Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Endings Of A New Kind

Mga bagay na aking haharapin sa pagdating ng bagong buwan:

---

bum sister doing nothing to find a new job.




half-brother suffering from an old and fatal illness.




family business still in peril (and on the verge of collapsing).



how to let a tiny enterprise take off.

---

Marami ang kailangan pagtuunan ng pansin at marami ang mga bagay na dapat asikasuhin. Subalit sa mga nangyayari ngayon, tila hindi ako handang maglayag sa malawak na karagatan ng buhay na aking kailangan tawirin. Sakaling ang hangin ng tadhana ay umihip kontra sa aking lupang nais marating, palaisipan kung saang dalampasigan nito ako dadalhin.

---

Photos taken from inside the Pacific Plaza Towers in Fort Bonifacio. Three weeks ago, a classmate from the Masters offered her place to have our second to the last essay writing workshop.

Describing her home as elegant is an understatement. My eyes have never cast its gaze to such wondrous opulence like what I've seen around me: Wooden carvings of Buddha from Indochina; silver dining set brought from London; fine linen draping over her rounded glass dining table and bottles and bottles of red and white wine from around the world stacked in her minibar. Never will I forget the huge forest mural clinging against the wall across from where I sat; and her state-of-the-art flat screen TV whose dimensions rival those of my double-size bed.

Lucky I am to be given such opportunity, for I know, it may never happen again.

And in times my reverie affords me a time for remembering, it will be the same memory I will keep playing over and over in my head in hopes that someday,



These still images wills me to claim them for myself.

Monday, March 30, 2009

It's time baby.. uhmm uhmm yes it is...

I just had enough
It's time for me to stop
Thnking of you
makes it hard for me to laugh
You're so confusing
I gotta move on
Gonna tell you something
can't wait too long.. I need to move on


Chorus:

Time, run a lil bit faster
Have to feel better
there's no turning back.. (it's over)
Boy, the game is over..
Yes, I've been a fool (always a fool)
breaking all the rules
But now I'm getting wiser
We just can't be together..
The game is over.. over.. over..


Tried my best to find
What's going on your mind
But now I'm tired
crossing.. yeah.. crossing the line
Tell me what you want
Do i hafta go?
Please tell me what you want
Coz if you don't.. I have to let you go

*Chorus


Boy, you are fading
You never cared bout my feelings
If you're finally leaving
Then I have to stop believing..

*Chorus

=====

Look me in the eye
and tell me you didn't lie
said you still feel the same
but it felt like I lost the game

I can't ask what went wrong
when everything's wrong from the start
I'm tired of hearing love songs
please don't play with my heart

Chorus:
It's so out of line
Wish I could turn back time
I should've read the signs
Your lips were colder than mine

My mind tells me to let you go
but my heart needs you so
it just happened out of the blue
and I don't know what to do

But baby i'm still holding on...
believing what you said was true
Maybe i'm just fooling myself
catch me im falling for you

The Chickboy Strain

This is what really happened last night.

---

[09:35] Centurion: proud daw ang princesa
[09:35] Centurion: hehehe
[09:36] Centurion: well.. ngayon ka lang niya kasi nakitang ganun...
[09:36] Centurion: ako twice na kitang nakita
[09:36] MuGen: alam mo ba kung ano ang nangyari talaga?
[09:36] Centurion: nangyari na?
[09:37] MuGen: kagabi
[09:37] MuGen: paano nauwi sakin yung chick
[09:37] Centurion: pano nga ba?
[09:37] Centurion: nag cr ako
[09:37] MuGen: yung babae kasi
[09:37] MuGen: lasing na nung abutan natin
[09:37] Centurion: pag balik ko may kalingkisan ka na na chick
[09:37] MuGen: kung kani-kanino dumidikit
[09:37] MuGen: nung una dumikit na siya sa akin
[09:37] MuGen: tingin kaagad ako kay lukayo
[09:37] MuGen: haha kasi kinabahan ako
[09:37] MuGen: tapos nawala yung babae
[09:37] MuGen: lumingkis sa iba
[09:38] MuGen: eh yung mga tangang straight
[09:38] MuGen: hindi marunong umantabay sa chick
[09:38] MuGen: kapag nabubuwal hinahayaan
[09:38] MuGen: hayun, nung tutumba siya nasalo ko kaagad ang siko
[09:38] MuGen: napansin niya, ngumiti sa akin
[09:38] MuGen: hindi ko namalayan
[09:38] Centurion: in fairness joms.. panalo ang ang beauty niya..
[09:38] MuGen: nakasandal na siya sa katawan ko

---

Second to straight-acting men, it is the ladies I hit on whenever I find myself on the dance floor. I cannot resist getting aroused whenever I see curvy hips sway and real boobs bounce to the sound of house music.

The spectacle witnessed by Encantadia at Guillys is just one of the shameless display of lewdness I do whenever I loosen my inhibitions because of the music and alcohol. It was the sexy chick who came to dance with me and had there been no eyes watching us, (especially the girl's best friend) my moves could have been more aggressive. I remember the last time I did swing with a girl by telling her all the sweet nothings I could come up with, I ended up making out - tongue slurping, spit swapping, and cock-boob squeezing - with this fag hag despite being surrounded by gay men inside a bar in Malate.

I bet their eyes were all telling me "kadire" and "ipokrito."

But its just me. The flirting wasn't intentional, I'm just good at making bola.

And despite my tendencies to pull a trick like what Darwin and the rest of the gang have seen last night. I stay faithful to my leanings.

No, I'm not bisexual.


I don't see myself enjoying the mount and hump part when the trick extends up to bed.

---

And when I do end up with a chick in bed. Lemme see, I'll let her take it from behind.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

One Earth Vote


---

Salamat sa Global Warming, madali akong uhawin kapag naglalakad sa ilalim ng nangangalit na araw ngayon. Minsan isang hapon, dali dali akong pumasok ng 7-Eleven upang bumili ng Summit Vitamin Water. Pakshet kasi ang weather, uulan sa umaga tapos aaraw naman ng bonggang-bongga sa tanghali. Marami tuloy ang nagkaka-sore throat kaya't pilit kong pinapataas ang resistensya sa pamamagitan ng pag-ooverdose ng bitamina sa katawan.

Matapos magpalamig ng onti, kumuha ako ng isang plastic na bote ng vitamin water mula sa fridge. Nilagpasan ko ang mga chips na nagsusumigaw ng "masarap ako, bilhin mo ako!" o kaya naman ay "mahal mo ako diba? eat me!!" samantalang paulit-ulit ko namang sinasambit ang mga katagang "tukso layuan mo ako" habang dumadaan sa harap ng hile-hilerang Piatos, V-Cut, Pringles at Ridges na nakasalansan sa shelf.

Walang nakapila sa bayaran kaya lagpas tengang ngiting inabot ng kahera ang aking pinamili.

"21 pesos po sir." sambit ng gwapong gwapong salesclerk sa aking tapat.

Naglabas ako ng sakto, para hindi na hassle magtabi ng sukli.

Akmang isusupot niya ang aking tubig na may halong bitamina nang bigla ko siyang pinigilan.

"Huwag po kuya!" Gusto ko sanang idagdag ang salitang masakit...

"Ah ayaw niyo sir?" Hindi niya ma-gets. Marami ang nagsisikip...

"Iinumin ko lang naman yan eh." Plastic na nga yung bote ko, plastic pa yung supot. How redundant.

"Kalat lang ang plastic." Bulong ko sa sarili.

Umalis akong bakas sa mukha ang pagtataka ng kahera, samantalang ang matabang dalaga na nakapila sa likod ko ay walang pakiealam na humihingi pa ng dobleng supot para sa kanyang jumbo siopao na kakakuha lang sa steamer.







Picture ninenok sa blog ni Dear Diarya.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Avenida: The Manila COD Interludes

After J. Dalisay Jr.

