Waps 4

The Outsider's Thread,
pinoyexchange.com

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wapo, way to go!

whilst i commend you for creating a new and timely thread, i still feel a wee bit sad that you had to leave nation. (of course, outside the thread, the friendship remains) it won't be the same without you and the rest of the gang. ohwell, we've proven once again that nothing is absolutely permanent in this world, except CHANGE.

regarding to the two questions broached....well, i won't say that i'm the most masculine gay guy. not by a mile. but definitely, i don't fit the stereotype gay (not that there's anything wrong with it.)

do we really have to be so concerned with labels? we're all gays, and yet, we are so plumb scared to be called one. weird.

i had a date last night. it was a blast. during our conversation, he told me that there's this guy who was looking at him. i asked him if the guy was gay, and he said that the guy was indeed gay. i told him to introduce me to his "gay" acquaintance. he seemed perplexed when i said that.

"do you like gays?", he asked.

"hellyeah! aren't you gay?"

i was floored. i couldn't believe the question.

"i'm not gay!" he said.

"so what the hell are you?"

"i'm bi!"

whoa! i snickered a bit. my half-suppressed laugh wasn't unnoticed.

"man, all bisexuals are gay, but not all gays are bisexual!"

"yeah, i believe so."

"so that makes you gay."

hehehhehe, of course, he wasn't miffed. he likes me hell of a lot, eh?

mwah to all the familiar faces! BATH, the former mint will have its grand opening on friday, september 19. free entrance and 50% off on booze! SEEEEEEEYYAAAAAAAAAA!

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Remember this post Waps? It was the turning point of the Outsiders. It was when you responded to Dodong's call for a new thread that would challenge the pretentiousness pervading in our old nook, Alien Nation. It was when we began a revolution that would shape the PLU community of Pinoyexchange today. It was the evening we decided to have a collective name for our group. Do you feel nostalgic reading what you wrote?

I do.

All we wanted then was diversity. We longed to end the divide between the effems and masculines and just be ourselves. We got tired of how others trumpeted the merits of being masculine, when they acted more effeminate than us. We just wanted to be free, and in that moment we shed our colors to proclaim our loyalties to one another, we became a solid barkada.

It's been six years after you wrote this post. We had our ups and downs, and for a moment we thought we're all goners. You even once said that groups come and go, but individual friendship remains. I would have bought your statement, but in truth, the group and the friendship remains.

We proved it last Friday during our "quarterly" reunion at Quattro.

Where after so many years, the issue between Kirsh and I had been resolved.

And in between the toasts, the laughters, the memories and the revelations.

I realized that maybe, unconsciously, the reunion was for you.

They may not remember the exact date you left us for abroad Waps.

But so long as this blog exists, you will always be remembered.

Hanggang sa muling pagkikita at

Para sa ating habangbuhay na pagkakaibigan.

---

Inside the cab.

Jollieboie: Ang galing no? Kahit konti lang tayo nakapunta ngayong gabi, nagtext lahat sa akin yung mga Odders.

Joms: Malakas ang hatak mo eh. Walang makakahindi sayo.

Jollieboie: Ako nga ata ang nagmana sa posisyon ni Omeng eh.

Joms: Sinabi mo pa.

Jollieboie: Kaya alam mo, kahit anong mangyari, sa Odders pa rin ang puso ko.

Joms: Siyempre dun tayo nagsimula eh. Walang makaka-challenge nun.

Jay

A film is a story narrated with moving images and characters acting out the words that complete the entire picture. If letters are the writer's tool to weave a narrative, it is the director's camera that captures the heart of a film.

It was suppose to be a lecture day at J. Wendell Capili's class today. However, instead of him talking about the merits of good writing, he asked everyone to watch Jay, which was about to be shown at the UP Film Center this afternoon. His instruction came as a pleasant surprise, for much as I would like to attend the Cinemalaya Indie Film Festival at Diliman, work had kept me busy from seeing these films. Bloggers have written good reviews about Jay last week. (which in my sheer bitterness of not being able to go to CCP to watch it, I decided not to read their entries) However, word of mouth tells that Baron Geisler had a stunning performance in the film which earned him the best actor award in the festival. Add to that the constant prodding of friends who eat and breathe art films and you would see me giggling as I stood in the cue outside the theater before the film showing.

Art Films are not my expertise. I don't even know how to critique one with Bayaning Third World, Crying Ladies and Masahista as my only comparison. Despite these limitations, I somehow understood why Jay was acclaimed by critics when I watched it. Please bear with me as I try to give a modest review of the film, for I myself had a hard time processing the story due to its immensity despite its plot's simplicity.

At first glance, Jay is presented like a TV documentary. The female narrator introduces the would-be characters which is the family of Jay Mercado - a man stabbed to death inside his apartment in Manila. The documentary interviews the people close to him to give the audience an idea about who this person was. Talk about character sketch. We learn from the interviews that Jay was a gay man and the reason behind his murder was prostitution. As the documentary closes in to reveal the killer, the narrator cuts the story to announce a commercial break. There is no commercial break of course. Instead, the scene switches to a story behind the documentary revealing that the documentary is actually a prologue of the main story.

The scene opens with Jay Santiago (Baron Geisler) arriving in Pampanga with his TV crew to follow the events shortly after Jay Mercado's brutal murder first broke out to his family. From the first hours of the funeral to the capture of the killer a few days later, we see the characters' struggle to cope up with the lost and acceptance of a family member's death. With Geisler's character as the unsympathetic protagonist, the scenes reveal how the interview for the documentary really took place. I will not reveal how the story was treated, but rest assured that everything is taken lightly.

Like I confessed at the beginning of the entry, my lack of film exposure limits my ability to present a comprehensive review of Jay. The dialogue did not make a strong impact on me, suggesting that it was weak from the beginning. However, there were so many unintended comic moments throughout the film that it took away the seriousness of the subject. The screenwriter failed to develop some of the characters - especially Coco Martin, who I supposed had a supporting role for this film. Baron Geisler, who presented himself as the TV producer who showed artificial sympathy to the family he was following spent more time exploiting the unfolding human drama for his personal gains. This makes Jay a film with no heroes or moral ground to stand on.

Despite the film's minor shortcomings, it broke new grounds in introducing cinematic shots that narrated the story without using strong dialogues to make a point. I still could not forget how the camera pans on Geisler as he shed a tear while forcing the mother of the victim reenact her reaction the first time she saw Jay at the morgue. If there was any real humanity in that film, I believe that scene sums up everything.

Jay is a story within a story that tells how human drama can be twisted or exploited to create exaggerated scenes for someone's personal goal. It also tells how people will obligingly do the extremes in hopes of getting media exposure that is prized by everyone these days. Cast in different light, it is a film that parodies the prevailing media culture which emphasizes on getting the story without any regard or sensitivity for those people whose lives were suddenly altered by a tragic event.

As the story comes to a close, I thought Jay will suffer a disappointing predictability with Baron Geisler falling victim to the same butchery that lead to Jay Mercado's untimely death. But like most Indie films, unpredictability makes a work of art stands out among the rest.

I'd leave you to watch it from beginning to the end.

---

photocredits: Baron Geisler's Multiply
Next UP Screening: August 6, 2008 - 7pm (Subject to confirmation)

State of the Nation

"As your President, I care too much about this nation…I will let no one, and no one's political plans, get in the way of the well-being of the people. I will let no one hinder our people's progress and prosperity. I will let no one threaten our nation's survival. This is my commitment,"

- Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, 2008 State of the Nation Address

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Photocredits: Jess Abrera, Philippine Daily Inquirer

Why Worry When You Can Pray

Entry borrowed from my friend Biela.

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Not to sound religious or anything close to it, but I'd like to share what I believe.

I believe in the power of prayer. Praying helps me live. I used to worry a lot. A lot like a whole lot for my own good. I used to see the doctor due to some unknown ailments only to be told that the cause of it is stress - from worrying too much.

One day, many years ago, as I was in a Christian bookstore (I mean, one that sells items generally connected to Christianity), I saw a postcard that said "why worry when you can pray?"

It changed me from then on. It wasn't a drastic kind of change, but it did something good to me. There was learning. Until now, the battle not to worry continues - or at least, not to worry as much.

I admit that praying is not an easy thing.

Sometimes, you don't have the time. Can't find it. Won't find it. Refuse to find it.
sometimes, it feels like it's not gonna change the course of things anyway, so why bother? Sometimes, I even doze off while praying and realize I have been saying words that didnt make sense as they echo through my just-shaken-up-from-slumber brains.

See how tough?

But i try not to lose the will. Because I know from within that someone I call God is listening to my prayers. He answers them. Sometimes with a yes, At times with a No. or with a guess-what-time-will-tell ending...

Praying makes me worry less. Once I lift all my cares to God, I already feel "lighter". I do not play the futile game of what-if's anymore. I find rest in the belief that if that's what He wants, then it'll come, with my liking it or not. I refuse to call it destiny. I see it as God's will.

When I ask something in prayer, I don't implore nor expect God to do as I say. I believe He knows my needs even before I ask, and He's the better judge of what my real needs are.

There are still many things I worry about in this life. Many things that I want - both those I can, and seemingly can not wait to have - But I try to live one day at a time.

When about to lose control, I simply look back to the many years I bore witness to God's unfailing love and support to me and my family. Milk and honey may not have overflowed, but we always had our fills. We may not always have had what we wanted, but we were never poor - spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally, and materially.

