Fast Car

There
are some things
that can only be
truly appreciated
after dark.

Commonwealth Avenue, Quezon City

---


You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so we can fly away
We gotta make a decision
We leave tonight or live and die this way

Tracy Chapman, Fast Car

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.

Of The Things To Come

Isang dahilan kung bakit ayaw ko na masyadong nakukuha ng isang bagay o tao ang aking atensyon ay dahil ang unang apektado ay ang pagsusulat ko.

Kagaya ng nangyari ngayong gabi.



Mahigit apat na oras rin yun.

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.

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

Shadow Of Sleeplessness: Ten Ways Of Coping Up With Insomnia

The battle to reclaim the body clock rages on. If the bouts of sleeplessness last week brought misery and turmoil not only to my job performance but also to my everyday relationship with people, this week, I turned things around by accommodating my highly unusual sleeping pattern.

You see, what's done is done and if I'm not mistaken, it takes 21 days to start a habit. Since I cannot afford to give up three weeks to follow a routine, (for I will always have to break my cycle every Friday for hedonistic reasons) my choice is to accept the pattern already in place.

Imagine getting sleepy at 7 in the evening, only to be forced into a wakeful cycle a minute before midnight. Since you spent your entire evening unconsciously living your fantasies and nightmares in dreamland, you will catch up with real life by doing your errands when people are about to sleep. Nocturnal invitations would not come until three or four in morning, which you have to cut short for your work at 9. Sleep kicks in again at noon which slows your work performance. Power naps will cut deep into your shift until you realize that you have barely 2 hours to finish your work. And so the cycle begins again when you arrive home. Coping up with the pattern will be hard in the beginning, but some lessons in practicality will see you through.

Here are ten ways that enable me to get around my sleeping trouble.

10. Acceptance.

Mister Sandman ignores you no matter how many sheep you count. Not even glasses of warm milk would relax your senses and encourage your brain functions to slow down - in fact, it sometimes backfires when you have to get up to take a leak in the toilet. If you can't sleep, then accept it. There is no use waiting for eternity lying like a drugged Snow White in bed.

9. Say Hello To Mister Brains.

Information overload will keep you alert but deny you of all the possible avenues to fall asleep. At least, you learn many things in the middle of the night. Lucky are those whose television and dvd player are inside their room. You can get to watch highly profound art films when your brain processing function is at its maximum. Luckier are those who have access to cable channels at anytime of the night. You are tuned-in to the world like everyone in the planet hardly sleeps.

CNN, National Geographic, Animax and Discovery Channel - these are my companions when my sleeping pattern would not give me a break. No wonder, I'm turning geek these days.

8. Write Life.

Based from experience, people are more open to expressing their thoughts, feelings and ideas when there is a soft light illuminating the bedroom while silence whispers in their ears.

Most of my better and more compelling entries were published at past 2 in the morning.

7. Become The Earpleaser.

Listen to different music genres when sleep evades you. Surely the neighbors won't complain if they hear Chopin or Mozart hum sweet melodies from your speakers. Of course, you're not crazy enough to play techno or rock music at high volume at past midnight Enrich your auditory experience by exposing yourself to the varied kind of light acoustics.

6. Release Your Sensual Demons.

Better done with a bed companion. However, when a person is not available, One can always avail the assistance of Mister Jack Palmer. Kinkiness has it's appeal when one is desperate to fall asleep.

5. Cheat.

If it's totally impossible to get some sleep before work begins, end your misery by moving the bulk of your after-shift activities early in the morning.

There are gyms which are open 24 hours. Since my sleeping trouble is tampering with my fixed waking pattern, I changed my gym routine from late in the afternoon to early in the morning. They say it's difficult to lift weights in such condition. I say when the mind is awake, everything is possible.

4. Distancia Amigo.

Finally, it's time to sync your personal schedule with the rest of humanity. Often, the merging is not easy. By 8 in the morning, an insomniac would most likely feel tired, exhausted and a little cranky after enduring a night of wakefulness. To warn the people around of your potentials to get very intense and grumpy saves not only a few bones and muscles but also a friendship unjustly broken because of a nasty fight that started as a harmless joke.

3. Power Naps.

Avoid committing career-threatening lapses by allowing the body to recuperate. There is nothing wrong in shutting down one's mental functions when the mind is idle and lacks stimulation. Lunch breaks are ideal for power naps, but if you're working in an industry where breaks are intertwined with work, stealing company time to boost one's personal efficiency is justifiable.

Just don't follow my example where an intermittent power nap could last an entire movie run.

2. Do What The Koboys Do.

Yes, try to learn how to sleep anywhere. I can fall asleep in my office chair, on a toilet cubicle, inside an FX going to work, on a slow-moving bus from Cubao to Shaw, inside a jeep by leaning my head over the soft cushion just above the open window. Desperate times require desperate measures. As long as my head is comfortably secured on a surface, then it's off to dreamland for me.