---

I think I was eight or nine years old when my mother and I would scour the entire stretch of Avenida in search for a great bargain. Sometimes, we would go there to buy some groceries or just do window shopping, especially when times were difficult and budget was tight.

She would pick me up at around 7 in the evening coming from her day-long teaching job at a state university. We would take a short jeep ride from our house in Santa Mesa to the fringes of Recto, and then ride another jeepney going towards the direction of Carriedo.

I remember, she would always sit beside the driver (and sometimes even asking the man in front to surrender his seat and ride at the back) for she can't lift her feet up the steps at the rear entry of the passenger vehicle. She's disabled since birth and her feet were limited to cover just a few blocks when used for walking.

The jeep would drop us off at Uniwide Sales Club just below the LRT Carriedo Station, where mom would buy a few items to fill our small provisions cabinet: Laundry soaps, toiletries like Pepsodent toothpaste and Tender Care Bath soap, and several canned goods (which include Maggie Chicken Noodles, 555 Tomato Sardines and Hunt's Pork and Beans). After roaming the aisles for a few hours, off we head to the cashier section to pay our goods. Mother would sometimes pay in cash, but often, use her gift cheques acquired from salary swapping in school.

We would leave the supermarket just in time for the closing. Since there's no use competing with other bystanders waiting to get a ride home, mom would limp her way back to Recto, clutching her bag of groceries on her left hand, while holding mine on another. When time was free. Goodwill Bookstore served as our pit stop and resting grounds before trudging again the barely lit sidewalks of Avenida.

When inside the bookstore, mom would set her eyes on the stack of books marked as SALE. She would pick one, browse its contents while letting me check out the coloring booklets and animal-themed domino sets not far from where she stood. We were just there for the window shopping, however, when we find ourselves in front of the already closed bookstore, we move on and rest our feet at the nearby Manila COD Department Store instead.

Manila COD sat next to Madison Department Store. Both stores sold clothes, shoes and household items at discounted prices. I could not recall if these thrift shops had any distinction that would set them apart, but both stores had a profound impact which still make ripples when it comes to my buying habits.

One night, a few minutes before closing time, mom and I entered Manila COD. She immediately went to the household items area while I ran towards the toys section to check for new die-cast miniature cars on display. It was never my habit to hold my mom hostage when I like something so much, but when I found one die-cast toy car impossible to resist, I resolved to hold my ground until mom gives in.

And so I made it a point to get noticed - not by crying like some brats do - but by pressing my head against the glass window and ignoring her calls for us to leave. I stayed in that position until mom, asked these few questions which still echoes whenever I find myself deadlocked when buying expensive stuffs nowadays.

"Kailangang kailangan mo ba yan anak?"

"Hindi ba puwedeng ipostpone yan?"

"Anong kapalit na gagawin mo kapag binili ko ito?"

One would get tempted to say that I was conditioned to consider everything first before acquiring toys at a young age. It maybe viewed as repression on my part but as I grew older, I learned to appreciate the lessons mother tried to teach me. In truth, we could not afford indulging ourselves with material gains, but rather than let my unprepared ears hear what she had to imply, mom applied psychology to let me see things her way.

With much prodding from the salesladies who surrounded us, (for the store was already closed and they were probably itching to go home) mom gave up and bought the Fuchsia Toyota Crown which I had set my eyes on since arriving there that evening. Because she spent the budget set for our dinner for my new toy car, she resisted the urge to stop at Stateside Burger for us to grab something to eat.

Our stomachs were empty when we arrived home at past midnight.


---

Avenida is dying. The old nooks of my childhood - the sundry movie houses showing the latest films; the thrift shops that lined the street; and even the Stateside Burger Joint at the corner of Recto and Avenida are now gone. Save for Madison's Department Store, whose passing is as imminent as its geriatric Tsinoy captain and its crew of aged salesladies, what is left of Avenida are rows and rows of Ukay-ukay stores, cellphone repair shops, a couple of motels and a handful of seedy beer houses which have already turned the strip into a derelict.

I do not know if an urban renewal plan could turn the place around, but as I passed by the same sidewalk this evening on my way home, I cannot help but trace back the steps which my mom and I used to tread during our bonding nights. Amidst the cigarette vendors, low - key prostitutes and vagrants of all lore, I was busy recollecting my thoughts to re-imagine the Avenida that was.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

The Manila COD Diaries (First Part)

Notes written for on-the-job training documentation purposes. Original notebook still survives.

Wordings and tenses modified to improve the clarity of each entry.


---

Monday. November 24, 1997

"Today we went to Manila COD to attend the orientation. There were around 10 of us from my batch and the speaker talked endlessly about using the time card, the rules and regulations of the company, the allowance we will receive at the end of our duty and the control gate where we need to show up first and be frisked before reporting to our respective departments within the store premises..."

Sunday. November 30, 1997

"Tonight is the eve of my OJT. I want to spend my free time lounging and doing nothing at home because I will miss bumming for quite some time. I'm very tense of what will happen tomorrow because I don't know if I can survive the hardships of being a salesclerk...

...I know that later on, my life will go back to normal and this opportunity will be my key to the future...

I expect problems specially adjusting to my new environment because I don't have any experience working before. I expect troubles coming my way knowing how stupid and clumsy I could become sometimes."

Monday. December 1, 1997

"Today is the first day of work. I left PUP at around 1:40 pm and ate dinner shortly after arriving in Cubao believing that we will stay up until 9:00 pm. When we showed up at the control gate, the security personnel asked us to proceed to the HR department to claim our time card and ID. We went back to the CG after receiving final instructions, where we found our supervisors restlessly waiting...

I was assigned to the Boys Wear Department...

...I encountered different kinds of customers. At first, I asked them how I could be of assistance. Most of them only got annoyed and avoided my presence. Later on, I learned a new technique in handling customers. I would just stand beside them, like the mannequins around us, until they approach me and seek my assistance. That was how I was able to close 7 sales on my first day..."

Tuesday. December 2, 1997

"It's my second day at work and I am still adjusting to my new surroundings. I arrived at past 3 in the afternoon since we stayed first in my classmate's house near COD. There's nothing to worry about since they expect us to report later in the afternoon...

The supervisor was absent so there's no pressure in my department. I was introduced to the sales assistants, most of them have been with COD for decades, and the other 2 trainees from our school. These trainees were from college. Although I was not able to memorize their names, except for Sir Manny who was assigned to be my guide yesterday, I came up with nicknames to get acquainted with my new workmates.

... I had a customer, she's an old woman and from her looks, one would get an impression that she does not earn well. But I was touched because even if she looks poor, he bought 3 pairs of shorts and shirts which are on sale for her three kids.

... I was able to use the intercom to request for sizes and additional stocks for the first time. I was also able to hold and verify a credit card without any assistance from the other sales assistants. What a great achievement!

... We left the store at 9:15. Bad Trip! I was left behind when all my classmates made sabit at the jeep. There was no space available and if I force myself to hitch at the side rails, there's a good chance of falling off the vehicle."


Sunday. December 7, 1997

"Busy day at work. There were a lot of customers at the store because of the sale yesterday. Unfortunately, there were many of us trainees as well so I wasn't approached very often. It's my worst day of the week because I came late for the first time. I also lost my company ID and school ID this evening. I wasn't able to find them."

---

Next door is COD Department Store, which is known for its animated Christmas tableaux. One of the biggest department stores in the country during the ’70s, COD is owned by the family of Ral del Rosario Jr. who was once a swimming champion in the Asian Games. People came in droves during the holidays just to see the COD display. All the shows are Christmas in theme, but the motif would change every year. One time it was a rustic celebration of Christmas; another time, it was Christmas in outer space, with Santa Claus emerging from a spaceship. For years, it was an event for many shoppers to drop by Cubao just to see the show.

