a friend working in one of the hospital here in manila. And i had seen this guy and nakwento ng kaibigan ko and that is pookee* as what people call him keekee*, daria* and marami pa syang nick.

Unfortunately nagpacheck up nga sya and he has been found to be Positive of the disease. di ko sana dapat sabihin to but... as what i have heard his promiscuous and never been into safe sex if you had sex with this guy please be aware that you might be infected with the disease.

His aware that he has the disease and living HIV carrier but his still having sex with multiple partners. His a bottom most of the time and some people here soon will know they are infected onces you will get yourself check.

I had a friend here soon will open up. His not yet ready but i know we can justify this thing.

I had someone who can justify he had been inflicted with gonnorhea with this guy.

ill ask him to write a reply for this forum.

Heres his link and number

guys4men profile name is xxx

friendster link http://profiles.friendster.com/16*****

name : oeureure

cellphone number 091********

as far as i know his working in a callcenter in Makati

---

Apologies for the sensitivity of my entry. Personally, I do not wish to bring up the topic in my blog knowing that I am not spared myself from such possible fate.

However, it disturbs me to hear other gay guys creating threads and spreading unverified and very damaging rumors like this in a forum like G4M. Imagine his cruelty guys, not only did he mention the full name of the person, he also posted his picture all over the thread. I know that doctors and medical professionals have a sworn duty not to reveal a patient's information, whether it is true or not. But here is a kid - a 21 year old brat in all his confidence telling everyone that the person he claims to own the profile has an HI Virus.

We all know how dreaded the disease is. It is a fate worse than death. In fact, a large part of the sufferings and torments of a patient comes from the social stigma and psychological terror that comes with the disease. Some cultures are too terrified to talk about it and being a country steeped in hollowed conservatism and excess biases, those who have the disease has no chance of getting genuine sympathy and support from people who are blessed enough not to get it.

I remember having a conversation with Gripen one evening. I told him that I think, what complicates the disease are the drugs that are used to contain it. What makes a person die from it is his own unwillingness to live. Then he told me of this HIV patient who survives until now after contracting the disease more than a decade ago. According to Gripen, this person stopped having those retroviral drugs after he simply got tired of it. Instead, he devoted himself to healthy living and meditation every day. What I think made the person survive is his sheer willingness to live. After all, I am a strong adherent of life springing from those who truly desire it.

I sincerely wish that a drug will be discovered that could finally cure patients with this virus. I think there's too much sufferings, sadness and cruelty in the world because of the stigma that HI Virus carries with it. It is not the first time I stumbled a thread in G4M implicating a member who allegedly has the disease. Most of the time, such threads are simply created to destroy a member's credibility and nothing more.

Karma seeks retribution. That's what I've learned from life. I am sure these rumor spreaders, whether they did it for their own selfish intents or for blinded, distorted morality will have their time in the future.

It just pains me to feel what those true sufferers must have been feeling right now. No wonder, I still see hospitals as the saddest place on earth.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Jollieboie

Kahit na bihira na lang tayo magkasama at magkakwentuhan...

Hindi ko nakakalimutan ang matagal at maganda nating pinagsamahan.

Mabasa mo man ito o hindi...


Happy Birthday Parekoy!


Thursday, February 21, 2008

Reason To Believe

Note: Pasensya na guys, it turns out that I cannot reveal the details of my tawas reading. If you're wondering if it's true or not, the answer is yes. Someone did put a spell on me. Two days after the healing and I feel much better. However, total recovery would need more faith to the ancient practice, and time to complete the healing process.

---

From the National Geographic Magazine
September, 1961

Bhutan: Mountain Kingdom Between Tibet and India


"The man, I was solemnly informed, had been attacked by a spirit.

He burned with a painful fever until the local witch doctor, diagnosing the illness, prescribed a massage with salt and juice of a jungle plant called majeeta. Immediately the scratches stood out: hundreds of scarlet marks covering the victim's back, shoulders, and arms. This was a good omen. Had the scratches not appeared, the man would almost certainly died.

He could have been clawed by a rabid cat, but what cat glazes a grown man's eyes with such fear? No, clearly it was the work of a sounday, a spirit.

This I was told by no less an authority than His Highness King Jigme Dorji Wangchuk, 33-year-old ruler of Bhutan. He had had the victim, a servant, stripped to the waist for my inspection in the ornate sitting room of the Royal Palace at Thimpu, the capital of Bhutan. It was a room fit for such exotic drama: leopard and tigerskin rugs on the polished floor, carved and painted furniture, and richly painted walls.

I had been a month in Bhutan, and already I was conditioned to believe in witches, ghosts and clawing spirits.

I had been warned before entering the country that in Bhutan the extraordinary is often commonplace and the unexpected happens. Ghost and apparitions are so familiar that they give their names to valleys and districts. Black magic is a part of life.

The sounday, I learned can assume the shape of a dog, jackal, pig, or even a ball of twine. The ball of twine manifestation is the most terrible. In it a man can become hopelessly entangled and die."

---

When I was a kid no less than 10 years old, my sister was played upon by a White Duwende who lives in our backyard. At night during her regular bouts with high fever, she would suddenly get up from bed looking disturbed and disoriented. She would scream and wail for no reason at all and point her finger at a corner as if to tell us that someone was there. However, not a soul or a breath of air can be seen or felt in the corner where she was pointing at.

She was four years old when it happened.

Many years later, I would still seek a mangtatawas when I felt that something was disturbing me. Most of the time, my assumptions were correct. Usually I became a victim of an usog. There was a time I disturbed an entity who resided in our bathroom. I had to put a candle wax wrapped in a paper under my pillow for several days. The mangtatawas said that it would serve as my protection against the entity's supernatural powers.

Now you ask me why, despite my high technological awareness and western views in life, I still believe in such superstitious encounters?

The answer is simple. Life would never be that interesting, if everything in the world can be answered by simple logic and empirical studies alone.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Invasive Maneuver

She woke up yesterday morning scared at the possible results of her Colonoscopy test which she will undergo that afternoon.

"Makakatulog kaya ako pag sinedate ako kuya? Masakit kaya kapag may pinapasok na tube sa loob ng pwet mo?" My sister had asked persistently the previous nights after she found out her invasive test.

"Basta the best part dun eh yung last five seconds bago ka ma-sedate. High na high talaga ang pakiramdam mo!" I assured her repeatedly. Having undergone a minor pus draining operation before, I knew what it feels like to be drugged to sleep.

---

I woke up yesterday slightly feeling better knowing that I don't have to go to work that afternoon.

Since I would accompany my sister at her medical exam, I filed a leave of absence several days ago. The supervisor immediately approved my request form since there isn't a lot of messages to attend to these past few weeks at work. Knowing that I really needed a break from my very tight schedule, I decided to use the extra day off to do my other errands such as paying for my credit card bill and talking to a Philamlife representative about my insurance and hospital benefits.

You see, a trip to the hospital never fails to remind me of my own mortality.

