Queer Vows And Other Monstrosities

On pag-iinarte, my new blog entry after 11 months

2010-05-09T01:51:00.002+08:00

It has been so long since I last posted anything in this blog. Almost a year. Eleven long months to be exact. Where was I all these months? Did I travel to the moon and back? Did I try to conquer the world and died? Did I drown in my own incessant whining, my breath escaping me as I mumbled on and on and on about the utter pointlessness of life?

Of course none of these things happened. Inasmuch as I would like to serve a very bitter and sour buffet of my life’s events and dilemmas accumulated during the last eleven months, because well misery and emotional degradation are the main ingredients of the greatest poems and works of fiction, I must say that enlightening events had in fact transpired and they were so fast paced that I couldn’t keep up with the motions that everyday were unraveling. Thus, this neglected blog.

Here’s a good news everyone, everyone being me, I will write again. Yes, I will fill the pages of this blog with thoughts on life, with celebrations on the miracles of life, with affirmations that life indeed is beau-tee-ful. Everyday this blog will taste sunshine, and if it rains, this blog will be quenched by blessings of waters cascading from the heavens. Night and day, day and night, this blog will breathe with inspiration and shine with love.

The bad news is, I don’t usually keep my promises. And it may be another year, or two, before another post will grace the surface. And believe me when I say I whine for a living. Look at this planet we call home. Look all around you. Where is beauty, where is love, where is hope? There is only pain, strife, misery, hate. Ah, the glory of my incessant whining, the wisdom of my stained observations on life in this comatose planet.

There. I think I just produced a worthy post for my beloved blog. My blog, do trust me this time when I tell you that I want to do a better job of taking care of you from now on. My blog, you are my friend and my confidante, and countless times you had selflessly offered the soils of your own earth as solid ground for my weary feet, spines, limbs. You drank the blood of my hear reeking with disappointments and sighs. And you listened to my mind which is so full of pag-iinarte most of the time.

Hay matulog na ko.

Jessie's Zip Line Adventure in Danao, Bohol

2009-06-26T01:02:00.004+08:00

You’ve heard of the Chocolate Hills in Carmen, the river cruise and the tarsiers in Loboc, and dolphin watching in Pamilacan Island. Who hasn't? These and many other wonderful destinations define Bohol tourism.

Just like other travelers and tourists, I thought I’ve experienced Bohol. But not quite. Three weeks ago, I visited the Danao Adventure Park in Barangay Magtangang in the municipality of Danao. Managed by the local government, it is located around 70 kilometers from Tagbilaran City. As of this writing, it is the newest, if not the most exciting, destination in the province.

I’ve stepped on Boholano soil several times already, but my objective in crossing the threshold of Ocean Jet for a two-night, three-day stay in Bohol is simple: work. Together with my friend, master photographer Hockson Go, and my officemate, Jun, we rounded up the project sites of our foundation, Philippine Business for Social Progress, to take photos for a coffee table book that I am working on. Interestingly, Magtangtang is one of our stops, and well, you could now guess how the Danao Adventure Park had woven itself into my little story.

Warning though, I wouldn’t really joyously expound on all the exhilarating wonders of the park. I was there for merely 30 minutes. Inasmuch as adventures like rappelling and white water rafting are so enticing, well, I was in the area on official business and not as a domestic tourist with hard-earned pesos to burn. But that same 30 minutes truly made my day. I gracefully braved the country’s longest and highest zip line.

The objective of the zip line is simple – conquer your fear by surrendering yourself to the force of gravity, of course aided by foul proof cables and harnesses. The zip line adventure is not oh so new, but for me whose daily dose of adventures specifically fall within the categories such as never-ending work, self-inflicted life drama, or relenteless poverty, the beautiful misery offered by Danao’s zip line is a welcome change.

There are some zip line adventure preliminaries. For those who feel they are weak at heart, a crew is assigned to determine your blood pressure. For those who are meticulous in their budget, you might want to engage in some cost-benefit analysis as the two-way, collectively 80-second zip line experience will cost you P350. The crew will then put on you some sort of life vest and then masterfully attach harnesses that are mathematically proven to hold weight as much as 800 kilos. Then, when you are ready to go, they will signal their comrades at the other end of the line to get ready for your 450-meter wide descent, your glorious approach. Should there be any malfunctions along the way, it is guaranteed that you will go straight to heaven, or to hell.

But thinking about the undeniable danger spoils the fun. As soon as the crew surrendered my fate to the rocks, boulders, trees and waters 200 meters below the zip line, after of course uttering the words “bombs away, bombs away,” I said a simple prayer, “Lord, I am all Yours,” as if I am Dimas, or was that Hestas, who sought for absolution from his sinful life in this equally sinful planet.

But all’s well that ends well. I am still alive and reliving my zip line adventure. Kudus to Hockson, the master photographer who could very well be a grand cinematographer someday soon, for taking and editing this little video. This should come in handy whenever I want to reflect on my past misdemeanors, misadventures and reckless thirst for life.

By the way, the paths to the Danao Adventure Park provide a very intimate experience with the Chocolate Hills, which sprout alongside the municipal roads. So next time you are in Bohol, the Danao Adventure Park should be a rich inclusion to your diet.

Gorecki

2009-04-21T23:53:00.004+08:00

June 23, 2006

We were having coffee at a Starbucks joint in the walled city – you opted for a frapuccino while I had my usual brewed grande. A couple of hours earlier, we had dinner at McDonalds at SM Manila and after that we explored the streets and alleys of Intramuros. While we were walking and talking and getting to know some little things about each other, you said that I behaved like a kid – absentmindedly grasping the trunk of some lampposts here and there and lightly jumping over road gutters and misplaced cobblestones. While having our caffeine fix, while our image of each other was occasionally blurred by the clouds from nicotine patches, my cellular phone buzzed inside my jeans pocket. It was a text message from you, a line from a Silverchair song, “I'm watching you, watch over me, and I've got the greatest view from here.”

June 23, 2006

At the stroke of midnight, you walked me to my sleeping place. We will sleep a bit but in a few hours, we will both be boarding a bus that would take us to your sanctuary, your Parthenon in Bulacan. We lingered a bit in a dark garden outside my sleeping place and it was there that I first held your hand. You rested your cheek in the glass table, closed your eyes and softly sang the first lines of Lamb’s song Gorecki, “If I should die this very moment, I wouldn't fear, for I've never known completeness like being here.” I had to kiss you. And I did.

April 21, 2009

It was one of those difficult days in the office. Work pressures everywhere. It would be nice and a great relief to cry but I couldn’t and I wouldn’t. Good thing that you are keeping me company via our cellular phones and our internet connections, keeping me sane, keeping me hopeful, keeping me happy despite whatever. At past four in the afternoon, you sent me this text message, which truly made my day: “Ito talaga ang matagal ko ng hinintay. Ikaw at yung kung anong meron tayo. Kaya don’t wonder why labs na labs ko ang Gorecki.”

So here is a song for you – our song for always.

Gorecki
Lamb

If I should die this very moment
I wouldn't fear
For I've never known completeness
Like being here
Wrapped in the warmth of you
Loving every breath of you
Still in my heart this moment
Or it might burst
Could we stay right here
Until the end of time until the earth stops turning
Wanna love you until the seas run dry
I've found the one I've waited for

All this time I've loved you
And never known your face
All this time I've missed you
And searched this human race
Here is true peace
Here my heart knows calm
Safe in your soul
Bathed in your sighs
Wanna stay right here
Until the end of time
'Til the earth stops turning
Gonna love you until the seas run dry
I've found the one I've waited for

The one I've waited for

All I've known
All I've done
All I've felt was leading to this
All I've known
All I've done
All I've felt was leading to this
Wanna stay right here
'Til the end of time 'till the earth stops turning
I'm gonna love you till the seas run dry
I've found the one I've waited for
The one I've waited for
The one I've waited for

Wanna stay right here
'Til the end of time 'till the earth stops turning
I'm gonna love you till the seas run dry
I've found the one I've waited for
The one I've waited for
The one I've waited for

A Love That Will Last

2009-04-14T01:15:00.001+08:00

It’s 9:15 in the evening. The earth is so still, and the quietness of the night is shattered only by the sounds of the laptop’s keyboard tapped by my thoughtful fingers, the breezes from the electric fans that had graciously allowed us to forget that we are in the middle of summer, and your soft snores that are so mesmerizing and mellifluous that I even joke to myself that what I am hearing is Renee Olstead’s “A Love That Will Last” emanating, not from my boom box this time, but from the mouth that I have so generously kissed these past few days.

In a little while, I am going to cook dinner for us, some food to perk you up on your graveyard shift – rice that claims to be organic when I picked it up from the grocery last Wednesday, some canned meat, instant soup or noodles, and a mug of steaming hot black forest flavored coffee.