Rikki Jimenez
Remembering the Araneta Center during Dekada ’70



I just found Sir Manny's Friendster after publishing this entry. Ah the joys of remembering. Hope he still remembers.




-tobecontinued-

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

IV - Salesmanship

Once I had a dream of earning big by turning all my energies to running a business. It was an ambitious goal, whose beginnings I could not even recall. The drive urged me to choose Salesmanship as my elective in high school. Though it wasn't as cool or prestigious like the other electives like Bookkeeping and Stenography, I knew how practical the applications were of the subject my heart would like to take.

During enrollment, some of my classmates-to-be shed tears after learning that they were banished among the dregs. You see, Salesmanship had a very bad rep in our high school. There was this age-old myth propagated by the teachers that those being thrown there ends up being corrupted by its below-average majority.

"Kaya kung ayaw niyong maging kalawang sa high school, wag na wag kayong pupunta sa Sales!" our teacher in second year sternly warned.

With the intense drive to be an achiever, to be associated with the academically-challenged compromised one's chances of being on top. However, when I learned that my application was granted, (yes, I was one of the brave kids who defied the myth and really applied for that elective) I ran from one end of the corridor to the other to joyfully announce my victory over the current order. Those chosen to represent the star sections would find my cause of celebration quite silly (for they double-think that I'm not just a loser, I even validated it) but there I was, giddy and excited for the school year that was to come.

Flash forward two years later. In the elective subject known to us as Marketing, we learned to understand and respect market forces and harness them to our own needs. We may not have the physics, chemistry and algebra geniuses of the other sections, but our combined wealth, selling experience and delinquent influence among the better students gave us the leverage to sway them to our side. We embraced the principles - point by point - of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. We immersed ourselves to companies big and small in hopes of understanding their operations (where I had to do a term paper alone after standing against my group who did nothing during my one-on-one interview with an export company, then suggesting that we should do a report on San Miguel instead) And finally, instead of wasting our time doing high school kids do (falling in love - less, getting vain with our looks and get-ups - less and making all those pa-cute things just to get noticed - less) we sold anything (including those cutesy and rosy stationary pads used to writing love letters) to anyone just to apply what we learned in class.

The year before, we sold snacks, chips and candies to the entire high school department through our little sari-sari store outside the classroom for a project; we provided the star sections ideas on how to make money instead of spending their leisure time pursuing their geeky or vanity passions; and finally, we let them use our classroom to play Magic Cards (and spare them from embarrassment of getting caught doing a violation in their untainted corners) provided that they will support and patronize any money-generating enterprise the best of us could come up with.

Such was the life we had in the final years of my high school. I do not know if anyone from the class did really set their eyes to achieving our money-generating dreams, but now that it is all coming back, I remember, once there was a teen, and his stepping stone to getting acquainted with real-life marketing was to become a salesclerk. There, at Manila COD in Cubao did he learn to assist customers from all walks of life, swipe credit cards and record invoices, and slip his feet in someone else's shoes to become the person who takes his inquiries and orders, now that he's the one who lets others swipe his card whenever he purchases at a department store.

His older reveries echo through mine and now that I am coming up with a serious distraction to counter my economic insurgencies, his thoughts and optimism, I hope, will drown any hesitation for pushing on with my new-found life alterations.

---

-tobecontinued-

Monday, March 23, 2009

Foo Fighters

The Pushpaka chariot that resembles the Sun and belongs to my brother was brought by the powerful Ravana; that aerial and excellent chariot going everywhere at will .... that chariot resembling a bright cloud in the sky ... and the King [Rama] got in, and the excellent chariot at the command of the Raghira, rose up into the higher atmosphere.

A Reference to the Hindu Flying Machines, the Vimanas
Mahabharata

---

My mom used to tell us this story about our close encounter of the third kind. In the early days, our old house in Sampaloc had this very large opening next to her room's bathroom. Like a sundeck on a densely packed neighborhood, it lead to the neighbors' rusty rooftops, where toddler steps like mine made creaky, clattery sounds which threw the back-door neighbors in a fit of rage. Long before they decreed to put up a concrete wall to block our exit for good, the window was left open at the middle of the night. There, my dad would let me sit by the windowsill as we made animal figures out of stars and planets in the sky. Mom would sometimes join us in between her grinding house chores or test paper checking breaks, thus completing a picture-perfect portrait of a family peeking out from a wide opening to try and figure things out in the dark.

One night, I remember being slightly interrupted from my sleep after dad insisted on seeing a strange object hovering high above our house. Carrying me on his shoulders, we raced towards the sundeck window where my mom was already peeking outside to catch a glimpse of the flying disk. Mother would later claim every time the subject is brought up that what we saw was a metallic orange ball of light and that there were other witnesses across the city, and that the appearance of the strange flying object even made headlines in the news the following day. Mom would even tell us that she discouraged my dad from opening the window too wide out of fear that we might get abducted. These crystalline details were lost to me now. What I can vaguely recall was seeing a bright orange object.

Nothing more, nothing less.

However, when I hear stories about strange orbs creating light shows or woozy movements in the sky, or whimsy unidentified flying things being reported chasing earthbound aircraft only to outrun it at lightning speeds, I recall that time when we had an encounter of our own. A decade after bearing witness to that shiny metallic object hovering high above our sun deck window, a UFO craze descended upon the mainstream media. It coincided with the coming "Rapture" where, according to its promoters, every chosen soul will be abducted and placed on one of the huge evacuation starships in orbit around Earth. They were even building a secret base somewhere at the foothills of Mount Banahaw to prepare for such interstellar humanitarian effort.

At the height of the media frenzy, I was going gaga over these things, believing I could be one of the chosen ones as told by the "contactees" being interviewed on television. Dad did not discourage me from my delusions, and instead fueled it by giving me this dossier full of press releases about the UFOs and their respective space commanders. For quite some time, I tried to "telepathically" make contact with these visitors hoping they would give me a hint of their presence. The only thing I saw during the entire madness was a runaway balloon fleeing to the sky from a children's birthday party somewhere in the neighborhood.

The sensation eventually fizzled out a few months later and the hyped "Rapture" disappointed everyone, including me. One of the "contactees" ended up being a sideshow publicist of the late "Da King" during a national elections another decade later, while the lead spokesperson for the visitors now fashion herself as a modern age Babaylan and established a cult somewhere in Mindanao a few years ago. Such were the fate of those who decieved an entire nation and made their believers think that their homeland was the "New Jerusalem" of the coming millenium.

While many have forgotten about this "grand" scheme envisioned by those visitors from the sky, it left me searching for answers. I sought the wisdom of Carl Sagan by reading his books Cosmos and Contact; opened my mind to the possibility of our first civilizations and early histories being tampered by extraterrestials according to Erich von Daniken; and scoured countless astronomy books in our school's library and in the bookstores for any real proof that life could exist in another planet.

But like the constant cycles of the moon, time changes everything and eventually, I gave up my childish wonders in exchange for something more real. Gone are the days when I would think about ways of sending humans to planet Mars and instead, just focus my attention on some pressing matters like where to get the money to pay for my credit card bills next month.

On some restless nights however, my inner geek suddenly escapes and leaves an ion trail across the four corners of my room. In need for means to get distracted, I would watch episode reruns of Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica or Babylon 5 to feel the good old days again. Sometimes I would find myself browsing the internet reading spoilers of my favorite space-themed movies or articles about close encounters in wikipedia. When in need to kill time, I would still recreate interstellar empires on the computer and let myself enter another reality by engaging alien civilizations in diplomacy, trade or warfare instead of pursuing my other sensual needs.

