Art Of Detachment

It sucks
to wake up one morning
realizing that you're the
one being left behind.








Again.

Epitome (One)

They say that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Many people would resort to madness to lift their spirits up just to keep moving and in my case, I have my own flotilla of coping mechanism to restore what is being lost to me. You see, these past few weeks had been rough. The blog can attest to that. On one side, the issues at the homefront gnawed at my defenses. The turbulence was getting unbearable that I had to resort on outside help to pull me out of the mud. To lean on someone was my weapon of choice and so were the strings of male affairs I wrote here on the blog. My hopes ran high with their reaffirmation of shared intimate feelings. But somewhere along, things did not turn out the way I wish them to be. These affairs faded like embers and there were no means to bring them back. I was dumped twice for one reason or another and the rejection cut deep on my ego.

As my order falls one after another, my inner demons begin to re-assert themselves. The savagery of my survival instincts dictate that I should shut my doors tight on friends and allow myself to fall towards the abyss. It happened before and I feel it happening again. My hope is to emerge on the other side of the black hole in one piece. But to achieve such state of confidence, first is I have to feel good about myself.

I chose reckless abandon to achieve my goal and what better way to start the fire by recognizing my carnal repressions. I knew from the very start that my pictures were my greatest disadvantage. It leaves no good impression on people no thanks to my perpetual habit of frowning in front of the lenses. People tend to get intimidated by my frigid and distant attitude that it takes time for me to establish personal rapport. Unless one catches me lowering my defenses, it gets pretty difficult to open me from within.

There are two states where I easily approach strangers. One is during the brief state of ecstasy offered by loud beats and sudden laser flashes offered by dance clubs, the second is by baring my skin in the dark corridors of the bathhouses. My last incarnation at Club Bath proved so disastrous that I vowed never to return. Imagine a place where one could freely choose who to make out and copulate with. The sheer feeling of imposing your standards on others was breathtaking but it leaves you hollow afterward. The inhumanity of rejecting others was too much that I decided to cease returning after my third visit.

I stayed sober for more than a year.

Yesterday was a different story. I was pissed off at everything. I hissed at those who showed concern at my condition, while leaving careless remarks that hurt others. I made fun at people not knowing that I was becoming mean, and when it finally hit me, I snapped. I told myself that perhaps I needed a boost just to feel again. Maybe I can undo the damage by receiving affection even if I get it through artificial means.

And so at half past eight in the evening, I decided to hold back my established protocols and let instincts creep in. Armed with knowledge acquired from Discreet Manila, I sounded the ceremonial drums and lighted the sticks of incense.

"We will perform a different kind of exorcism tonight," Kitsune told me.

"You will return to the bath house scene again."

---

-tobecontinued-

Overcast

Maybe it is the dark grey clouds heaving with rainwater that is turning you blue. Or perhaps, the drenched pavements and empty street corners that is causing your gloom, but I cannot deny that the weather is turning you frigid and lifeless lately. Sprinkle the mood with some disappointments and you find yourself in a bottomless pit of sorrow. No matter how many ways you cheer yourself up, you find yourself crashing back to the same ground you long to escape.

The culprit isn't really the weather. We can bear seeing overcast skies and sunless, dank grounds but to find yourself in a spot where you only see a bleak hope of redemption, you wish you had another life - or someone else to pull you up.

But there is none.

Not even the boys you were raving a few days ago.

So here you are, scribbling your thoughts in the blog in hopes of casting out the lingering feeling of heaviness. This is your confession, and despite being read by everyone, you still write and expose your wounds. "They could care all they want," you say to yourself. "But it is I who can truly get out of this rut."

Right now I can still feel the pain you bear. You met your best friend yesterday. She had a crush on you back in high school. You saw each other because she is getting married next week. You didn't feel bad because of some missed opportunities, you weep because between the two of you, she's able to stand better on her own.

Suddenly, you feel the smallness of your achievements: Her, being a non-graduate earns thrice the salary you are getting. She can list down all the perks of her workplace with a grin, while you, can only boast your blinded loyalty to your work with embarrassed smile.

"But you can always switch jobs, especially with your credentials!" She tells you.

You can only answer her with one word. "Promotion."

And so you went home, soaked, after walking under the rain because you were too stingy to buy an umbrella. You opened the door with your eyes still drunk with fading images of your best friend's mom blissfully cleaning their small apartment with nothing else to worry in the world. Both her kids are working, the eldest will get married in a few weeks, and another person will add more income to the household. You can't help but envy them, and hope at the same time that your mother would someday feel the same. You found your mom in the living room and without catching your breath, told her about your best friend. Then you announced that you recommended your sister for a start-up position in your company. Your mom wasn't eager to hear the news. Beset with troubles about the Sikyu business' failings and your sister's apparent unwillingness to do anything to lend her support, her attention shifts from listening to your message of hope to the spiraling events being reported in the evening news.

---

The sister gave her half-hearted nod when you discussed things the night before, but when she woke up this morning, you immediately felt her disinterest and hesitation. It's like she decided to remain living within the red box of her twisted ideals. A family conference was called to agree on a decision. You stated the facts about your work, and for reasons you cannot fathom, some details appeared revolting to their senses.

"But I once ran a business that involved exposing the flesh!!" You growled "My job isn't like that. You think my work is exposing me?".

"Besides, if she do good, she will be assigned to the account that fits her academic background!!"

But they never listened. Instead, you feel them moving backwards like they dreaded the very thing that will put food on the table and pay the mounting bills.

I knew it would disappoint you. Their decision would leave you fuming with rage. While you were staring at the mirror this morning, I saw your red eyes welling up with tears. You cannot understand how they could afford running like headless chickens, while you, imagine a Glock Pistol pointed at your head. A slight twitch of a finger on the trigger and it's all over.

You are set free, while they, would have to fend for themselves unprepared for the days to come.

You slipped the uppermost button of your shirt and walked slowly towards the master's bedroom. The sister apologized and promised you that she will find another job. You faked your smile, knowing it was all lies. It was the second time she ditched your offer. The last one went to a friend who is now earning more than what you get. Your mother tried to console you, you gave her a hug but a shard of glass remain embedded somewhere in you.

You left the house this morning wordless,

with no destination in mind.