1. Find Joy Exploring New Worlds.

Astig maging iba. The slogan of a carbonated beverage drink bannered over print and tv ads a few years ago. There is a grain of truth in it, really, especially when you're the kind of person who enjoys following the unconventional path. Being a nocturnal animal all my life, to embrace a morning schedule is like being condemned to the bowels of hell. Imagine where I am coming from, I can count with my fingers the number of times I was able to enjoy a glimpse of sunrise. Even to see little children going to school has become a rare spectacle for me.

Since I learned to adjust my movements based from my sleeping pattern, these rare joys has become a regular treat. I can now observe the early-risers go with their business whenever I leave the house at 5 in the morning. I can now even attend early morning masses (to which I'm not entirely thrilled to claim) in Katipunan, which I haven't done before.

---

These are my ways of coping up with insomnia. Not everything I've written works for people, but there is no harm in trying. What really matters is that one should never see a prolonged wakefulness as a problem but instead, a different way of seeing life unfold. There is no denial that having a fucked-up body clock could sometimes be a burden. How many day-offs did I waste when I spent it sleeping all day? Those precious hours could be used to do other things but instead I used it to lay claim to sleep that was denied to me.

An aunt doctor said that insomnia is a temporary affliction. Many people who suffers from it are still able to get their normal sleeping patterns back. As for my own troubles, I'd just let things take its course. Sooner or later, my body would get used to my new shift.

While I gain new grounds by reaping the rewards of being awake at times when others are still rolling and twisting in their desperate sleep.

photos acquired from
ponzi.com

High

It all began with a video footage on Bandila two nights ago.

While everyone at home waited for any news about the high-profile drama surrounding the Alabang Boys and their busted drug syndicate, news about the Feast of the Black Nazarene splashed on the TV Screen. It was an anti-climactic turnaround of events especially for me, whose longing for real-time drama revealed how monotonous my choice of programming is late at night. The news spoke of preparations being done by the local city government of Manila for the expected deluge of devotees for the procession. It was also reported in the news that many devotees actually spend the night at the Basilica to welcome the massive statue as it is being pulled away from the altar towards the plaza and into the streets of Quiapo, where the flock scrambles to rub their towels and handkerchiefs on the icon.

The news about the all-night vigil stirred my curiosity. The thought of being with a group of pilgrims clad in Maroon who walked bare-footed going to the Basilica while carrying small statues of the Black Nazarene did not escape my thirst for something extraordinary. It may not be as thrilling as the Alabang Boys Scandal, but it is an excuse to be in Quiapo during the ungodly hour of the night.

I could just imagine the things I would find out as I join the devotees out there.

It was past midnight when I left the gym. Tired and exhausted from a heavy work-out, heading home to get some rest was an easy choice. However, the Feast of the Black Nazarene is a once-in-a-year event. I may not be given a chance to witness it the next time it happens. Icy raindrops continued to pour down as I waited for a jeep that will take me to Quiapo. The heaving skies implied that my pilgrimage would not be as easy as I hope it would be. Inside my head, I see images of people all over the city converging around the Basilica. Frosty drizzles may dampen their huddled bodies but it will never drench their pious spirit.

However, it was not the image that greeted me when I arrived in Quiapo half an hour later. What I saw was a gay pageant being held on a rickety platform just a few streets across the Basilica. The Maranao traders may have retreated back to their tiny pigeon holes but it was the homeless who crouched in fetal position as they slept on mats splayed across the deserted pavement.

These depressing scenes did not stop me from pushing towards my destination. When I emerged from the sleepy side of the Lacson Underpass, throngs of people approached me from all sides. They were traders selling icons, religious booklets, scapulars and even handkerchiefs with the image of the Poon imprinted on both sides. Flames remained ablaze on several stalls, whose trade is to sell a bundle of candles in different colors for well-wishers to burn. The sight was quite disappointing; for I see these images every time I pass by the Basilica. It was the human drama I wished to see in that place. Unfortunately, everything was as mundane as the last time I found myself there.

As I think of ways to make the most out of my time outside the Church, I mingled with the vendors whose lives have been interwoven with the affairs of the Nazareno. Most of them were resentful after the new parish priest decreed that the celebrations should be done at Luneta instead. They were expecting the traditions to go on - despite the yearly casualties that sometimes take lives during the procession. Much as I wanted to welcome the changes initiated by the Basilica authorities, I cannot help but consider how the break in tradition would affect the essence of the festivities.

Something will be lost and it would most likely be the spirit of the occasion.

The chit-chat went on until a minor skirmish between two vendors broke out on the other side of the plaza. Fearing that a riot might erupt anytime soon, I sought refuge inside the Basilica. There I found the devotees seated next to each other on pews and on the floor while doing their personal acts of veneration towards the Nazareno.

I walked past aisles, but there was no seat available. The pews were occupied by children soundly asleep while their adult companions fanned themselves as they stared blankly at the altar. Meanwhile, the old folks, whose timeless tradition they hold to even at the twilight years of their lives offer a glimpse of what human continuity could achieve: Decades from now, it would be their children who would be kneeling and clutching their rosaries, while their children's children would be the one sleeping on those same nearly-immortal pews.