In so many ways, I feel so peaceful in doing these little things for you, for us, and if you could kindly excuse me for going a bit overboard with my mushiness, I just got to say that over the past four days, I have felt this certain affinity with the other inhabitants of the world who juggle work and domestic, or shall I say homely pursuits, like cooking, washing the dishes, and preparing the table – in our case, preparing the floor as this is where we would rather enjoy our meals and each other’s sweet company.

In two days, I will be traveling back to Cebu and in the meantime leave you here in Manila so we may proceed with our temporary lives – you and your graveyard shifts that unfortunately siphon a great volume of your enthusiasm, me and my job that keeps me awake at night and turns my hair to white, you and your family that strongly relies on you, me and my parents who worries too much about my welfare, and us and our ceaseless texts and phone calls that truly brighten my days.

This is just temporary, I know it will not be always like this, and as you always tell me, “we have forever and we’ve only just begun.” And we can both peacefully yet fiercely wait. I don’t know, but maybe, while waiting, I could ask Mama to teach me how to cook or make good use of those recipe books that are just gathering dusts, so we won’t have to depend on instant meals the next time we have our long vacation, or, when we will finally settle down.

So many wonderful thoughts, baby – of you, of us, of our years ahead, of this love that we are so devoted to, of this love that we both want to last.

A Love That Will Last
Renee Olstead

I want a little something more
Don't want the middle or the one before
I don't desire a complicated past
I want a love that will last

Say that you love me
Say I'm the one
Don't kiss and hug me and then try to run
I don't do drama
My tears don't fall fast
I want a love that will last

I don't want a just a memory
Give me forever
Don't even think about saying good-bye
Cuz I just want one love to be enough
And remain in my heart till I die

So call me romantic
Oh I guess that's so
There’s something more that you oughta know
I'll never leave you
So don't even ask
I want a love that will last

Forever

I want a love that will last

I don't want a just a memory
Give me forever
Don't even think about saying good-bye
Cuz I just want one love to be enough
And remain in my heart till I die

So there's just a little more that I need
I wanna share all the air that you breathe
I'm not the kinda girl to complicate the past
I want a love that will last

Forever

I want a love that will last

Always

I just want a love that will last

I want a love that will last

Both Sides Now - An ode to a life that now and then needs some repair

2009-03-28T23:00:00.004+08:00

The world is celebrating Earth Hour right now. I am supposed to shut down all forms of life in our household that is powered by electricity. Of course that includes my computer.

But here I am - blogging. I could blog later, maybe, by midnight, but I am blogging now. Why not, peanut?

Well I know that I have done Mother Earth many worthwhile services, Thus Spake Zarathustra, I shouldn’t feel guilty about wasting a bit of energy on a very meaningful endeavor that is blogging.

It is because I have a sparkling reason why I must blog now and not later - I saw, via YouTube, a live Joni Mitchell performance of one of her most achingly beautiful songs, Both Sides Now.
Yes, the version featured in the film Love Actually, specifically in that really heartbreaking scene when Emma Thomson discovered her husband’s infidelity – well, I can relate to the situation, though not as the heartbroken one, but as the infidel.

And yes, that same song murdered by Sharon Cuneta. If it is ever true that her senator husband is having these flings here, there and everywhere, then she truly deserves the corresponding sense of neglect and insecurity if only because she grossly disrespected one of Joni Mitchell’s life-affirming life-mirroring masterpieces.

Now back to Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides Now.

Sigh.

I should have been in tears. But I was not. Not because I was not moved. I was. Completely. Insanely. It’s just that I don’t cry that easily. I mourn. I suffer. I whine. And I blog.

Sigh.

In the last few seconds of the performance, Joni Mitchell laid down her arresting passion on these humble lines: “I’ve looked at life from both sides now, from up and down, and still somehow, its life’s illusions I recall, I really don’t know life at all.”

I think only so few in this earth have humbly understood life. And for many of us, we can only stand still for just a little bit of time or take a step back and let our hearts do the thinking – our life, though it is in good disrepair, is not really that bad, it just needs some repair now and then and then and now.

Go, glow and grow through the video of Both Sides Now. Check the video via my Multiply page: http://jessiemcubijano.multiply.com/video/item/2/Both_Sides_Now_-_An_ode_to_a_life_that_now_and_then_needs_some_repair/

Every Day You Play

2009-03-15T01:20:00.010+08:00

Early this morning, around 4:00 a.m. and you were having your lunch break, I sent you a text message. I said that you are my soul mate. After all these years that we are together, it is only now that I said this to you.

And you replied: this soul mate thing is very corny. You were looking for the killer Pablo Neruda quotes that I used to shower you.

I felt so good. This reminder from you is a sweet caress, a rain of butterfly kisses that envelope my face, spines and the whole of my body – that which eventually seeped down my heart, and soul.

You’ve never changed. You are always bold and tender. You’ve always loved me. And I would like you to think of me everyday as your Neruda.

Every Day You Play
Pablo Neruda

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

My Life in Musick >> 10,000 Maniacs

2009-03-14T17:41:00.014+08:00

These are the twists.

Think. Who is your favorite music artist?

Read. Check out questions #1 to #15.

Reflect. How do you answer the questions using the songs of your artist as the answers?

Exciting huh?

1. Are you male or female:

Gold Rush Brides
Dakota on the wall is a white-robed woman, broad yet maidenly.
Such power in her hand as she hails the wagon man’s family.
I see Indians that crawl through this mural that recalls our history.
Who were the homestead wives?
Who were the gold rush brides?
Does anybody know?

2. Describe yourself:

Peace Train Now, I've been happy lately
Thinkin' about the good things to come
And I believe it could be something good has begun
I've been smilin' lately dreamin' about the world as one
And I believe it could be, some day it's going to come

3. How do you feel about yourself:

Trouble Me
Spare? Spare me? Don't spare me anything troubling.
Trouble me... disturb me with all your cares and you worries.
Speak to me... and let our words build a shelter from the storm.
Let me... And lastly, let me know what I can mend.
There's more, honestly, than my sweet friend, you can see.
Trust is what I'm offering if you trouble me

4. Describe your ex:

Gun Shy
I don't mean to argue, they've made a decent boy of you
and I don't mean to spoil your homecoming my baby brother Jude
and I don't mean to hurt you by saying this again,
they're so good at making soldiers
but they're not so good at making men.

5. Describe your current situation:

These Are Days
These are days you’ll remember.
Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this.
And as you feel it, you’ll know it’s true that you are blessed and lucky.
It’s true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.

6. Describe your current location:

Because The Night
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
With love we sleep
With doubt the vicious circle
Turns and burns
Without you I cannot live
Forgive, the yearning burning
I believe it’s time to heal to feel
So take me now, take me now, take me now

7. Describe where you want to be:

Eden
All in time, but the clock is another demon that devours our time in eden, in our paradise.
Will our eyes see well beneath us, flowers all divine?
Is there still time?
If we wake and discover in life a precious love, will that waking become more heavenly?

8. Your best friend is:

Like The Weather
Do I need someone here to scold me
or do I need someone who'll grab and pull me out of
four poster dull torpor pulling downward.
For it's such a long time since my better days.
I say my prayers nightly this will pass away.

9. Your favorite color is:

Grey Victory
Too few hands
Many wounds for closing
Marred by
Thirsting
Anguish
Fear lamenting
Here we stand
At the door to gold atomic age
Don't spoil your face with worry
Trust in
Earth bound kingdom come

10. You know that:

Candy Everybody Wants
If lust and hate is the candy,
If blood and love tastes so sweet,
Then we give ’em what they want.
So their eyes are growing hazy ’cos they wanna turn it on,
So their minds are soft and lazy.
Well... who do you wanna blame?

11. What’s the weather like:

What’s The Matter Here?
I'm tired of the excuses
Everybody uses

12. If your life was a television show it would be called:

Noah’s Dove
In your reckless mind,
You act as if you’ve got more lives.
In your reckless eyes, it’s never too late
For a chance to seize some
Final breath of freedom

13. What is life to you:

If You Intend
If you intend to live again,
Then take the outstreched hand of the one that needs you.
It’s been so long, we’ve missed you.
Why do you intend to speed your end?
Lie in the dark and let your limbs grow weaker, sinking low then deeper.
How can you be so near and not see everything?

14. What is the best advice you have to give:

Few And Far Between
’till you make your peace with yesterday, you’ll never build a future.
I swear by what I say.
Whatever penance you do, decide what it’s worth to you and then respect it.
However long it will take to weather your mistakes, why not accept it?

15. If you could change your name, you would change it to:

Jezebel
I’m not saying I’m replacing love for some other word to describe the sacred tie that bound me to you.
I’m not saying love’s a plaything.
No, it’s a powerful word, inspired by strong desire to bind myself to you.
How I wish that we never had tried to be man and his wife, to weave our lives into a blindfold over both our eyes.