We arrived at PGH two hours before noontime. My aunt who is a surgeon and is a consultant in that hospital accompanied us to the Gastroenterologist's clinic somewhere within the main building. As we passed corridors and wards with hospital beds filled with sick people, I could not help but think of my own illness. Fortunately, I feel much better now thanks to the very expensive antibiotic that my aunt had prescribed to me last week. However, despite my feelings of improvement, my spirit is still down. I think its the one that needs healing. To see sick people hoping and wishing for their own immediate recovery made my heart feel gloomy. There is too much anxiety pervading in the air - perhaps my own sister's worries is whats making me sick.

The Gastroenterologist's clinic was a small, cramp room that was lined with stretchers for those patients that were sedated after undergoing a Colonoscopy exam. As mentioned in an earlier entry, Colonoscopy is an endoscopic examination used to check patients for possible lesions, polyps or tumors inside the Large Intestines. A flexible tube with a fiber optic camera is inserted inside the anus. Only through such invasive passage will the doctors be able to check the patient's condition.

While waiting for my sister's turn to be examined, a patient - a thin man in his late forties was brought out of the diagnosis room. He was unconscious and his exposed grinning teeth must have shown the marks of pain (or pleasure) of being penetrated by an object inside his ass. His stretcher was a few meters away from where I was seated but still, I could hear tiny bubbles popping from his butt. The unpleasant smell of tae permeates in the air. No wonder, the nurse attendant who wearing a face mask placed his stretcher far away from the people as possible.

Before my sister had undergone her Colonoscopy test, the doctor told her to follow a series of preparation that will spare her from a very smelly loose bowel after-effects like what had happened to the other patient. She had to stop eating meals, snacks or any soluble food that will take form of a solid matter for one whole day. She also had to cleanse her digestive organs with laxative, sodium water and other forms of liquid. The whole morning before her exam, signs of stress and crankiness had already shown on her face. Since my mother understood what my sister was going through, she told me to exercise extreme patience to her. After all, she had never eaten anything so it was normal for her to be short tempered.

---

The Colonoscopy exam took 30 minutes to finish. Aside from the Gastroenterologist who was doing the invasive maneuver, my aunt also stayed by her side watching the digital screen on the wall as it showed the progress of how deep the cable had made inside my sister's Large Intestines.

The result was already available even before she had awaken. The findings were pretty normal, pointing out that what she have is a minor case of hemorrhoid, an almoranas. Her fears of possibly having a Colon Cancer was unfounded. A few hours after her exams and she was discharged and was back at home. That same evening, she was able to continue her personal calling which is to incite the students of a prestigious university to fight for her tibak cause.

As for me, I was able to do my errands after accompanying her at the hospital. I even went to the gym to continue my routine after I stopped working out for four days due to my worsening condition. She thanked me for the company and for a moment, peace and commonality reigned between us. It was a rare sight knowing that we clashed all the time because of our different views in life.

I thought that the heaviness I felt the previous days was because of my sister's condition. In fact, I felt much better after things turned out normal for her. However, my assumptions were wrong. I am still spooked by my imaginary illness. I still feel gloomy, weak, anxious and extremely disturbed before going to sleep last night and when I woke up this afternoon.

Therefore, I made up my mind.

Even if it's pretty silly to believe in things such as usog or intervention of unseen beings, I decided nevertheless to seek a mangtatawas for advice. Her initial findings tell that something or someone must have disturbed me.

Placing all my hopes that this might be the answer that I'm looking for, she will perform a tawas reading for me this evening.

Monday, February 18, 2008

When You Know Fear

Now I understand why
I leave the TV on
when I
go to sleep at night....

... It's because the
ear shattering
early morning silence

leaves me grasping for breath;
It's the same deafening silence that
that makes me remember all the
fear and anxieties I keep within.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Alternate History (First Part)

May isang guro ang nagsabi sa akin na ang taong hindi marunong tumingin sa pinanggalingan ay hindi makikita ang patutunguhan. Masyado kong dinibdib ang sinabi nitong gurong ito dala na rin ng mapusok kong damdamin noong aking kabataan. Dagdag pa dito, natatandaan ko rin na ang unang librong nabasa ko mula simula hanggang sa dulo ay ang aming libro sa Sibika at Kultura noong Grade One. Masyado ko ngang minahal ang librong iyon at hanggang sa ngayon ay nakatago pa rin ito sa akin.

Noong High School, lumitaw ang pagiging mahina ko sa Math. Dito ko naranasang mapahiya sa Drafting nang sabihan ako ng aking guro na isa daw akong kalawang sa aming batch. Dala na rin ng matinding kompetisyon sa aming paaralan (kung saan halos lahat ng mga estudyante ay nagtapos na valedictorian o kaya naman ay salutatorian sa kanilang elementarya) maaga kong natanggap na ang aking tanging laban sa kanila ay kung magiging dalubhasa ako sa Kasaysayan. Hindi kasi ako honor student noong elementary kaya mababa na ang tingin sa akin ng mga tao. In fact, tingin yata sa akin ng mga guro ko noon ay isang patapon na estudyante.

Fourth year high school. Nagkaroon ako ng guro sa World History na lubos lubos kong nirespeto. Ang pangalan niya ay Miss Co (Huli man daw sa karera ay nakapag-asawa pa rin siya limang taon nang ako ay nagtapos sa high school. Forty years old na siya noon) at ang estilo niya ng pagtuturo ay talaga namang gumising sa aking utak. Gawain niya na magpa-recitation sa klase tungkol sa mga nangyayaring current events noong kapanahunan namin. Dahil wala sa mga kaklase ko ang nanonood ng balita (lalo na ang CNN), laging ako ang bumibida sa kanyang subject. Ako ang kanyang unbeatable whiz kid. Sa mura kong edad na kinse anyos, nako-connect ko ang mga pangyayari sa kasalukayan sa kanilang nakaraan. Kumbaga, wala man sa bokabularyo ko ang Postcolonialism na pinag-aaralan namin ngayon sa Masters, ngunit noong mga panahong iyon, bukambibig ko na kasalanan ng mga imperyalista bakit masyadong sopistikado ang mundo ngayon.

Lingid sa kaalaman ng marami, noong mga panahong iyon ay adik na adik rin ako sa larong Civilization. Itong larong ito sa PC ay matatawag na strategy game kung saan ang objective ng player ay protektahan ang kanyang kaharian laban sa ibang mga bansa gaya ng India o Amerika o kaya naman China. Ang maubusan ng mga cities (dahil na-occupy ng kalaban) ay talo. Ang unang makapagpadala naman ng space ship sa Alpha Centauri (isa itong bituin 4.2 light years mula sa ating araw) ang panalo sa laro. Dahil napakaraming konsepto na kailangang intindihin para maappreciate ng isang manlalaro ang game, unti-unting naging daan para palawakin ang aking kaalaman sa kasaysayan. Dagdag pa rito, nangangamba rin akong maging repeater sa Fourth year dahil sa aking kabobohan sa Algebra. Narealize ko na kung nais ko man ilaban ang aking huling taon, kailangan kong maipakita sa lahat na mahina man ako sa numero pero eksperto naman ako pagdating sa Social Studies.