---

So,
So what I'm still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don't need you
And guess what
I'm havin more fun
and now that we're done
I'm gonna show you tonight
I'm alright
I'm just fine
And you're a tool so
So what
I am a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don't want you tonight

- Pink, So What

Ikaanim

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the exes for the last seven years to justify those hopes with which Mugen and Pulsar have been pleased to solace themselves. Is it that mind-blowing intimacy with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your heart. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this sensuous reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations after our affections have been emptied? Are cold treatment and gradual distance necessary to a work of love and romance? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of abandonment or subjugation; the last arguments to which other men resort.

- Patrick Henry, Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death

---

We have forgiven, but nobody says we should ever forget.

The Gospel Of Thomas

Our entry for today is about Reincarnation.

Wikipedia states that:

"Reincarnation is a doctrine or metaphysical belief that some essential part of a living being (in some variations only human beings) survives death to be reborn in a new body. This essential part is often referred to as the spirit or soul, the "higher" or "true" self, "divine spark", or "I". According to such beliefs, a new personality is developed during each life in the physical world, but some part of the self remains constant throughout the successive lives."

It goes on to explain that:

"Belief in reincarnation has ancient roots. This doctrine is a central tenet within the majority of Indian religious traditions, such as Hinduism (including Yoga, Vaishnavism, and Shaivism) and Jainism. The idea was also entertained by some ancient Greek philosophers. Many modern Pagans also believe in reincarnation as do some New Age movements, along with followers of Spiritism, practitioners of certain African traditions, and students of esoteric philosophies such as Kabbalah, and Gnostic and Esoteric Christianity. The Buddhist concept of Rebirth although often referred to as reincarnation differs significantly from the Hindu-based traditions and New Age movements in that there is no unchanging "soul" (or eternal self) to reincarnate."

Unfortunately, the Abrahamic religions do not subscribe to the idea of birth and rebirth. It's always between heaven and hell, and lines of morality are drawn to these two paths in the afterlife. Most Christians would embrace the idea of eternal salvation rather than achieving struggled perfection through countless existence.

I for one is in contrast with my mother when it comes to my idea of afterlife. She believes in heaven, while I bombard her with questions on what to do with an eternity. "Hindi ba boring yun, forever ka nasa langit, puro sarap lang ang nararanasan mo?" Mom defends her position by telling me that time and space isn't a concept in heaven. I would further challenge her claim by asking her to imagine endlessness with one consciousness. Often, our conversation would end by my sister's proclamation that God is a capitalist invention.

Time and again, I wrote entries dealing with questions of an afterlife. Despite having strong leanings toward Christianity, something tells me that there's more to heaven and hell, and that these concepts were designed, with meticulous blueprints to scare away the pious into believing an angry and vengeful almighty.

"But my creator is compassionate." I would remind myself. "Why should he let his creations suffer heaven and hell when they can always try again until they get to figure out what life's meaning is?"

So there, that is why I dabble in the occult of Buddhism from time to time. At least, the belief allows me to understand the very nature of things in order to live in harmony with my surroundings. Good thing such faith doesn't demand a switch of religion so it becomes a philosophy I try to follow when faced with occasional spiritual dilemma.

But my searching never stops there. Like all true seekers, I look for a common thread among faiths that will reinforce my personal beliefs. Standing by my religion, my attempts to prove that Jesus Christ does tell something about reincarnation seems bearing fruits. His words may not have been included in the four books of the New Testament but a passage I found from the Gospel of Thomas this afternoon was enough to satiate my hunger for answers.

"And Jesus said, 'The person is like a wise fisherman who cast his net into the sea and drew it up from the sea full of little fish. Among them the wise fisherman discovered a fine large fish. He threw all the little fish back into the sea, and easily chose the large fish. Anyone here with two good ears had better listen!'

Written in the Book of Matthew, the same passage appear like this:

"47Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. 48When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away. 49This is how it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous 50and throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."

So efficient and liberating Thomas' version is. The spark I saw may appear deceiving but as far as I know, the large fish being picked up are the ones who understood life and all its love and suffering. Thus, it doesn't need to relive it again.

This fish already gained perfection.

Ask me what the goal of perfection is and my answer is simple:

Nothingness.

The Catcher

Pain must be the price
Of my submission
To a long-cherished wish
To be loved by love-things
That grow and rip
Open the sealed vaults
Of my skin. Man-friend.

---

A friend sought my advice about getting impaled. He is a hardcore top in his past sexual engagements and now that he finds himself in a relationship with another top, his partner asked him a gift for their monthsary: to give up his ass and become his bottom.

Now the problem is he's confused. He loves his partner so much, that he's on the verge of giving in. On the other hand, knowing that he will give up something he had prided himself all these years mean that things will change.

"Baka magustuhan ko, maging bottom na talaga ako." He texted jokingly one afternoon.

I suspect that his worries spring from the pride that he has to give up. Being capable of taking the top and bottom position in a sexual engagement, I find being the catcher the more difficult role. The agony of the first stab is unbearable no matter how horny a person is. The ceaseless pumping, the deep grinding, and the eternal shoving of one's throbbing prick until all of it gets inside would be a humiliating experience, especially for someone who used to do the fucking all his life. Too bad for him, he sought my expertise and being familiar to that fulfilling pain, I told him to be man enough to get ripped apart.

"Kaya mo yan dahil masarap. Masarap dahil mahal mo ang taong kakantot sayo."

---

Now another friend told me earlier how upset he was after getting woohooed last night. I do not know what came to him when he took it from behind for he admits never enjoying the deed in the first place.

"Hindi nga ako tinigasan eh, saka parang na-poo-poo po ako."

His sex partner came first, and when he did, quietly stood up as if nothing happened and left my friend to get his own orgasm. This act made my friend ultra-ballistic. He confronted the guy who at the time cleaning himself and the cruel act of walking-out almost ended up in a fistfight.

---

I know its easy for intense emotions to run high when you let someone plunges you. Imagine the pride you have to give up knowing he will never treat you the same after your well-locked doors have been unsealed. The top, always the dominant, never has to worry of the wounds left after being forced open from within. The top, always the conqueror, never has to hide the emotional scars left, after being marked as the one accepting submission to a more aggressive partner.

It's the top who runs the game, for when the bottom does, he does it to shake away the attachment left from a previous impalement.