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

2009-03-10T22:13:00.004+08:00

I first came to know you almost four years ago. March 18, 2005. We were just messing the chat room. You and your Fionas and Bjorks. Me and my Toris and Sarahs.

It was just a regular morning. I was in our office here in Cebu and the day wasn’t so full that’s why I had the luxury of checking out sites, and yeah, chat rooms. And you were with your college friends in this café behind SM Manila.

It was just a regular Friday morning. Supposedly. But I met you. You saw me. I remember that you developed this little romantic thing called “crush” when you saw my smiling bear photos in my Friendster page while I myself was in some ways intrigued by your own maudlin and draconian images and eclectic thoughts. And then I felt so old at 24 because you were still so young at 20.

But we had spark. And that same spark has lingered to this day.

So much has happened all these years. There were many days filled with romance and contentment. There were times, though, that were so sad, cold, lonely. But despite all these, there are some things about you that remain constant. Your fierce love. Your patience. Your tenderness. Your selflessness. Your devotion. Your promise. Your bliss.

I know myself all too well now. I know that I want to spend the next fifty, sixty or seventy years of my life cherishing the love that I’ve found in you and the love that you’ve unconditionally given me.

I know that I could never be perfect but I think I’m becoming better now. Here and now, there lie these certainties – the certainty to make things right, and the certainty to stand in the same corner with your happiness.

A few hours earlier, while I was on my out of the office, you asked me to look for Starship’s song, “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” as soon as I get home. Of course I am already familiar with the song but this song could never be more meaningful than now – now that we are having our brand new start.

So, baby, here is to four years of love, patience and devotion. I love you so much.

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now by Starship

Looking in your eyes I see a paradise
This world that Ive found
Is too good to be true
Standing here beside you
Want so much to give you
This love in my heart that Im feeling for you

Let em say were crazy, I dont care about that
Put your hand in my hand baby
Dont ever look back
Let the world around us just fall apart
Baby we can make it if were heart to heart

And we can build this dream together
Standing strong forever
Nothings gonna stop us now
And if this world runs out of lovers
Well still have each other
Nothings gonna stop us, nothings gonna stop us now

Im so glad I found you
Im not gonna lose you
Whatever it takes I will stay here with you
Take it to the good times
See it through the bad times
Whatever it takes is what Im gonna do

Let em say were crazy, what do they know
Put your arms around me baby
Dont ever let go
Let the world around us just fall apart
Baby we can make it if were heart to heart

And we can build this dream together
Standing strong forever
Nothings gonna stop us now
And if this world runs out of lovers
Well still have each other
Nothings gonna stop us, nothings gonna stop us

All that I need is you
All that I ever need
And all that I want to do
Is hold you forever, ever and ever

And we can build this dream together
Standing strong forever
Nothings gonna stop us now
And if this world runs out of lovers
Well still have each other
Nothings gonna stop us
Nothings gonna stop us now

Walang bitawan. :-*

The ballad of jeffrey and jessie

2009-03-10T12:47:00.000+08:00

Gorecki
By: Lamb

If I should die this very moment
I wouldn’t fear
For I’ve never known completeness
Like being here
Wrapped in the warmth of you
Loving every breath of you
Still my heart this moment
Or it might burst
Could we stay right here?
‘Til the end of time
‘Til the earth stops turning
Wanna love you ‘til the seas run dry
I’ve found the one I’ve waited for

All this time I’ve loved you
And never known your face
All this time I’ve missed you
And searched this human race
Here is true peace
Here my heart knows calm
Safe in your soul
Bathed in your sighs
Wanna stay right here
‘Til the end of time
‘Til the earth stops turning
Gonna love you ‘til the seas run dry
I’ve found the one I’ve waited for

The one I’ve waited for

All I’ve known
All I’ve done
All I’ve felt was leading to this
All I’ve known
All I’ve done
All I’ve felt was leading to this
Wanna stay right here
‘Til the end of time
‘Til the earth stops turning
Gonna love you ‘til the seas run dry
I’ve found the one I’ve waited for
The one I’ve waited for
The one I’ve waited for
Wanna stay right here
‘Til the end of time
‘Til the earth stops turning
I’m gonna love you ‘til the seas run dry
I’ve found the one I’ve waited for
The one I’ve waited for
The one I’ve waited for

Henryk Mikołaj Górecki, born December 6, 1933 in the town of Czernica in Silesia, Poland, is a composer of classical music. Though his earlier work in the late 1950's and 1960's were characterised by a dissonant modernism, he moved in the mid 1970's towards a 'pure' sacred minimalist sound. Gorecki has since progressed through several distinct styles, from the reverance of Beatus Vir (1979), to the meditative Miserere (1981), to the spiritualism of Good Night (1990). (Taken from Wikipedia)

A Poem For My Jeffrey

2009-03-09T12:35:00.001+08:00

Where Words Are Not To Know
Amador T. Daguio

Where words are not to know but to resemble,
Where thoughts are no vain approximations
Of surprise-there is your face. Dissemble
Then the tragic moments: mute proclamations
Of wisdom woman knows-your nun-like face.

To walk (My love! My love!) where green leaves are
Bravely trembling to the music of sparrows!
To partake of blue joys hopping
From what birds I do now know! My blue guitar
Shall never twang again for bird-song never stopping!
There beats your heart where my poor heart lies.

You have given me back lost phrases:
The rain-gifts of the soul’s divine unreasons!
I stand upon a height,
The fractured hill of manhood’s lingering pain
Where I pause between valleys of our speaking.
Now, my heart, a bird in flight,
No longer cries for peace.

Especially For You

2009-03-08T12:51:00.004+08:00

Especially for you
I wanna let you know what I was going through
All the time we were apart
I thought of you
You were in my heart
My love never changed
I still feel the same

Especially for you
I wanna tell you I was feeling that way too
And if dreams were wings, you know
I would have flown to you
To be where you are
No matter how far
And now that I'm next to you

No more dreaming about tomorrow
Forget the loneliness and the sorrow
I've got to say
It's all because of you

And now we're back together, together
I wanna show you my heart is oh so true
And all the love I have is
Especially for you

Especially for you
I wanna tell you, you mean all the world to me
How I'm certain that our love was meant to be
You changed my life
You showed me the way
And now that I'm next to you

I've waited long enough to find you
I wanna put all the hurt behind you
And I wanna bring out all the love inside you, oh and

You were in my heart
My love never changed
No more dreaming about tomorrow
Forget the loneliness and the sorrow
I've got to say
It's all because of you

Walang bitawan. :-*

Newborn by Elbow

2009-03-07T14:10:00.003+08:00

I'll be the corpse in your bathtub
Useless
I'll be as deaf as a post
If you hold me like a newborn
Whisper what you feel
My badly strung declaration
To You
You'll spend the end of your days
Gently smiling like a newborn
Whisper what you feel
My badly strung declaration
To You
You'll spend the end of your days
Gently smiling like a newborn
Love not by degrees

Press your lips
To my eyes
Taste my tears
On your tongue,
Pull the blinds
Play our song
Nothings changed
Nothing could be wrong.

Scream in the night
Kick and skrike
Like a newborn
Holding me shaking
Awake in the dark
All of these promises
Kept and unbroken
Tracing the scars
Tracing the scars
Even and cold
As we both become older.
Your arms bound about me
The hush in your voice.
The warmth of your fingers
Entwined around mine
In the eve of our lives
Never a choice.

I have loved you, baby, and I will go on loving you no matter what it takes.

The power of certainty

2009-03-05T00:24:00.001+08:00

It has been said, time and again, that we can only appreciate, and selflessly value, the beauty of our life’s blessings once those blessings are gone.

They are gone maybe because we have taken them for granted.

They are no longer within our grasp maybe because those blessings were never ours to begin with – they just exist to humble us, inspire us to keep on dreaming, remind us of our humanity, and tell us that our own time in Eden will unfold in its own fine hour.

Or maybe they are gone - for us to reclaim.

The truest moment of realization – that the one thing we hold sacred, divine, is gone – happens when one hits rock bottom. We have to hit rock bottom. We have to hit rock bottom not for the selfish goal of throwing ourselves into our foolish desires, but so we may be pushed to spiral our way up to the undefeatable heavens.

But hitting rock bottom is not a way of life – it is not a road that must be taken. When we hit the floor of the black hole, we have none but ourselves to point fingers at.

But during the moment of simple, uncomplicated, virgin realization, one thing will always remain - the certainty.

The certainty to be honest with oneself and follow one’s heart.

The certainty to cross boundaries, to territories never before touched, only imagined.

The certainty to shed layers of pride and come out with nothing but passion, devotion, kindness, humility, and fierce, unconditional love.