Nagpay-off naman ang aking mga paghihirap. Nang magtapos ang Second Quarter ng taon ay ginawaran ako ng Commendation sa World History. Ibig sabihin, ako ang nagkamit ng pinakamataas na grade sa subject na iyon sa lahat ng Fourth Year students.

Hindi ko natanggap ang certificate sapagkat late ako sa flag ceremony nang tawagin ng prinsipal ang aking pangalan. Marahil ay nagtatago ako sa boy's CR o kaya naman sa talahiban sa likod ng aming high school upang huwag mahuli ng mga kadete na nangungumpiska ng ID ng mga late. Noong quarter ring iyon ay nakakuha ako ng grado na 72 sa Algebra. Napalakol ako at adviser ko pa naman ang teacher sa subject na iyon.

Simula noon ay hindi na niya ako pinansin sa klase. Higit naman akong naging mas close kay Miss Co.

---

-tobecontinued-

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Phyrric Awakening

Morning comes and the thought of my snatched phone had already sink in.

Before the forceful snatching last night, the first thing I do when I wake up in the afternoon is to check my phone for text messages. After deleting most of them, I call my buddy to make sure he is already at work. I get up to do my morning rituals leaving my phone slumped on my bed. I leave it there confident that when I return after taking a bath, it would still be there hidden under the pillows. It is a day to day affair that I have grown used to.

But things were different when I woke up this afternoon.

The N70 which often lies somewhere in the carpet wasn't there anymore. My hands couldn't feel it any longer. There were no text messages to look forward to when I opened my eyes. There was no cellphone to use in checking my boyfriend when I thought of him. Things were pretty different when I got up from the bed and what made things more desolate was the cold breeze blowing from my window.

---

I didn't waste any time getting my feet back on the ground.

Knowing that I would be terribly handicapped without a phone, I went to SM Centerpoint to tell the people at Globe that my phone was snatched last night. I needed a sim card replacement and have the same number that I'm using. My request was approved but they said that I needed to settle my outstanding balance first. I have to pay P2,100 pesos before my line could be reconnected.

Yes, it was pain to my wallet but I consider it essential to my survival.

I got my new sim card the moment I was able to settle my dues. My phone number is still the same, so everyone who knows my number could breathe a sigh of relief now that I'm still using it. I decided to buy a new phone from Globe as well since I don't have a spare unit for my new sim card.

Heaving from the deluge of unexpected expenses, I decided to pick a cheap new phone:

That has no built-in Carl Zeiss camera
and that has no mp3 player.

It's just a simple communication gadget that would keep me in touch with everyone.

While I was on my way to work, I realized how things turned upside down now that I'm using a low-end phone. Before, I used my phone as a status symbol. It was something I flashed to everyone to announce my status and my being. After all, my N70 was something to brag about when it first came in the market and what so good about it is that I got it for free.

However, if there is something I heavily resented in losing my phone, it is the camera. Its lenses allowed me to take pictures of objects that I immortalized in my Flickr and Blogger web pages before. It would have immortalized my UP Fair activity if it was spared from being forcefully taken away from me.

But things happen unexpectedly.

"Life goes on." That was what I mummed to myself when I pressed the on button of my new Nokia 1208. "It might be a simple, insignificant communications gadget to many. But to me, its my way of saying 'i'm moving on,' no matter how difficult and humbling the changes are to me."


Damage Control

10:30 in the evening.

The hosts started throwing free posters to the crowd below. While everyone was busy shoving each other and jumping to get the airborne posters, a teenager suddenly jerked the strap that held my N70 to my belt holder. I felt the force of his jerking and before he was able to snatch my gadget, I caught his arm and started making cusses at him. He tried to run away but he stubbornly tried to get off my grip. I knew it was him, but I felt he had company. When he ceased resisting, he raised his arm and told me "wala sa akin ang phone mo." Immediately I realized that he indeed had company. My first reaction was to back off for self preservation. These thoughts crossed my head: What if these kids get back at me? What if one of them had a weapon that he could use against me?

I tried to regain my composure amidst the spiraling confusion. Where would I seek help? Are the security guards roving? Maybe they could help me. Perhaps it's no use running after them - I can't even remember what their faces look like. When I reported it to the authorities, we returned to the crime scene in hopes that the kids were still there. The police were in full force checking out bags and jackets of those they see as a possible suspect. There were a lot of emo kids in the gig and to search them all would be a violation of their rights to have fun. It turned out that two ladies also lost their phone at the time I lost mine. Yes, it was a joint effort on the snatcher's part. I concluded that there's no use running after them anymore.

---

Philcoa, 20 minutes after the snatching happened.

I searched for a pay phone so I could call my mom and tell her that I am safe. I knew she would call me anytime soon since it was getting late. Fortunately, I found one a few steps away from a sing-along bar below the overpass. To keep her away from worrying, I told her that she could not contact me anymore. My phone had died because my battery is already empty. I told her to expect my arrival in an hour.

I hailed a taxi after I have assured her of my safety.

---

Congressional Road, 15 minutes later.

I got out of the cab at the corner of Edsa. The driver's taxi meter was overcharging me. I'm still very far from my destination and my money isn't enough to get me there. There was an ATM nearby. I withdrew 400 pesos from my ATM. Since I was racing against time, I boarded a jeep that suddenly stopped in front of me.

---

Monumento, quarter before midnight.

They could choose a better night to hold the Miss Caloocan Beauty Pageant, but instead the organizers held it this evening. Traffic along Edsa approaching the Pugad Lawin Rotunda was bad. I had to get out of the Jeep that I boarded in Congressional Road to beat my one hour deadline that I told my mom earlier. Another empty cab passed in front of me and I hailed it. Traffic was bad, but it would be much worse if I continued walking.

Tired and emotionally scarred, the realization of my phone being snatched from me had begun sinking in. Valenzuela was still 30 minutes away and I still have to reach my destination.

---

12:15 AM

"Bakit ka nandito?" He asked me, his face slightly puzzled at my sudden and unexpected arrival at his gate.

"Na-snatch phone ko. Hindi ko alam cell number mo." I replied.

As mentioned in my previous post, the one thing that binds us together is our communication. Never did I fail to inform him of my arrival at home. He does the same to me. To break it suddenly would leave him worried all night. It is our habit and to break it prematurely would leave the other sleeplessly anxious about the other's safety. So I had to do some damage control. First is to make sure my mom knows that I'm safe, even if she's not aware that I don't have my phone anymore. And second is to let my buddy know that I don't have my phone anymore and I have to get his cell number, office number, and the numbers of his sisters which I decided to keep as well in case of emergency.

This is how I run my relationship. This is why DN and Rod started calling me their "nanay."

As my mom always say; "all bases should be considered and covered. There are people who hang to your every word."

---

1 am.

Landline: Kamusta ka na po pangga? Andito na ako sa bahay. Huwag ka na po magalala ha! Tulog ka na po. I love you.