Others may question my belief about tops and bottoms, but when inquiries are raised about who suffers more and endures more,

It is always the bottom who stands out.

---

I twist,
_____turn,
_________and shrink
To nothingness, shot through
With bullets of your love
Till you are through.
Now lying on your back,
You read my eyes and see
Being on top has a price,
And it hurts, because nobody,
Nobody wants to be bottom.

Bottom, Ronald Baytan

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.

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.

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

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.

Kaleidoscope World

My earliest recollection of an Independence Day Military Parade at the Quirino Grandstand was of President Aquino leaving the podium after a very rousing Araw ng Kalayaan speech. As she was being flocked by dignitaries and government officials, the huge black speakers flanking the stage boomed with a familiar ethnic flute and tribal drum opening of a song by a very popular rapper. The crowds who have gathered across the parade grounds suddenly broke into loud cheers upon hearing the first few beats. In those days, the song was an anthem known to everyone. The rap song was in number one for the past three months and there were no signs of it being overtaken in the airwaves.

The artist was a sensation. He was in his early twenties, and yet the rap songs he played appealed to the young ones and adults alike. The kids (including me) would rap it in the streets, (where we would thump our feet and wave our small hands imitating the rappers signature finger-pointing movements); the teenagers would copy his trademark flat top haircut (including the peace sign etched on the scalp of their heads); and the adults would wear his baggy batik pajamas and monochrome camiso shirt (which by all standards were a very disastrous fashion choice. Andrew E and Michael V. were better off with their less baduy get-ups).

I remember how popular he was in those days. His song evoked a sense of pride and unity. "Mga Kababayan Ko," its lyrics include instructions on how to live a quiet and orderly life. It was played almost side by side with the National Anthem, and in every places around the country. Noontime variety shows even had contests where amateur rappers would imitate his rap style. Other local artists would change their music themes to catch up with the nationalist sentiments that abound. At a time when foreign pop music was threatening to overthrow the OPM songs, he was the lead vocalist of the struggle to keep the Pinoy artists on top of the music charts.

His sheer genius and artistic spirit allowed the ever-alienating OPMs to be absorbed by the minds of the new-generation masa, and be appreciated by a nation reclaiming its lost identity. He was also among the first artists to have his own music video rolled on MTV. The song on the music video was Kaleidoscope World, and though the details of the video were now forgotten in my head, the song defined my high-school life.

Though his stellar prominence may not be as shining as those of other local bands which benefited from his advocacy, he remains an icon looked up and respected by those who came after him. He held his presence steady - allowing the smooth transition from the Manila Sounds of the 80's to the entry of the first wave of Pinoy Alternative Rock Bands which include Eraserheads, Parokya ni Edgar, Rivermaya and Wolfgang of the mid-90's.

How unfortunate that after many years of being at the helm, he would fade into obscurity in the modern Philippine Music Scene.

His untimely death this afternoon changed all that. For once, he was remembered and in his passing, the rap songs and ballads he performed through the years once again plays in the airwaves of my memory.

---

When the news broke out this afternoon, it felt like a huge part of me was taken away. Now I know why.

Remembering the Master Rapper Francis Durango Magalona (4 Oct 1964 - 6 Mar 2009)

Every color and every hue
Is represented by me and you
Take a slide in the slope
Take a look in the kaleidoscope
Spinnin' round, make it twirl
In this kaleidoscope world

photocredits

After Me, The Deluge

"At least malaya ka na kapag wala na ako..."

When will my dear mother learn that there is no life after her passing; that I only wagered my human existence long enough to see her enjoying a comfortable life? I don't really care about my future; I don't even have dreams to pick up like a ripe fruit hanging from a tree. I live in the present, and if there are some things I look forward for tomorrow, those things are still within the time frame of her earthly presence.

I understand that she is just tired, exhausted and frustrated with the things happening to her. She complains of endless body pains, of regular medical check-ups and long-list of prescribed medicines she have to buy for her roster of illnesses. She worries about the growing debts of our Sikyu Business and my sister's resistance to do something about her bummed bliss. Mother has indeed grown old, for the last time I heard such pessimist remarks were from my grandparents when they were at the twilight of their age. Passing is imminent that I have already accepted, and no matter how I think about what lies beyond, the only thing I see is an end.

An end which I am ready to take whether I'd be called or not.

Today I declare an emergency Jomanian Holiday. I will leave the house in the morning to have my weekly spiritual fix (and pray for my sister and a couple of friends who will exercise their resolve to find a means of living this week) out there in the ridge, then go to the most extensive hardware store to buy those stainless steel safety rails for our bathrooms (because mom tells me that she cannot lift herself anymore) and spend the rest of the day having a mother-son bonding at home.

Hopefully it would cast away the gloom that has been a fixture in the house lately.

---

Last New Year, my sister and I had a bonding with my cousins over several bottles of beer. We talked about the lives we have and how we look forward to strengthening our blood ties as we grow older. When we talked about our mothers, (because our moms are siblings) many of them expressed uncomfortably at how their mothers take control or sometimes manipulate their adult lives. (and they are torn apart between living elsewhere and staying with the family only because they want to get out of their influence and try their luck being on their own) Me and my sister could not say a thing. We could not understand their grievances for we have already learned to put our lives in-sync with our mom's.

Now that I think about it, we would be left most vulnerable and destructive when she moves on.


*après moi, le déluge

remark attributed to Louis XV of France; used in reference to the impending end of a functioning French monarchy and predicting the French Revolution.

The Last Temptation of Jomania

"Do not do unto others, what others do not want to do unto you."

- Anon

"For there are different reasons why men cannot marry: some because they were born that way; others, because men made them that way; and others do not marry for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven."

- Jesus Christ, Matthew 19:11

---

The sun was barely up when I left home this morning. The day-long gwapo sleep I had yesterday restored my energy to its normal levels. It was well known throughout the Twitter Community how grumpy my week was and I felt bad about it. Sleeplessness had taken its toll and there were even times when my usually calm and controlled attitude was overtaken by my violent and carnal tendencies. Fortunately, mind control was able to put me at a distance away from those careless enough to cross my path.