I sat near the lectern and turned my head towards the pious parishioners facing me. They were the ordinary folks - the Masa crowd who often flock the Basilica during ordinary days. They were not the rich and middle-class parishioners who pay a visit at my favorite convent in Katipunan to write prayers on a piece of paper and then offer a basket of eggs to tempt the heavens to grant their supplications.

Unzipping my bag, I took out the rosary, the prayer booklet and the Bible which I bring wherever I go. The past twelve months have been transforming that I learned to keep my peace not by going to parties or engaging myself in sexual affairs, or engaging learned people about the values of our generation. I found serenity in reciting prayers passed on to me by my mother when I was still a kid. It is faith that holds me in place and whenever I find myself in a house of prayer, I take every opportunity to get in touch with my spirituality no matter what other people would think.

My fingers began to feel the wooden beads despite having no prayer intentions in mind. As I looked around for one last time before shutting my thoughts and turning myself inwards, what I still see were faceless people seating, kneeling and praying in front of me.

Bible passages were read, as each succeeding sorrowful mysteries drew me closer to that self fulfillment I seek. As the last of the Holy Mary's were being recited, I knew that my journey was coming to an end. This Pilgrimage will go down as one of the highs of this year. After doing the sign of the cross, I picked my bag and left the Basilica without ever getting noticed. Devotees were still coming in, while outside, traders braved the unbearable freezing temperature to sell trinkets that would remind non-believers of how profitable religion is.

It was time to go home. The Pilgrimage had restored my faith. It doesn't matter if the Nazareno truly answers prayers or heal the sick; I already have my goals. However, it seems like the Source was not over with me yet. Something is about to unfold and it would truly make my expedition as spiritual as it could be.

I remember reading a passage in the Book of Matthew while reciting my prayers earlier. It speaks of the messiah telling his listeners about his father wanting not sacrifices to offer but kindness for all his creations. For some reasons I made a mental note of that passage, only to find out what it truly meant while walking pass snoozing bystanders slumbering beneath the cold, lonely underpass.

As I was about to climb the steep flight of stairs leading to Hidalgo Street, a young woman clutching an infant approached me. She was asking for spare change. Feeling the contents of my pocket, what I found was a bunch of coins worth eight pesos. It was all the money I have left. I knew it wasn't enough for the lady and her infant. To apologize or pretend that I did not hear anything was an easy choice. However, coming from a very personal communion with the almighty, leaving her ignored and abandoned will take away the essence of my journey.

On my right hand was a half-filled bottle of Cobra Energy Drink I bought from a convenience store not far from the Basilica. It was the only thing I could offer. Extending my hand, I asked if she would like to have my drink instead. Without hesitation she smiled and took the bottle away like a thirsty wayfarer taking a break from a long and difficult trek she had to overcome. Her acceptance gave me a sense of relief. "Finally a good deed done after receiving the good news," I told myself. As I bowed to the lady before I left, a moment's glimpse suddenly blurred my vision.

It felt like the encounter sums up everything I did in Quiapo.

The devotees may spend a day and a night reciting the most poetic words to venerate their icons. They can form a line as far as the eyes could see just to wipe a statue whose miracles according to legends could bring fortune and healing to the sick. The Feast of the Nazarene is a religious event for those who believe and those who wish to believe.

I recall the beginnings of my journey towards the end of it; when a lady carrying a child approached me begging for alms. I responded not by offering food or money but by giving her my drink. In that small act, I discovered that the fulfillment I seek was not inside the Basilica or in the wooden beads which my fingers run for almost an hour.

Hours after arriving home, the smile on that thirsty lady's face remains deeply embedded on my head. Words were never spoken, but when our hands held together the plastic bottle I was giving her, it was almost like meeting the lady and the child whose image appears in front of my prayer booklet.

And whose assurances I sought when prayers were spoken from my lips.

When our hands held close, it was the only time I truly felt complete.

Routine Dependence

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

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

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

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

Tama Ka

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

---

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

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

---

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

- Eraserheads, Tama Ka

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.

Timog

After J. Wendell Capili.

---


For we will always keep in mind:
The bonds of friendship are not formed
in the glitzy, sweaty and pretentious dance floors of Malate
but among the macho mugs and rowdy halls of Quatro.

We will always remember
and we will never forget.

700

In the quiet emptiness of my room, I close my eyes only to hear their wild screams getting louder and louder inside my head. Suddenly, everything goes black, and when I open my eyes , I see myself inside a cramped cabin, alone, and with my heart pounding for an unfamiliar nightmare has descended shortly after my arrival.

---

I feel that I am in the heart of a large vessel that keeps tossing and turning every time the waves pound the starboard side of the ship. Dizziness sets in, and it's like I will have to throw up at any moment. To keep myself from becoming nauseated, I look outside the small rounded window only to find the darkness swallowing me. Even the fiery red sky above seems like a huge creature whose lashing rain and howling wind add more fear to my already sinking heart. After having a brief introduction with the Furies, I close the glass window to keep the white sprays of seawater from getting inside the cabin.