It has been many years. This is no time to doubt.
and when my child is already here, I wish to share her this wisdom.

---

I may not be as deeply religious as some people I know. But rest assured, I am a believer. I live knowing that what I have is a borrowed life and as much as possible, I try to use my breath and blood not for mine but for those around me. I try to see the good side of things - no matter how difficult such seeing is for someone who keeps hang-ups from his past - for this kind of vision leads to brief moments of bliss that is infectious to others. This feeling of happiness, which comes in many forms - from giving spare change to an old lady who begs in the street to comforting a friend or a stranger in times of distress give me an overwhelming sense of peace.

It is these good deeds that fulfill my being. It makes me closer to the light.

And when time comes and things become a little uncertain, the weapon I use is not speculation or technology. I rely solely on prayers. It is a time-tested strategy that I use whenever I feel down, insecure or if my fear and anger threaten to control me. Like Biela, I learned to share my burdens with the Creator.

And humbly accepts whatever will He decides to bestow upon me.

Because when I look back, count up to my smallest blessings and remember all the good deeds I did to others, a moment's reflection would make me realize that life happens to have more sense knowing that I live my day with purpose.

It is still a long shot before I gain my spirituality.

But the mere fact I try my best to listen, pray and place goodness as my highest aim everyday somehow leads me closer to that goal.

---

At 4:16 pm yesterday, Biela delivered a healthy baby girl she named Amaya.

Four days after she wrote the entry in her multiply.

Lullabye

In a room shrouded in darkness, where the only source of light comes from the flat screen of your computer; where the only sounds you hear are the humming of the neighbor's AC and the exhaust fan attached to your room's ceiling; when your thoughts turn Emo and you feel like telling your dreams and frustrations to the person next to you; the best way to invigorate the mood is to play soft music.

While others prefer jazz or ambient sounds to let go of their inhibitions, I rely on acoustic rock music to free my soul. It works in overnight drinking sessions with friends, often resulting to a much stronger bond when the alcohol has been drained from everyone's system. On many occasions, my music preference cracks even the toughest shell, like when the one I'd like to open up is a guy who rarely speaks about his feelings even to friends.

Here are five Pinoy Alternative songs that I would play when my mood turns blue. The melody and lyrics of these songs enable me to go to places and scenes without leaving the comforts of my chair. It doesn't matter if a companion is present during a sound trip or not, for what is essential is the freedom to expose one's soft spots just when everything in the world slows down to a trickle in moments between midnight and daybreak.

05. ESEM, Yano.
Imagine yourself walking at Trinoma with an empty wallet and pockets deep without coins and most probably you would hear this song played inside your head. A true classic, this song has its timely appeal now that everyone suffers from economic hardships. This song never fails to open my eyes to the pains of being a below-minumum wage earner who seeks a moment's distraction in a place where even happiness commands a price.

04. NOCTURNE, Spongecola
Sleep is a luxury an insomniac can hardly afford. This song is not about insomniacs, but is about sleeplessness in times of infatuation. Admit it or not, we have our fair share of sleep deprivation when we're in love. Though it's been ages since someone caused me such sleeplessness, Nocturne lets me remember those nights when I'd roll and twist on my bed, roosters having a concerto of crows outside my window, and the early dawn sky turning pitch black to misty blue.


03. AKO'Y IYO AT IKA'Y AKIN, I/Axe
Another timeless classic. I first heard this song back in high school. In college, we sang it when everyone's dead drunk and starts talking about their frustrations in relationship. In those days when puppy love was still in, and being turned down by a crush was as normal as cutting classes every week, this song never fails to make me remember that once in my life, I fell in love with girls.

02. FILL HER, Eraserheads
The song evokes a sense of tranquility only Ely Buendia can transform into music with his voice. Whenever Fill Her plays on my player, I picture myself lying under a big Mango tree on a quiet weekend afternoon. Next to me is my buddy, with his head on my chest singing these lines "when I get near all my fears disappear and I wont be alone anymore." to me.

01. LSS, Stonefree
If given a chance to pick a song in a KTV bar, there is no doubt that I'd choose LSS as my encore performance. Despite its cheesy lyrics and repetitive guitar rifts and drum beats, what draws me to this song is the powerful vocals that expressed a full range of emotions of the singer. The song talks about a post gig scene. As everyone packs up after a successful performance, we find the main character (which is the band vocalist) sour graping for not seeing his special someone at the gig. One might find such excuse a bit shallow, but what made this song different is that instead of the main character joining his group to celebrate their victory elsewhere, he chooses to head home to be with that someone he wishes to see at the gig.

Meanwhile

It was past eleven when I returned to the office to pick up Mami Athena. She had to do overtime work training the graveyard shift team leaders about the new policy being implemented on the floor. I learned last Monday that the training would end at past midnight. Being her surrogate son and closest friend, I insisted on taking her home myself.

Whenever her working hours would fall under my shift, I'd eagerly volunteer to be her escort. She would complain that such extra effort would be a burden for me. "Huwag na kasi Mugen at mapapalayo ka pa sa pag-uwi." She would violently react the moment I point my finger telling her I'd be her escort for the night. But when I show up after my shift, her face would light up with a sigh of relief. If I could lay down my life for my real mom, would it make any difference if I offer my time, effort and personal security to one of the few people who really knows me?

I don't know how many times she read my thoughts whenever we smoke together. But in many ways, those little joints we had proved to be my life jacket in times my sensibilities get challenged. I don't run and cry when things get nasty. Instead, I'd ask for a stick of Phillip Morris and smoke it like there's no tomorrow. As I puff the stick, I would project an aura of aloofness - like she does - and make it appear to the world that I am in control.

Such is the power of ladies I rarely see in men these days.

I went back to the office after making my piece with the partner. He appeared frail, timid and exhausted, and if not for my icy distance towards him, his bothersome leanness would instantly tear down the walls I erected between us.

It shows that I am concerned. It proves that I am not yet ready to tread my own separate way.

Back at the office, Mami Athena found me seated on one of the steps across her room. I was entranced in my prayer when suddenly, the door swung open and her meeting with the team leaders finished much earlier.

And it is as if the heavens were watching my moves, she interrupted my Hail Mary's to tell that we just have to wait for the boss before we leave.

Free meal and booze might rain down on us tonight.

The last time he showed up at the middle of the night, he invited us for a late night snack in one of the bars lining Wilson Street. I had a great time listening to the boss as he recounted the days when the company almost closed down after its biggest client pulled the plug on us. Mami Athena was listening of course. She was already with the company when tragedy struck. Between then and now, things have been very different. All output is being monitored and there are now strict guidelines as to how we act our jobs.

Remembering how it all began, and hearing how the boss broke down when defeat was imminent made me realize how lucky I am to witness all these changes.

I became a fanatic that night.

Tonight however, things were different.

Instead of stopping over for some drinks and talks, the boss drove Mami Athena to her place in Quezon City. Lucky for us, for we won't have to haggle with cab drivers over the boxes of instant coffee that Mami got from one of her side projects. I would have gotten off at Mami's place. But as a gesture of respect to the boss, I accompanied him back to the office, where his apartment lies a few blocks away.

It was fun hanging out with the big guys. Though I always look like a saling ket-ket when Mami and the boss talk, the juicy bits of information I get from their conversation makes me the most gifted rank-and-file officer on the floor.

Tonight however, one thing that sets this escort duties for Mami Athena different from other escort duties I performed before is that I was able to rise up from the slump and see the profoundness of things I rarely feel nowadays.

Mami Athena's companionship will always be a treasure.

But it was the brief soulful joyride on my boss' brand-new Mitsubishi Grandis that made me realize that life is like a car that can be driven in two ways:

Step hard on the gas when the road is smooth and empty

and harder on the brakes when the path gets bumpy.

To Repress A Rage

Forgive my bitterness. I know this is too personal, but I am just totally lost in emotions. I can't help but read the meanings between the lines.

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Text One: I LOVE U VERY3X MUCH PO ASAWA KO. SANA d2 napo kaw sa piling ko. mis napo kta sobra. mwah.

Reply: I love you rin po.

Text Two: D napo ako mkakapasok bukas la napo ako pera.

---

And to think he was insisting to stay overnight since last Monday. This time, I would let others interpret what the two text messages mean.

I sincerely hope I am wrong.

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"we never realized that the decisions that we made, one way or another, affects the will of another person."

- Ewwwik, Wandering Commuter

Routine Dependence

I wake up at around noon, starving after eating my last meal 12 hours earlier. Hunger would drive me out of the bed and into the waiting arms of the table where a sumptuous meal had already been prepared by the maid. Since I am the only one who eats at lunchtime, the last word on what's cooking comes from me. When the stomach has been satisfied, I take a hot bath, dress up, and spend half an hour going to work. I often arrive thirty minutes before the start of the shift. Instead of mingling with the colleagues, I head towards the most isolated corner of the floor and pray. I spend 8 hours capriciously predicting someone else's romantic fate. Playing god with one's heart include giving advises about love problems, peppering a dash of hope of a reconciliation that will never happen, and sprinkling drops of wisdom for a weary heart. I am a love doctor by profession, but I still have to learn what true love feels .

Meanwhile, I spend around an hour and a half lifting iron bars and plates in the gym thrice a week; three hours at school basking in the radiance of Mongol and Wendell every Tuesday; four hours every night watching cartoons on Nickelodeon; half a day being an errand boy to my bills on a day-off; an entire weekend night partying, drinking and dining with friends; and none to spend a break at home.