Thursday, February 14, 2008

Phankspace (Last Part)

"Oi kumain ka na ng lunch mo?" I asked him on the phone.

"Hindi pa po... bakit?" He reluctantly answered. The street where I was walking was buzzing with activity. Sidecar drivers pass by hawking for passengers to ride their bike. A street peddler was shoving the stalk of roses he was selling to a college student and elementary pupils oblivious to the intimate occasion wore heart necklaces strapped around their tiny necks while running to cross the street. I didn't even bother to stop in a safe corner to talk to him about my proposal. What's important was to secure his approval before I ride the LRT Purple Line going to his office.

"Sabay na tayo mag-lunch. 12:30, Gary's tayo." I said. Knowing what I had in mind, he immediately assured me that he would wait for my arrival.

The short trip going to Ermita was uneventful at best. I felt indifferent to the people around me because I wasn't feeling well and I had a serious stomachache problem that pestered me the whole morning. Thoughts of illness still lingered in my head, but I tried to keep my best mood for the occasion.

After all, I called for a date which we haven't done for a very long time.

Our relationship can be considered an unconventional one. In fact, we're closer to being fuck buddies than being a couple. Nobody among my new friends and acquaintances have seen him in person. I go out at night to party or meet people without his permission. I don't know the people he hang out with or the activities he do during his free time. I didn't bother to know those things, unless I would like to stir a conflict between us.

However, despite his seemingly relaxed hold on me, our attachment to one another had never grown weak. We talk to one another every morning and before going to sleep. He goes to my place every week, usually to use my computer for his assignments. Sometimes he just goes home to sleep beside me. For the longest time we've been together, hugs and kisses remain our most valuable resource.

I arrived earlier in the restaurant. The moment I stopped walking, I saw him smiling as he approached me. His boyish charm, short semikal hair and short height had never change since we first met five years ago. Maybe the only difference now is that we're still together and we have obviously grown up. As always, I don't usually talk when he's around. That's why I always get bored when we go out. I don't know where I got such attitude, but remembering the other two relationships I had before him, the same problem came up too.

Our silence was broken when he asked me what dish I would like to order. I told him I'd pick Lechon Macau, a dish I choose whenever we dine in that restaurant. He told me to make it two, since he chose the same dish that I picked up. I paid the bill then we proceeded to find a table that is placed far from other tables in the dining area. But before we were able to leave the queue, my date whispered something that made me smile for the first time this afternoon.

"Happy Valentines... I love you."

The smile which he put on my face was still there when we found a table with three chairs. It was located across the corridor leading to the bathroom. It's place was relatively far from other chairs which might have put us in a spotlight. Unfortunately, the smile that he put on my face was immediately replaced by a squirming pain. My stomach began to heave uncomfortably the moment we settled down. We barely got to talk because I immediately made a mad dash to the toilet the moment I saw bathroom door swung open .

When I got out feeling much better, our food had been served. My date was waiting for me worried about my worsening condition. I told him that I was fine - that maybe what I need is something to eat. He told me that he ordered an extra rice because a single cup would not give him a full meal. His excuse left a grin on my face knowing that between him and me, I was the one who needs more nutrients to sustain my weak body.

I was finished with my plate when he was about to start filling his with the extra rice he ordered earlier. He offered half of it to me, but I told him that I'm already full. Again, the worries started to show on his face. To assure him that I'm alright, I explained that the reason why I eat so little is because I already taught myself to lessen my appetite. He told me that I'm killing myself with my diet. I acknowledged his concerns because they were grounded on facts. These well-being troubles only started appearing when I started cutting my my food intake by half.

Looking at his troubled face, I could not take away my thoughts from the last time we've been intimate with one another. We did nothing, but the sweetness of sleeping both naked, with arms wrapped around each other's body and my hard prick poking his soft butt skin made me long for him even more. Without any forewarning these words blurted freely from my heart:

"Alam mo miss na miss na kita."

He was obviously shocked, unable to grasp what he just heard from me. He was blushing and while our table was located far from other diners, those who were seated close to us might have heard what I said. I did nothing to stop myself from telling him what I feel. It was a true longing to his presence. It was something which I have grown to enjoy now that I don't think of anything else except my shrinking little world.

He never said anything about what I said. My words might have been a big pill to swallow and he was having a hard time grasping the straightforwardness of my emotions. We didn't stay long after that. It was already past 1 pm and his lunch break is over. I, on the other hand should be heading for work unless I would like to come late. We left the restaurant feeling as if things were just ordinary. After all, for other couples, such lunch date is just a part of their daily routine.

Inside the FX, TL sent me a text message asking how my Valentines Day was. I told him that I had a lunch date with Phanks and that's all we had. Strangely he replied not by asking me "Yun lang?" or "Wala na kayong balak na iba?" which others might have asked me. Knowing TL, I know how he values simplicity especially when celebrating a special day like Valentines. He told me that Bebhe was sick and much as he would like to go out with his buddy, he spent the day lying by his side and taking care of him.

"Ok lang yan," I texted back. "That's worth a million expensive dates put together. The simpler u celebrate valentines, the more u appreciate its true essence."

---

As we were about to leave the restaurant, I was tempted to ask him to go to the bathroom. Maybe, just maybe, he would allow me to give him a kiss and a hug, anything that would make this day something more than just the ordinary.

West Gallery Trippings

"Would you believe it was my first time to attend such exhibit?"

- Me to Ginnie Mata, West Gallery


Martes ng gabi.

Napagkasunduan naming magkaka-klase na mag-unwind muli matapos ang klase namin kay Propesor A. Hidalgo. Ito ay isang tradisyon na nakaugalian na namin upang makalimutan ang matinding workshop na aming dinadaanan lingo lingo. Masyado kasing perfectionist ang aming guro at kadalasan, ang mga essays na pinapasa namin sa kanya ay nagmumukhang scratch paper sa dami ng corrections at markings matapos itong dumaan sa kanyang mga kamay. Ang mga kaklase naman namin na na-workshop ay nawawala sa sarili dahil nadudurog ang ego kaya naman kinakailangang mailabas ang kanilang saloobin sa munti naming salo-salo matapos ang aming klase.

Pumunta kami sa West Gallery na matatagpuan sa kahabaan ng West Avenue upang paunlakan ang imbitasyong natanggap ng aming pinuno galing sa kanyang kakilala. Nalaman ko na ang nag-imbita pala ay kaibigan ng na-interview ng kaklase ko para sa kanyang essay na si Lav Diaz. Si Lav Diaz ay isang direktor na kilala sa kanyang mga obra katulad ng Batang West Side, Ebolusyon at ang siyam na oras na Kagadanan sa banwaan ning mga engkanto. (Death in the land of Encantos) Hindi ko na nakausap ang batikang direktor sapagkat sa halip na makipagsosyalan sa mga visual artist na naroon, pinili kong magkukuha na lang ng litrato ng mga gawa ng nag-exhibit.