The ship begins to tilt, so I jump out of the bunker bed and switch the door knob to escape. It was jammed. The walls around me expand and contract, and the twisting metal produces a screeching sound that sends terror running up and down my spine. I hear loud thuds outside the cabin. Somebody shouted "maghanap na kayo ng mga life vest niyo lulubog na ang barko!" and it was followed by waves upon waves of screaming passengers that are being squeezed in the narrow corridor on the other side of my door. I lean my head against the wall and I can hear voices of children sobbing. Some are calling their mothers, who got separated from them when the stampede began. I also hear people begging the heavens to spare them the most tragic death, while others are already imploring the Virgin for a safe passage in the afterlife. In this ship run by greed, there is no escape. We will soon go down into our watery grave with a humble wish that the sea returns our bloated bodies to our dearly beloved.

The ship tilts more violently and I find myself pressed against the door. I hear a lady shouting "pesteng yawa kayo, huwag niyong tapakan ang nanay ko!" I do not know if her calls are heeded. In this state of utter helplessness, imagination plays a big role in seeing the drama going outside my cabin: People shoving and pushing one another for available space. Infants being crushed between two heaving bodies, and men fiercely fighting for any available life vest that their sweaty hands could reach. But there is no assurance that my mind doesn't play tricks on me. However, if there is one thing I am sure of, it is the feeling that no one in the corridor really gets to find the exit. They are all stuck there - and slowly - getting suffocated by the onslaught of more passengers trying to escape. The situation becomes too unbearable that some passes out without the person next to them ever noticing their slow but certain expiration.

Suddenly, the ship tilts on its other side and the door to my cabin swings open. Those unlucky ones directly outside tumbles into my room. The first slams her head against the glass window and now lay unconscious on the floor. Several others followed. The last one to fall grabs my shirt and drags me along with him. We roll down until we hit the unconscious woman who fell first. Using my remaining strength, I crawled my way up then squeezes myself among the passengers in the corridor. But Alas! I kept on being pushed back.

"Tangina mo nakikisiksik ka pa wala na ngang lugar dito," a guy said, while pulling back a passenger in front of him.

But like him, I am just trying to survive. Much as he will hate me for pushing myself in, the truth is there is really no way out.

Especially now that another big wave pounds the ship
and another,
and another,

Until the ship capsizes and begins to sink.

Now we are all pressed against one side of the ship. Another wave of panic ensues and those who are weak to move are trampled by passengers who are desperately trying to find the exit. Those who find it insist on staying inside the vessel. They say that instant death awaits those who will dare to dive into the murky waters which is already finding its way inside the ship.

Next to me is a young guy about my age. He looks at me with his weary eyes and then smiled before composing a text message on his mobile phone.

He was not able to send it.

Suddenly the lights went out as the Captain finally sounds the complete evacuation of the ship. Pandemonium now falls on everyone. Someone screams that water has already swallowed several decks below. Children are now crying loudly while the adults babble incoherent words while their eyes - their stunned eyes fixes at the nearest object - human or otherwise before it too freezes, like their cold, empty bodies.

I close my eyes for one last time to shun the voices I hear around me.

While bodies on top of me makes it harder and harder to breathe.

Despite my imminent passing, I try my best not to think that this is the end.

But the truth is, it is the end for them...

---

I open my eyes again and find myself back in front of the computer screen. I pause for a second to gather my thoughts - my deep, troubled feelings as the screams of people inside my head are now being subdued by my inner peace.

In the jet black darkness of my room, I took out a single matchstick inside the matchbox to light a candle I placed earlier near the keyboard.

In remembering all the victims of the sea tragedy.

I began praying in hopes that their souls find peace in the depths of the abyss.

Mirror Universe

Alas-kwatro ng madaling araw. Mahigit sampung magkakabarkada ang lumabas galing sa Providence Vito Cruz matapos ang isang magdamagang kantahan. Ang lima sa kanila ay bagong salta sa grupo, samantalang ang natitira naman ay taon na ang binibilang sa kanilang samahan. Ang hangin ay sumisipol sa kalangitan. Ang mga yero nama'y tila pinapagpag sa pagkakapako sa mga bubungan ng bahay. Sa malayo'y isang transformer ang kumislap na parang kwitis. Kasunod nito ay ang pagbagsak ng kable ng kuryente sa kalsada.

Ang mga pangitaing ito'y hindi ininda ng magkakabarkada.

Nagsimula silang maglakad sa kahabaan ng Vito Cruz upang tumbukin ang Quirino Avenue. Doon ay may matatagpuang McDonald's na bente-kwatro oras bukas. Isang binata ang sumusuray sa kanyang paglalakad. Ito'y inalalayan ng isa sa mga baguhan na noong gabi lang niya nakilala. Madilim ang paligid at walang ilaw sa lansangan. Nang sila'y dumating sa kanilang patutunguhan, ito ay brownout. Sa halip, ang mga kahera't service crew ay nagsisilbi gamit ang tanglaw ng kandila.

Matindi ang hagupit ng hangin sa labas ng McDonald's. Ang mga nabaling sanga ng mga puno'y tila nagproprotesta sa daan. Tanging mangilan-ngilang taxi lang ang nagdaraan sa tapat, samantalang ang mga gumimik naman mula Malate'y tila ambon na unti-unting pumapatak sa pintuan ng restaurant.