I built my entire system constantly on the move that when I decide to shut myself from the world for one day, I break down and suffer a minor setback of depression.

Funny how an idle mind spawns bone-chilling nightmares that root deep inside one's head. Had I known that I cannot substitute life by playing Sims 2 all day, I would have followed my rigid routine, knowing that my sanity heavily depended on it.

A Little Voice Inside My Head

To write against someone who cannot defend himself is not just unfair, it defies all rules of good conduct. Granted that you are not happy with the way things are going, it is best to keep one's feelings to himself. It is a mark of maturity. Remember that what they read is just the half of the story. Following a friend's advice this evening, you should cast your eyes into the ocean of happiness that surrounds you. This sadness is just a mere, troubled island. Look beyond, and you will see that this little blunder is just, but a speck of darkness in your long luminescent life.

Shine forth and prosper.

Rajah Humabon

Captain's Log: 022082010

After serving three months of patrolling duties across the Spratly's, we return to Sangley Point Naval Base for some major overhaul. I've heard from Admiral Dimaculangan last week that we will receive a state of the art electronic guidance system from China. It was delivered several months before the president stepped down to give way for the newly elected leader. I hope that the long-overdue refit will enable us to pursue hostile vessels that are increasingly becoming faster than our ancient ship.

"Sir hindi ba kayo bababa para bumisita kay misis?"

"Hindi, marami pa akong trabaho kaya maiiwan na lang ako dito," I said to a junior officer who was about to leave the ship.

The installation would take around five days to complete. It doesn't include the rearmament that will take at least two days to finish. Meanwhile, since most of my men have not seen their families for almost a year, I decided to give them a week-long R&R break. I hope that their stay with their families would put their spirits up.

In those three agonizing months, we pursued four Chinese Fishing Boats, a Vietnamese Pirate Ship and responded to an SOS call of a Cruise Ship bound for Shanghai. It had an engine breakdown near Pag-Asa Island. There is no doubt that we arrived first at the scene to assist the passengers. The Singaporeans arrived a few days later with a navy frigate and a tugboat in tow. We wanted to protest their incursion into Philippine Waters, but the high command had given them permission to conduct the rescue operations themselves. After all, the ship in trouble was owned by a Singaporean Cruise Line.

I can still picture the Singaporean Frigate inside my head. It was painted Ash Grey; it had an angular surface that gave the ship its impressive sleekness; there were no visible exhaust that leaves a trail of the ship's presence. It was almost like the vessel had come from the future. Compared to our Rajah Humabon that is older than my grandfather, I can't help but feel a sense of embarrassment for my country. I bet my ass that the Vietnamese Navy who was reported to be patrolling the area we control has a more powerful warship than us.

I'm not the only one who feels the same for the Singaporean frigate. The whole time their ship was on our starboard, I had a hard time telling my men to return to their stations for they keep on taking pictures and waving at the navy personnel aboard the ship. Some were even too starstruck to hear my commands. Starry-eyed, they gazed at the ship, which according to them looked more like an "espeyship" than a "bapor." Life at the frontier had indeed made us too undisciplined that when you put one of my men beside a Singaporean navy officer of the same rank, mine would look like their rugged and greasy counterpart.

I don't know if I would ever get to command such vessel in the course of my career. I am 34 and is considered the youngest captain to command a flagship. On the other hand, I don't dream of piloting such ship either. I am already happy leading my men in scaring away foreign poachers and watching over a couple of villages scattered all over Spratly Islands. However, if they discover Natural Gas in one of the islands, or if the Chinese sends more ships in the area, hopefully, President Roxas will have the balls to respond in kind to these aggressors.

This way, we will regain our honor and reclaim our long-denied distinction of being a true Mandirigmang Mandaragat ng Pilipinas.


BRP Rajah Humabon

Class and type: Datu Kalantiaw class
Type: Destroyer Escort / Frigate
Displacement: 1,390 tons standard, 1,620 tons full load
Length: 306 ft (93 m)
Beam: 36.66 ft (11.17 m)
Draft: 8.75 ft (2.67 m) 8.75 ft
Installed power: 5,800 hp
Propulsion: 2 x EMP 16-645E7 (Turbo) Diesel Engines
4 generators
2 motors
2 shafts
Speed: 21 knots (maximum)
Range: 10,800 mi at 12 knots
Complement: 165
Sensors and
processing systems:

* Raytheon SPS-64(V)11 [2]
* Raytheon SPS-5 G/H-band Surface Search Radar
* RCA/GE Mk26 I-band Navigation Radar
* SQS-17B Hull mounted Sonar
* Mk52 GFCS with Mk41 Rangefinder for 3 in. guns
* 3 Mk51 GFCS for 40 mm.[3]

Armament:

* 3 × 3"/50 caliber gun Mk22 dual purpose guns
* 3 × Mk1 Mod2 Twin 60 caliber Bofors 40 mm gun
* 6 × Mk10 70 caliber Oerlikon 20 mm cannon
* 4 x 50 caliber 12.7 mm machine guns

The BRP Rajah Humabon (PF-11) is the current flagship, and the largest warship of the Philippine Navy. It is also the last Destroyer Escort / Frigate active in its fleet, and is considered as one of its oldest active ships, and in the world.

Tama Ka

A friend sent me this text message this morning. Had I learned this lesson earlier in life, my fate in love would have been very different.

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A perfect life partner is someone you can be with and talk about anything without realizing that the day is over... He is someone who will always listen and feel twice the joy and pain you are going through. When you start to feel that connection, never let it go for there is more to companionship than to love.

In the end, when all else fails and are consumed, you will always hold on to those times when you don't even need to hear the words, "I love you."

---

kay sarap
sariwain ng malayang
kahapon
kay hirap isiping
kay layo ng noon.

- Eraserheads, Tama Ka

Confessions Of Arclight (Last Part)

July 17, 2008

We have this saying that states "pumantay ka sa katapat mo." If you are eyeing a hot guy that you feel is superior to your looks, appeal and body size, better back off rather than suffer a tragic rejection from him. The rule applies not only to cruising places but to any interpersonal relationships that may develop into intimacy. There are exceptions to the rule, of course. But from what I have seen through Arclight's eyes these past two years, there seems to be a grain of truth to such saying.

I used the account not to boost my value, for I was fully aware that the person in the profile was not me. Arclight had his share of "hi's," "can we be friends'?" "fuck mo ako's" and all those boner-inspiring messages that were sent by those guys that I can honestly say I'd ogle for hours using my real account.

Since I had put myself in a situation where I'd always be the shadow of my fake account, it became my determination to rise up and be the person who can stand up without hiding behind Arclight's glare. Yes, the guy whose pictures I've stolen was good-looking, (I later found out that someone even made a thread for him) and the guys who used to send him hook-up messages were buffed and good-looking too.

Being the guy behind the fake profile, the pictures I've seen inspired me to improve myself.

In all the years I had these two accounts in G4M, I used Arclight's profile for boywatching. You wouldn't believe some of the guys who voluntarily sent their private pictures to me. The notes (in different cuts and sizes) were mouth watering - so were the faces that would make you say, "they are indeed God's gift to gaykind!"

If only I had the same spunk and confidence like the guys who sent me their private pictures, I wouldn't be writing this entry tonight.

I admit that such blessing (to have such gorgeous boys running after you) must be shared to others. So I let my friends access the account so long as they would never respond or befriend the guys who send Arclight "friendly" private messages. It was a deceptive move, but knowing how pretentious G4M is, it was our way of getting back. If they would ignore us - average folks when we send them messages, then we would give them the guy they'd go to great lengths just to catch his attention.

Tricking others was fun at the beginning, especially when you use Arclight to avenge your bruised ego after some jerk ditched you the moment he receives the face-pic you traded using your real account. The sweetest vengeance happens when you find out that you're far good-looking than the person who run away from your trade agreement.

However, the cycle of rejection, getting back at a jerk, ignoring someone who bores you to death, ignoring the guys who would invite you to go to their places wore me in the end. As a result, I deleted my real account early this year vowing never to return. Unfortunately, the temptations of the flesh was too hard to suppress and to address it without crossing the lines that was already sealed meant that I have to log on to the website using Arclight's account and look for "phone partners" instead. It worked for a time until I realized that I was already deceiving the people who were drawn to me because of a fake profile.

Early last week, the guilt of deceiving so many people and admitting my deed to some of them made me feel so bad that I finally decided to leave G4M for good. But before my final bow, I uploaded my own pictures - the sexiest ones that my sanity could afford, to let the ones I deceived know that I can be myself without slipping into another person's shoes. I roamed the website for one week and this time, I was able to achieve what Arclight had been enjoying in all the years he was my cover.

"hi! group orgy this sat and sun at ortigas extn. message your number if interested. if not no need to reply. Thank you."

"can u be my friend?"

"wow marunongka pla magpaligaya ng bottom? sana isa ako dun heheheh :P"

"tol sex tau? number mo?"

"who are the other Filipino writers you read? just great to see someone with hot pix here in g4m who actually reads :) of course i open the site to cruise but sometimes you find people who are interesting in other ways."

The gorgeous ones had ceased sending me private messages this time. After all, who I am to be noticed now that I'm not as ripped and buffed as the old photos in my profile. Strangely, the ones who sent me messages were kids. It only proves that I have the potentials to be a cradle snatcher long before I actually thought of it.