Things would have been easier if I never keep this lingering question whether are we alone in the universe or not. I do not know how it got into my thoughts, but I suspect that my earliest exposure to outerworld speculations remain the biggest culprit. Carl Sagan, until his death, only had assumptions as to why the existence of other beings were possible, while Von Daniken was refuted and declared fraud many years after his most popular books were published. The International Astronomical Union continues to catalogue planets outside the solar system, as SETI remains listening for any radio signals being transmitted from outer space.

The answer remains elusive and time is running out. The more I grow older and gain more scars in life, the less I think of things

like UFOs
and life in another planet
and human-like silhouettes appearing and disappearing in your peripheral vision. (which I know, deserves an entry of its own.)

But life would never get its spice if every mysteries that abound have already been resolved. There will always be subjects we would question and some series of events that we would ponder and yet, never understand at all. Much as I would like to put some sense to the things my eyes have seen, there are times that it is easier to accept them as they are, rather than complicate everything with reason and logic.

"Swimming ng Encantadia noong isang gabi sa Pansol Laguna. Katatapos lang namin maghapunan at nabusog ako sa hipon na luto ni Darwin at adobong manok at lumpiang ubod na dala ni Bloiggster. Nagyoyosi ako sa labas ng aming kuwarto nang mapansin ko ang tatlong pulang ilaw sa kalangitan. Noong una ay akala ko na mga antenna ito ng isang cell site. Subalit sa aking pagmamasid habang patuloy ang paghithit-buga ng sigarilyo, ang mga pulang tuldok ay kapansin-pansin na mabagal na gumagalaw sa kalangitan. Tila ba ito'y may patutunguhang direksyon at hindi lamang mga ilaw sa mga cellsite gaya ng una kong akala.

Marahan ang paglalayag ng mga ilaw patungo sa bundok Makiling. Gusto ko sanang tawagin ang mga kasama ko subalit pinili kong mapag-isa habang pinoproseso sa utak ang aking nakikita. Bukod rito'y maaring hindi rin nila paniwalaan ang aking mga hinala. Una ay walang sasakyang panghimpapawid ang mangangahas lumipad ng alas-diyes ng gabi, maliban na lamang kung ito'y isang pampasaherong eroplanong patungo sa ibang bayan. Ikalawa ay tatlong ilaw na malayo ang agwat sa bawat isa ang nagpruprusisyon sa itaas kaya't hindi ito matuturing na isang eroplano lamang. Panghuli, ang pagsuong patungo sa bundok ay isang napaka-peligrosong paglalakbay. Isang hibang na piloto ang gagawa nito lalo na't kung para sa adventure lamang ang kanyang pakay.

Nawala rin ang mga ilaw matapos ang ilang minuto. Marahil ay nilamon na rin sila ng mga ulap gaya ng bundok na kanilang daraanan. Marami ang naglaro sa aking isipan matapos ang kanilang mabagal na pagguhit sa langit. Naroon ang ala-ala ng aking first encounter kasama ang aking pamilya na aming natanaw sa likod bintana at pati na rin ang agam-agam na pugad daw ng kababalaghan ang mga bundok sa paligid ng Makiling. Dumating ang umaga na pilit ko pa ring iwinawaksi sa diwa ang aking mga nakita kinagabihan.

Subalit gaya ng mga ibang kababalaghan na naranasan ko na noon, mahirap kalimutan ang isang bagay na alam mong bumaon na sa iyong alaala."

---

The term foo fighter was used by Allied aircraft pilots in World War II to describe various UFOs or mysterious aerial phenomena seen in the skies over both the European and Pacific Theater of Operations. - Wikipedia, Foo Fighter

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Diwata | Dream Journals Twenty

Barely Fifteen Minutes Ago:

Me: Kuya Ed, Magandang Umaga! Busy ka? May kuwento ako sayo.

Kuya Ed: Mabuhay! Kuwento!

Me: Ewan ko kung may relation to sa kuwento mo last night pero napaniginipan kita sa gubat (doesn't remember if he was rapeling or something, but I know it was raining and thick dark clouds hover above. It must have been late afternoon) tapos for a split second may narinig ako sa background na nagcha-chant na matandang babae na never ko pa narinig ang chant. Tribal siya no doubt. Kinuwento ko sayo kasi mamaya baka mawala sa tenga ko yung part ng kanta. Kinilabutan ako.

Kuya Ed: Write what you remember! In detail. Tapos kuwento mo. Write muna!

Me: Part ng chant ng matanda eh may salitang ya'ah'weh. Paulit ulit yun bago ako nagising.

Kuya Ed: Wow Yahweh.

---

Over dinner last night at TGIF, Pastor Ed Lapiz was telling us how he was able to record using audio equipment 33 hours of T'Boli epic which no one has ever done before. He said that at first, the chanters would hesitate their performance. It took him two days before they were convinced to chant their tribal story and they never stopped after.

According to the T'Boli elders. The diwatas of the forest (which they claim were around them at that time) told the chanters that Pastor Ed "was one of them."

Pastor Ed has this advocacy of preserving oral tradition, which he fears, would be lost to the nation if he doesn't step up and collect them.





As expected, I lost the chant, which kept playing in my head just when I was about to publish this entry.

It must have been something.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Escape Velocity

When humans question the validity of their existence, they look up in the sky and dream of the stars.

Some civilizations even send their flying machines to outer space just to be reminded that some future awaits them among the company of heavens.



The Baikonur Cosmodrome (Kazakh: Байқоңыр ғарыш айлағы, Bayqoñır ğarısh aylağı; Russian: Космодром Байконур, Kosmodrom Baykonur), also called Tjuratam, is the first and largest operational space launch facility in the world. It is located in the desert steppes of Kazakhstan, about 200 kilometers east of the Aral Sea and north of the Syr Darya river, near Tjuratam railway station. The facility derives its name from a wider area known as Baikonur and is also traditionally linked with the town of Zhezqazghan. It is leased by the Kazakh government to Russia and is managed by the Russian Federal Space Agency. It was originally built by the Soviet Union in the late 1950s as the base of operations for its ambitious space program, but fell into decline in the years after the dissolution of the Soviet Union in December 1991.

Vostok 1, the first manned spacecraft in human history, was launched from one of Baikonur's launch pads, which is presently known as the Gagarin's Start.


The John F. Kennedy Space Center (KSC) is the NASA space vehicle launch facility and Launch Control Center (spaceport) on Merritt Island, Brevard County, Florida, United States. The site is near Cape Canaveral, midway between Miami and Jacksonville, Florida. It is 55 kilometers long and around 10 kilometers wide. A total of 13,500 people work at the site as of 2008. There is a visitor center and public tours; KSC is a major tourist destination for visitors to Florida. Because much of KSC is a restricted area and only nine percent of the land is developed, the site also serves as an important wildlife sanctuary; Mosquito Lagoon, Indian River, Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge and Canaveral National Seashore are also features of this area.

Operations are currently controlled from Launch Complex 39, the location of the Vehicle Assembly Building. The two launch pads are 3 miles (5 km) to the east of the assembly building. The KSC Industrial Area, where many of the Center's support facilities and the administrative Headquarters Building are located, are found 5 miles (8 km) south.

Kennedy Space Center's only launch operations are at Launch Complex 39. All other launch operations take place at the adjacent Cape Canaveral Air Force Station (CCAFS), which is operated by the US Air Force.


The Guiana Space Centre, or more commonly, Centre Spatial Guyanais (CSG) is a French spaceport near Kourou in French Guiana. Operational since 1968, it is particularly suitable as a location for a spaceport due to its proximity to the equator, and the fact that launches in the favourable direction are over water. The European Space Agency, the French space agency CNES, and the commercial Arianespace company conduct launches from Kourou.

The location was selected in 1964 to become the spaceport of France. When the European Space Agency (ESA) was founded in 1975, France offered to share Kourou with ESA. Commercial launches are bought also by non-European companies. ESA pays two thirds of the spaceport's annual budget, and has also financed the upgrades made during the development of the Ariane launchers.


Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center (JSLC) (simplified Chinese: 酒泉卫星发射中心; traditional Chinese: 酒泉衛星發射中心; pinyin: Jiǔquán Wèixīng Fāshè Zhōngxīn) is a People's Republic of China space vehicle launch facility (spaceport) in the Gobi desert, Inner Mongolia, located about 1,600 km from Beijing.

It was founded in 1958, making it PRC's first of three spaceports. More Chinese launches have occurred at Jiuquan than anywhere else. As with all Chinese launch facilities it is remote and generally closed to foreigners. It is named as such since Jiuquan is the nearest urban centre, although Jiuquan is in the nearby province of Gansu.

The Satellite Launch Center is a part of Dongfeng space city,also known as Base 10 or Dongfeng base, which also includes PLAAF test flight facilities, a space museum and a martyr's cemetery.

JSLC is usually used to launch vehicles into lower and medium orbits with large orbital inclination angles, as well as testing medium to long-range missiles. Its facilities are state of the art and provide support to every phase of a satellite launch campaign. The site includes the Technical Center, the Launch Complex, the Launch Control Center, the Mission Command and Control Center and various other logistical support systems.

The center covers a massive 2800 km and may have housing for as many as 20 000 people. The facilities and launch support equipment were likely modelled on Soviet counterparts and the Soviet Union, at least in the early 1960s, may have provided technical support to Jiuquan.

The launch center has been the focus of many of China's ventures into space, including their first satellite Dong Fang Hong 1 in 1970, and their first manned space mission Shenzhou 5 on October 15, 2003.

Shenzhou 6, the second human spaceflight of China, launched on 12 October 2005 on a Long March rocket from JSLC.



The Satish Dhawan Space Centre (SHAR) (सतीश धवन अंतरिक्ष केंद्र) is the launch centre for the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO). It is located in Sriharikota in Andhra Pradesh, India and is also referred to as Sriharikota. The centre is located 80 kilometres north of Chennai in South India. It was originally called Sriharikota Range, and was sometime known as Sriharikota Launching Range. The centre was renamed to its present name in 2002 after the death of ISRO's former chairman Satish Dhawan.

The centre became operational in October, 1971 when an RH-125 sounding rocket was launched. The first attempted launch of an orbital satellite, Rohini 1A aboard a Satellite Launch Vehicle, took place in 1979, but due to a failure in thrust vectoring of the rocket's second stage, the satellite's orbit decayed.

The SHAR facility now consists of two launch pads, with the second built recently. The second launch pad was used for launches beginning in 2005 and is a universal launch pad, accommodating all the launch vehicles used by ISRO. The two launch pads will allow multiple launches in a single year, which was not possible earlier.

India's lunar orbiter Chandrayaan 1 was launched from the centre last October 22, 2008.

---

Several centuries earlier -- legend says about 1500 AD, around the middle of the Ming Dynasty -- a Chinese stargazer named Wan Hu dreamed of going where no man had gone before and set out to turn that dream into space age reality.

According to the legend, Wan, a local government official, was obsessed by the stars and planned a rather harebrained scheme to get himself closer to them.

Wan tied 47 rockets filled with explosives to the chair in which he was sitting and ignited them. There was a large explosion, but when the smoke cleared Wan Hu was gone and never seen again.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Soulkeeper | Dream Journals Nineteen

I found myself seated in a concert hall, where the dirty white walls were stale and the dull wooden armchairs were on the verge of falling apart. People sat at a distance from one another. Men had dark velvety coats over their open-collared shirts, while women had corsets under their cream-colored blouses. All of them were waiting for the performance to begin.

Suddenly, you emerged from the door behind me and found your seat next to mine. You were wearing a white polo shirt and had a bright-colored slacks that I never knew you own. There were no words spoken between us. Only the chatter of a group of audience flocking the other side of the hall filled the gap that had become our space.

While my eyes were fixed at the empty stage, I felt your hand slipping between our chairs where mine had already laid claim. Brushing my fingers, the skin to skin contact recalled of an old, old spark remembered from that one early morning my palm first felt yours. Like a nearly forgotten memory dwelling on subconscious thoughts, my hand can still feel the spaces between your fingers.

And like a matchstick igniting a fire, every stroke awakens subdued emotions. The skin contact could be brushed off, but when the familiar attachment tells of an unbroken connection; the fingers will instinctively find their places between the palm of your hands. The swaying continues, until your index finger curls itself against mine. The middle fingers follow and so are the other digits, until the thumbs - the unopposable thumbs seal the union in this waltz between our hands.

I never saw your eyes looking at me, but every time your hand squeezed mine, your assurances tell that no matter what places I ran myself into, you will always remain the keeper who will always show up - even in my sleep - just to tell me that everything will be fine.

Grounds For Secession

If he didn't text back and told you how you were missed, it would most certain your world will never turn upside down.

But he did, and in the two days of silence, wind whispers tell of how much he knifed your life.

And so you were left dreaming, with your umbilical cord attached to his stomach. Nobody could ever interrupt your sleep - not even your inner circle of acquaintances who constantly checked how you were doing. You answered in broken sentences, but your mark on twitter revealed how such one person could leave you heartbroken and wishful at the same time. It was more of a struggle to claim your ground, while you inject some sense as to what you were doing. Unlike him, who could sway you with digital affections, you want to express your emotions in an analog fashion.

---

Tuesday afternoon, you journeyed all the way from Legarda to Ayala just to pick him up. He was a stranger by the way, and not your lover. You said it would be a surprise and you did it to prove that you can make time for him, like what you said in the text message. The cloudy skies and damp ground did not hinder your attempt. Though you never found him at his office's reception area, your paths crossed at Zara boutique in Glorietta, a few blocks away from where he works.

We know that his world is far, far different from yours. He belongs to the realm of the fairies, (but he doesn't pass as one) while you, stick your ground as one of the ogres. I remember, when you picked him up that Tuesday afternoon, he was wearing a very tight navy blue polo shirt with red eagle embroidery stitched on the fabric. His jeans were of the skinny variety. Looking at both of you, there was no doubt you appeared more like his bodyguard. Wearing a worn-out baggy pants from your college days and a plain brown T-shirt doesn't pass as a fashion statement.

In your normal state of mind, such get-up would have been a reason to pull back. You prided your rugged appearance for it was easier to conceal your sexuality from those who would look at you with hostile intentions. But such was a different time that Tuesday. Dazed at how far your first contact had come a long way, you overlooked his appearance believing that your intimate connection was stronger than what others would think about you as pairs.

You slept, next to him, he was naked, while his best friend looked at you with almost jealous eyes. Something told you that their connection was deep (the best friend would endearingly call him baby and they would snuggle and cuddle while you wearily stared at them from a distance) but you brushed such thoughts by recalling how Omeng and Pao, your friends from Odders had that sort of bond as well. There was no denial that it bothered you. It revealed your possessive nature and how territorial you were over your holdings. But the best friend, is the best friend. What mattered to him, probably mattered to your guy as well.

In his arms you felt safe. Funny how one lean guy could make a buffed guy like you feel secured. Should it be the other way around? When his best friend left for work, you snuggled, curled your legs over his and pressed your head against his shoulder for reasons only heart could tell. You planted kisses, as he pushed you away while he snored loud enough to disturb the tranquility of the room. Had it been in your place, the utol would have complained the next morning of the noise.

But would he accept your invitation to a sleep over? I doubt if such image would ever be painted.

---

Deep inside, you know that it could become a one-way affair. Your attachment is much stronger than his, and you rave everytime he would reaffirm your affections. You let him defy your standards, compromise most of your beliefs and let your body deteriorate just to follow him around for what? A chance to have a monogamous relationship with someone who may not lift a finger on your behalf?