Kanya-kanyang kwentuhan ang magbabarkada. Mayroong isa na nagbibigay crash-course sa iba't-ibang paraan upang pakinisin ang mukha gamit ang makabagong teknolohiya. Ang isa naman na balikbayan ay nagkwekwento kung paano siya pinag-aralan ng mga doktor sa San Francisco matapos siyang magkaroon ng Bulutong-Tubig doon. Ang iba naman ay nagtatanong tungkol sa buhay-buhay ng mga bagong pasok sa grupo.

Kung mayroon mang isang bagay na hindi napagusapan noong umagang iyon - na sigurado ko'y pagku-kuwentuhan ilang buwan at taon mula ngayon, yun ay ang bonding na naganap isang madaling-araw, habang ang lansanga'y binabayo ng hangin at ang kalasada nama'y unti-unting nilulubog ng tubig baha.

---

Meanwhile, Tripper celebrated his birthday party last night. Everyone from the "Alliance" showed up - even his non-blogger friends that we get to meet when Trip hosts our Toma Session at his place. Hard Drinks overflowed, the Seafood Pasta was delicious and those who showed up had a story to tell.

Jiban the dancer is already hooked up to House Music.

Macoy the silent operator has a brand new SLR Camera that he used to take pictures of the Santan flowers outside Tripper's pad.

Dabo the sweet loverboy is very fond of his newly found "interest."

DN was officially introduced by Gripen to the group that afternoon,

while TL still, is the official entertainer of the Alliance.

I was drunk the whole night and went to work this afternoon still nursing a terrible hang-over from last night's unforgettable stormy revelry.

Dusk Over Purgatorio

There comes a crossroad in a confused man's life when he have to choose whether to come out to the light, or continue to hide in the darkness of his cramped closet. Many souls take years or even decades before they could accept their true sexual preference. Others embrace it unconsciously while doing the deed all non-straight men do. I don't know how others found their way into the fold, but mine was stirred by a single comic book and opened my eyes to the possibilities of being a proud homosexual person.

It was almost eight years ago when it all happened, one afternoon while doing my duties as an on-the-job trainee in a daily newspaper.

I was assigned to the Lifestyle Section of the broadsheet, Manila Times. Barely a week after my tour of duty had begun, my first assignment was to arrange the photos and their write-ups sent by PR firms according to the day they will come out of the newspaper. Mondays are for arts and crafts, while Tuesdays are for food and restaurants. I believe it was Thursdays when they feature books and other activities related to literature.

Behind the editor's desk were magazines and books sent to her by publishing companies across the country. There were thick ones devoted for landscape design and home improvement and thin ones for culinary arts. There were also several novels written by Filipinos, but I was too engrossed in Journalism then to notice these works. While arranging them, a booklet, no thicker than my mouse pad fell out from the collection. It immediately caught my attention because this booklet was not your ordinary material, but a graphic comic book for that matter.

I picked it up so I can have a closer inspection. The design cover was all black, with dark yellow prints and two men in its front cover. No one will ever assume that the book I was holding was actually a gay literature. No, I was simply too ignorant to be aware of them.

Curiosity got hold of me, so I opened the booklet and began reading the first page. I remember the story starting at the middle - in medias res - just before the climax. Two guys were confronting each other over something. One was a thin guy with a slight hint of femininity, while the other, a stocky looking brute packed with muscles and a brash attitude. It was raining and the opening drama took place on an open field where grasses grow as tall at the main characters.

The comic book One Night in Purgatory was Carlo Vergara's first graphic novel. It tells a story of two men, Deio and Casey who have been close friends since childhood. When Deio "came out" in college, Casey was very supportive despite his low regard for homosexuality. Soon after a turning point in their friendship, Casey and Deio parted ways and strove to go on with their lives. Two years later, Casey begins to reach out to Deio and tries to pick up from where they left. On that reunion night, they exorcise the demons bred by their two-year separation, and learn the valuable lessons of friendship, acceptance, forgiveness, and love.

I do not remember much about the story - except the images of the hunky Deio howling and jeering while a sexy female entertainer danced on top of their table, and of Casey who quietly honed his artistic gifts and occasionally thinks of his best friend Deio. Like what I've said, I was too ignorant to understand then. Nonetheless, I got this impression that something intimate happened between the two of them for Casey to scream at Deio and make him realize that doing it with another guy makes him no different from all gay guys. Their one-night intimacy had opened the possibilities for Deio to accept homosexual relationships.

I was stunned after reading the novel and how I wish I whisked it inside my bag instead of putting it back where it came from. Lucky for me, no one was around to witness my awakening. You see, back then, I never thought that one can be gay and still retain his masculinity. Only the effeminate stereotypes dominated my thoughts.

A few months after reading the comic book, I began taking bold steps that would lead to the adoption of my new sexual preference. There is the Borderline crossing, where I dared myself to acquire my first man to man VCD under the watchful eyes of the Carriedo LRT Station.