Guilt ridden, I headed towards my refuge in Katipunan. Maybe what I needed was a spiritual fix now that I am feeling an imbalance in my being. If I let my destructive inclinations take over me, I might lose my hard-earned peace. Much as I was hesitant to set sail towards my destination, it was my will that lead me there. Let fate have my redemption, what matters is that I tried.

I arrived at Santa Clara while a holy mass was going on. It isn't my desire to attend masses especially if I find the man standing on the pulpit too lousy to explain the words he proclaim. But my time was short and I had to bask myself in any spiritual bounty I would harvest from this morning's expedition.

I sat on the pew which most appealed to me.

Now the word "appeal" is subject to further scrutiny. In my case, the pew which is most desirable would not be the one closest to the priest. Instead, the most attractive spot for me would be the one next to the cutest guy in the church. I'm just human for Christ's sake. If I'm a straight guy, I would most likely sit beside the most gorgeous lady around.

So that was the case this morning. I found myself seating beside a fair-looking Narcissus who, for some reasons decided to attend the early morning mass. All throughout the service, I tried my best not to look at his direction. But how can I resist a demon-looking, late-twenties stud sitting beside me, especially when he doesn't make any effort to put some distance despite my attempts to pull back.

The Lord's Prayer has concluded and it was time for the Rite of Peace. It is the part where everyone exchanges a sign of peace with one another. On my part, it will be the climax of the tension which began to build up the moment I sat beside the lean-bodied Adonis. I would have to look at him in the eye, scan the contours of his elfish face and have a fill of his presence which I may never enjoy again. Sometimes, I would like to blame my repressive nature for harboring twisted thoughts. If I was as hedonistic as I used to be, his closeness would never create any sexual tension that I would soon suppress.

"Peace be with you..." he answered. His eyes expressed disinterest. Maybe, what I felt was nothing after all.

The Eucharist ended with our arms barely a few inches away from rubbing each other. I don't know if my slight wobbling throughout the mass drew me closer or it was the other way round. His gravity was too strong that the only way to repulse my attraction was for him to leave. As I was preparing to start my weekly habit, he stood up to get something from his bag. All along, I thought he was just arranging its contents before leaving the pew. To my surprise he took out a green booklet and knelt beside me.

He had his novena to match my rosary.

It was difficult to focus on the beads knowing that I was distracted by his actions. Was his decision to stay a sign of his intention to reach out? Was his novena as genuine as my rosary in connecting with the Source? I may never find out. For as we were praying next to each other, another guy sat beside me. The look in his eyes and the way he smiled meant something. Instincts revealed its malicious intent but since I was inside the house of the Almighty, I brushed my nature and welcomed his presence.

Halfway towards the end of my second mystery of light, the eye candy to my left made a sign of the cross to conclude his novena. Meanwhile, the guy to my right wiggled closer putting me in a defensive position. He was invading my space so I had to turn my head and check what he was doing. Once again, he smiled at me.

As I was about to return to my meditation, he tried to break the ice by engaging me in a conversation.

"Excuse me..." He said pa-cutely.

"Ano yun dude?" I responded with slight disturbance.

"Favor naman... baka puwede mo akong ipag-pray." Now he was trying to be cute.

"Para saan?" I answered back, annoyed.

"Enlightenment."

Fine. Someone wanted a pray-over session. Had I known it would be used on me, I should have said the same lines to get the hunky Narcissus' attention earlier. I wouldn't mind praying for someone's soul. My only confusion was the person who solicited my prayers was inside the church. He could pray for himself and the almighty would still listen.

Confused with his favor, I said yes to his intercessions. He left the pew soon after and being guilty of my snooty attitude, I prayed for him. However, my troubles this morning has just begun. Barely into my fifth mystery of light, he showed up again with the sheer intention of pestering my moment of bliss.

"Seminarian ka ba?"

"Hindi... Siyanga pala, pinagdasal na kita." His face suddenly glowed after granting his favor.

"Teacher nga pala ako, etc. etc." Impressions tell that he is a man of faith. His introductions only made me wonder why he needed my prayers when his religious affiliations gave him a stronger connection to the almighty.

"So bakit ka nandito? Are you a brother, may community ka ba, order, etc."

"I'm just a normal person who happens to pray." Once again, his lousy attempts to communicate drove me ballistic.

"Wow. Pinahanga mo naman ako, bihira lang ako maka-meet ng totoong lalaki na nagdadasal." Gotcha, my instincts did not fool me this time. His unnecessary complements only triggered me to put thick walls between us.

"Dude, I'm praying. Can we just talk after I'm done." He got back to his senses, he quietly retreated from his assaults.

I do not know if he was trying to be very friendly but his careless actions would have got him a blow right on his face. You see, one thing that makes me really, really furious is when a stranger touches my things without my permission. As I calmly utter the last of the Hail Mary's, his hand snatched the Bible that I read at the start of every mystery. If not for my sacred promise to be a little less snooty this week, he could have raised hell at a moment's notice. Arming myself with infinite patience, I overlooked his transgression and focused on my prayers instead.

My prayers were drawing to a close and at the back of my head, I had an idea what would happen next. Much as I try to avoid hurting his feelings, compromises had to be made. It wasn't his fault that my appearance caught his interest. It's like the tables were overturned on me, had I've been more aggressive in pursuing the eye candy. Uttering my final prayers, I finally felt the spiritual link that I sought all morning.

"Lord I know that I'd be committing a lie if this guy continues to annoy me. I know he will so I hope you would understand if I would appear too aloof to accommodate his presence. Jesus Christ, upon reading the passages in the Bible had his snooty moments too. I will keep in mind not to be too harsh on him, and I pray that my actions would be forgiven, no matter how self-serving they are."

I made a sign of the cross, which was the same sign the pursuer was waiting all this time.

---

"So puwede ka ba maging friend?"

"Ayos lang. Yun lang naman pala eh." I said somewhat sarcastically.

"So bakit kailangan mo ng enlightenment samantalang mas malapit ka sa Diyos kesa sa akin."

"Wala lang, medyo naliligaw lang ako ng landas paminsan-minsan. Alam mo na, gusto kong maging straight ang buhay ko."

"Kaya nga tayo pumupunta sa simbahan para magkaroon ng kapayapaan diba?"

"Alam ko naman yun eh... Wala lang."

"So anong maipaglilingkod ko sa iyo dude?" I finally decided to cut the chase.