Siddharta Perez - Though Shall Not Be A Douche

Jonathan Ching - Nothing Is Compulsory Except Happiness

Al Cruz - The Observer In Canvas

In fairness naman sa mga exhibitors, naghanda sila ng napakaraming makakain para sa mga bisita. Sa buong event na iyon, tinuring ko ang aking sarili na isang Gatecrasher - isang nilalang na nagpakita sa isang handaan para lumamon at the expense doon sa mga imbitadong bisita. Pinuno ko ng Carbonara, Meatballs, Kiwi and Strawberry Canape at kung anu-ano pang nakahain ang aking pinggan. Ang kasama ko naman ay nagpakalasing sa Red Wine na handa ng isa pang exhibitor.

Sa huli, higit na mas naging interesting ang nakahandang pagkain sapagkat kami ay nabusog dito. Wala naman kaming kaalam-alam sa art kaya't wala kaming masasabing maganda o kaya naman ay pangit tungkol sa mga naka-exhibit. Lumabas kami ng gallery bandang alas-nuwebe ng gabi. Ang mga visual artist na nagumpukan sa exhibit ay sabay-sabay ring nagsilabasan. Karamihan sa kanila ay susuray-suray maglakad at halatang lasing marahil dahil sa case-case ng mga Pale Pilsen na hinanda ng isa pang exhibitor.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

How To Be Dead, How To Be Alive

Maybe it's the cold, damp weather.

Maybe it's my life spiraling down the drain. God knows that the only thing that's constant in my day to day existence is sleep and work. After gym, I arrive home past midnight. I spend my waking hours watching recycled cartoons on Nickolodeon until I fall asleep at around 5 am. I wake up at around 1 pm only to prepare for work. The cycle continues until it comes to a point where I feel like not doing anything at all. I feel utterly useless.

Maybe it's because of my nasty hypochondria attack. After reading some text about illnesses last week, I suddenly felt strange about my body. I feel sick. It feels like something is eating me from inside. I feel weak, unable to move in the afternoon and uninterested to go on with life. I thought of consulting the doctors, but I realized that I don't know what to tell them. What if these strange feelings are just imagined? What if my head is just playing tricks on me?

My sister will have a Colonoscopy test on Monday. It means that her large intestines will be probed for possible problems such as polyps growth. Like me, she is also suffering from a hypochondria attack. She complains that her bowel is laced with spots of blood, but what's strange is that she is not feeling anything in her tummy. The doctors said that she has a history of amoebiasis and maybe it is what's triggering her "imagined" blood stains. Like me, her assumptions were simply based from what she had read from the internet. However, her diagnostics were more plausible. She sought attention and now she is getting it from professionals. As for me, I still see everything as mere imagination. These delusions; these fears sometimes lead me to think that

Maybe i'm slowly dying.

But knowing that there are people who depend on me, it is my sworn obligation to fight for life. I have to get over my hypochondria. I have to cast out everything that I feel strange in my body. Even if I sometimes feel weak to my bones, I have to pretend that everything is fine. The mind can ease burdens, especially in matters concerning the body. That's what Gripen and I had agreed before. Now that I am harboring these anxious thoughts, my last line of defense is to detoxify myself and pump as much vitamins and nutrients inside my body.

I have to embrace alternative medicine for a change.

When the thought of illness peeks unexpectedly, one would realize the value of life and positive well-being. In my case, I found out how much I am unprepared to face a possibility of death that even the inclinations of reincarnation, which I fervently wished for my afterlife did not cross my head.

Perhaps the only time I would really embrace the thought of passing; the only moment I would be happy to accept my afterlife is when my duties to my family ends. I do not see any use for my body anyway, so I guess death is just a formality; that my life, whether it will end in a tragedy or glory had met its objective.

I am uninterested and indifferent in everything. That's what my mind tells me. If there's a choice between lying in bed all day and night and trying to continue my daily activities like a zombie, I would rather choose to be bedridden. It feels like my energy is being sucked all the time. However it doesn't mean the end of things. Even if I feel that I'm counting mere weeks or months when I'm suffering from my most dreaded fears, the desire to be alive still persists.

Life is strongest when one feels that it is threatened be taken away.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

A Story Behind A News

From inquirer.net, February 8, 2008

On Friday night, fire also hit a commercial-residential area in Sta. Cruz.

Two people, including fire volunteer Alex Lopez, were injured.

The blaze, which started around 5 p.m., was put out around 8:30 p.m., fire officials said.

Among those affected by the fire included tire and car parts shops along Laguna Street in the Blumentritt area.

Fire officials said they have yet to determine what caused the fire.


---

It was in the news that evening it happened. But, I have my own version to tell after witnessing the event first hand.

































It was around 5 pm. I was riding a jeep going to SM San Lazaro when a contingent of fire trucks from Binondo appeared out of nowhere speeding across the intersection of Tayuman and Jose Abad Santos streets.

If a single fire truck's siren already sounds dreadful, imagine several of them snaking along the narrow stretch of Tayuman heading to the direction of Rizal Avenue. Their numbers meant that a fire is nearby, however since I was seated at the shaded corner of the jeep, it took me several ducking before I could see with my own eyes where the smoke is coming from.

I looked north, north east and there it was. Black smoke rising somewhere between Taft Avenue and Jose Abad Santos. The fire was just starting and from judging the smoke alone, the blaze was intense, something really combustible was burning somewhere.

When I reached Tomas Mapua, I saw flames coming from a distant house several blocks away from where my jeep was passing. I immediately got out of the vehicle to see for myself the drama that was unfolding. My Journalistic instinct started to kick in and all I had to do was to embrace the truth that I, by nature, is an uzi (usisero) myself.

I went to the fire armed only with an N70 camera. Left and right, fire men were setting up hoses in order to control the blaze. Fellow uzis were taking pictures as the fire swallows wood without impunity. These bystanders never wished to miss a part of history that was unfolding in a neighborhood known for being a Rubber Tire store alley.

I tried to get as close as I could, but the searing heat pushed me back a block away from the burning building. I saw some helpers rolling brand new tires into their half-opened storehouses. A Chinese, who was obviously a store owner sobs in a corner, worried that her four-story apartment would become cinders in the coming hours.

"Naku malapit na ang apoy," the lady said in panic. "Bumaba na kayong lahat at baka masunog pa kayo diyan!" She said loudly to her helpers.

"Huwag kayo mag-alala Maam, hangga't hindi nasusunog yung condominium katabi nung bahay, hindi kayo madadamay." I assured her.

An hour had already passed and the blaze was still far from being controlled. Much as I would like to stay, I had another important meeting to attend and to show up all greased and oily was not part of my plan. So I had to leave, being relieved that it wasn't just an ordinary off-day for me. Besides, it was getting dark, and there was a looming threat of rain just before the sun finally surrender its rays to the night.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Mafiosi (Last Part)

To declare a party a blast or not would mean staying until 2 in the morning inside the club. It is to see whether the dance floor would be filled with people - dancing to their heart's content or whether they would remain a bystander, waiting for a brave soul to show his groves while those around him merely nod to the music or to the dancer as a gesture of approval to his amazing initiative.