A year later, I had my first man to man kiss courtesy of a guy I met from the first "Bisexual" eyeball I attended in Pinoyexchange. It was also the first time I became heavily infatuated with a guy, that I had to break up with my girlfriend for us to see each other more often. It was also the first time I had SEB just to get back at a love that was unrequited,

Finally, it was also the first time I met Carlo Vergara in the flesh and told him how his brilliant work transformed me.

Looking back, I have lived in my own purgatory ever since childhood. I knew that the homosexual tendencies were there, but I suppressed it violently because no one, not even me could imagine turning into a parlorista just to fit into the homosexual mold. Who would have thought that its end would come the day I discovered Vergara's novel.

I guess not even hell or heaven could tell what my life could have been, had Purgatory not slipped from the books I was carrying that fateful afternoon.

---

Carlo Vergara's Blogspot

The Greening Of Manila

The sun rises behind the pristine Sierra Madre mountains where newly-planted saplings of Narra and Agoho had replaced the once sprawling subdivisions that were used to be part of Antipolo. In twenty years, a lush rainforest will cover large tracks of this hillside, becoming another watershed area that is beginning to surround the fringes of Metro Manila.

In a matter of minutes, hundreds of solar panels cleaving on millions of rooftops around the city will leave a glint of sunlight reflected back to the sky. By this time, Meralco have lost billions of pesos, trying to consolidate its dwindling power base of households still dependent on the electricity it supplied. Many families have emancipated themselves by turning to solar energy to power their homes.

Garbage, which used to be a problem of our time, will be a thing of the past in this enlightened age. After the last president, who was an out-gay, had made into law the mandatory recycling and segregation bill proposed by the Senate, many poor families have actually benefited from collecting refuse like plastic and glass bottles to sell them to refurbishing plants that turn these garbage into solar panels. As a result, these panels were so affordable, one can install an entire set in their rooftop at less than the price of the current generation of semi-organic laptops.

Going out of the house, one will be greeted not by flies or cockroaches but by genetically altered indigo butterflies that eat larvae and rotting trash in order to live. They glide above algae rich canals that were once reeking with dirt and filth. Clean water from car exhaust vents flow into these canals. The steep oil prices of 2010 had forced many car industries to embrace hydrogen engines overnight. As a result, even motorbikes run on water and electricity thanks to this revolution.

At night, fireflies glow in dark spaces that separate one house from the next. If one would pay close attention, all homes are lit by energy saving lamps that were freely distributed by the candidates during the last elections Plants have invaded even the tiniest of cracks, where crickets have found an ideal nesting ground for their brood. Their chorus of chirps serenade a sleeping city that had turned into an urban jungle in the last thirty years.

Still, Green Politics dictate the direction of World Affairs. No one will ever forget how Prime Minister John Howard of Australia lost to Kevin Rudd after he stubbornly refused to sign the Kyoto Protocol in those early days of the Green Revolution. The state of Florida still remembers how it lost half of its land and population during the Hurricane season of 2020. Even the new Pope, John Paul IV had declared polluting the environment one of the mortal sins for the new century.

---

- tobecontinued

photo borrowed from Dr. Magsasaka's Flickr Collection.

Ship Of No Return

And we all agree to grant your wish and buy you the laptop of your dreams.

I am sure that when you receive the package, you will be the happiest man alive. You would show your new toy to your colleagues, brag it to your classmates, and make your housemate very jealous of your blessing. They would all ask you who bought the laptop. I imagine you say, "just a close friend" or something close to that. Your answer would make them speculate that it was your mystery Papa who bought it for you. Their suspicion would make you blush, but to save face, you would deny his existence. You would say you borrowed money from a close friend or a distant relative, and then you asked a friend to buy the laptop for you in Gilmore.

Good answer.

But before I turn it over to you, do you want to know how me and my associates came to a decision? Do you want to hear our sides, now that you have convinced me that there is no other way but to give in to your wishes? You have longed for this day as far as I can remember. You said you're tired of spending the entire night in an Internet Cafe, or in my room just to finish your report in school the following day.

Here are their answers.

Darkstar was against the idea. You're just my boyfriend for Christ's sake. I won't give up my money for my sister's needs - I'd let her work hard for it. But you, of all the people would be able to tap into my resources effortlessly. You've been tapping on mine ever since our relationship began right? Don't you ever wonder why we never go out anymore? It's the trade-off I had to do to support you and still don't feel bitter about what I did.

Pulsar agreed the moment the idea sprouted like a fungi inside my head. He said you deserve my support because you're doing a good job in school. You never showed me your class cards, but the sacrifice you are willing to give up - like doing your homework whenever you're in my home after coming from school, or cramming at the library or at work a few hours before your exams tell me that you're worth the investment. It doesn't come cheap you know, and my God, I'm going to make a lot of sacrifices until next year to pay up for your laptop. Pulsar doesn't expect you to remember this deed long after you have succeeded in your endeavor. But, it doesn't concern me anymore. After all, I can still claim that I'm growing despite having to give up so many things for you.

Dominus, of course supported the idea. He said that "everything that would make a person succeed in his lofty goals must be supported no matter what the cost." Like Pulsar, he also sees your determination to finish your studies. "Hard work like what he does should be rewarded," he explained. "As for your own sacrifice, it is already noted in the annals of karma."