The certainty to win. The certainty to someday not regret.

There will be no more apologies. The future won't even give its promise.

And you only have this simple, honest, uncompromising, powerful, humbling certainty to get you through the years and its seasons.

The greatest hits of my life Part 1

2009-03-01T14:53:00.018+08:00

Music. Music makes the people come together. Music makes the bourgeoisie and the rebel.

Of course that was just the lyrics of Madonna’s party song. I gave a short homage to it, actually just pasted it, for the lack of better introduction to this post. Not that there are no better intros, it’s just that my mind is not exactly sane right now - because my life has recently been bamboozled by many dramas and I only slept for just five hours or less last night.

So you might ask, why are you blogging now if your mind is not up to it? The blogosphere is much too polluted with citizens who don’t really have anything redeeming to say, and here you are, Jessie, with your uninspired spark of wisdom?

It is because my mind is full to the brim with complications brought by acts committed that were tantamount to reckless imprudence and I need to compose my thoughts, organize them in a nice clean line, like, say, an elementary school’s flag ceremony or more ambitiously, a West Point military academy graduation.

But then again, my thoughts - the emotional faculties of my mind - have never ever been in order. I can make some semblance of organization in my work but never in my personal life, there are always bits and pieces here, there and everywhere, making each day of the year, oops, now I am doing a reckless improvisation of the Beatles classic.

But the point is I am trying to organize my thoughts and yeah, its emotions. Never mind that I haven’t been successful at it. The point is I am trying. So don’t just pester me now with your boring principles on modern day blogging, as if there was such a thing as Medieval Age blogging. I am just organizing my thoughts, and again, yeah, its emotions.

Now, back to the original purpose of this post – music. You see, I tend to wander in the caverns, in the canyon and I excavate for a mine, before I proceed to my original intentions, in this case, music. I am just being me, and by the way, this charming insanity of mine have earned some rave reviews and cult followings, even love affairs that disintegrate instantly once my groupie has realized that he has mistakenly fallen for a bag lady disguised as Marilyn Monroe.

Now, music. Music has been and always will be my willing companion. I remember in high school and college that I always exhaust the tape head of the cassette deck and my walkman because of my non-stop playbacks. There will always be a song, a voice or a record relevant to almost all moments or circumstances of my life. Well, almost only, because once in a while we need to switch off the worldly sounds to listen to the voices in our head. You know - those voices that sometimes push people to hang themselves. Hahahaha.

But I don’t just dwell on songs, or the hits, instead I always have this attachment to the entire record album, the whole package including the inlay and the jewel case. Even to this day when I download MP3’s, I am still obsessive about arranging tracks #1 to #infinity as originally intended by the artist, and oh well, the profit-driven producers. The songs in an album, if it is a good one, are like brothers and sisters, and, if it is a bad one, casual partners in a sophisticated orgy. Bottom line, record albums must be appreciated for the intimate relationships of its songs, and each song’s brilliant thread in the album’s magical or depressing tapestry. Thus Spake Zarathustra, I sum up my day’s whining with this 15-disc soundtrack - the greatest hits of my life:

1. This Fire. Paula Cole.
Me>> And it's me who's too weak, it's me who's too shy to ask for the thing that I love. But I love.

2. Fumbling Toward Ecstasy. Sarah McLachlan.
Fumbling Towards Ecstasy>> And if I shed a tear I won't cage it. I won't fear love. And if I feel a rage I won't deny it. I won't fear love.

3. New Beginning. Tracy Chapman.
The Promise>> If you wait for me then Ill come for you. Although Ive traveled far, I always hold a place for you in my heart. If you think of me, if you miss me once in awhile, Then Ill return to you. Ill return and fill that space in your heart.

4. Tapestry. Carole King.
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow>> Tonight with words unspoken, you'll say that I'm the only one. But will my heart be broken when the night meets the morning sun?

5. Little Earthquakes. Tori Amos.
Tear In Your Hand >> All the world is. All I am. The black of the the blackest ocean. And that tear in your hand. All the world is danglin danglin danglin for me darlin. You dont know the power that you have with that Tear in your hand.

6. From The Choirgirl Hotel. Tori Amos.
Spark>> You say you dont want it again. And again but you dont dont really mean it. You say you dont want it. This circus were in. But you dont you dont really mean it you dont really mean it.

7. Our Time In Eden. 10,000 Maniacs.
Eden>> If we wake and discover in life a precious love, will that waking become more heavenly?

8. O. Damien Rice.
Blowers Daughter>> And so it is. Just like you said it would be. Life goes easy on me. Most of the time.

9. Blue. Joni Mitchell.
A Case Of You>> I remember that time that you told me, you said, Love is touching souls. Surely you touched mine. Cause part of you pours out of me. In these lines from time to time.

10. Madonna. Something To Remember.
This Used To Be My Playground>> Live and learn. Well the years they flew. And we never knew. We were foolish then. We would never tire. And that little fire. Is still alive in me. It will never go away. Cant say goodbye to yesterday.

11. Baduizm. Erykah Badu.
Otherside Of The Game>> Summer came around and the flowers bloomed. He became the sun. I became the moon. Precious gifts that we both received. Or could this be make believe?

12. Butterfly. Mariah Carey.
The Roof>> Every time I feel the need. I envision you caressing me. And go back in time. To relieve the splendor of you and I. On the rooftop that rainy night

13. Dummy. Portishead.
Glory Box>> From this time, unchained. Were all looking at a different picture. Thru this new frame of mind. A thousand flowers could bloom. Move over, and give us some room. Give me a reason to love you.

14. The Globe Sessions. Sheryl Crow.
My Favorite Mistake>> Did you know when you go its the perfect ending. To the bad day I was just beginning. When you go all I know is you're my favorite mistake.

15. Spirit. Jewel.
Absence Of Fear>> Inside my skin. There is this space. It twists and turns. It bleeds and aches.
Inside my heart. Theres an empty room. Its waiting for lightning. Its waiting for you.

Love in the time of amoeba

2009-02-26T00:21:00.004+08:00

10.58 p.m. I just got home from Chong Hua hospital. Bibi and I visited Doidoi, a pajero-driving blogger and entrepreneur. Of course, our high school friend.

Bibi and I were actually so bored to the point of insanity. We thought that by modifying our evening’s routine – by going to a hospital instead of the usual coffee shop, mall or karaoke bar – our current condition, boredom, would become less humungous.

We were right. We had a great laugh over usually unfunny stuffs. Doidoi’s condition is not really serious. So it is alright to be silly.

Doidoi is merely hosting a party, or convention, of amoebas representing various food delegations.

But amoebas can be very unruly sometimes. This is because amoebas are citizens of third-world food groups e.g. street foods, carenderia foods. They are not cultured. You don’t get amoeba when you dine in places like, say, Shangri-la or The Terraces. You only get layers of credit card bills – which are, by the way, sophisticated kinds of bacteria.

But unlike credit card bills, amoebas are a more troublesome lot when they get drunk. They urinate a lot. And this is especially disgusting for the host, in this situation, Doidoi.

The host is unwittingly given the hellish task of disposing the urines of the amoebas – through its bottom. In point of fact, the nurse asked Doidoi if she moved her bottom within the last few hours and Doidoi agonizingly responded that she did. The nurse asked, “Where is it?” and Doidoi replied, “I flushed it.” The nurse gasped, “Whaaaat?” The nursed walked out and slammed the door behind her. She was Alfred-Hitchcock’s-Psycho scared. Doidoi was flabbergasted, she became less esteemed.

I am just being silly, actually. The truth of the matter is that Doidoi was supposed to go home today but postponing it tomorrow instead for further tests. And this is not an unusual situation. Amoeba conventions, or parties, last for days.

But only very few in the human race have fathomed and really understood the staggering effects of amoebas in our body. Amoebas alter the host’s sexuality. Amoebas open the mind of the host to an array of kinky alternatives.

In one of the enlightened chapters of our evening, Bibi shared her suspenseful but almost romantic Parisian episode. She struck a conversation with a Parisian woman who seems to offer a fulfilling, guiltless and Hollywood-esque one night stand. She was wrong. The Parisian had a gang of bold and brazen men. Bibi was almost pimped.

Doidoi, who until then seemed to be the most generous host to her party of amoebas, lost her sense of finesse. In response to Bibi’s Parisian experience, she simply said, “it’s okay to be gang-raped.” Gasp. We love amoebas. Doidoi, welcome to the human race.

Slices of Life - 01

2009-02-22T02:53:00.005+08:00

It’s the wee small hours of Sunday morning. James Taylor is strumming his guitar and pleasantly crooning his folksy tunes through the sound blasters. On week days, around this time, I usually urge myself to already go to sleep so I may be able to make it to the office before 9.15 a.m.