"Puwede ba makuha ang number mo?"

"Wala akong cellphone pare eh."

"Ganun ba? So paano kita makikita?"

"Tiyempuhan mo ulit ako dito."

Before we left the premises, he finally spoke about his sexuality. He confessed that he fell in love with men and women in different phases of his life. I rolled my eyes in anticipation for his final spiel.

"Ikaw ba, ayos lang sa iyo ang ganun?"

"Hindi ako nanghuhusga ng kapwa tao. Kung saan sila masaya edi okay lang sa akin." If he only knew, I was rooting for the guy who sat beside me before he showed up.

"Eh paano kung gusto kitang maging kaibigan, o kaya mahalin ka, papayag ka ba nun?" His remarks were flattering really, but I'm simply not into him. His lousy approach had already put me off.

"Pasensya na pero hindi ako pumapatol pare." Apologies for betraying the rainbow code. Even straight-acting guys like me have to turn our backs if it calls for self-preservation.

"Sana hindi yan ang rason kaya gusto mo akong maging kaibigan..."

He still insisted in getting my number while waiting for an FX to pass by the road. All his attempts were met with stiff resistance. Though I cannot deny that I underestimated his persistence, I was profoundly impressed by his gall to cross lines I would never dare step my feet on. Blame it on my pride, or some made-up situations where such attempts would surely end in humiliation. Point it on past rejections I never got over with, but no, I would not subject myself to such troubles especially now that I can easily send my fleet to any seas I am invited.

An FX bound for Cubao emerged from a corner barely after we arrived. Much as I would like to give him the pleasure to harass me for the last time, I had to go and head for work. Raising my right hand to hail the incoming vehicle, I bid my goodbye to the gentleman beside me. "It was a lesson learned," I told myself. "Had I followed his lead and did the same thing to the guy I came across shortly before he came, I would end up making a fool out of myself."

The almighty spoke to me this morning. The house of heavenly worship cannot afford to have a garden of earthly delights.

Monthsary | Hindi Sad Diamonds

Ang sabi nila, para daw tunay na maka-move on sa isang break-up ay kailangan ng closure. Sa kaso ko, matagal pa ang closure na iyon. Hindi pa nga ako handang makipagharap sa aking nakaraan eh. Masyado pang masakit ang mga ala-alang iniwan sa akin ni phanks.

Sa mga buwang lumipas, puro poot at sakit lang ang aking mga tinandaan. Masyado kong binaon sa isip ang mga dahilan kung bakit kailangan ko ng kalayaan. Nakalimutan ko na sa loob ng limang taon naming pagsasama, may mga sweet moments rin kami na nakaligtaang idagdag sa aking mga kuwento. Ang kalimutan ito ng tuluyan ay sobrang unfair hindi lamang para sa kanya kundi pati na rin sa akin. Mabuti na lamang at kahit paano, naging saksi rin itong blog sa mga panahong tunay ko siyang naramdaman sa aking tabi.

Nagkaroon rin kami ng pinagsamahan at ito ang aming mga kwento:

---

"It all began with a tight hug. I was experiencing some violent chills and he felt that my whole body was burning. He rose up and told me to roll to the other side of the bed. He then he returned to the bed and placed himself between me and the wheezing electric fan.

I told him that I am alright. The fever will soon dissipate and he should just sleep instead of worrying about me. But he was stubborn and restless; he rose up, went outside the room and then after a few minutes, returned with a huge mug of water.

"Drink this," he said.

Unable to stand up, he assisted me by placing his hand on my back and then gently pulling me up. I drank only a tiny portion of the liquid since my throat hurts. As I coughed badly, the rain started to pour outside. The skies were as dark as coal but his presence made me feel that despite the bad weather and the foul illness,

Everything was sunny and clear around me.



He then told me to lie down.

A few seconds later, he dabs a finger-full of Vicks Vaporub and rubs it on my aching back. His hands begin to move gently, squeezing every muscle sore that I feel. He is like a seasoned masseur, except that he is never a stranger. From my back, he worked his way towards my hips, then on my shoulders, my chest and my biceps until his soft hands clasped my hands and pulled my fingers until it pops. Occasionally he would kiss a part of my body, as if leaving assured murmurs on that part of the skin he kissed that everything will be alright.

When his massage has finished. I held his hand and told him that of all the parts of my body he squeezed, he missed one part that sought his massage most:

My front..."

A Massage To Remember
August 15, 2007

---

Perhaps, it is his beaming smile consoling me after we got into our little fights, or his simple views in life that keeps me attached to him. Probably it is in the way he remembers to send me sweet nothings, when my thoughts are focused elsewhere. Maybe it is in the contrast of our personality - he, being more extrovert towards the people around him and I, being more reserved and exclusive, even in the most familiar of crowds around me. We don't talk that much about our lives, but our connection is always open throughout the day. We don't share the music we play on the mp3 player, yet the TV channels we watched together could keep us in bed the entire day. On the sides, we are both loners. He may have a lot of people around him, but he never considers anyone his confidants - except me perhaps. I, on the other hand keeps all the trivial matters away from him, except the subtle things that would make us strong perhaps. He knows what weakens me and what keeps me strong, even if he is not aware of it. He loves singing pop songs in a karaoke bar while I cringe when hearing his music and wishes to be some place else when beside him at the same bar. He loves hanging out in the malls for hours, while the mere presence of bargains keeps me away from boutiques because of the material temptations it brings. If we have something we agree about, it's our common cable channel - Discovery Channel and National Geographic. We could stay all day in bed doing our "intimate" sports while the TV is tuned in to those channels. He would say "I love you" when I least expect it, and often in contrast, ignore me completely when I desperately needed his attention most. But it's alright, I am beginning to understand his way of thinking - that he doesn't entertain distractions the way I would like to be distracted all the time. I may have hidden resentment towards him, but his acts of sweetness and his initiative to make up first the moment his anger has subsided prevents me from gravitating towards complete hatred. I think our relationship is relatively odd compared to others, but it is that oddness that keeps us together. It may not be based on conversations or openness but because of the deep, unspoken ties that bind us together. Things still work out - and will still work out as long as he would not call the first shots of separation. You see, I never run away from relationships. My guilt and conscience would not let me do so. I am tested for patience and understanding. For reasons only known to him, he provides me with enough space to enjoy my own identity. Despite his complains about my tendency to dominate him most of the time, still he acknowledges my intervention over his personal affairs. After all, I end up being the problem solver when things fuck up. He may not be my ideal partner at the beginning. But with time and familiarity, I learned how to accept him the was he is and the way he will be. After all, we are involved in each other lives in one way or the other, that eventually such involvement lead to an understanding that beneath our own individual lives, we have always been tied as one.