I'd like to laugh sarcastically at his sugar coated explanations. But since he is always in my thoughts lately, who am I to question his biddings?

Of the four of them who took part in the decision making, it was Mugen who felt very sad before agreeing to the idea. I have to admit that the rift between us is growing bigger each day. I felt it the moment you have forgotten our fifth year last month. Besides, Mugen feels that what we have is not healthy for us anymore. We never open up to each other - except when you have problems at work, school, family or even your finances. There are times I would feel that our relationship revolves around money - and your aim to achieve your materialistic dreams. The love part only comes in hallowed words you say or in the mechanical intimacies we have when you're beside me. I hate to admit it, but sometimes, I'm not even interested to see you anymore. Do you know why? It's because I feel that every meeting we have; every act of intimacy we do has something to do with your personal goals. It's not us anymore.

It is you.

But a promise is a promise. I kept my word that I'd stick by your side so long as you're getting closer to that diploma you're aiming. Who would have thought that of all the people that became part of my life, you'd be a scholar in a university that I've never gotten into. It must be your calling and as your partner - your ever devoted boyfriend. I should be there to pull you up, even at my own expense. I think this is my own calling. It's my family's legacy to help others reach their goals of finishing their studies...

... even if we are the ones who'd always getting left behind.

You will get your laptop. I just hope that I'd find something that is within my intended budget. Don't worry, I wouldn't ask for a single centavo from you. In return, expect that I would not come to your aid anymore. We just figured out that the money I give up to support you is almost enough to pay the monthly bill for buying your laptop. You're on your own now, and I think this is the best for us. You will learn from standing on your own feet.

But since you don't have a need to see me anymore every week when you ask me to go to your office and deliver my assistance,

and since you don't need to stay home overnight to use my computer whenever you needed to do your projects.

I guess, this is as distant as we could get. I'd praise heavens when I suddenly find you at my doorstep telling me that you'd like to stay home just to lay beside me.

I'd surely praise heaven indeed if ever that moment happens.

Much as it pains me to embrace the thought that this is our relationship.

Your laptop will take me a notch closer towards my own emancipation.

It might be the key that would soon set me free.

---

Masakit,
Malungkot,
Ngunit hinding-hindi ko
ipaparamdam sayo ang lahat ng ito.

Tremors

It was past 3'o clock in the afternoon.

The sky was heaving with dark clouds. I could see it from the big glass window behind the librarian's desk next to the door leading out to the main corridor. I found myself queuing behind a group of pre-teen girls eager to extend their readings of Sweet Valley High and Hardy Boys series by borrowing the books to take them home. Meanwhile, I held in my small dirty hand a Dinosaur book I found in some dust-covered shelf located at the fringes of the library. Like the pre-teens in front of me, I also want to extend my reading home. The school bell would ring in a matter of minutes marking the end of recess. How unfortunate that we were only given 30 minutes to spend our break discovering things at a time we were most curious about our surroundings.

Our classroom was some distance away from the library. Fortunately, it was just on the other side of the building, and could be reached by a few meter's dash. It wasn't necessary for me to run. After all, the teacher would arrive late for sure. They were still in the faculty lounge, perhaps, talking about their miserable lives which nobody among our young, innocent minds would ever understand.

Science was our next subject after recess that day. Our teacher was Miss Cabacungan, a tall, sexy lady in her mid-twenties back then. They said, she was one of the youngest and most beautiful teachers among the faculty. With long black hair, slim waist and red pouting lips, even our feminine adviser claimed that he has a crush on her.

Now I know, it was all just a stunt to make us believe that he was straight in those days.

I cannot remember what we were discussing at that time. All I knew was that, barely a few minutes after she began her lecture, the ground started to shake violently. The chairs where we were seated swayed in a forward-backward motion taking us along. Meanwhile, Miss Cabacungan, who was in front of us was too stunned to make a reaction. She tried to appear calm and in control, but the look in her eyes revealed fear and confusion. She just froze there on the spot, unsure of what to do or how to keep us all safe.

If Miss Cabacungan was stunned by what was happening, we were helpless in our state. Even the class bully could not utter a single word while the ground was about to swallow us alive. It wasn't our fault that were unable to react. After all, a tremor that powerful had never entered our memories yet.

Instinctively, I burrowed my face against the desk and my hands were on my head expecting that the concrete ceiling will crush us at any second. The screams and the shouting of the all-girl high school students, who were lucky enough to run out of their classrooms and into the quadrangle can be heard outside. Unfortunately for us who were stuck on the second floor of the building, we had no choice but to wait until the shaking stops.

Amidst the panic and confusion around me, I could hear the roof above making a screeching, ear shattering sound. "Parang may mga higanteng nag-eespadahan sa labas!" I would tell my mom after arriving home that evening. When the swaying finally stopped, Miss Cabacungan instructed us to walk slowly out of the room and into the quadrangle outside. I remember a girl classmate beside me who was still shaking while cautiously descending the stairs. Her face was flustered and sweating. Her eyes were becoming watery the more we get closer towards our safe haven.