But I just urge myself to sleep – I don’t necessarily go to sleep. You see, I love the hours between midnight and 4 or 5 a.m., those minutes and hours before the sun rises to illuminate the world. It is within these hours that the most brilliant or painful or revelatory thoughts visit me and really have coffee with me. These thoughts are like good friends – they hear me out but they don’t pass judgments or turn their backs because of utter disgust. They sit through my entire monologue, and when the bedroom lights have to be turned off, they graciously bid farewell, giving an assurance that they will be back for the next psychotic performance.

But today is Saturday, or Sunday. I could have mugs and mugs of steaming brewed coffee with my thoughts till the morning sun shines on me. And I could make love with the computer keyboard until the monitor becomes so engorged with words, with thoughts, with slices of my life.

>>>Iris, Liberty Heights and my own Gorordo Avenue

I killed two movies today – Iris, which is about respected English novelist and philosopher Iris Murdoch, and Liberty Heights, a touching coming of age drama set during 1950’s racial America. Like many good movies, Iris and Liberty Heights have touched me in ways that make me appreciate life more, make me more tolerant of each person’s foibles and misdemeanors, and make me more conscious of the need to transform my thoughts into words, phrases, paragraphs.

Iris and Liberty Heights have struck some very important chords in my life, and the tingling sensations, the sounds of the chords date back to my innocent life as a high school and college student at the University of the Philippines in Gorordo Avenue, Cebu City. It has been eight years since I graduated, and yet I still have this fondness for the bygone years, especially when I pass by my school for some meetings or to visit a very good friend who lives near the campus.

In the opening scenes of Iris, Iris Murdoch herself addressed her friends and her literary “groupies” with these lines:

“Education doesn’t make you happy, and nor does freedom. We don’t become happy just because we are free, if we are, or because we have been educated, if we have. But because education may be the means by which we realize we are happy. It opens our eyes, our ears, tells us where delights are lurking, convinces us that there is only one freedom of any importance whatsoever – that of the mind – and gives us the assurance, the confidence to walk the path our mind, our educated mind, offers.”

In the Liberty Heights’ VCD, these words are etched above the green Cadillac imprinted in the cover, “You’re only young once, but you remember forever.”

I used to complain about paying so much in taxes yet I haven’t really “experienced” the quality service from the government that is due to me. But these incessant complaints all came to an end when my very good friend Leah offered her keen perspective on taxation vis-à-vis our high school, and college, education. It is all about the pay-it-forward principle. Our government gave me good education, and now, it is payback time. And inasmuch as I still hate seeing my pay slip with those enormous tax figures, I just have to acknowledge that, yeah, this is payback time.

It was in UP that I was tasked to write a reaction on almost anything – from the movies that I watched, the boring symposia that I attended, the thick books that are considered “required readings.” It was in UP that I learned to appreciate literature, and learned to separate top of the line literature from sort-of-literary-materials that are actually just dirty pleasures or mere eyes candies. It was in UP that I was regularly bombarded with concepts such as “social responsibility,” “giving back to the community,” and “love of country.” Corny as they are, but really, these concepts make sense and to this day I still experience some guilty reflexes every time I engage in pursuits that are anything but patriotic.

But it was also in UP that I also ran against the law – or campus laws to be precise. The offenses are just way too many to enumerate. And should I enumerate, you, the goody-goody reader might easily cringe at our injustices and launch a crusade against the youth. Or, if you, reader, are by profession, a modern day criminal, you might not feel as esteemed because your animal instincts weren’t half as profound as ours, at such tender age.

But really, I am exaggerating. We were not really that bad. What I am trying to say, though, is that my life as a high school and college student was exhilaratingly interesting because of the less conventional paths we dared to venture, or the conventional ways that we transformed into adventures.

The education, I still have it, its ever growing and I am mighty sure that I won’t lose it, unless I develop Alzheimer’s, God forbid. Meanwhile, the mischief, the injustice, the cruelties, inhumane ruthlessness, I guess these are something that are good for the keeping – as funny memories and not as daily survival acts. Although one instinctively knows that certain situations require certain degrees of blatant, mischievous or ruthless actions. But in the interest of world peace, well…

To this day, I still have questions, doubts, confusions, and reasonable regrets. Am I happy? Am I content? Am I in the right path? Are there ways to undo the horrible things that I did? God bless the day when there would be no more of these mind boggling hullabaloos. But in the pursuit of an interesting life, I think we need to have questions, doubts, confusions, and of course reasonable regrets. Hence, I digress. I am unsinkable and my mind is free. These are the two things that really matter for now.

Why Slumdog Millionaire must win the Oscar Best Picture!?

2009-02-07T20:07:00.006+08:00

1. It is uplifiting. It is what a movie must be all about. It inspires. It entertains. It makes you feel good about living despite the stink and the eyesores. It affirms that life will always be good - at least for those who care to appreciate it.

2. It depicts poverty at its finest. Or at its best form. Terrible, scary, smelly, and ultimately unfair.

3. It breaks your heart without being overly sentimental. You cry not because you feel the pain. You cry because you celebrate Jamal and Latika's triumph.

4. The young Jamal, Salim and Latika are reincarnations of the characters of Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali. It is as if they are not acting. They are just doing what they do best - being children.

5. The screenplay is flawless. It is very original. It makes me wonder why I cannot pen something as wondrous. Perhaps, I am just reading too many books or watching too many movies that any twist and turn produced by my brain is anything but original.

6. The ensemble is terrific. Of course, you don't have to wonder why Frieda Pinto is not running against Kate Winslet or Dev Patel breaking the waves of Sean Penn or Madhur Mittal making himself a worthy opponent to Philip Seymour Hoffman. Because they are relatively new - which it makes them more wonderful - because they manage to still be terrific despite their new-ness.

7. It is both modern and classic. Modern because of the visuals and the graphics. But at heart, it remains a classic. There is adversity. There is triumph. There is searching. There is finding. There is an underdog. The underdog fights back. The underdog wins. It is a fairy tale minus the castles and the armours.

8. The cinematography and the editing are just amazing. Whoever is behind the camera and whoever you are in the cutting room, God bless you guys.

9. It never sodomizes age-old crimes and misdemeanors - prostitution, child labor, religious wars, organized crimes. It never wallows in the evils of society. Slumdog is all about survival. It submerges itself in the excrements not because the excrements provide more drama, but because it is only through the excrements that it could free itself from its own mess.

10. Its dance ensemble during the credits reminds me of 80's Pinoy movies wherein characters suddenly break into a song and dance repertoire. But it is not baduy at all. The filmakers know that Slumdog viewers will be in high spirits after watching their movie. They extended themselves by giving us a soundtrack of their resounding success!

25 Random Things About Me

2009-02-06T21:03:00.000+08:00

One of my dearest friends in PBSP, Maita, tagged me in her Facebook entry on the 25-Random-Facts-About-Me chain. I know this is not the perfect time for this stuff because I am supposed to squeeze my surviving brain cells for very urgent work matters.

But what the heck. It's a Friday. Let me exercise my mind for some relaxing yet nevertheless brain-ful pursuits - like reflecting on the 25 random things about myself.

1. I am the brainchild of Tori Amos.

2. I love ice cream. Double dutch. Cookies and cream. Hazelnut. Very rocky road.

3. I love cakes. Blueberry cheesecake. Black forest. Rhum cake.

4. I am queer.

5. I love watching The Lord of the Rings. All three movies. Over and over and over again.

6. My specialty is Century Tuna chunks Spanish Style cooked with scrambled eggs.

7. I love decorating our low-budget home - country style.

8. I love exploring the baskets-handicrafts section of Carbon public market.

9. I love killing hours and hours in bargain books blackholes. Well yes, I looove Fully Booked, but it kills my budget.

10. I am romantic. But I am also a heartbreaker. I've committed emotional and psychological murder. I am a sinner.

11. I keep on postponing my appointment with the gym trainer. I know I need to lose weight. I wanna look beautiful inside and out. But it has been two years since I made an appointment with the gym guy.

12. I love to sing ABBA songs and Billy Joel's "Just The Way You Are" on karaoke.

13. I used to have this great crush on our high school songbird. I am not exactly sure what happened to me at that stage in my life - it seems surreal thinking about it now. But back then, it was tender.

14. I miss the wonderful people that I grew up with.

15. I was once a stalker.

16. I used to be the regular first customer of this nice, clean, well lighted beer place that is unfortunately no longer in existence. Those were the lonely days. And drunk yet witty conversations over smoke and cold Colt 45's were the best things that life could offer.

17. I would like Cate Blanchett to play me in a movie. She did Bob Dylan, Elizabeth and Galadriel. She could effortlessly do me.