SO
November 25, 2006

---

I can see the worry on my mom's face when he saw phanks, especially when she found out that Phanks brought a lot of things with him.

But being a good host that we are, she just ignored her thoughts. Besides, my sister would be gone for two weeks so its easy to make an excuse that Phanks would be staying in to keep us company.

However, for some reasons, my buddy told my mom that he just had a trangkaso, which worried my mom even more. That evening mother asked me not to let phanks sleep on my bed.

Which of course, I ignored.

For two days, Phanks never left my room except to eat or go to the bathroom. But he assured me that after he regain his strength he would go back to school.

The maids were quite nice to him as well. They never complained whenever phanks wore my shirt or tops, or whether he wore my shorts or used my towel. While at work, I called home to check whether my guest have eaten his breakfast or he skipped it out of shyness.

He became part of the house and everyone became used to him.

Live-In
February 21 2006

---

Dumating kami ng Malate Church ngunit sarado na ito kaya nagpasya na lang kaming magdinner sa Shakey's. Habang nagiintay sa aming hapunan, di ko naiwasang mag-open ng isang issue na matutuloy pala sa isang argumento. So hayun, nagdadate kami pero muntik-muntikan na kaming mag-away. Para maiwasan pa ang napipintong pagwawalk-out ng isa samin, sabi ko sarado na ang issue. Na bring up ko na ang problema, at wala na siyang maidedepensa sa akin.

Pagkatapos nun ay katahimikan. Wala kaming imikan habang iniintay ang aming combo meal.

Alam ko, pareho kaming badtrip at wala sa mood. Pero narealize ko na isa itong mahalagang araw para sa amin. Ayoko sanang mauwi ang gabing ito na may samaan kami ng loob sa isa't isa... na nagcelebrate kami ng isang napakawalang kwenta anniversary.

Tumingin ako sa kanya, tumitig ng matagal kahit maraming tao sa paligid makuha ko lang ang attensyon ng binatilyo. Nang mapansin niya ako't nagsimula na rin siyang makipagtitigan, hiniritan ko ang buddy ko.

"Happy Annivesary Pangga" bulong ko sa kanya. Ngiti ang isinauli niya sa akin.

Anniversary Night
April 21, 2004

---

Matapos ang trenta minutos, nagkita rin kami sa wakas.

Tama ang sabi niya, napakapayat niya at maliit pa. Parang David at Goliath ang pagitan naming dalawa pero malakas pa rin ang appeal ng maamo niyang mukha sa sakin. Kumain kami sa McDonalds bago kami magsimulang maglakad-lakad sa palibot ng Ermita. Ako pa nga ang tumaya sa kanya dahil alam kong deins niya kayang ilibre ako. Isa pa, kaibigan naman ang turing ko sa kanya noong mga oras na yun kaya balewala sakin kung man-libre ako o hindi.

Matapos naming kumain, naglakad kami sa Baywalk at nagkwentuhan tungkol sa mga nakaraang relasyon namin. Naikwento niya yung dalawang naging badi-badihan na parang ginamit lang siyang pangparausan samantalang siya naman akala niya eh pwede siyang seryosohin noong taong nakilala niya.

Ako naman, naikwento ko ulit, for the Nth time ang sentiments ko tungkol kay ex. Sinabi ko sa kanya na naghahalo ang pagkamiss at pait ng pangloloko niya sa akin. Bandang huli, narealize ko na masyado na akong nagiging OA sa pagkamiss ko sa relasyon namin ni Yul. Nasabi ko tuloy sa kanya na yun na ang huling beses na ikwekwento ko ang nakaraan ko sa sinumang magtanong sa akin...

Ang Lalaki at Ang Ulan
April 21, 2003
Reposted July 13, 2005

---

Limang buwan ko na tinatamasa ang aking kalayaan. Sa loob ng mga buwang iyon, di mabibilang ang mga pagkakataon kung saan maari akong magseryoso ng bago. Sa tuwing nararamdaman ko ang bulusok ng ibang tao sa buhay ko, bigla-bigla akong kumakambyo. Akala ko ay dahil ito sa mga standards na si-net ko noong huling araw ng November. Ngayon, tingin ko ay dahil ito sa hindi makakailang pakiramdam ng attachment sa aking nakaraan.

Hindi ko pinapangarap ang makipagbalikan. Subalit nakikita kong mahirap ang aking susuungin matumbasan lang ang lahat ng pinagdaanan namin ni Phanks. At habang tumatagal, habang bumabaon sa akin ang mga ala-alang kagaya nito, lagi kong iniisip.

Makakapagsimula pa kaya akong muli? Paano kaya ang taong aking iniwan, kamusta na kaya siya?

---

Naging ugali ko na ang pagsisindi ng tatlong kandila matapos magdasal sa Santa Clara. Ang ikatlo ay para sa darating - maging sino man siya - upang malaman niya na sa mga hapong iyon ay may nagdadasal para sa kanyang kapayapaan at kaligtasan. Ang ikalawa ay para sa lahat ng mahal ko sa buhay - pamilya, kamag-anak at pati na rin mga kaibigan.

Ang ang una ay para sa nakaraan - kay phanks - upang magkaroon siya ng lakas ng loob mabuhay ng malayo sa akin. Ang aking panalangin ay para sa kanyang kalusugan, kaginhawaan at tagumpay sa pag-aaral.

Higit sa lahat, ang unang kandila ay para sa kanya - upang ipanalangin na sana ay lumigaya na siya at makahanap ng mamahaling

iba.

Nightmare

O kay sarap humanap ng bato na ipupukol sa aking ulo.