As mentioned in my previous entry, my jaw literally dropped the moment I step foot on the dance area. It was not because the space was filled with people. On the contrary, Club Mafia was nilalangaw on a windy Saturday night.

And it was past 1 am. In the previous club parties that I attended, the parties were already approaching their climaxes at this time of the night.

To give the club much consideration, maybe the reason for such lack of patrons is because the club had recently opened. Yet, on the contrary again, it should be packed with people since the place had just made its debut. It was natural for curious party goers to check the place out unless, the Mafiosi organizers did not do well with the events and promotions.

In fairness, there were many beautiful people last night. In fact, they were so good-looking and rich-looking that I felt out of place inside the club. Like BED and Government, they played House Music. The acoustics around the dance floor was superb, that it could easily beat BED's own acoustics by several notches higher. They also played House tracks that I haven't heard anywhere before. It implied that their DJs were quite aware of the current Electronica music being played in party places across the planet. However, other than these advantages, I do not see anything interesting that could be said about Club Mafia.

---

The dance floor is located adjacent to the sole door to the club. Around a hundred people could easily fit in, with a comfortable extra space to move or sway restless arms and limbs around, especially when the electronic track being played is Progressive House Music. When one looks up, several disco balls in different sizes hung in the ceiling. Green and Red ion laser lights flood the entire dance floor, leaving the revelers with "Christmas-inspired" spots on their bodies. Sometimes these lasers create a "liquid sky" effect to give a different kind of clubbing experience, which BED and Government could easily imitate with their own club lighting.

The bar area, with its dark pink inspired theme reminds me of O-Bar. Since I assumed that the price of their beverages are a bit expensive, I didn't bother to check the place out. Bathrooms are located on the second floor. It was roomy and the toilets were quite clean to use. The second floor mezzanine also has its own bar area and several sofa chairs for patrons who prefer to lounge instead of dancing on the floor. It could be a fine addition to the club experience, except that most bars I've been to has their own lounge areas as well.

Last night, there were several performers who graced the stage with their own version of Diva songs. Most were borrowed from the movie Dream Girls, which, I honestly feel very gasgas even for an average gay guy like me. What's so funny is that every performer had feminine names like Mafia Bodies or Mafia Girls etc. and what's so strange about the whole gimmick is that ladies were more prominent inside the club than PLUs, who the club was supposed to serve.

I left before 3 in the morning feeling cheated with how the party took place. I haven't even witnessed its climax, where I expected everyone to head to the dance floor to prance and jive until they feel exhausted from dancing. Some did, but I never felt the energy from everyone.

Club Mafia Manila packs a lot of promises, which unfortunately, the owners and events organizers of the club hasn't realized yet. In my two-hour stay in that place, feelings of undeniable confusion emanated from me simply because I am not sure whether I entered a straight dance club, a gay dance club for the socialites and social-climbers or a dance club simply for those who wants to be discovered in the modeling industry. If it wants to be a better version of Club Fluid ( another bar in Orosa which a friend claim to be exclusive for a certain group of socialites), then Club Mafia has wasted some good space which can be occupied by more promising establishments for the gay community. If it wants to directly compete with BED, I say it now that within a few months, Club Mafia would wrap up without realizing its ambitious and lofty goals.

What I really think is that Club Mafia should find its niche as soon as possible. With a non-existent marketing and events campaign and a very competitive clubbing scene that can easily gobble it with sheer brutality, it has no chance of taking a slice of the gay market - unless they are planning to market themselves to the straight crowd, which I find totally absurd knowing that they set-up their party place at the heart of Gay Malate.

As long as I don't stumble upon other bloggers who would rave about the place, I would probably not return to Club Mafia. It has no character to speak of, no events to look forward to, and no action to serve as my beacon every time the place would cross my head. Basically, what I did the whole time was to look around, nod at the music being played and shake my head in disappointment upon realizing that nobody is dancing on the floor.

Last night, when I was inside the cab on my way home, I realized that for P300 pesos, I could have treated someone, perhaps maybe Deathnote to join me inside Che'lu. I was supposed to have a great time last night. But sad to say, everything I ever thought of doing had simply gone to waste.

And what's worse is that it would take me another five days before I can freely spend my night out again.

Mafiosi (First Part)

Dance clubs come and go. That's one thing a clubber should know when he enters a bar and gets out totally overwhelmed with the sight, sound, skin and cigarette smoke that pervades inside the club. For six years, Malate has been my home and in that span of time, I have seen great night spots debuting with so much fanfare and closes down without anyone being aware of it's final curtain call.

Once there was Ladida tucked at the corner of Nakpil and Orosa streets in the heart of Gay Malate. It was a lesbian bar and on February 15, I will celebrate my sixth year of outing in this kind of lifestyle, when I showed up at an earlier LBGT gathering in that bar set up by PExers many years ago.

I consider Ladida my birthplace and in the months and years that followed, I also started exploring and enjoying other gay spots such as Joy, Mint, Bath, Red Banana, Mister Piggy's and so many others that I now do not remember. They had their glory days but time came when new and more hip club places sprung up around the area. These new hotspots became the crowning glory of Malate and in time their mighty influence had choked the older bars of patrons that used to flock their dance floors.

This constant and never ending pilgrimage from one bar to the next had left a string of club passings that continue to change the landscape around the Nakpil-Orosa-Courtyard area. Those who have stayed long enough in the party scene to witness these constant changes have already embraced the undeniable truth that every club, no matter how popular or memorable it is to its patrons is bound to play a final house music track before it closes down for good.

---

This evening, after attending the Pinoyexchange Hanap Barkada Cook-Out Party, I went to Malate to spend the rest of the night partying. I heard from rumors that a new dance club had opened its doors to partygoers like me. The name of the bar is Club Mafia Manila, where in its place once stood the very colorful and artsy Rainbow Project Bar.

The short walk from J. Nakpil street to the Orosa Courtyard was uneventful. Aside from the throngs of gay men who lined the street of Orosa to smoke, socialize with strangers and do people watching, the only interesting sight to see was Che'lu. Unlike last week, it was again packed beyond its capacity. The unbearable heat inside the club is something that will always turn away the beautiful folks who prefer the Class-A standards of BED, but for those who enjoys close body dancing with sweating strangers, Che'lu is the best place to be.


I still remember what happened the last time I set foot in that place. The semikal wasted guy who was seated across my dance space kept on staring at me. I found the guy interesting, but I had my reservations of approaching him. However, he kept on looking at me as if implying that it's alright to get close. Eventually his efforts paid off, and we became bar companions for the rest of the night. Then I met this pretty lady who I made-out with. I swear, if I was a true bisexual, things between us would have ended in some quiet private place. Unfortunately, I was not. Instead, I left her when the semikal guy held my hand and openly expressed his deep liking for me.

Their encounters was something I will remember for a very long time. But no matter how life changing these events were, I don't want such confusion to ever happen to me again.