18. I wanna be a frontman in a grunge or alternative rock band.

19. I love dissecting my life, and whining about life, over brewed coffee or frappucino.

20. I wanna travel the world.

21. I don't like promotions. Work responsibilities are scary. But the pay settles the bills and the luxuries. I am in the brink of selling my golden soul to the devil.

22. I have once inspired a beautiful soul to write a beautiful poem about me. Its on page 111 - the title of the book is Brim.

23. I am currently putting together a coffee table book. It is a great task. To this day I am not really sure if I can do it, but I AM doing it. I know it will be beautiful.

24. I carry a wooden brown rosary and Benedictine Crucifix wherever I go. These are my lucky charms.

25. I love porn. Queer porn.

The Monkey and the Ox

2009-01-26T15:30:00.003+08:00

No offense to the 11 other animals, but I intensely and consistently believe that the Monkey is the best sign in the Chinese Astrology. This is because I was born in the year 1980, the year of the Metal Monkey, and my life has been really good despite the queer events, trials and tribulations that have hounded me in the last 28 years.

Meanwhile, I am especially friendly to the Rat, the first sign, because it is my secret animal, having been introduced to this wonderful universe at 30 minutes past midnight. And to the Pig, because it rules December, the most cheerful month of the year, the month that became more blessed because of my birth. Again, no offense to the remaining eight animals.

Monkeys are inquisitive, objective, quick-witted fellows. We are inventors, motivators, improvisers and problem solvers. We are also flexible, innovative,self-assured, sociable, polite, dignified, competitive, factual, and intellectual. Never mind that we are unfortunately egotistical, vain, selfish, reckless, snobbish, deceptive, manipulative, cunning, jealous, suspicious. Nobody's perfect anyway. We are capable of either great good or great evil - bottomline, the capacity for greatness streams in our glorious veins.

Since we are currently celebrating the Chinese New Year, let me give a tribute to myself and to the beautiful Monkeys of the world (Ms. Celine Dion, my friend, this is for us, dearie) by illustrating our fortunes this 2009.

Monkey Overview
This year offers the Monkey some opportunities to go far with your talents. The Monkey's generous nature may leave you stretched in several different directions, so it is important to stay focused in order to achieve the goals you have set for yourself this year. You will be given the opportunity to impress the right people both in business, as well as in your personal life. Don't hold back this year, for this could be one that will leave an impression over the course of the next few years.

Monkey Rating
49% (4 favorable and 5 neutral and 3 unfavorable months)

Monkey Career
Great strides can be made in your career this year. Timing is everything and in your case, time is on your side. You will be in the right place at the right time to impress the decision makers in your career. The steady Ox rewards those with strong work ethics and the Monkey will surely reap the benefits of your labor. Don't hesitate to do anything that will aid your skills and benefit your position.

Monkey Relationships
This could be a busy year for you domestically. Look to your family for the encouragement and support you need. On the same token, it is important for you to listen and heed the advice of those who care. Your social life is active filled with plenty of opportunities to make new friends. Don't forget the ones that have been with you through the rough times, as it is just as important to offer your time with your existing relations.

Monkey Health
Take note that there are several high points to your year. With such a busy social year, you may stretch yourself thin with your health. Be aware of your energy levels throughout the year, as you may need some added rest to counter your affairs. It would be wise to take an active part in your health, taking up a new form of exercise that follows your interests: martial arts or dancing are two good possibilities.

Monkey Wealth
This could be a great year for the Monkey financially. You will possibly make great gains in this area throughout the year. Due to your generous nature, you may have a difficult time refraining from giving to others. Be mindful of this and make sure you give to yourself every once in a while because you deserve it.

Break a leg this 2009, Jessie!

Jessie’s Wish List

2008-12-11T23:43:00.003+08:00

Its Christmastime once again and here are are my wishes, dear old Santa.

1. I wish for a perfect body – that perfect body which makes boys - and well, girls too, give them some chance – drool. They say that when you wish, you might as well wish for the stars because wishing is absolutely free. Another thinker also said that “beauty corrupts, absolute beauty corrupts absolutely.” Or was it power? Whatever. Beauty and power are synonymous anyway, depending on how a person maximizes the quantity of beauty or power he possesses. Definitely I am going back to my old gym. You wait and see.

2. I wish to be a bestselling author, or editor, or ghost writer – whichever is more applicable. Two years ago I ambitiously fought for the publication of a cover story that chronicled the best things that happened to our foundation during the last 18 years. Apparently, everyone was happy with the outcome such that 20th Century Fox expressed ruthless interest to acquire the film rights of my cover story! Actually, the cover story became the inspiration of a monumental coffee table book project that will and should sum up the best of social development. And starting today, I only have two months to put it together. I don’t know what physical laws I am going to defy this time to finish the book on time and to actually produce a Pulitzer-worthy material. I had actually fallen prey to my own uncalculated ambitions. And yet, the challenge is fiercely interesting!

3. I wish for charity and cooperation. This wish is tantamount to asking for world peace, I know. Still, charity and cooperation remain paramount for our nation’s sustainable growth especially now that our nation and the rest of the world are going to face a very tough year ahead. How do we express charity? How do we collectively practice cooperation? I think there are so many ways but just don’t ask me which is the most effective. You could give pencils and textbooks and food to poor children. You could buy proudly Pinoy products. You could vote responsibly. Anything good that is done collectively would eventually bring us somewhere – to a better place, not necessarily perfect, but definitely better than where we are right now.

4. I wish for more time to savor and devour life’s simple yet great pleasures. In my case, and in no particular order, these are my life’s simple yet great pleasures: good literature, good movies, good music, home improvement and home decorating which are also occasions for bonding with my mama and papa, bonding with the people that I grew up most especially my high school friends who are very dear to me, hunting for books and vintage stuff in those second hand shops and bargain black holes, and intimacy and really quality time with my life’s sweet love. The last one - intimacy and really quality time with my life’s sweet love – are what savoring and devouring are all about!

5. I wish for constant physical energy, tolerant mind and unsinkable spirit. There is no written guarantee that life will turn out the way we want it to be. No matter how we prepare our day, something or someone will catch us off guard, most of the time attacking us when we are most defenseless. Energy must be constant so we could rise, shine and get through each brand new or jaded day. The mind must remain tolerant because each one of us is engineered to be unique and some people are just so damned ugly and foul, they are constant pains in our bottoms. And our spirit must be unsinkable, intact at all times. So you are tired and frustrated and you cry. So you are demoralized and angry and you curse the constellations in the heavens for failing to fulfill the good fortunes supposedly due to you today. So your jeepney seatmate is not adorable and not fragrant either and the rest of your day might as well be doomed. So many things could pull you down and before you know it, it’s already rock bottom. Rock bottom must be such a boring place. So you start going up, up and away. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And hotter.

In the pursuit of yellow

2008-11-09T03:20:00.021+08:00

According to feng shui, yellow represents spiritual and intellectual activity while harnessing understanding.

In the book Colour for Life by Charles Philips, yellow is also associated with mental activity, with analytical thought and activities of the ego.

In the song song Yellow by Coldplay, Chris Martin crooned these lines to his beloved: Look at the stars / Look how they shine for you / And everything you do / Yeah, they were all yellow.

And of course let us not forget the Fabulous Four’s Yellow Submarine: So we sailed up to the sun / Till we found the sea of green / And we lived beneath the waves / In our yellow submarine.

So what are all these fuss about yellow?

Sometime last October, I embarked on this very short-term project that will ultimately be for the welfare of my own spirit. These past few months, I’ve felt that I easily get stressed - physically, mentally, emotionally. Work is usually the most convenient culprit, although other life complications have contributed to my escalating mental degradation. I’ve started to procrastinate heavily without any semblance of guilt or worry about the long list of harmful events and phenomena that will unfold as a consequence of my procrastination spree.

To make my whining short, I embarked on a creative activity that fueled my mind with passion and rabid enthusiasm – I decided to paint my room. The decision was not a difficult one. For me to really put my life back into good order, I must have a very warm space that would greet me at the very start of each brand new day.

But the enlightened idea of covering my drab, gray walls and ceiling was also peppered with conflicting opinions, most of which came from the interior decorating books that I’ve consulted and eventually befriended. Blue was my first choice because it’s my favorite, but then blue to me is just so… familiar. I thought of green for its calming and relaxing qualities, but I was scared that too much green might promote indolence and I cannot just wake up at 9 a.m. and report to work at past 10 a.m. (although I must admit that this has lately been my fashion statement).

And then I asked myself – how about yellow? I like the Beatles and Coldplay and they both have yellow songs, which were big hits, by the way. Of course, I engage in gazillion mentally stimulating activities inside my room like bring-home work, books, movies and online pornography (oops!) and yellow is said to have the capacity to fire up thoughts, banish drowsiness and foster attentiveness.