We always have this impression that the more good-looking or macho you are, the easier for you to find a mate. If you are talking about hook-ups or one night stands then you are right. But one thing I learned in this experiment is that the more good-looking and hunky you are, the lesser chances you will find deep and meaningful relationships in your love life. Your looks and the attention you receive had already bloated your ego that you think everyone that comes into your life is dispensable.

You tend to look and look and look, without getting any contentment in the relationship you already found.

In seven days that I have been present in G4M, most of the new guys I befriended turns out to be opportunists. They would seek your friendship only to reveal their sleazier or romantic intentions when you're beginning to trust them. Some will ignore your friendly message the moment they feel your only business with them is friendship.

Such is the life I found in G4M.

Despite my gloomy impressions, there are still avenues for sensible friendship in the website to develop. I was an avid poster in the Eclipse Thread to promote my gym and to encourage the guys in the thread to reach their goals, no matter how challenging their work-out programs are. I was also an avid follower of the Blog Thread to watch for anyone who would post their web links in the thread.

My big mistake however is that I dwelt too much on the sleaziness of the Sex and Fetish forums where the sole business of everyone was to seek hook-ups day and night. Funny how some members tried to look for true love when their personal ads said:

"gusto ko sanang magmamahal sa akin ay yung top na cute at malaki ang kargada."

you already have an idea how shallow their intentions were.

What made me sick of the place was the endless accusations and counter-accusations of people who have HIVs or STIs and still scouts the website for hook-ups. Posters in those threads were too cruel in their revelations that I avoided reading them altogether. It's like half of the community was doing a witch hunt, when the rest still glorifies the joys of bareback fucking.

The hypocrisy and discrimination was too much for me.

Guys4Men will always be Guys4Men indeed.

And since I already found happiness in being emancipated from the website before, I kept my word to delete Arclight after seven days of presence there. To think that my whoring days fell at a time when my hormones overwhelmed my renewed vow of abstinence, to come out alive despite the flood of tempting hook up invitations was already a miracle.

I will resume to my old ways of living beginning tonight. At least now that I'm free from my ties to the internet meat market,

I can draw my life the way I intended the fictional Arclight to live.

---

single
has a five year old son
has big businesses in mandaluyong
lives in rockwell center
drives a customized lancer evo

what can i say, life has been good to me
and i hope to share it with you.

Newsworthy

From Inq7.net

---

MRT train halts at Guadalupe station--official

First Posted 16:36:00 07/15/2008

MANILA, Philippines – One of the trains of the Metro Rail Transit (MRT) stopped at the Guadalupe station Tuesday afternoon, according to an MRT official

In a live interview over radio dzMM, Roberto Lastimoso, MRT general manager, said they were still investigating the incident.

---

When a dog bites a man, that, my friend, is not a news. Unless of course it was GMA who was bitten by a rabid dog. But when a man bites a dog, then by all means the story should be put on the front page of a newspaper and chances are, people will read it. The rule I just mentioned was the essence of our Newswriting class back in college. Funny how the guideline still bores deep inside my head even when I am not a practicing reporter.

The rule came to light after stumbling upon a news bulletin I read in the Inquirer website this afternoon. I understand that there are rules applying to economy of words. However, when the story suffers to the point that it becomes too lame for a news space, then it would have been better if the story hadn't been uploaded at all.

For one, MRT trains occasionally suffer from machine breakdown. It is a given fact.

Second, if the train broke down at 3 in the afternoon, where normally there are few passengers riding the trains and the operations would not suffer any major hassles, then what is the point of reporting the news?

The weakness of the bulletin lies in its lack of details. Had something catastrophic resulted to such unexpected stoppage (like someone jumping off the tracks out of sheer frustration of getting to work) then the news will become more interesting. I know, Inquirer updates their bulletins as the news develops. But in this case, it seems like they left the news suspended in mid-air.

In such cases, our professor gave away some creative techniques on how to spice a story.

Seasoned journalists call it Salsal. I'll leave it to your wild imagination to interpret what the slang means.

Protocol Myon Closing

In G4M this evening

Two days before account deletion

---

15 Jul 2008, 21:37
Mugen: badtrip hindi man lang kita maabutan ng online. Paalis pa naman ako dito sa g4m.

15 Jul 2008, 22:20
hot_drew2X: ha? ano? di ko ma gets tol...

15 Jul 2008, 22:23
Mugen: remember me?

pictures sent with this message:

15 Jul 2008, 22:29
hot_drew2X: ah ok...kaw pala...muzta na?

15 Jul 2008, 22:31
Mugen: ok lang pare. active ka sa mga threads lately ah. Hehe sumisikat.

pa-delete na ako ng account 2 days from now. Gusto ko lang magpaalam sayo.

15 Jul 2008, 22:32
hot_drew2X: wlang magawa ei...bakit naman alis ka na?

anong istorya...kwento ka naman....

15 Jul 2008, 22:34
Mugen: tagal ko na kayang wala dito sa g4m. 2nd account ko lang to, pang-boywatching dati.

Ganda ng mga pics mo ah.

15 Jul 2008, 22:36
hot_drew2X: thanks...bakit ka nawala...anong meron?...kwento ka naman...anong pinag gagawa mo na lately at bakit ka aalis? may bf ka ng nakita dito?hahaha

15 Jul 2008, 22:38
Mugen: Busy ako sa work, school, gym. Hehehe. Lam mo ba dati pare kaya ako nag-oonline dito eh para kumuha ng inspiration sa magaganda ang katawan?

15 Jul 2008, 22:40
hot_drew2X: ganun...owwws.....ito graduate na sa wakas...nagrereview na me...ok na ba katawan mo?...tigas na ba?

15 Jul 2008, 22:42
Mugen: Hahaha congrats. Parang kailan lang eh nawawala yung name plate mo ah! Tigas? Di pa nga eh. Hehehe.

Break a leg sa exam.

15 Jul 2008, 22:46
hot_drew2X: loko...katawan mo tinutukoy ko...kasi may mga fats ka pa nung huki tayong nagkita at nagsex!...hahahaha oo nga ei...katamad nga...pagod na utak ko kakaaral tol...

15 Jul 2008, 22:49
Mugen: Loko alam ko yung nirerefer mo. May fats pa ren. Hindi naman ako kasing payat at sexy mo eh hehehe. Pero come to think of it, mga 20 lbs na yung binagsak ko since nung last time tayong nagkita. What you see are my latest pic.

15 Jul 2008, 23:00
hot_drew2X: medyo ok na nga ang chest mo...sarap na susohin...hahaha

15 Jul 2008, 23:01
Mugen: haha sigurado ko nakatikim ka pa ng mas firm sa chest ko. Ehehehe. Kaw pa!

15 Jul 2008, 23:06
hot_drew2X: medyo...hehehehe

15 Jul 2008, 23:09
Mugen: sabi sayo eh. sa gwaping at angas mong yan. Hehe. Tama na nga baka sabihin mo binobola pa kita.

Paano pare. Offline na ako. Kung di na tayo magkasalubong ulit, goodluck sa exams mo.

Nung naghahanap ka ng name pin mo dati, pinakelaman ko yung notes mo. Sipag mo naman sa school so you deserve the best.

Goodnayt.

---

I count hot_drew2X as one of the five FUBUs I had since I began playing with boys six years ago. We did it in his apartment under the same stormy weather the city is experiencing these past few days. He was a good bed partner and his extra sweetness moved me to respond with the same degree of sweetness towards him.

Rarely do I show genuine feelings to someone I had SEB. What I would show most likely is just an act - that is if the deed had not yet made me feel empty after enjoying a brief surge of orgasmic bliss with a mate. Since he was someone out of the ordinary, I decided to treat him for lunch - at a Tapsilugan near his place when we did it the second time around.

Our intimate moments triggered some feelings, which I secretly harbored towards hot_drew2X. I suspect that it was his passionate kisses, free-flowing conversation while resting between rounds, and tight assuring hugs that broke my barriers. Unfortunately, when he began calling me baby when we were texting each other one evening, I decided to withdraw my feelings by sending him replies in a neutral but friendly tone. Hot_drew2X understood what I wanted to convey and he backed off. Our communication was cut off after.

When I took over my second account last week, it became my objective to find him in G4M not to renew our ties, but to indirectly express my appreciation for giving me one of the fondest memories in that website. Good thing he logged on this evening and showed some interest in engaging a conversation with me.

I don't know if things are really over between us.

But I am glad.

That before I leave the place once and for all.

I was able to say goodbye to the only guy I had sex with, and that I took seriously in that website.

---

Pero paano ba tsong kapag ang naka-sex mo ay may potential mo maging FUBU. Paano ang gagawin mo sa sitwasyong may tendency ka maging extra sweet sa taong hindi mo naman dapat pagtuunan masyado ng pagkatao.

At siya nga pala parekoy, ano ang gagawin mo para ma-impose sa utak mo na ang lahat ng playmate ay playmate lang. Walang kaibi-kaibigan, walang tropa-tropa? Diba ikaw nga ang nagsabi, na indifferent tayo sa kanila after?

Paano ba magtaboy ng potential FUBU partner, lalo na't takot kang maging close, Joms?"

- Protocol Myon Two
November 15, 2007

Jansport

Paano mo masasabi na may sanib ang bag mo?