---

Nagsimula ang lahat sa taxi. Pauwi na ako ng bahay noon, samantalang ikaw naman ay may kasamang iba at patungo na rin sa iyong uuwian. Sa hindi malamang dahilan ay magka-convoy ang ating mga sasakyan kahit na ang inyong destinasyon ay pa-silangan at ako naman ay pakanluran. Sa loob ng taxi ay naisipan kong tingnan ang nilalaman ng aking wallet. Wala na pala itong pera. Tuloy ay napilitan akong bumaba at mag-withdraw sa pinakamalapit na ATM habang kayo naman ay nag-iintay sa akin, sa ikalawang taxi na nakaparada lang sa likod ng sinasakyan ko.

Pagkawithdraw ng pera ay lumapit ako sa inyo upang mangamusta. Sa tagal ng ating kwentuhan ay nakalimutan kong may taxi palang nag-iintay sa akin. Pati ang kasama mo ay nainip sa ating pag-uusap. Habang nagbabayad ng aking metro sa kabilang taxi, bumaba siya ng inyong sasakyan upang sumakay sa taxi na iniwan ko. Naiwan tayong dalawa at dahil dun ay naisipan kong ihatid ka na lang pauwi.

Madilim pa ang lansangan nang tayo'y nagsimulang maglakbay. Di kalayuan ang ating bababaan subalit pagdating sa terminal ng mga sasakyan papunta sa inyo'y maliwanag na. Bumaba tayo ng taxi upang kumontrata ng iba. One hundred fifty pesos ang gusto ng driver at ito'y aking kinontra. Maaliwas ang langit, subalit wala akong nakikitang araw. Habang tayo ay nag-iintay ng FX ay may taong grasa na lumapit sa atin. Nakalimutan ko ang kanyang sinabi, ngunit tandang tanda ko pa kung paano kita hinarangan upang hindi ka niya mapansin.

Mataas na ang araw ngunit wala pa rin tayong masakyan.

Sa kabila ng lahat, hindi ko nakita ang bakas ng pagod o puyat sa iyong mga mata. Sa halip pa nga'y mukhang masaya ka na kasama lang akong nag-iintay ng masasakyan pauwi sa inyo. Marahil dahil na rin sa tagal nating pagkakatayo ay naisipan nating sumandal sa isang tabi. Sa aking pagkakaalam ay isang lamesa ang ating naupuan, subali't laking gulat ko nang ito'y biglang umandar. Hood pala ng isang lowered at kalawanging kotse ang ating naupuan.

At ang nagmamaneho nito ay yung babaeng taong grasa na nakasalubong natin sa daan.

Wala nang pagkakataon upang tumalon at umiwas sa disgrasya.

Ayaw ko rin magpatihulog sapagkat tinaga ko sa buto ang pangakong hindi ka iiwan.

Mabilis akong dumagan sa iyo upang masiguro na hindi ka dudulas at mahuhulog sa kalsada. Kasabay nito ang pag-unat ng aking mga braso upang maabot ng aking mga kamay ang magkabilaang dulo ng hood. Pabilis ng pabilis ang takbo ng sasakyan, samantalang ang driver naman ay mukhang balak tayo ibangga sa pinakamalapit na poste na kanyang maaninagan.

Sa kabila ng nagbabadyang panganib ay una kong tiniyak ang iyong kaligtasan. Tama nga siguro ang sabi ni Centurion sa inuman kagabi na ako ang tipong martir na handang magsakripsyo ng husto para sa isang tao.

Sapagkat nang mga oras na iyon, handa akong mapahamak para sa iyo.

Tiningnan ko sa mata ang driver. Mga mata niya'y nanlilisik at wala itong tigil sa paghalakhak habang minamaneho ang karag-karag niyang sasakyan. Ang kanyang bibig ay walang tigil sa paggalaw na tila ba may sinasabi. Sa kasamaang palad ay wala akong matandaan sa kanyang mga nabanggit.

Pagkaraan pa ng ilang minuto ay bumagal na rin ang takbo ng kotse. Napagod man ang nagmamaneho dito ngunit walang preno pa rin ang kanyang bibig sa kanyang mga sinasabi. Nawala na rin ang panlilisik ng kanyang mga mata. Ito'y napalitan ng pagkalma ng mukha na ni minsan ay hindi ko napansin sa taong grasa noong una natin siyang nakita.

Nakababa tayo ng hood ng kotse na tila walang nangyari.

Subalit ramdam ko na mas dikit ka na sa akin matapos ang lahat.

---

Bumangon akong masakit ang ulo dala ng hang-over sa mga beer na tinungga kagabi. Sa kabila nito ay sariwa pa rin ang panaginip na tila isang matamis na ala-ala na sadyang ayaw magpalimot.

Naalala kitang bigla.

Kasunod nito ang pagtarak ng patalim sa aking dibdib. Ang bawat hapdi na aking nararamdaman ay paalala lamang upang magising sa aking kahibangan

na anuman ang mangyari, ang eksenang panaginip gaya ng

hawakan ng ating mga kamay,
ang pagsandal ng iyong ulo sa aking balikat,
at ang iyong mga matatamis na ngiti habang tayo'y nag-iintay ng masasakyan pauwi

ay mananatiling mapait na bangungot na sana'y di ko na lang napanaginipan.

Ilang beses ko man balik-balikan ang panaginip kagabi at ilang beses ko man isikreto ang pagtingin ko sa iyo,

kailangan kong gumising sa katotohanang nakatakda kang lumigaya sa piling ng iba.

---

Sa tulog ko lang ba kita maaaring makamtan
'Di ba puwedeng makasama ka sa ibang paraan
O Diyos ko, tulungan mong maging totoo
Ang panaginip kong ito...

- South Border, Tulog

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.

---

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.

---

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

- Ewwwik, Wandering Commuter

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.

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.

Tawagan Mo Ako

Bakit ganun ang ibang tao, kapag nakakaramdam sila ng insecurities, panghihinayang o kaya naman ay stress sa buhay, nagpapatawag sila sa iba na akala mo, right nila magkaroon ng kausap?

Hindi pa natatapos ang hapon ngayong araw, dalawang tao na ang nagpatawag sa akin habang ako ay nasa gitna ng pagtratrabaho. Nakaka-badtrip, lalo na't nais kong lumubog sa kumunoy ngayo't maging withdrawn sa lahat ng bagay. Akala mo ay pag-aari nila ako na laging handang sumaklolo kapag sila ay nalulubog - samantalang ako na mag-isa'y pilit nagstru-struggle upang magkaroon ng solid front sa emptiness, weariness at pananakit ng kalamnan na nararamdaman ko.