In six months, you have been romantically involved with six men. These affairs may not have prospered but you learned from each one of them. Looking at the trends, when the other gives more, you tend to take them for granted. But if it is you who pushes harder, you tend to be ignored. It is a constant cycle, which I think, you have to break free.

It doesn't mean that when you openly tell him of your attachments, also gives him the right to bully you. It must not work that way, your nurturing values doesn't grant you to shove people around like some did to you.

You are here to seek an equal.

So I will place myself at your disposal. Like a shadow dancing behind your back, I will shroud his presence for you to see his darker elements. My intervention will attempt to pull you back from this attachment, which is precariously reanimating the life you once had. If he wishes to win you over, it is time for him to work hard to recapture the things he had already lost.

I don't look forward to responding to his sweet nothings. I will make you numb enough to suppress your inner longings until such time you won't need his presence. Romance will always have its bliss, but for you who will emerge from something that is bound to become a nightmare,

Absolute detachment remains the blueprint for a well-ordered life.

---

The orbiter is done analyzing the habitability of the planet it stumbled. An oceanic surface regularly lashed by planet-wide super-storms will prevent any colony from ever thriving. Underwater cities maybe a fancy idea to compensate for such seemingly hostile environment, but with a homeworld undergoing a global recession, it is best to send the satellite back to outer space.

Sending the commands to turn the orbiter away from the planet. It swings its solar panels starward to capture as much starlight as it could and convert it to energy. From its protruding antenna comes the order to distort the space around it for a wormhole to open. Firing its ion thrusters, the satellite slowly moves toward the black hole it just created.

The galaxy remains open for exploration. The orbiter will never cease jumping from star system to star system until it finds a planet it will call its new home.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Under Heaven's Skies

Boldness has
genius, power,
and magic in it.

- Dabo, As quoted from W.H. Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition

It seems someone doesn't want to let go. My mind tells to pursue dreaming, but the heart desires to give love a chance.

Anu gawa mu ngaun. Kaw naman jan hindi paparamdam? Cenxa na talaga. Mejo pagod aq from work. Antok pa dahil lasing aq nung dumating sabinyagan sa relatives q. Hehe. Di q alam kung ilang beses q xa inulit sayo. Siguro tulog ka na no? Wlang reply eh.

Sankana banda? Mimiss na qta. Akala q di kana tetext ulit. Alam q naman na busy kadin kaya di kita masyado iniistorbo.

This is what happens when you stop flooding sweet nothings to a person who felt and enjoyed the best of you after the first meet up.

---

If ever you think
Careless is the night
I'll comfort you with silence
Till the morning light

- Collective Soul, Under Heaven's Skies

Premature Ejaculation

There are things we will never learn and there are things bound to happen over and over again. For whatever it's worth, the constant cycle reminds us of events which are inescapable. No matter how we try to impose new changes, when opportunity arises, we embrace it for its familiarity. But alas, time has changed many things. Sweetness doesn't carry much gravity like it used to in the older days.

"I choose you because I want to meet someone human."

Gullibility, a flaw I readily admit I possess. It was my leaning towards gallantry that made him snap the bait. I knew what he needed - like most boys were in that place. He found a companion in me, and lucky for us both, we learned of our shared values which I am looking in a new partner.

The amazing discoveries urged me to do a full throttle: I will step my best foot forward. Had he never told me that he was a family man, an abused partner in his previous lifetime and a stick-to-one lover in a relationship, I would not allow myself to be drawn too close. Maybe I was merely battle-weary from strangling my cyberdemons to welcome his organic presence with open arms. I took care of him that night. I held his body against mine when he was close to wobbling at the middle of the road, thanks to alcohol; rubbed his back with cloth when it was damp with sweat; and lent my shoulders for his heavy head to lean on. I never saw him as a complete stranger for I felt our connection.

And so strong it was, I pressed myself too much just to become part of his life.

Maybe it was his closest friends' prodding that we should become lovers; maybe it was his after-sex sweetness; or maybe it was my grand vision of becoming a devoted partner that gave this illusion of a future between us. My views about relationship has become so erratic that it sometimes leaves me cold, and sometime leaves me with a burning desire to embrace another. The intensity of our moment shattered all inhibitions that I thought with all honesty, that there was a chance; that the path was already laid ahead.

When in truth, I might have been just a booty call; a gas station for lonely guys needing a boost of affection.

Day ends and I felt like being suspended halfway between heaven and hell. I was waiting for him to reply to the sweet text messages I sent. Sleeplessness; a body and a mind battered with so many fears and creeping doubts had left me catatonic on my way home.

Still, love may find its way after the deception. These gloomy thoughts, may just be a vent from all those years of discrediting the magic of a romantic union after all. For whatever it's worth, the premature ejaculation of emotions severed the ties binding me to my frisky leanings.

My absence from all hook-up grounds will remain in place. I have shamed myself in Malate twice and there is no reason now to go back for sometime. The raunchy consummation had left me no longer seeking intimacy for quite some time. I've been used up or filled, depending on one's perspective. If and ever my belief about booty calls, full-swig sweetness and bar scenes will only lead to further heartaches then maybe there is no use searching in those places.

Or maybe I should simply accept the truth which tells of too much giving losing its value after being rubbed over one person again and again.

No wonder for the first time, I didn't give a name to someone who almost, had me, giving up my fort.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

A New Hope

BED, Malate 2 AM

"My friend likes you." A guy wearing a body-fitting white polo approached my "new" friend. New friend was a good dancer. I first caught his attention while he was arching his slim body on the ledge earlier. He was fair-looking, skin head, and slightly older than me. Our introductions were pleasant and certainty had foretold that we would become exclusive dance couple for the night.

"I'm with someone. Sorry."

I saw him pointing his finger at me, while I, was having a friendly banter with another blogger friend whom I just met for the first time last night. The guy in white polo walked a few steps backward, embarrassed, and apologizing for his upfront behavior. I didn't see who my rival was.

Apparently he was buffer and better-looking than me.

Fate did the rest.

To cut the story short. I was invited to stay at his apartment. I was introduced to his housemates, who eagerly welcomed my arrival. The premature attachment was sealed soon after by a consummate intimacy in his room. I left his place like I was already part of his family.

Effective at 9 am today. I am formally declaring a cessation of hostilities against me, and against those who wishes to cross my line. The G4M account, which survived a week will be permanently deleted and I am officially attaching myself to him, who might become the third. The painful process of trusting again and getting to know a new person has begun. I hope that he is the one I've been waiting and praying after enduring a roller-coaster ride of singlehood for six months

This time, I will give love a chance and let it bear fruits like what I foresaw in all those precious moments our hands held one another.


Saturday, March 14, 2009

The Fox

Maybe, just maybe, the reason why I don't want to go back is because I know, I know, that something sinister lurks inside me. And time and again, whenever I am left to fend for my own solitude, in the deepest of the night it emerges; it seethes, like invisible fire burning my skin. It seeks its own end after brief moments of being alive; it seeks a direct path, a course towards the orgasm of the senses in a most efficient manner, for it is aware that a leash holds it in place. It knows, it is being pinned down, manipulated and distracted for it not to succeed in its desires. To consume is its calling and to abandon, its passing and the more it is being silenced; the more it is being shoved, down the throat, of the things he can never do and the acts he can never perform, the more it fights back with much fury and more persistence to make its every breath accountable.


13 Mar 2009, 07:13
You: gaano ka ka hard mag-fuck pare?

13 Mar 2009, 07:48
hukbo: very hard pare

trip ko yung isasagad etits ko tapos huhugutin hanggang ulo tapos isasagad uli ng mabilis

13 Mar 2009, 09:17
You: sarap nun bro. masarap run yung inuupuan ka tapos ginigiling nung bottom mo yung balakang niya sayo. Habang ikaw naman eh kinukuyumos ng halik ang kanyang mapupulang labi. Sarap!