Alam ko ang iba sa inyo ay nag-iisip. Heto na naman ako't pinapairal ang pagiging mapamahiin ko. Sabagay, paano naman sasaniban ang isang bag eh hindi naman iyon gumagalaw. Ang mas malaking tanong doon ay kung ano ang ginagawa ng isang bag na sinasaniban? Ito ba'y nagsasalita ng Latin o kaya'y tinatagasan ng berdeng likido gaya doon sa palabas na the Exorcist? Ito ba'y nagbo-bounce at pilit nagpupumiglas sa pagkakasabit niya sa balikat upang kumaripas ng takbo't magpahabol sa daan?

Well,

Hindi naman ganun ka-exaggerated ang kwento ng Jansport backpack kong may sanib. Ang mahalaga ay mapalitan ko na ito hangga't maaga - bago pa maisipan nitong gawan ng hindi maganda ang cellphone, wallet at iPod ko.

Ganito kasi ang nangyari.

Tanghaling tapat kanina, umalis ako ng bahay (matapos makipaglaro sa telepono sa isang binatilyong nakilala ko somewhere) na makulimlim na ang kalangitan. Wala pa ako sa may pintuan ng biglang bumuhos ang pagkalakas-lakas na ulan. It's raining mew-mew and aw-aw nga. Badtrip. Mabuti na lang at may jacket ako't payong na dala. Gusto ko man magpatila subalit mahuhuli ako sa trabaho. Bukod dito'y nag-aalala rin ako na baka abutan ng baha sa daan. Mabuti na ang mabasa na astang koboy. Ang mahalaga'y makapag-time in ako sa bundy clock sa tamang oras.

Gaya nga ng sabi ko'y inabutan na ako ng ulan sa daan. Hindi naman ako nabasa, ngunit dahil ugali ko na isabit ang pulang backpack sa aking likuran tuwing ako'y naglalakad, lahat ng tubig ulan na bumabagsak sa aking maliit na payong ay umaawas sa bag. Huli ko na nalaman na hindi pala waterproof ang bag ko. Ang kinalabasan, nabasa ang lahat ng gamit sa loob nito.

Double Badtrip.

Mabuti na lamang at hindi ako nagdadala ng libro o kaya naman ay school papers tuwing pumapasok sa trabaho. Nasa isang plastic container naman ang baon kong Oatmeal at plastic jug naman ang gamit ko sa pag-inom ng tubig kaya cool lang mabasa ang bag ko. Ang problema nga lang, medyo mabigat ang karga ko papasok. Dumaan kasi sa aming baranggay ang NFA kaninang umaga at dahil bagsak presyo ang kanilang binebentang bigas, sinamantala ito ng aking mga kasambahay at hinoard ang mga rice packs na magkakasya sa iniwang pera ng nanay ko.

At dahil may naalala akong isang taong medyo taggutom ngayong mga araw, humingi ako ng rice pack na kasalukuyang pinaparada ng mga hoarders sa aming sala. "Para sa customs," ang hirit ko sa mga nagdaraan. Hindi naman sila nagreklamo, bagkus ay masaya pa silang nagbigay sa akin ng isang rice pack ng bigas.

Malalim na ang tubig sa may JRU nang makarating ang sinasakyan ko dito. Nagmagandang loob pa nga akong akayin ang isang babae upang siya'y hindi malaglag sa baha habang sumasakay ng FX nang ito ay pumarada malapit sa isang bangketa. Mabuti na lamang at napalitan na ng ambon ang malakas na ulan. Kaya naman wala ng hassle noong ako ay bumaba ng sasakyan malapit sa Acacia Lane.

Sumakay ako ng tricycle na magdadala mismo sa akin sa tapat ng opisina. Sa kasamaang palad, malalim pala ang baha na daraanan ng aking sinasakyang motor. "Itaas mo yung mga binti mo boy," utos sa akin ng driver. Dali-dali ko naman siyang sinunod kaya kahit dalawang pulgada lang ang pagitan ng tubig baha sa aking upuan ay nakaahon naman kami ng hindi nababasa ang aking puwitan.

Ayus na sana ang lahat, maliban na lamang sa aking karimarimarim na nadiskubre nang mapansin kong bukas ang zipper ng aking bag.

Sa totoo, ang Jansport na gamit ko ay pag-aari ng utol ko. Nagkasundo kaming magpalit nang minsang naimbitahan siyang magbakasyon sa Baguio kasama ng aming tiyahin. Marahil ay nagustuhan niya ito kaya niya inari ang backpack pagbalik niya ng Maynila. Mapagpaubaya naman ako kaya't hindi ko rin ito na binawi sa kanya.

Subalit may mariing babala ang kapatid ko bago niya binigay sa akin ang kanyang backpack. Ang zipper daw nito ay kusang bumubukas lalo pa at mabigat ang nilalaman nito.

At nangyari nga kanina ang pinapangambahan ng utol ko.

Sa dinami-dami ng maaring malaglag sa loob ng bag gaya ng aking baunan o kaya naman ay yung mabahong cologne na binili ko sa Adidas noong isang linggo, ang nahulog pa ay yung tumbler at yung kulay asul na rosaryo na ginagamit ko sa pagdarasal bago magsimula ang shift sa trabaho. Madali lang naman magpalit ng rosaryo. Ang nakakapanghinayang nga lang ay ito ang rosaryo na na siyang nakapagpabalik-loob sa akin.

Mabuti na nga lamang at natagpuan ko pa sa upuan ng tricycle ang kasama nitong prayer booklet.

Come to think of it. Dalawa sa mga sacred items na sumasalamin sa aking kabutihan ang sinuka na ng Jansport bag ng utol ko.

Una ay si Dominus.

Pangalawa ay ang aking rosaryo.

Kung hindi ka ba naman magdududa sa pagka sa-demonyo ng bag na ginagamit ko ay ewan ko na lang.

Eraserheads Generation

Funny how we remember bygone years whenever Grey clouds hover above our heads.

It was half past six in the morning. The sun had barely took a peek behind the same heaving clouds, when I found myself seated inside a Cubao-bound jeepney going to school. The passenger who sat next to me might have been rudely awakened too that morning. His eyes were still drooping when he boarded the jeep somewhere in Welcome Rotonda. Other passengers took advantage of the long breezy travel to take a nap by leaning their heads on their arms as it dangles, hand tight, on the stainless estribo hanging overhead.

In those days, Love Radio and Yes FM weren't on air yet. In its place were FM stations that played songs from Pinoy Rock bands who probably had recently signed up with recording studios that raked millions from selling cassette tapes alone. Mp3s were not yet invented and so were compact disks. Music piracy wasn't yet a serious problem and MTV was still considered a staple for rich people who owned satellite dishes in their stately homes. Internet hasn't arrived yet in the country and computers were more of a fancy rather than a practical tool for everyone.

The year was 1994 and I was in Grade Six.

I could not remember the other songs played on the radio that cloudy morning. There was a desperation in me to catch some sleep like what the other passengers did beside me. The maid, who was my daily companion going to school was busy looking at the pedestrians outside. She claims to enjoy people watching and it was the sole reason why she was chosen to accompany me everyday. Meanwhile, just when I was about to close my eyes, a strangely appealing new song was played on the radio.

"Gagawin ko ang lahat pati ang thesis mo
‘Wag mo lang ipagkait ang hinahanap ko"

The tune was smooth and flowing. It was not like the rap and monotonously instructive "Mga Kababayan Ko" of Francis Magalona, which was the anthem of the day. It wasn't a ballad like what Neocolors and Introvoys were singing in those days. The tune I have just heard was totally refreshing, it's almost like a reinvention. The lyrics projected an image of a laidback student trying to win a girl's heart by doing her little favors. The vocalist had a spunky and youthful appeal that would become his trademark for years to come. The song was so catchy that I instantly fell in love with the band. I even told my yaya after the song was played that it will become popular in the months to come.

I was right. Not only did the song become a hit. The band who sang it rose up to become an icon representing an entire generation.

---

And so Eraserheads became popular. They set the standards in music for other bands to follow. I won't tell much about them for others have already written countless stories and praises about the band. All I know is that if someone ask me what was the first cassette tape that I bought, my answer will be Circus.

They had their ups and downs. I remember how the song "Alapaap" became a controversy after its "subliminal" message caught the attention of then Senator Tito Sotto who put the issue on spotlight to gain media mileage for his upcoming reelections. The controversy died a natural death but it catapulted the band to dizzying heights. By the time they released their third album Cutterpillow, Eraserheads had already reached the zenith of their music career.

Like most people I know, I stopped buying their albums after Sticker Happy. Their music had evolved too fast that their fans, including me, simply lost touch of their songs. I felt their swift dive towards obscurity when Aloha Milkyway was released. Unfortunately, they had become too commercialized that their soulful appeal had faded. It was only recently, after Dodong's influence that I finally appreciated their music's maturity in the album Natin99.

I admit that it would still take some time before my ears could finally adjust to the songs in Carbon StereOxide. At this point in the band's career, they simply had grown too different from the Eraserheads I heard inside the jeep going to school. As fate would dictate, the band split up a few months after their last album was released. Ely Buendia formed a short-lived band called Mongols. In his place in the Eraserheads was a disappointing replacement by the name of Kris Dancel.