Thus Spake Zarathustra, yellow it is! Welcome to my nook.

Thank you so much to my beloved father who did all the painting by himself. Love you, Pop!

The ladies in the framed photo are my three best friends: Jean, my classmate since first year high school, a lawyer, married to her beautiful Ilana; Odyssa, my coffee buddy, a certified public accountant, eternal lover of anything feminine from flowered sandals to butterfly-emblazoned body-hugging blouses, a connosuier of more-than-friends-less-than-lovers life dramas; and Bibi - France and Germany are her playgrounds and she enjoys the best of both worlds (figure it out!).

The homoerotic image is a drawn by a very special friend, Jeffrey; the lampara is a gift from an officemate, my Manito; and the abstract piece is one of those beautiful rare bargains I got from a pre-Sinulog bazaar.

These are prints of Frida Kahlo (my third favorite artist right after Van Gogh and Joni Mitchell) self-portraits (also with her beloved Diego Rivera). The hideous aparador is actually an antique that my mother purchased from a dear neighbor who unfortunately went bankrupt (wihihihi!)

The strongest, the sexiest and the hottest

2008-11-06T09:05:00.002+08:00

Shrek , Brad Pitt and Jennifer Lopez were all having lunch together.

Shrek said, 'I have always thought that I'm the strongest man in the world, but how can I be sure?

Jennifer Lopez said, 'I'm told I'm the sexiest of them all, but sometimes I wonder.'

Brad Pitt agreed, 'I'm pretty sure I'm the hottest man alive but I've never had it confirmed.'

They all decided that the best way to find out if their beliefs were true was to approach the wicked Queen's mirror to confirm for them whether Shrek was the strongest, Jennifer Lopez was the sexiest, and Brad Pitt was the hottest. They agreed to meet again the next day for lunch to discuss their findings.

The next day Shrek walked up with a smile. 'Well, it 's true. The mirror told me that I am the strongest man in the world.'

Jennifer Lopez followed and boasted, 'It is true, it has been confirmed that I am the sexiest woman alive!'

Brad Pitt walked in, head bent, tears in his eyes, and asked,"Who in the world is Jessie Cubijano?!?"

Toilet bowl enlightenment 1

2008-11-05T15:49:00.001+08:00

Real men wear pink. But when they wear pink, they might not be real men.

On loving and letting go

2008-11-02T21:59:00.002+08:00

Leaving a love you've suddenly outgrown can be heartbreaking, but it also shows you're strong enough to walk away from a relationship that no longer makes you happy. Moving out of your comfort zone can be downright scary, but it also shows how brave you are to take on the unknown - stronger, braver, wiser. You always do a little growing up everytime you do a little letting go.

- Oprah

An ex is an ex is an ex. Period.

2008-09-27T12:26:00.005+08:00

Billion dollar industries exist to this day because the human race was conjured to believe that one of the real tests of love is when a lover who leaves because of some indigestible reason returns to the one he left behind after some hectic twists and turns in his pathetic suddenly single existence.

Of course I love Mariah Carey’s falsetto “If you should return to me / Then we truly were meant to be” in the song Butterfly from her career’s best album - Butterfly. But an ex is an ex is an ex is an ex. Period. That person should have never turned his un-fabulous back on you.

But I don’t want to have a jaded perspective on this popularly normal, albeit insane, human condition. We forgive and forget because the prodigal lover had to have some “space” - of course the magnitude of the space that he asked for when he uttered his look-I-am-sorry-but-I-really-need-some-space piece was really indefinite, almost infinite. But we are madly in love. We want to be loved and we don’t want to be alone. Emotional molestation is perfectly alright. Be my guest.

But let us just say that our coconut is properly working. The ex attempts to win us back but we have already moved on and we will only run back to his supposedly loving arms if and only if he transforms himself into the youth of Robert Redford circa Barefoot In The Park, The Sting, The Great Gatsby and The Way We Were. Thus Spake Zarathustra, here are some sunshine answers when our ex says…

1. Why did you let me go?

Because our relationship no longer fulfills me.

2. I still love you.

Too bad... for you.

3. When did we last talk?

When I was still insane.

4. Will you go out with me?

If you have some donations for my charity, why not?

5. Hey, can i give you a ride?

In your Lamborghini? Of course assuming that you own one...

6. I cannot keep my promise to you.

You don't have to, it's really unnecessary.

7. My friends say we don't look good together.

You don't look good on me either.

8. You have changed.

Yes. I'm better now.

9. Can we get back together?

May I take that as a compliment?

10. Oh, I know what this is all about. You found someone else.

Yeah. Oh. Don’t tell me you haven’t?

11. Don't you realize? You are the one who hurt me!

Because I thought you were indestructible.

12. How can you forget our memories??

Of course I won't forget those memories. But that's it.

13. I will always love you.

Do yourself a favor. Don't.

Hahahahaha.

Whoever created this flyer, let me congratulate you for your stupid guts!

2008-08-27T22:16:00.002+08:00

May I have your attention please?
May I have your attention please?
Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?
I repeat, will the real Slim Shady please stand up?
We're gonna have a problem here..

Both Sides Now

2008-08-22T00:17:00.009+08:00

My clock here says that it’s already 11:45 p.m. I should already be asleep by now. But here I am, navigating the anatomy of my computer keyboard, trying to lament through words, sentences and paragraphs out of the innocent black and white keyboard keys. My life is not really good. It has been bamboozled by too much movies, books, suicidal songs, porn videos and caffeine.

Maybe I should blame it on the brewed coffee that I had with my great friend Odyssa a few hours earlier. Or perhaps the mixture of coffee, ice tea, rice, pizza, pork sisig and chicken inasal induces nihilistic perspectives on life.

Whatever.

Speaking of coffee, one of the random things that Odyssa and I talked about was Joni Mitchell’s classic “Both Sides Now.” The song serenaded Emma Thompson during her heartbreaking moment in the film Love Actually. We both love the song, intensely (in the same way that we both have intense murderous instincts against Sharon Cuneta for her heinous interpretation of the song).

Maturity or growing up or growing older or whatever the human race calls this procedure of life is not necessarily progressive. Conventional wisdom states that experiences and subsequent failures make us better and stronger persons. But more often, the more experience we get, the more failures we unwittingly achieve, the more we get schizophrenic about life. Ms. Mitchell really got it right: I really don’t know life at all.

So here’s my ode to a life that needs a bit of repair.

Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons evrywhere
Ive looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on evryone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

Ive looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its cloud illusions I recall
I really dont know clouds at all

Moons and junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As evry fairy tale comes real
Ive looked at love that way

But now its just another show
You leave em laughing when you go
And if you care, dont let them know
Dont give yourself away

Ive looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
Its loves illusions I recall
I really dont know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say I love you right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
Ive looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say Ive changed
Well somethings lost, but somethings gained
In living evry day

Ive looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
Its lifes illusions I recall
I really dont know life at all
Ive looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its lifes illusions I recall
I really dont know life at all

30-second wisdom

2008-08-06T03:04:00.013+08:00

Of how are you’s and kumusta’s

Unless you are Mowgli, which is not at all impossible, many people, and animals too, will walk in an out of your life, and your bedroom, as well. They will do all sorts of insane things to you, whether unconsciously or voluntarily, and you end up crazier than you originally planned or thought yourself would be.

Nevertheless, it is a generally accepted wisdom that our encounters with these citizens of the animal kingdom provide us with priceless opportunities to grow and continuously grow. I am a subscriber of that wisdom too. We cherish our friends and mentors, we try to be forgiving to those who trespassed against us, and of course we try to remember the forgettable ones for the simple reason that we were once acquainted with them.

However, it is an inevitable consequence that some of these people who walked into and out of our life will someday cross our path - and the moment they see us, they instantly ask us this: “How are you?” or its Filipino language equivalent, “Kumusta ka?” And then I become speechless. I automatically lose the proper words that should vibrantly paint a Mona Lisa of the current state of my life.

It is not that I don’t like this “how are you” culture. I think it is a demonstration of affection, tenderness, goodwill. Yet, I think that generic answers like “I’m good,” “I’m okay,” or “I’m alright” are not substantial enough or just damn too convenient. There isn’t enough meat in these two-word statements.

Then of course I simply cannot provide a verbal résumé minus the trainings that I attended and the accomplished characters that I classified as references. That is kind of pompous and the behavior is alien to me – it only looks good on Jack McFarland or Karen Walker. Definitely, I wouldn’t pour my woes, trials and tribulations otherwise I might as well brand myself as an outdoor version of any MMK character. Meanwhile, I wouldn’t be very comfortable declaring my victories because my life is still a work in progress.

Maybe I have too many inhibitions. Maybe I am just neurotic. Or maybe I just don’t have the cash to buy my long-lost-now-found friend a brewed coffee or frapuccino, which are essential elements of a meaningful “How are you?” session. I just don’t know.