13 Mar 2009, 09:20
hukbo: shit trip ko din yun. habang ginigiling nung btm pwet nya sa titi ko, kinakadyot ko naman titi ko pataas para lalo pasok sa pwet nya, tapos naghahalo na pawis namin

13 Mar 2009, 09:23
You: sarap nun men sagad na sagad. ewan ko lang kung hindi tumirik ang mata ng bottom mo niyan. Siguro sa sarap ng baon mo pati balikat mo eh makakagat niya.

13 Mar 2009, 09:27
hukbo: tangna pare may btm ako na todo hard fuck ginawa ko. 3sme yun. dapat habang doggie ko sya bj nya yung isa. pero sa sobrang hard fuck ko sa kanya wala na sya nagawa kundi umungol habang hawak titi nung isang top, di na masubo hehe

13 Mar 2009, 09:29
You: sana men ako yung bottom mo nun. Hahaha. lalaban ako ng patas senyong dalawa. ng top.

13 Mar 2009, 09:38
hukbo: pare cge ba il fuck u good

13 Mar 2009, 09:39
You: and i will make sure i'd be worth it. hahaha.

13 Mar 2009, 09:55
hukbo: Ok ah. may facepics ka tol?

Only to be reminded time and again that he is long dead.

---

First Week: 0 real-time engagements 3 vocal harassment 5 textual insinuations. The statistics could be re-arranged, the heart, cannot.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Scorpio Nights

Utol didn't show up at the doorstep for two evenings. And mysterious her reasons were, it was not for me to crack the codes behind her sudden disappearance. Instead, I let mother, in her infinite wisdom and understanding let my sister go and sow chaos in the streets. It is what she wanted ever since she was a little girl and much as we try to leash her with any rope around, she will just untie herself and go back to her old leanings.

Left alone to occupy our shared space, (but not exactly the same room) temptation roosted inside my head. It's presence, like a steaming white fluid pulsating from my totem pole sent perverse whispers instructing me to follow my instincts. When they left me alone one night last December, someone got banged in my room. He said I was good; my throbbing manhood sent him to whatever heaven he desired (in fact he hounded me for an encore performance until he found a replacement three weeks ago) but I found my pitcher role relatively lousy especially when I do it with less masculine men.

But recurring patterns doesn't end without the intervention of the will. There was no stopping for a horny guy who recently got access to the hook-up places abounding in cyberspace. Insomnia was the culprit (and throw in the full moon as an accomplice) but during the last two nights, I had the choice to wage an open bed-war right inside my room. I wanted it to be consummated, so I will never seek another for a long time. The problem was the hindrance. A strong part of me still desired an end to it all.

I would have invited a friend to stay. His name was Piloto and I was certain that the confidence he wielded unto me was enough to put some sense into my headstrong promiscuity. Again, I was held back. This time, it was my will that wanted some action. Afraid I was that by putting Piloto between my colliding desires, he might become the unwilling prey.

And so I drew out my hunting skills and made them known in the sleazy corners of Guys4Men.

The aim was to trap those men, whose profiles include headless, muscled torsos and a short blurb about themselves that oozed a strong, dominant personality. The choices were many - buff guys demanding to meet equally "discreet and fit guys like them;" lean men flaunting their massively irresistable tool used for drilling someone; and there were twinks - cute and cuddly ones who barely registered among the guys I wanted to bring home. The twinks were the least of my desires, not because they pose no challenge, but because impressions told me that they were the most pretensions among those around.

"Ang ganda naman ng katawan mo. YM mo nga saka face pic?"

"Saan place mo? Punta ako."

"Well you can try me. Number mo poh?"

"Malayo ba yan sa Espana? Send me directions."

For other guys whose homes and sleeping quarters were available, the choice was easy. Pick the most appealing guy who bothered to respond to the invitation, get the deed done and then move on. In my case, stalling was necessary despite my willingness to proceed with the attack. Considerations had to be made for there was no hegemony inside the house. Mom was lying on her bed and perhaps in her restless slumber in the master's bedroom, the maids were in their sleeping quarters ready to jump out of their bed in case an alarm was sounded, and there I was behind their most peaceful dreams sneaking a total stranger inside my room. To be caught was the least of my worries. (for it would only happen if and when one of us made a careless moan while licking each other's crevasses) The real concern sprung from some untoward incident that would lead to a loss of life. Who would ever forget the gay men found slopping in their own cold blood after spiriting a guy inside their quarters the night before.

Another factor would be intimacy.

I would rather do it with a portion of my soul still attached to my sleeve.

And so while waiting for someone from g4m to grab my bait, I was tempting those I had previous dalliances to come into my quarters. There were two of them available, but none would be willing to travel a short cab ride going to my place. It took me great pains to convince them that the trip was worth it, but in the end, they just decided to go to sleep.

Just when you badly needed a fuck buddy, nobody would show up... On second thought, I never had one to begin with.

The night wore on like a candle wax dissolving on a hardened surface. The flames of desire, glowing brightly against a pitch-black solitary backdrop slowly fades as the light penetrates the darkness of the room. As I waited for new guys to go online - any masculine top guy who was a stone-throw away from where I dwell, I slowly found myself stroking the epicenter, the skyscraper whose skyline dominates the midsection of my body. It felt good squeezing my essence, it would have been better if some warm object rubbed itself against the steely surface of my skin.

Puta, ang sarap may ka-sex!

Pictures upon pictures of exhibitionist guys appeared on my screen. Big cocks, penetration photos, cum shot images - anything that would drive away the feeling of nastiness and restore order that was stolen by the sudden imbalance brought by, well, a full moon. I was willing to surrender myself to my inner demons only to trade another night, not being touched by another human.

As I pummeled my right hand into my waiting monster, I thought of the very rare moments when someone had me for a night. It was fun, yeah. Sometimes it was filthy, which made the experience more exciting. I missed the nights when I groaned out of pain (and cuss all the heavens after the rude violation turn out to be a pure bliss) I thought of things that could have been, have been, and would have been had I become more aggressive with my pursuits.

Then I knew I was cumming. It was a resounding victory for me..

Mmmmmmmm....

Returning to my senses, the replies returned by those who inquired were swiftly ignored, and deleted from the inbox. Closing the online windows left by a night of reckless abandon, a smile on my face revealed that despite letting a night go without any action, the relief brought by a ground defended from intrusions was enough to endure another Scorpio Nights.

---

Utol returned home last night.

Good riddance to the Scorpio Nights.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Somewhere Over The Shores Of Lucid Bay

5:23 AM

Got out of bed and dragged my legs to my mother's quarters. The last time I remembered before falling asleep was the door was locked and she was taking an early-morning warm bath in her small, rose-tiled bathroom. Mom was already sprawled comfortably on the bed and waiting to fall asleep when I went in to check her out.

Mom: Nakatulog ka na?

Me: Huh?

Mom: Nakatulog ka na sa lagay na yan.

Me: Ah oo, nakatulog na. Ikaw?

Mom: Hindi pa, simula nung nagising ako kanina (I presume she had three hours of sleep after arriving home last night.)

Me: Tulog ka na mama. Gym na ako.

Mom: Maaga pa ah...

Me: Ayos yun, para mamaya maaga rin ako makakauwi. Ready lang ako.

I left her room to go down to the kitchen. Hunger was assaulting my tummy and I just remembered the maid mentioned last night that there's a half-slice carrot bread inside the fridge. As I was about to step my foot on the first flight of stairs, a tiny voice stalled my legs for I heard someone calling my name. It was a mere whimper but I knew where it was coming from?

I headed back to the master's bedroom.

Me: Bakit mo ako tinawag?

There was a long pause after my question.

Mom: Mag-gygym ka na talaga?

Me: Sana... bakit?