---

Much as it was painful to let an icon go, Eraserheads had to fade away or it would suffer an end not worthy of its beginning. It would be like Rivermaya, in its final days when it was being sidestepped by newer bands like Bamboo, Spongecola, Cueshe and even Hale. The signs of Ehead's passing were already showing during CarbonStereOxide's time and I guess, the band owes it to Ely Buendia's initiative to leave the group that gave them the legacy it can still boast today.

However, when news about a reunion concert circulates in the internet, one can't help but get excited at the prospects of seeing the people who shaped one's music taste appear on stage after a turbulent break-up.

It's like having one's life being played back all over again.

And speaking of beginnings, I remember attending my first-ever concert together with my mother at Amoranto Stadium one cloudless night of 1993. The bands that played in that concert were Joey Ayala, Freddie Aguilar, Grace Nono, Color it Red, The Jerks, Gary Granada and The Youth. One band that performed that night, which I unfortunately never saw because I was sleeping was the Eraserheads. It was one of their first gig long before "Pare Ko" placed them on the spotlight.

If and ever I would get to attend the reunion concert this August. I would be given a once in a lifetime opportunity to witness the birth and final death of a star. Once the availability of the tickets are announced, I will make sure to get the second stub.

For the Eraserheads concert will not open a new beginning. It is a one-night performance that will officially close an age.


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Singularity Device

In our common grief
and common pain
and common struggle,
we learn to rise up.
Because we know,
nobody else
could do things the way
life taught us.

In our common comfort
and common understanding,
even if miles and our own lives
will keep us apart. You know,
I know.

There is a singularity
that will always connect us both.

Thanks for the dinner
and the conversation my friend.


- Tokyo Cafe, SM Mall Of Asia

Exodus Of The Butterflies

Starbucks, Vito Cruz Manila - Roads are made for cars to pass, but on a cloudless early dawn, the car-less Taft Avenue is a welcome sight to the often congested street corner that frustrates commuters when they go to Buendia. The blissful silence, which is occasionally punctured by roaring container trucks stir some thought-provoking topics with Lostwansoul and several pexers who choose to stay and wait until the sunrise comes. I am thankful that such opportunity presents itself, for it gives a variety to the monotonous clubbing nights I usually seek in Malate.

"So how do you see your life in the years to come?" Lostwan asked, as he lights a stick of cigarette.

I didn't understand his question at first, so he rephrased it to get the exact answers from those who listened. "Do you want to grow old and die in the country?"

For some reasons, the sorry state of the country has been the dominant subject in tonight's coffee talk. One pexer, who I will call Phil in this entry arrived from San Francisco last month and told us how things were run differently there. He said that their healthcare system was awesome, their social security net really works for the people, and they are really attentive to disabled people. You can see in his eyes how his six months work had transformed him. He even said bitterly that in all the years he toiled here, he never felt the taxes he paid went back to him.

Comparisons were made at how taxes were spent here and in the US. In the country, money goes to corrupt officials and their cohorts, which is already a fact of life. Phil observed how people die here because our healthcare system sucks. "It's miserable to be poor in the country," he said. His words were like daggers falling from the sky. It stabs deep no matter how you try and cover yourself with anything to soften its impact.

If only I could share his sentiments. But for someone who never left the country his whole life, I do not know the points to compare.

All of them agreed that they want to live and die elsewhere. Lostwansoul preferred to enjoy his retirement in Australia or New Zealand because their society looks more progressive than ours. Another said that he might return, but he does not want to get old in Manila. This prefers to retire in the province. "At least doon, may mag-aalaga sayo," he defended.

Sadly, I was the only one who said I'm cool to stay and die here.

"I cannot imagine myself living in another country. Yes, you will earn big there but for what?" I answered painfully and with conviction in my heart.

"Maybe you do not see it as your plan yet." Lostwansoul answered.

God knows how deeply attached I am to my roots. If there is one big reason I haven't packed up my things yet to join the millions of overseas workers across the planet is because of my loved ones doesn't need the money I would send back. It is my presence that is more important to them. Our bond is so strong, that even if one takes my loved ones away from the picture, the more I cannot see any sense in living the rest of my life elsewhere.

Kaya ka nga nabuhay ay upang magkaroon ng silbi sa iba. Then I'd live for those who loyally served my family for years.

I cannot say that I'm nationalistic or a supporter of the administration. The government sucks, our leaders suck and sometimes, I think the Philippine society sucks. It doesn't mean that because everything sucks here, it's better to move elsewhere. Knowing that many people had already lost hope in the country, the more we should encourage the believers to stay,

and convince those who are still undecided to wait.

Because governments change and leaders change. One enlightened ruler, who is honest enough to dedicate himself for change can inspire an entire society to follow his lead. It happens elsewhere, so probably it can happen here too.

Of all the pexers who were talking about migrating at the steps of Starbucks this morning, I was one of those who is capable of leaving and going to places they never thought of settling. If I'm seriously itching to leave the country, I'd simply write to the cultural minister of a far-flung country like Iceland, Estonia or Montenegro, present myself as a writer who is interested in comparative civilization, and offer to visit and write as much as I can about their culture to promote here in our country. My golden ticket lies not with my connections, but with my affiliation to the Oblation.

They would consider. After all, a culture as old as theirs would be eager to export their way of life to an exotic land like ours. Imagine the opportunities I will get between the lengthy and profound comparative discussion of cultures and the moment I begin writing about them. Maybe in the wondrous process of discovering their way of life, I might get invited to stay with them for a long time.

However, when I weigh things out and realize how much I'm needed here than in any other place on the planet, my instinct would tell me that I am not ready yet for migration. There are so many things about the country, for better or for worse that I can still live with.

Jose Rizal, for all his wealth and influence did not settle in another country to live a good life. He instead choose to die in Bagumbayan out of his love... he said, for the country. I do not have the blazing passion of our national hero nor I care much for the Philippines. Much as it thrills me to plant my seeds in another land and eventually become one of their productive citizens, in the end, it's my conscience that tells me

Someone needs to stay behind.

Santo

"Kung ganyan ay diretso ka kaagad sa banyo. Yung tipong walang masyadong dumadayo. Sabi sayo, hindi ko sinasanto ang mga bathrooms dito sa amen. Hehe."

- a reply to Binxtdor's post, Ang Sarap ng Precum, pinoyexchange.com

---

Alas-sais ng hapon ngayong gabi. Nagising ako matapos ang pasimpleng pag-idlip na inabot rin ng mahigit isang oras. Bagot at wala pa ring ginagawa sa trabaho, dumiretso ako sa banyo upang umihi at manalamin.

Habang pinagmamasdan ang sarili, isang maharot na ideya ang sumagi sa aking kukote.

Dali-dali kong ni-lock ang pinto sabay takbo sa pinakadulong cubicle. Gamit ang mga gasgas na sex scenes na ginawa ko noong ako'y palaban pa, hinayaan kong tumagas na parang pre-cum ang kalibugan sa tulong ng aking mayamang imahinasyon.

Nakatayo sa harap ng toilet, sinimulan kong himasin si Junior. Hindi pa natatapos ang isang minuto'y tanggal na ang aking sinturon at nakababa na ang butones ng aking pantalon.

Pigil kamay kong binayo si Putotoy.

Taas...

Baba...

Ahhhhh..

Matigas, namumula, lumalaki, humahaba, naglalaway. Heto ang tugon ng aking alaga habang patuloy at pabilis ng pabilis ang salsal ko rito.

Kay sarap sanang ginagawa ito ng may kasama.

Sa utak, pilit kong inaalala ang lahat ng mga pinagagagawa ko noon. Sa tropa kong masahista sa Extreme, sa bathhouse sa Pasay, sa mga nagparaos sa akin na namit ko sa internet noon. Pilit kong binabalik-tanaw yung mga porn moments na ngayo'y hindi ko na magawa-gawa; Yung mga malalaki't matataba na naging matinding hamon sa akin noon. Yung mga hayup na nagpadugo sa aking...

... labi

Shit... Malapit na.

Heto na..

Tangina...

Plok. Plok. Plok. Tatlong putok ng Mount Pinatubo.

Timing na timing na habang ako ay nilalabasan ay biglang bumukas ang pinto.

Yung car agent sa katabing opisina namin. May susi pala siya ng banyo.

"Sino yung mga kasama mo sa Quattro noon?" Pangisi niyang tanong sa akin.

"Ah mga barkada ko. Tambay ka rin pala doon." Sagot ko habang pina-flush ang toilet sa paraang pag-apak sa plunger nito.

"Oo. Noong minsang nag-inuman kami dun, may nag-away sa malayong table. Lahat ng customers na naipit sa loob, pinauwi. Libre lahat ng ininom at kinain."

"Astig!!"

Umaasa akong hindi niya nahuli ang aking kalokohan. Jahe kasi kung nagkataon. Subalit, sa tanda niyang iyon ay naiintindihan niya na may pangangailangan na kailangang tugunan ni Kelly Kamay.

Sorry na lang sa dudumi't uupo sa inidoro.

Habang siya naman ay dyumidyinggel sa katapat na urinal, pasimple akong naglakad patungo sa faucet upang maghugas ng nanlalagkit na kanang kamay.

That was fucking close!

At gaya ng mga near misses na nangyari sa akin noon, lumabas ako ng banyo na parang walang nangyari.

"Tamang tama, tatambay ulit ako sa Quattro't ti-tyempo ng away dun para makalibre." Huli kong tagubilin sa aking kasama.

Bumalik ako sa cubicle na malinis ang kamay,

at tanggal ang kati sa katawan.