The quadrangle was already full of hysterical students when we reached it. Girls, boys, and even teachers - everyone was just relieved to see their friends safe and alive. Soon people began exchanging stories as to what they did while the earth was shaking. The wall that divides teachers and pupils broke down that afternoon revealing the humanity everyone was hiding behind their mask of formality.

As for most of us who had never experienced going through a strong earthquake before, our shared feelings border on fear, bewilderment and excitement.

It doesn't include those who were crying and still calling for their mommies thirty minutes after the earth stopped shaking.

The date was July 16, 1990. I was in Grade 3 and it was the last time I felt the ground move so violently, the haunting memory still lingers to this day. They say, Manila gets struck by a major earthquake every 22 years and I do not know if there is a study behind such prophetic announcement. However, the last time I heard the earth moved violently happened two decades earlier.

It was when the Ruby Towers in Quiapo collapsed and buried hundreds of people still sleeping in their quarters that morning.

---

China was struck by a very strong earthquake two days ago.

10,000 people were confirmed dead, including some 900 students who were crushed to death while having their classes in a university that collapsed in one of the cities affected by the tremor.

Myanmar is still on its knees after a cyclone devastated the country last week. It was China's turn to suffer now.

With every part of the planet subject under nature's fury.

I wonder, when would our turn come next?

Mudang

Damp is the cold night air, where pools of water on some dark empty street give hints of an early evening downpour. Smoke rises from a Marlboro Lights stick, puffed and huffed by some guy on a red shirt I ran across the street.

It is getting late. I should be home.

Bittersweet memories of Dapitan on a late Saturday night remind me of the days when I used to spend it with reckless abandon after politicking all afternoon in a nearby university.

But tonight, all routines must change. No parties, no gimmicks.

In a barely lit stall not far away, red dew-kissed roses greet the passersby. Many of them take notice and stops to inspect the flowers sold for tomorrow's occasion.

Hope Mama's gonna be surprised when I bring one of these blossoms home.

I pulled out my wallet
took out a crisp P200 peso bill.
Remembering all the love, security and understanding
no lover can ever give to me,

I stretched my arms to the waiting hand of the store owner.

---

Sweet Red Roses

Dew-kissed flowers

All for the love of a son to his mother.

Notes From The Battlefront

Starlog 0001 082404

It's past 1 o' clock in the morning and I'm still here in the office.

My shift had ended several hours ago. But since we had started the new service this evening, everyone in the top management is busy addressing the challenges of our new account. As of this writing, Mami Athena is busy shuttling from the boss' office to where the two graveyard colleagues are seated. She's the chief coordinator of this project and being second to the boss, her meticulousness and knowledge of the account is required to make everything smooth sailing.

The boss is at his small office, a few steps away from where my temporary station is. He is the one talking to the clients as Mami throws him all problems that comes up with the service. To keep their frustration at bay, they poke fun at everything - even to the point of using their imagination to picture what our foreign counterparts look like. Everyone seems to be in the jovial mood especially after the boss threw a mini-party last midnight to welcome the new account. It would be a long night so he must make sure that everyone's spirits remain sky-high.

I don't know what my role is with the whole operation. I shouldn't be here in the first place. But since I decided to self-style myself as the front-liner, I felt that its my duty to stay and observe while my colleagues work out the solutions posed by the new project. Besides, Princess is counting on me to give him the primer before he works with the account in the morning. I'm sure that he would find the work strangely familiar but the interface - with all its technicalities would give him some initial headache before he gets familiar with the system.

The account is something we haven't seen before. But with everyone pouring their energies to make this project work, I am confident that we would succeed in the end. There is much at stake, now that we're pretty aware that we're working on a huge account. With the company on the crossroads, I don't want to be left out while others are sweating just to shape a brighter future for everyone.

It's not my habit to write double entries in a single day, but this is history we are making. In a few months - or years, when we succeed in this endeavor, I would like to look back on this entry just to savor this moment when we're all struggling.

We will survive by our wits and experience in handling this kind of service, and in the face of new colleagues that would come and make our little family swell one day, I would be very honored to retell this story of our beginnings and how we're able to overcome it as a family.

I will surely miss this night.

For when I start my shift tomorrow, I know, everything will just be happily ordinary.

Dark Hours

At past 2 in the morning, a white cab speeds along the lonely stretch of MacArthur Hi-way. Its destination brings its passenger too far away from home and much closer to the unknown. It was a last minute decision; a call he has made in order to calm his heart and hold his soul in place. A few hours earlier, the passenger's lover called. He asked for support - to buy medicines for his psycho-induced ailment. Fearing the worse, the person who answered the phone agrees to his request. His dedication unquestionable, he even made an hour-long post-midnight trip to fulfill his promise a night earlier than the lover had expected.

Inside the cab, the passenger exhorts muted prayers while his fingers run across every bead of his candy-blue plastic rosary. Huge trucks run past his vehicle; a motorcycle swerves in front of the cab; the driver droops close to slumber while trying to keep his taxi on the right lane of the road.

Between love and fear; in his bitterness and cynicism, all the boy could ever mutter...

Every act of sacrifice has its corresponding reward.

---

Act I: The Book of Shadows