Therefore, despite my reservation to check the new club, I decided to head to the Courtyard where opposite the entrance of BED, a red carpet awaits those who are curious enough to see what Club Mafia promises to give.

For me, what I really wanted is a club full of people. Since the bar had just opened a few days ago, I was expecting that those who goes to BED and Government would troop in full force to grace Club Mafia's opening. While paying for my 300 peso bar entrance, I could hear cheers coming from inside the club. My first impression was the bar must be packed to its full capacity.

Upon opening the door, a black curtain separates me from the club's main hall. I could still hear cheers beyond the curtain, but this time, it was the announcer's voice that reverberates inside the place.

"Welcome to Club Mafia," the host said.

The moment my eyes casted at the dance floor, my jaw literally dropped at the scene I never expected to see.

---

-tobecontinued-

Saturday, February 9, 2008

The Original Dream Journal One | Cloverfield

This anecdote was taken from my first diary. Pardon the short narrative below, for it was written apparently, when I was still in first year high school. (the entry has no date) After much thought, I decided not to edit it or flesh out the scenes hoping that it would gain credibility by opening the first paragraph using a kid's voice. Nevertheless, I still remember the dream, even if it happened more than a decade after it was first written.

---

"(This dream occurred when I am in Grade VI)

Godzilla was on the front or I'll say I saw Godzilla w/ a puff of smoke destroying (buildings) in its path. I am in the fourth floor of the Grade School Building. (of St. Joseph's College, where I spent my elementary days) When I saw the left, I mean right view, it was so devastated so I ran down the building up to our lobby. I was fetched by Ate Pet. (my yaya) It was so traffic so I watched the news. They pictured the path of Godzilla in visual simulation. From St. Joseph's College to (Welcome) Rotonda. I was shocked that our community (neighborhood) was in the path. When I went home, I cannot recognize the place because of the devastation."


---

Our elementary school building is four stories high and once you find yourself in the fourth floor's open-air corridor that faces the east side of the city, the entire Timog area from Roxas District to South Triangle is still covered by huge swath of trees. Development is unheard of, and on sunny late afternoons, one could still find the white-washed Quezon Memorial Circle proudly standing amidst an urban forest that was once Quezon City 14 years ago.

The sky was Ash Grey in my dream, I could still remember it exactly as it was. I could not hear any sounds; I could not even hear the dreadful groaning of a monster, which Godzilla was known for. In those days, it was my favorite pastime to scale the entire length of the fourth floor open-air corridor from one end to the other. Since I had been a loner throughout my elementary, I found great enjoyment seeing the view of Quezon City east of Manila.

However, that late cloudy afternoon, the sight I saw made me tremble to my knees. There it was, a jet black, sludge-colored dinosaur stomping the ground below it. Just behind the beast was a cloud of smoke and dust that obstructed my view of the beast's surrounding area. The towering monster was fast approaching and I had a feeling that the building - the ground where I remained frozen, would be trampled soon.

Before I was able to run down the stairs, I took one last look at the trail of devastation brought by the terrible beast. This time, I turned my head right, facing the direction of Quezon Avenue and Roosevelt area. What I saw was total destruction; building were toppled and obviously, the entire area was devoid of life. I didn't even remember hearing the sirens of ambulances and firetrucks heading towards that direction.

I ran as fast as I could to the lobby, where my sundo was waiting for me. Since the distance of the lobby from the Grade School Building was quite far, I was panting when my yaya, Ate Pet found me. We immediately boarded the first jeep that stopped in front of us. It was packed with people beyond its capacity and traffic was on standstill on the way home. Strangely, this jeep had a TV installed just above the driver's seat and it was tuned in to the news.

I remember the news anchor showing the projected path of destruction of the monster. My school will be trampled down, as well as the Welcome Rotonda area in Espana. What sowed deep fear and anxiety inside my juvenile heart was that my neighborhood would be hit as well before the monster crosses the Pasig River and into the oil depots of Pandacan.

We arrived home too late. Though, I cannot remember the image of destruction that took place, My mind still holds the last image of a place shrouded in pitch-black darkness and a once-lively neighborhood that was now beyond recognition.

The scene ends there, and perhaps I woke up still trembling from that nightmare.

---

Naalala ko itong panaginip na ito simula noong napanood ko ang trailer ng Cloverfield sa YouTube. Gaya ng marami, akala ko na isang love story/comedy ang nasabing palabas dahil sa napaka-unassuming na title nito. Noong isang linggo ko pa binalak panoorin ito sa sinehan, ngunit sa kasamaang palad, lagi akong nawawalan ng oras para dito. Bumili ako ng pirated copy nito sa Quiapo kagabi, ngunit nang mapanood ko ang unang bahagi nito sa DVD, na-bad trip ako dahil sa sobrang labo nito.

Hindi ko alam kung hanggang sa Martes ay palabas pa rin ito sa mga malls. For the meantime, pagsasawaan ko muna ang trailer nito - na siyang nagpaalala sa akin na minsan sa aking kabataan, mayroon akong naging bangungot na hindi nalalayo sa trailer na ito.


Thursday, February 7, 2008

Suicide Attack (Hypercollider Remix)

Nag uwian na kami. Ang alam namin ay uumuwi narin si Nena.
Pinagpahinga lang sandali si Nena nang kaunti sa dami ng nilaklak na alak.

Buti nalang at sagana ako sa palusot at konti lang ang nainom.

Ayun nga,

Pag alis namin ay ito ang naganap.

Niyakap ni Nena si kuhol

Nakatalikod si Kuhol nang yakapin siya ni Nena

.....

Hinalikan ni Nena si Kuhol

di ko alam kung sa leeg o kung saan paman.

di kona natanong.

Nagulat si Kuhol at parang natulak si Nena.

"Pare wala naman gayanan. mawawalan ako ng respeto nian sayo." wika ni kuhol.


Ayun.

Bakla kamusta ka naman talaga.

Buti hindi ka na Sapak.

nag "I Love You" ka nanga di kapa nakontento

- Princess, O M G, Nakakawindang si Vekhla

---

Four years before I became a full-bloom homosexual, the people I used to hang out were straight men.

These guys were the barako ones. Some of them were so good-looking, if I was aware of my sexuality in those days, tensions might flare up inside my body. There were many times I shared a single bed with them, especially during sleepovers. There were no incidents, of course. Not even a single boner moment on my part. For me, things were pretty casual between us guys, that it ain't a big deal if they took off their shirt in front of me. Aside from the petty insecurity issues which I harbored in those days, since they had better bodies and flatter torsos than what I could flaunt in front of them, our lives revolved around horsing around, chasing girls and toma sessions all night. Despite my lingering suspicion that I was different from my barkada, it never came to a point that I already accepted the fate I would soon embrace after we graduated from college.