Confessions Of Arclight (First Part)

July 17, 2006

Dear XP,

I mentioned in our little conversation several weeks ago the importance of looks among people like us. You are absolutely right. Appearance, especially bodybuilt plays a big role in the consideration of meet-ups, hook-ups, relationships, and even in the establishment of an order in the "world" we choose to dwell.

Harsh, but the truth is, the more good-looking and masculine you are, the more guys are get drawn to you. It's a fact of life I have to accept now that I am putting myself on display in the meat market of Guys4Men.

Unfortunately, you know that my current built could not sustain someone's attention for more than a millisecond. I've been ignored several times and these rejections crushed me. And I wasn't looking for hookups mind you, I was just trying to be friendly with other guys like us.

To get back at those who ignored me, I thought of having an experiment. I would create an account and put myself on a hottie's shoes for a change. I want to experience how it feels like being rich, sexy and good-looking. I also want to experience having a command of the market, where no-one will ever reject me because of my built. I know you think I'm delusional in attempting this experiment.

But rest assured bud, when this is over, I will learn no matter how insane the idea is.

---

The experiment began two days ago. While browsing Friendster at work, I found the account of my newest favorite radio station, 107.9 Underground Radio. The FM station plays house and electronic music night and day. It's like clubbing at BED or Government the entire week without the hassle of going to the said places and paying the pricey entrance fee. Anyway it's just a new radio station but their list is full of beautiful people.

I checked the profiles that were linked to the radio station's list of friends. One profile that caught my attention was a photo of a guy with a tribal design tattooed on his back. He was standing on a beach with his sexy back exposed to the camera. His ripped torso alone was so yummy ha, what more if he showed pa his face.

I opened his profile to check more about my potential guy. Goodness, he was so gorgeous I could have wet myself in an instant. Imagine bud, his pectorals and shoulder blades were perfect. He had pointy, high-bridged nose and a strong jaw that made his face appear commanding. He was a Chinito and was God's gift to big boys like us. Unfortunately he's married and have kids at a young age of 23. Oh well, he's one guy that exists to be admired and be drooled by the likes of us.

I already had an extra account in G4M since last week. I was suppose to do an experiment about a very ugly guy. (the photos I used were from Ms. Macaldo that was cropped and mutilated by a collegue) I wanted to know how the nagmamaganda folks from the website would respond to his flirty private messages.

However, I got bored with the experiment because the photo-cropper did not give me a new batch of pictures to add to my experiment's profile. Besides, nobody responds to my private messages, not even the most effeminate ones. After browsing the married guy's profile on Friendster, a new idea sparked inside my head. I would use him as a fodder for my new experiment. Immediately, I scrapped Ms. Macaldo's traces on my new G4m account and replaced it with the photos of the guy I found on Friendster.

The married hottie suddenly became an "unsure" tripper.

---

The new photos were approved this morning. On the profile's first two hours of being "parked" in Guys4Men, tens of private messages from other members came rushing in. Most of them sent messages of admiration to my guy's flawless half-naked body. When I responded to their messages favorably, they would send back replies laced with sexual overtones. Some were even so aggressive from the start that they would not beat around the bush and solicited hook-ups at 9 in the morning.

What's flattering about using the guy's profile was that those equally muscled guys from G4M, who would outrightly ignore my own profile's messages suddenly were the one sending messages to my experiment account. I was so overwhelmed by their admiration that I can't help but be flattered myself- even if I don't own the pictures.

To give credit to the married guy who really owns the pictures I "borrowed," I made sure that his "character" would remain dignified and noble, even if I used it in a sleazy website. I made sure that he won't appear choosy or harsh to other guys in G4M. Honestly bud, I felt guilty yesterday while uploading his pictures.

But this is something I want to experience myself.

For the first time, I felt how it was like to be attractive to the eyes of everyone.

And what I've learned from the experience is something I never expected.

---

single
has a five year old son
has big businesses in mandaluyong
lives in rockwell center
drives a customized lancer evo

what can i say, life has been good to me
and i hope to share it with you.

-tobecontinued-

Mrs. T.

"Magandang tanghali po ma'am," would be my first greeting of the day when I leave the house to go to work. The person I greet is often seated in a monoblock chair surrounded by her grandchildren near our compound's entrance.

She would nod to acknowledge my presence. You know that she's in a good mood when she engages you in a small stalk starting with the question, "Ngayon ka pa lang papasok sa trabaho?"

"Opo," I would politely reply.

"Bah edi maganda pala ang oras mo." She would smile enthusiastically. "At least hindi ka gumigising ng maaga."

It would be the beginning of a casual explanation about my work and my shift, which begins at 2 in the afternoon. Sometimes, I would tell her that I leave early to attend my gym classes or do some favors for my mother. Even if she and my mom rarely talk, they both have high regards for one another. That is why when I mention my mother when we talk, her face brights up the moment I tell her my mom's current activities.

Our small talk would occasionally be broken when her grandchildren show up to ask some petty favors. As the kids pester her, I on the other hand would be lighting a cigarette I bought from her son's Sari-Sari store. After receiving complementary words from her, I would bid farewell only to repeat the same routine the following day.

I call her Mrs. T. She is a plump woman in her mid-sixties with a sagging face, thick wide lips and graying hair. I do not know much about her except from what our neighbors have told me. They said that she used to be a teacher in a public school not far from where we live. A few years ago, she retired from teaching after doctors discovered that she had a Kidney problem. Now she's on dialysis and despite her affliction, she's able to handle her children like a true accomplished mother does.

The last time I saw Mrs T. was last week. She was standing next to her apartment's door and her steely small eyes was fixed at some imaginary object in front of her. I would have greeted her that afternoon, but knowing that the decision regarding our complaint last summer was served by the Baranggay that same week, I decided to pretend not to see her. I thought that her withdrawn face had a connection with what was written in the order.

However, whispers tell of a conflict between Mrs T. and her husband Mr. T. Apparently, Mr. T is having an affair with a robust lady who used to be one of her daughter's pedicab driver. This slut, who I often see horsing around with other pedicab drivers a few blocks away from our compound is the bane of Mrs. T's failed marriage. I've heard from our maid recently (who is the official tsikadora of the compound) that the T couple had separated. I didn't delve much about the details, but I knew that it was a welcome news knowing that Mrs T. can live in peace once the drunkard Mr. T leaves the house.

Unfortunately, some things do not happen the way we thought them to be.

I found out the truth two nights ago.

Coming from work only to find my sister wearing her underwear while being slumped on my bed, I became furious. However my mom's breaking news had turned my bursting anger into unspeakable grief when she told me that Mrs T. passed away yesterday afternoon. The reason for her death was sketchy at first. Mom said that it was related to some heart ailment that Mrs. T had complained since early last week.

Things only got clearer when I attended her wake this evening.

According to her eldest daughter, the T couple sold their family home to one of their children a month ago. When Mr. T received his share amounting to two hundred thousand pesos, he suddenly went missing together with his passenger jeep that used to be the family's only source of income. The slut, who used to roam the neighborhood to hound Mr. T had gone missing as well. Mrs. T immediately figured what happened and despite her recurring fever, she searched the entire neighborhood for the missing Mr. T.

Having chills and all, she asked people for any clues that would lead her to her husband and his witch. Apparently, no one knew where they were staying and yet everyone claimed that the new couple had cell phones that cost ten thousand each. The slut was also seen wearing expensive stones when she shows up in the neighborhood at ungodly hours of the night. These rumors, fanned by people who enjoyed following the scandal involving the T couple, was enough to make Mrs. T furiously mad at her husband, that she even went to the police station to complain about Mr. T's philandering activities.

"Paano niyo idedemanda ang asawa niyo eh wala naman kayong ebidensya," said the officer as related to me by Mrs. T's eldest daughter at the funeral. Apparently, the officers were in a jolly mood at that time, which made the poor Mrs. T the laughing stock of the whole precinct.

Come Monday last week and she was picked up by one of her daughters. Her condition then had turned bad to worse. The following day, she was admitted at the Ospital ng Makati. Her doctors said that Mrs. T had a severe case of urinary infection and needed an immediately dialysis to recover from the infection.

Money was never a problem, even if Mr. T who showed up at the last minute admitted that what's left of his earnings was a mere 200 pesos in his wallet. His children can shoulder the hospital expenses after all.

But it was Mrs. T who surrendered the fight.

Perhaps, out of severe depression at her husband's grand betrayal, she lost the will to live. I do not know much about dialysis, but I've heard before how risky the procedure is. Mrs T. suffered a massive heart attack while her blood was being filtered by the machine. She was pronounced dead at 2 pm yesterday, surrounded by her five children who rushed to the hospital to be with their mother at her final hour.

---

Her passing was a splash of cold water that awakened me from my deep slumber. Life is indeed fleeting and we must spend each day as if it would be our last. I've heard the saying a thousand times before, but it only hit the right tune last night - when my mother told me of Mrs. T's sudden passing.

People often tell me that I am good, kind, compassionate and all those adjectives that point towards goodness. I don't pick fights or openly complain even if it meant being pushed around or being exploited because of my passiveness. I have reasons and I must say, I'm involving the divine for my actions. In the years after my dad's passing, I've learned to put myself in a precarious, uphill position, so I will always know that life is a trade-off.

And heaven watches our every move.

In life, I only wish for three things.

First is to live long enough to serve and look after my mother.