Mom: Maiiwan na ako mag-isa niyan.

There and then I understood what mom meant. It's been a lonely, sleepless night with only me and her inside the house. Utol was elsewhere busying herself with activities that any practical person would frown. Approaching mom. I tucked her inside the blanket, planted a kiss on her cheek and left the room to go downstairs.

My carrot bread is waiting.

Mom's words will always ring a tune to my heart. I will do my steel-bar lifting after my shift is over.

Battle Simulation

Consider this a response when recession hits the house of Jomania:

Expect to stand alone. With the sibling still in the process of looking for means of living (and a real life beyond the leftist leanings), the house of Jomania will rely on your meager earnings to survive its day to day affairs. Without the Sikyu, you will be running at merely a quarter of your spending capacity. Fortunes will turn around, and you will be forced to fight to survive. With credit payments still halfway done, choosing between completion and slow but painful reconstruction will be a strategic decision. Either way, let me assure you that even if you have a thirty grand outstanding balance, you will be able to pay everything before hell breaks loose.

It will not be a problem.

Now let us focus on your phone bill, cable bill and yes, even the gym membership fee. The cost will be between four and five grand a month. House contributions should be pegged at around five grand as well, which will leave you with barely nothing to claw for your everyday sustenance. How about that for starters? There is no assurance that the credit grantors will leave your house at peace. They will not overlook the loans your biz have taken in its many, many years of existence. You will not bear the responsibilities. But for sure, you will never bear seeing the mistress of the house suffer a fate she never deserves.

Any method of resistance you can come up with?

You have spent the entire day searching for ways to hold your walls if this nightmare happens. Life will never be the same for you, or for the household you have cherished. We have been in this mess before, and in one piece you were able to come out with little bruises to dent your skin. But now, we are not too sure how things will end when the dust settles. The weekly night affairs with the groupies will be the first to go. Second would be the unnecessary phone spending, and yes, even the cable service has to go. The gym might have to be ditched as well. There are places where you can still perform the muscle worship at half the price.

There must be a million things running in your head right now. A part, wishes to vent everything somewhere; a part, longs to blame some missteps in the past; and a part, simply wants to flee. Yet, whatever the outcome be, we have the means to stand up and pick our pace whereever we stumble.

The resume is ready in case you need a double job.
And the sibling's resume is at hand, when an opporunity for a job offer unexpectedly comes.
With the buffer fund still intact. Hope that fate, with all its goodness towards the house in the years before, will still be gracious to you this time.

Sacrifices must be performed for the will to survive.

---

"Most of our worst fears don't actually happen. Keep praying. I also offered a prayer for you."

- text message, Tagabukid.

"Just a thought. A country cannot go to war when it faces an internal struggle. A nation crumbling within can never expand its national borders."

- twitter entry, 13 hours ago

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

The Sign Of Times










"Tumawag si Corazon kanina. Mukhang malaki talaga ang problema ng 'Sikyu Agency' ngayon. Dalawang tseke na ang tumalbog, baka isara ang account natin sa bangko. Wala na rin silang mautangan..."

- 11:30 am







Monday, March 9, 2009

Slipping Malate

It's been a day and a night after some intruding hand had snatched it from my gaping side pocket, but the events that lead to its lost still replays at the back of my head. It could have been averted, had I not lulled my senses with three bottles of Red Horse Beer. However, done is the deed that could make me stop the madness.

Deliverance has revealed the exit from the dark, suffocating and sweaty grounds of the dance floor.

---

Past midnight. Encantadia left Trinoma after a night of stories and jokes passed around the table. The Kondesa finally met the Dukesa - the two gentlemen who became the significant others of the ones belonging to the original five. Their introduction was a pleasant experience. Both guys found a stronger connection to the group. I missed the Dukesa after months of not being able to see him. His presence last night reminded me how his partner, Tagay, had matured and how the friendship among the three of us had grown.

My Gimik Pass for the week hasn't been used yet and I was planning to take advantage of the weekend to sneak into the dancing grounds of Che'Lu. It was a Sunday morning and I am most certain that the place would be packed with gay men. Bored and restless, I instructed the cab to drive me to Malate. The night was young, and I'd like to spend it doing something fun.

Che'lu was indeed packed that night, unfortunately, it wasn't the crowd I was looking for. Gone are the nights when straight-acting strangers would trade glances and smile at you. In their place were kids - lanky, snooty, and broken-armed twinks huddled in groups which included their loud and boisterous fag hags. I felt out of place, really, and to forget how solitary my spot was in the order of things, to satiate myself with beer was the only solution I had in mind.

First Red Horse Bottle.

I scoured the dance floor for a challenger. Even with barely 2 hours of sleep, my mind was in the mood to grind and bend my body. I bumped into several boys worthy as an adversary, however, they haven't seen through my provocations. They were busy tapping, shoving and mingling with their friends instead of looking for some action.

It might be possible also, that my mojo isn't with me that night. I left it in dreamland somehow.

Second Red Horse Bottle.

It was past 1 in the morning. The crowd was getting rowdier and the dance floor had become a watering hall for fairies. I should have gone to the bath houses instead, if it was action I really sought. Maybe the tiled chambers offered more options to meet the guys I sought. But to fuck wasn't really my plan. Besides, it's been more than a year since I entered its naked halls. It was enough that I get attention from strangers and hunt down potential preys that could serve as a distraction until I decide to settle for the one.

Tipsy and on the verge of passing out. I wrapped my big arms around a catatonic kid's lean frame. He never showed any response. He might have not noticed my groping at all.

Third Red Horse Bottle

I stood at a corner mustering whatever strength and degree of control I could impose on my senses. Being there on a sleepless, intoxicated night wasn't really a good idea. I should have headed straight home instead. As I was about to leave and accept my defeat for not getting a worthy partner during my stay, I noticed this particular stocky guy dancing in front of me. He wasn't really my type, but the way he danced provoked me.

The guy appeared to be an interesting target.

I positioned myself in front of him and pretended to follow his bouncy moves. He sensed my approach and began brushing off his fingers against mine. The fish caught my bait and within seconds our sweaty bodies found themselves merging and becoming one. He was a good partner for bending my will and forcing me to accept his dominance. Unlike the previous ones who would cautiously test the waters, he was an outright aggressor. It never felt this good letting a stranger have a total control over the way I moved.

For that alone, I shoved my back against his groin and let him thrust himself until he got tired. Talk about doing a frottage on a club. Four house tracks, several make-out moments, and two discreet sliding-of-one's-hand-inside-someone-else's-jeans and I felt like a slut.

During a break, he asked for my number. Since I wasn't interested to prolong our contact I gave him a wrong one instead. Good thing, he did not insist that I get his number as well.

---

It was already getting late and I have work the following morning. It's time to go home.

Feeling the contents of my pockets, something appeared missing. The lost triggered the alarm. I tried frisking my pockets again and it wasn't there. I was hoodwinked, maybe, by the same person who broke down my defenses. There was a moment of shock and panic, but experience tells that there was no use turning the place around for a stolen phone.

To accept the lost was the only course of action. I returned to my dance partner and hugged him for one last time. He sympathized for my lost and tried to console me the best way he could. Meanwhile my hands were everywhere, frisking his pockets.

He didn't have my phone.

Though he may be responsible for its lost, to achieve the deed required accomplices. However, I had no proofs to support my assumptions so I let things be and charged everything to experience.

I left the bar distraught over losing my phone. It might have been acquired through a friend's generosity, but there is no doubt that its lost speak about the way I take care of things.

And how easy it was for me to accept their passing.

With nothing else to do, (despite finally winning the attention and caresses of the guy I've been exchanging smiles and glances since the boyfriend days) I slipped out of Malate as obscurely as I arrived.

---


The phone has been replaced (and charged to my credit card) Please introduce yourself when you send me a text message. Thank you.