Sa totoo nakaka-ubos lakas ang ginagawa nila.

Marami akong gustong i-rant subalit pinili kong ipaloob na lang sa sarili ang lahat ng mga ito sa takot na makasakit ng mga taong mahalaga sa akin. "Calmness is the path towards peace" sabi nga ni Buddha, pero sa mga ganitong sitwasyon, gusto ko - just once - na pakawalan lahat ng inipon kong rage sa loob ko. Gusto ko sumigaw, magmura, manapak, mang-harass, mang-dominate, manakit, mangmanyak, maglasing, mawala at magwala.

Pero para saan?

I wish they would leave me alone.

And I'm sorry for flaring up.

If you do not have anyone to lean on and you hesitate on reaching out to someone who can salvage your sanity, the blog will always in the end,

The only saving grace you've got.

---

I feel so used...

And for that, I am seriously thinking of keeping Mugen the Teddy Bear as my new toy-companion.

So that something that is even inanimate,

can cheer me in moments like this.

Discreet

You mounted the ledge like a usurper coming from the crowd below. The spot you just occupied was the same corner I was aiming when I went to the ledge an hour ago. Since I was busy trying to make a score with the ladies, I let you take my place. After all, your pheromone-drenched body was a welcome addition to the merry boys who ruled the space we both occupied.

The ladies dancing on the same ledge were slim and gorgeous. They were in front of us. Their hips moved and their bodies twisted, while their boobies bounced to the beat of the sound. I was certain I flirted with a woman and not a tranny this time. You see, I have this habit of mistaking a she-boy for a real chick.

Your presence became a sudden distraction, just when I was an inch close in getting my prized pussy. Everyone was trying to have a piece of you. Even the spotlight turned from the ladies who danced like sluts on my part of the ledge towards your direction, where revelers gathered just to see you bust a move. You know why our eyes were turned to you? Your ruggedness suggested a masculine demeanor, but it was your bulky chest, flat abs and tanned skin that took everyone by storm. In the sea of flamboyancy, a half-naked barako dude like you was the only thing missing before the ship overloaded with gay men turns overboard forcing everyone to sink before getting your attention.

You danced with much so much spunk, while your audience surrounded you with their hands raised up to touch your sweaty torso. I would have done the same, had my pride jacket failed me. You were a sea god out there (where one even made a sign of the cross after feeling your abdominals with his hands) amidst the frenzy of prancing sea-men. Secretly, I desired for your attention; but knowing how inferior my beacon was for you to take notice, I decided to swim on my own, hoping the mermaids on the other side of our sea would still find my presence interesting.

"Naks andami mong fans ah!"

"Hindi naman." Your smile left a trace of inflated ego, while your peripheral glances sized up my attributes that you matched up with yours.

Your audience went elsewhere a few dance tracks later. Perhaps they got tired of worshiping your body, which can never be theirs no matter how they desperately supplicate for your blessing. You were still in your corner dancing, while flexing your biceps for everyone to see. They were firmer and bigger than mine. But with a height that never reached even the tips of my shoulder blades, I appeared looming darkly behind you.

If you were a sea god dancing proudly over a sea of drowning gay men, I was a Titan watching your every move. In my brooding silence, I hoped that my shadowy presence would catch your attention.

And it did, without me doing any work.

You put your hands behind your back to feel if your shirt was still tucked inside your tight jeans, while I, simply put mine near yours pretending not to brush your sweaty fingers. But with every brush, our fingers touched and ran across one another. Soon, the touching gave way to holding. Who would have thought that we could ever become intimate even if it was our mere hands expressing our hidden feelings for one another?

Soon, your patrons returned touching again every part of your lean body. I let them have their way for you have already chosen your mate for the night. While your left hand tried to push away stubborn hands aiming for your zipper. Your right hand was on mine, squeezing my hardness. I tried to reciprocate the favor by squeezing yours but I felt it would simply be inappropriate.

Your objective was to catch other's attention and I don't want to block your way.

I could have turned my gaze elsewhere and leave you basking in your five minutes of fame. The skinny long-haired lady next to us was already responding to my provocations long before you came to the ledge. However, my inner nature told me to stay. I cannot deny that I longed for you just like you secretly longed for me. With no words able to describe our feelings, I understood that despite your outer toughness, you sought someone who could match your ruggedness. Others will have their turns touching your body, but I was the only one capable of feeling your soul. As you leaned on my arms while trying to bend your body, I knew that you sought someone who can make you feel secured right at your most vulnerable moment.

I would have wished for you to turn around and face me. But with all the searchlights focused on you, I was a mere shadow standing behind with my arms ready to catch if you fall. I could have asked you to be mine, but what happens after I consumed you? Would our lives intertwine like when it happens in some gay fairytale? Much as it gets tiring sometimes, truth is, what we had was just a night's dance.

Even our names were unknown to one another.

Maybe someone else deserve you better. Maybe I have become a player who simply wants to gauge how far would my discreet flirting would get me. Maybe you will meet someone who would make you feel more than I am capable of.

With my hands still bound to someone, I know, you will be happier with someone else.

But you know what, I also thought what if you were that someone who could make me feel better? What if you were that someone who would someday give back my freedom? What if behind the mask we both wore last night revealed a person who was simply tired of giving too much?

What if I was letting a chance go, despite how strong our connection was? What if despite how your worshipers waited for you to perform miracles, you were already performing it on me?

Sadly, like all the guys I flirted before you, I would never know the answers...

"Pare ang astig mo."

"Talaga, salamat ha."

"Una na ako sayo. Enjoy mo ang party."

"Una ka na??"

Yup Paalam.

No matter how I wanted to stay longer and no matter how dying I was to keep you company until daybreak comes,

I know where my limit ends.

Had you met me when my heart was still made of wood. Things would have ended differently.

But now that it is already surrounded with barbed wires.

It is goodbye for us.

Even if fate gives us a next time, I know, we will never be the same dance partners we had been at the White Party last night.

---

Touch my body
Throw me on the floor,
Wrestle me around,
Play wit me some more

- Mariah Carey, Touch My Body