I was known as the guy who deeply bonds with my male friends. Some malicious tweeps back in college even thought that I was having a secret intimate relationship with some of my tropa, because of my closeness to them. Even during those days, I preferred a one-on-one hang-out than join a big group where I feel left out during get-togethers. This platonic closeness taught me to understand that even dominant males reveals their soft side - particularly their sentimentality during the odd hours of the night. They may appear tough and brute-looking during the day, but at night, when everyone is asleep, they reveal their most vulnerable and mushy thoughts in conversations with the people the have learned to trust their emotions

This often happens when alcohol takes over a guy's string of thoughts.

When I became a homosexual, I immediately learned the difference between a straight and a non-straight person. The reason for this immediate adjustment was probably my exposure to straight guys, when I was still one with them. Back in college, like what I mentioned in the entry Kalayaan, the guys I hanged out with were "bashers." In those days, I wasn't aware that there is a subgroup of gay men, who can pass as a straight when they are in the company of straight people.

One of the core rules I imposed upon myself (aside from not making the first move) is to never cross a straight guy, even if he is irresistably attractive or even when under the influence of alcohol. The mere thought of these straights stereotyping my kind as "sexual predators" and "pathetic men-hunters" had struck deep fear into my psyche that I even feel uncomfortable hanging out with men, who aren't aware of my sexuality.

---

Now with P-Man's alarming maneuvers with straight guys, Princess and I agreed that he's destroying himself in the process. I hope it didn't cast us in a bad light since these guys knew and respected our sexual preference when we outed ourselves to them. As far as I was aware, these straights have decided to include us in their beer binging activities for they knew that we're equally koboy enough to enjoy their trip.

The guy P-Man flirts with, which Princess lovingly named kuhol, isn't a threat at all. He's the typical Hipon; muscular arms, ripped body but with a mind, looks and an attitude of a hibe (dried shrimp). He might have the body I would die for, but he isn't the kind of guy I'd drool over. Besides, he has a girlfriend and even if he loves to horse around with guys like us, we know that he won't give himself in. He is an absolute straight and to assume him as a closet bisexual would be compared to cooking a shrimp tempura in a hot open skillet.

I have to admit, P-Man's moves were quite appalling. Suddenly, it made me think whether my impressions of him were correct or not. I've always seen him as the maangas guy, the kind of PLU who acts tough, quiet and indifferent despite random pressures that came his way.

Mami Athena, once she reads this entry would surely remark that his moves beat the one he did last time. (when he attempted to provoke another colleague with some sexual suggestions in the instant messenger) Princess is even harsher in his remarks about his moves after P-Man accused him of being too "girly" for his taste, which I strongly disagree. In Princess' words, he says that,

"Masakit man isipin pero DESPERADA ang Drama mo Bakla.
Paano na magiging komportable and boys sayo?

Ngayon sabihin mo sakin kong sinong mas Girl satin?"


As for me, since I am still affected by his latest blunders, his moves reminded me of the very same trick he did a year ago. It was when he cornered me inside the cab and made me believe that I was doing him a great favor when I surrendered myself to his libog.

I cannot deny that I resent not being at the inuman when this event happened. I am, and still wishing to give him a dose of his own medicine, now that I'm more confident to pick up a fight.

And strange as it may seem, but the promise of teaching him everything about being PLU when we had a talk after we did it, still rings a familiar tune inside my head. It is a promise I should have taught him, so that he won't mess up like this, now that he's on his own.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Ha[k]ken

It began as an ambiguous, half-serious overseas proposal.

I was at the Manila City Hall at that time waiting for my name to be called by the tax collector. I was about to pay the annual amortization of our house when a thought suddenly came to me. Since my aunt was in the United States to celebrate the holidays with our relatives, I sought her approval to buy me a new mp3 player, which I would pay when she returns to the country. It came to me that a friend said that it's far cheaper to acquire a gadget in that part of the world than buying it here in Manila.

Behind my harmless inquiry, I am also trying my luck. My aunts are pretty well-off in the US and there is a small chance that my discreet hints might be pick up as a personal solicitation to buy me a new iPod as their pasalubong/Christmas gift to me.

Since my aunt's phone can receive locally sent messages, I sent her a text message. I had a gut feeling that she's with my relatives spending some nostalgic moments in a hearth or something close to such place. My idea was to ask her how much is a 4GB iPod, which she would relay to those around her. My suspicions were correct, for within several minutes she replied to my message.

"Walang 4GB na iPod dito. 8GB meron," she said.

"Magkano po ang 8GB, ang sabi kasi ng friend ko half the price lang po ang iPod diyan compared dito," I replied.


After a few minutes she texted back. My aunt told me the price, which was quite far from what I had expected. In spite of it being too pricey for my budget, I still have enough moolah to ask her to buy me an iPod. After all, I can still pay it in installments for the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, I remembered that I still owe Banco De Oro 20 thousand pesos for my good-for-nothing, crash-loving desktop computer. As swift as my daring decision to inquire about getting a new mp3 player, I took my proposals back telling them that I still have to pay for my new computer as an excuse.

She never replied. It felt like they were having deliberations about my inquiryl behind my back.

---

A week later. My aunt returned from her holiday vacation.

Her plane touched down at the runway very early in the morning. Since all of us at home were nocturnal creatures, we weren't able to pick her at the airport. Instead, I woke up that afternoon with a single text message from her.

"Meron kang iPod from your titas," the message said

It came as a pleasant surprise, but I knew that it was coming anyway.

It turned out, my aunt was urged by my stateside relatives to buy an mp3 player to catch up with the technology. Since they got it on sale, they decided to buy one for me as well. When I received the package that same evening, my younger sister complained as to why I received so many pasalubongs when she only got only a bag and a cheap-looking perfume.

"Nagbigay kasi ako ng Christmas Gifts sa mga pinsan natin bago umalis si Ninang. Na-touch siguro sila kaya binigyan ren nila ako ng gift." I told her.

But in reality, I got my new gadget because of my nerve to inquire about it, only to back out in the end. What I think is that they felt sorry that I dreamed of something only to realize that I could not afford it.

After all, I work and go to school for my graduate studies at the same time. Ok na excuse na yun para bigyan nila ako ng isang "token" for having a "well-spent life" from them.

---

It took a month before I could finally download the necessary software for my iPod to work. It was a rather a frustrating task knowing that it would take a day to download the newest version of iTunes player using my dial-up connection at home. My computer didn't cooperate either. It kept on crashing whenever I use the dvd player to access files from a portable storage device during my earlier attempts to access the software from a dvd disk.

With luck, I was to do everything without any hardware malfunctions last night.

The new portable music player could now spare me from the time-consuming mp3 transfers from the computer to my 1GB Zen Nano every month. The iPod will also serve as my external storage device for my hard-to-find mp3s, which are constantly threatened to be erased with my mother computer's infamous unreliability.

Initially, I thought that my new gadget was simply an old model; a reject from the ever-demanding technophiles of the First World countries. But lo and behold! I took some time to research about my portable player in Wikipedia this afternoon. It turned out, I have the latest iPod model.

Suddenly, I found myself at par with the latest audio technology, and what's so good about it is that I was able to acquire it for free.