Second is to never let anyone dear to me suffer a death so tragic it would leave me traumatized for life.

and third is to never live a life of guilt knowing that I've hurt someone so bad and that person would carry the grief beyond the grave.

For we only get to taste life once. Might as well savor the best of it rather waste a lifetime spawning hate and grief to others.

Mrs. T is at peace now. She passed away surrounded by people who truly loved her. When I viewed her remains this evening, she wore a smiling face that nobody could explain how it happened. I do not know if it was the work of a master mortician but her presentation was so appealing, even those who are afraid of the dead would find her jolly face comforting.

As for Mr. T, no matter what his reasons are for leaving his wife, will never give him peace. In fact, I can already smell the stench of retribution awaiting him and his young mistress. A few months from now one will be left behind. The abandoned would seek his children, who would all ignore him. They will never forgive the one who caused their dear mother great pain when she was still alive.

The abandoned would drift in some nameless gutter. He would become one of those vagrants we often see in some bangketas when we pass over them. He would die a cold, lonely death - perhaps maybe spending his final breaths calling his dead wife's name, asking for forgiveness. There would be no reply of course, because this is how karma works.

We often think that we could get away with our actions. Sadly this is not the game played by the universe.

For whenever we cause great pain to others, sooner or later life gets back and restore the imbalance done by our choices we do with our lives.

Wanda Ilusyonada

Note:

Ang sabi nila, kapag umabot na sa rock-bottom ang iyong relasyon, it is best to seek advice from an effeminate for fresh insights daw about love. Ewan ko kung totoo yun. Basta ang alam ko, mas magaling sila mag-handle ng relasyon at mas masakripisyo sila sa kanilang mga boyfriend.

Isang bagay na pinanindigan kong gawin bago isuko ang naunsyame kong buhay pag-ibig ay balikan ang isang entry ni Wanda Ilusyonada na inaasahan kong makakapagbigay-gabay bago ako magbitaw ng desisyon.

Dahil sa entry na ito, pinili kong talikuran ang lahat ng poot at sa halip, pansamantalang tanggapin ang mga bagay-bagay para sa ikakatiwasay naming dalawa.

Saan ka man naroon Wanda. Salamat sa entry mong ito.

---

Dennis da Chenes: ACT 1

"... but once in a while i get caught
unaware by the thought
that you cared once and
then memories resurface once again ..."

- forever and a day

pag nakarami ka na ng beerangga at sesenglot-senglot ka na at naka-shombay kayo sa isang parking lot sa baguio at OA na utong mo sa pagka-baktong at yung bibig mo e umuusok kahit wichelles ka namang nagsusubarachi at si sunshine cruz e nagbabanta nang sumilip any monument, kahit aneklavu pa i-isplukatsina nung ka-chikka mong boylet e super deadma ka na.

kasi bet mo nang umeklipany-mae (matulog). tapos yung naririnig mo na lang e puro ka-eklatan.

take it away, ida. TIME SPACE WARP, NGAYON DIN!!!

college. kunu-kunuhang shala na hotel na wa namang heater yung shower. 3 days-2 nyts na field trip. ambaduy nung field trip. kahit baguio pa itu.

sabi ni dennis sakin, "ang ganda ng mga stars, no? eklat - eklat - eklat ... special tong gabi na to ... eklat - eklat - eklat ... parang pakiramdam ko lahat masasabi ko sayo ... eklat - eklat - eklat ... i dunno why im telling you all these ... eklat - eklat - eklat ... i like you ... (walang eklat tong part na itech) ... you know what, i like you ... eklat - eklat - eklat ... potah, anlamig. diyan ka lang, naiihi ako ..."

tapos chinikka pa niya kay atashi yung buong medical history nung pamilya niya. pati yung jinsan niyang jortista tsaka basketball player e paki ko naman, davah?? pati yung dis-abantejes ng pagkakaroon ng matangos na ilong (gaya nung tumatama yung ilong pag umiinom sa baso), pangto-two time ng dati niyang gufra-mae (gf), pati yung pagiging alcoholic ng pamilya niya na may i wonder ng O si atashi kung bakit niya ko pinapahirapan ng ganitembang.

at sa isang biglaang moment of saylenz e hinalikan niya yung lola mo. liptolelang galore. lipchukan to da max. siyempre polite-politan si atashi kaya naki-kiss na rin akiz ahihihihi at dahil may gulat factor ang kissing scene, may ka-join itung pangingilo ng iping nagkatamaan. ARAY!

aksyon spiks louder than words, mga bektas. sa aksyon na to, nabingi talaga ko. nag-disappearing act yung mga ka-eklatan, en por da pers taym in history e na-heardsung ko siya at yung gusto niyang sabihin.

AT PARANG UMINIT BIGLA SA BAGUIO, SAN KA PA???? (sabay kindat ang bakla hehehe)

pero may dramang pasabik yung lola mo. sabi ko, wag ngayon. wag dito. igalang mo pagka-babae ko. kasi na-sight ni atashi yung plashlight ni edGARDo angara. e bukas na yung polo ko at nashonggal ko na belt niya. lecheng mga sekyu to, may pagpapatrol pang nalalaman.

"akyat na tayo ..." sabi ni dennis. feeling ko na-offend siya na akechi yung unang lumayo sa eksenang lovapalooza.

"eh gusto kita ..." sabi ko. bumabawi si bakla.

"i know ..." sagot ni dennis. confident itech! nagfi-feeling na ampotah!!!

"anong you know?"

"hindi ko na nga namalayang wala na pala akong belt eh."

hehehehe skill yan. may lahing ninja yata tong badidang na to. wag ka mag-alala, papa-seminar ako.

tapos itinulog na lang namin yon. kinutuban akeiwang may second serving ng ka-eklatan eh. kamustahin naman natin ang puson, godivah?

nung sumunod na gabi, patulog na lahat. tumambay ako sa parking. sa mismong sulok kung san kami nag-lapchukan ni dennis. loner-loneran kunwari. hoping and wishing ang bakla na havs ng repeat performanz.

"may problema ka, bakla?" phone in question ni donita, ang bessie kong babaeng nyoklita, na kala mo siningaw ng lupa at may i apir itu bigla.

"umakyat ka na ..." sabi ko. "past your bed time na."

"as if naman tatangkad pa ko." kasi pinaglihi sa hobbit si donita. di ko lang ka-sure kung mabuhok rin yung paa niya. pero may duda ako hahahaha ..

"umakyat ka na sabi e!"

"uy! may poot ang delivery," side comment ni donita. "may booking ka, no?"

"wala," sagot ko.

"umamin ka, bakla. kilala kita. hindi ka bababa ng baguio nang wala kang ginagawa."

kureksyon, donita. nagawa. past tenz itu

"kala mo naman sakin, pokpok ..." depensa ni atashi.

"hindi. tamang makati lang ... mag caladryl ka nga." at nagsimula siyang magtuturo ng kung sinu-sino, "siguro yun yung booking mo ... ANG KATI MO TALAGA!!!"

"AY! sumpa ka, impakta!"

tama namang dumaan non sina dennis pati yung tropa niyang adik sa ragnarok na kung bet mong jumoin sa clan-clanan nila e kelangan may dsl ka sa balur mez, nagra-ragna ka tsaka kelangang pagtuunin ng karampatang pag galang ang lahat ng klase ng beerlalei at alkohol sa 7-11.

literal na dinaanan lang akiz non ni dennis. wa pabati. wa chikka factor. wa haller at kung anufaflu. wa man lang kiss, kahit hindi french. kahit yung flying lang.

bitter-bitteran ang bakla na bumuntot sa hobbit pabalik sa hotel. asa ka pa. wala ka nang kiss chenes-chenes.

tapos tumunog yung nyelpons ni atashi. si dennis. nagpadala ng smiley hehehehe (punyeta, ba't kinikilig pa rin ako???? ambabaw ampotah!!!)

sa 9 months na tinagal namin, maraming moments na sumagi sa isip ni atashing kumalas na. parang naging habit ko na nga siya non. wit ko lang ka-sure kung talagang hurt-hurtan akechi o betsung ko lang mag power trip at mag feeling na pipigilan niya ko. aminin, bin der bin dat babaeng bundat ka na sa mga eksenang ganito.

pero say nga ni dennis nung unang attempt kong makipag-break, "nobody said this was easy." awwwww ... LECHE! planado na sana yung kilig episode ni atashi kaya lang na-discovery channel ng lola mo na pinirata sa songhits yung linya. KABOG!

pero simula nung moment na yon, tuwing sinusumpong ako ng mannerism kong makipag-quits na lang at break na, bumabalik ako dun sa umpisa. kung saan lahat nagsimula. hindi ako literal na umaakyat sa bagyo. kumbaga sa negosyete tsaka sineskwela, magbalik aral tayo ...

sa ka-eklatan. sa smiley. sa kauna-unahang lovapalooza. at sa malamig at mahamog na parking lot sa baguio.

kasi, at eto tandaan mo tuwing nalulubak yung relasyon mo, "nobody said this was easy ..."

pero yung sagot ko don, "no one ever said it would be this hard ... oh take me back to the start ..."

kamusta naman, davah? sa na-unsiyameng relasyon namin ni dennis, na mala-cheapipay na hayskul musical ang drama, gamit na gamit yung songhits talaga. san ka pa!?!

---

Wanda Ilusyonada Blog

---

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard

Oh take me back to the start

- Coldplay, The Scientist