______

Of wits and some glamour/beauty

I hate it that I am not really witty. If I were witty, maybe I wouldn’t just dumbly say “I’am okay” every time somebody fires the “How are you?” question at me.

I think this apparent lack of wit sustains my fascination with the Miss Universe beauty pageant. Ever since my first Miss U in 1990 (I was 10 and Mona Grundt of Norway became the last European so far to have won the coveted crown – 2002’s Oxana Fedorova of Russia was unfortunately dethroned and I learned from high school that Russia is part of Asia), I am always glued to the screen during the interview rounds (speaking of interview portions, I liked it better in the 90’s when all semi-finalists really gets tested intellectually). Inasmuch as the evening gown competition sparks my creative nature, it is really the interview round that I root for.

This must be because I am in dire need of the wits possessed by the glamorous queens themselves. 30 seconds were all they had to convince the universe that they are the sweetest things. Thus spake zarathustra, by far the best winning Miss U answers:

Question
Right now there is a protest going on right outside here calling the Miss Universe beauty pageant disrespectful of women. Convince them that they’re wrong.

Miss U 2000, Lara Dutta of India
I think pageants like the Miss Universe pageant gives us young women a platform to foray into the field that we want to and forge ahead, be it entrepreneurship, be it the armed forces, be it politics. It gives us the platform to voice our choices and opinions that makes us strong and independent that we are today.

Question
If there were no rules in your life for one day and you could be outrageous, what would you do?

Miss U 1997, Brook Lee of USA
I would eat. Everything. In the world. You do not understand. I would everything twice.

Question
What do you think men can learn from women?

Miss U 1996, Alicia Machado of Venezuela
I believe that they can learn very much because thanks to us women, the men are here in this beautiful theatre seeing this beautiful contest and applauding me because I am a beautiful woman.

Good friday philosophies

2008-03-21T11:36:00.000+08:00

Most answers are oh so true. Some are just for fun. Bottomline: I am a very terrific guy.

1. Would you rather have a fun fling or a lasting relationship?
5 bilateral or unilateral engagements in a single night. At the very least, this preference should make me a slut.

2. What was your longest relationship?
Hmmmm... 20 months so far.

3. What is your favorite personality trait?
Maginoo pero mejo bastos. That very gasgas but very slice-of-life song by the once-upon-a-time lesbo DJ Alvaro.

4. What is the most romantic thing a significant other could do?
Rim me in public. Then introduce me to his whole clan as the most terrific guy ever in post-martial law history.

5. When you are dating someone, what is the most important thing to you?
That aside from himself, I am the only guy in the diner or cafe or garden or wherever. There is no tomorrow. There is just the two of us.

6. Do you like pet names (ex: baby, sweetheart...)?
Yeah. Baby. Pogi. Hubby. My sweet affectionate f*cker. Hahahahaha.

7. What is your ideal night out with a significant other?
Fondling each other inside a moviehouse or in a dark corner of a coffee house. Hahahaha.

8. What is your ideal night in with a significant other?
Just the two of us. Just the two of us.

9. Would you be able to tell someone you love them, even if you didn't feel
it?
Nope. Gotta be honest. Otherwise, the words would just be crap.

10. Do you like relationships that involve serious commitments?
Sure. But not too soon. Couples must grow on each other before serious should become really serious.

11. If you ever got engaged, how would you want it to happen?
Vows under the sheets. Underneath the stars. Or bathed in the sun's early morning grace.

12. If you were engaged, would you want a wedding as soon as possible?
Nyahahahaha. Let's ammend the Family Code of the Philippines first.

13. Do you like to talk about the future when in a serious relationship?
Stupid question. That talk about the future is always inevitable when the relationship has achieved this semblance of seriousness.

14. Do you prefer a sensitive open relationship or a strong silent type?
Strong is the operative word here. If it's strong and hard and so blood engorged all the time, open or silent whatever won't really matter that much.

15. When in a relationship do you have to have contact with your partner on a
daily basis?
Yes. Any form of contact. Couples are supposed to miss each other. It's not obligatory. It's nature.

16. Do you like public displays of affection?
Nope. But surprise me with a kiss. In my arse. Hahahaha.

17. Is there anything you won't tolerate while in a relationship?
Cheating. Lying.

18. What is one thing that you value most in a relationship?
One only? Lemme make it three: Trust. Respect. Loyalty.

19. Would you ever be able to handle a long-distance situation?
Yeah. But puhhhlease, let's move in together soon.

20. Do you believe in moving in together before engagement or marriage?
Whoever phrased or crafted questions #12 and #20 is a racist!

Best "Out-Of-Office" E-Mail Auto-Replies

2008-03-10T21:26:00.000+08:00

This one is hilarious. Surgically removed from my email inbox to be preserved, for posterity, in the best blog in the world - my blog. Wihihihihi.

1: I am currently out at a job interview and will reply to you if I fail to get the position.

2: I'm not really out of the office. I'm just ignoring you.

3: You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn't have received anything at all.

4: Sorry to have missed you but I am at the doctors having my brain removed so that I may be promoted to management.

5: I will be unable to delete all the unread, worthless emails you send me until I return from vacation on 4/18. Please be patient and your mail will be deleted in the order it was received.

6: Thank you for your email. Your credit card has been charged $5.99 for the first ten words and $1.99 for each additional word in your message.

7: The e-mail server is unable to verify your server connection and is unable to deliver this message. Please restart your computer and try sending again. (The beauty of this is that when you return, you can see how many in-duh-viduals did this over and over).

8: Thank you for your message, which has been added to a queueing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.

9: Hi. I'm thinking about what you've just sent me. Please wait by your PC for my response.

10: Hi! I'm busy negotiating the salary for my new job. Don't bother to leave me any messages.

11: I've run away to join a different circus.

AND, FINALLY, THIS ONE TAKES THE CAKE:

12: I will be out of the office for the next 2 weeks for medical reasons. When I return, please refer to me as 'Loretta' instead of ' Lloyd.'

For the love of the birds

2008-03-03T22:14:00.004+08:00

It was Monday, the 7th of January, the year of the earth rat.

Three MP’s went to Olango Island in Cebu for some world peace thing - pretty boys Bernz, Ozzie and Jessie. Hihihi.

It was a cloudy, rainy day; a typhoon is soon to happen somewhere.

They were on their way to Pangan-an Elementary School to spread world peace when they were caught by another chapter of the morning’s rain.

It was a long chapter of rain, so much like the unnumbered sections of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ Love In The Time of Cholera, of course minus the convoluted romance.

They were stranded in this shed located along Pangan-an Island’s shore.

They had no other choice but to explore each other’s anatomy until the rain will subside.

Hahahaha. Just kidding.

They were in Olango to spread joy and peace, not to fertilize its soils with their queer seed.

But they were amazed at the images and inscriptions that greeted them when they crossed the shed’s threshold – the hieroglyphics of the islanders’ psyche.

For a moment, Jessie imagined himself as the dying Katharine Clifton who explores the cave wall’s paintings as she waits for the return of her lover, László de Almásy, in the movie The English Patient.

But they were in Olango Island and not in some African dessert.

When they saw the writings and inscriptions on the ceiling and the walls, a sense of profoundness and understanding struck them.

These people who live in this place – a place which is of course famed for its vast wetlands that annually host thousands of migratory birds from as far as China, Japan and Siberia – are really into birds.

It’s amazing.

The people of Olango simply love birds.

In the same way that the pretty MPs do.

A Day in the Life of Bernz, Ghary, Jessie and Ozzie

2008-03-02T20:56:00.011+08:00

Help comes in many versions and sizes. Help is a moving and visible interpretation of one’s genuine care or concern. In whatever way, the help that one extends ripples to these - ease the burdens of the persons in need, dispel that feeling of neglect or loneliness among the less fortunate.

Last year, around March or April, while I was aimlessly surfing the net, I stumbled upon a bunch of quiet special guys, or shall I say men, called the MP’s or Mga Palautog. There are around 5,000 of them actually. But I only got to know around 20 or so, and I am not exactly sure if the traits and qualities of these 20+ men are statistically representative of the group’s entire membership. (Utog, by the way, is Visayan for erection, hence to be a palautog is to be somebody who engages in specific acts that promote or encourage erection. In my observation, to be a palautog is human nature, although not everyone would willingly or outrightly admit to this.)

Nevertheless, the important thing is that I hang out with these newfound friends once in a while, and there are those whom I have friendly affections because of our online communication - chats, conferences, ka-churvahans, ka-eklatans. The group, like many other groups, is also a melting pot of diverse, enigmatic, distinct, and sometimes disturbing masculine-feminine urges. Fortunately, charity is one of the group’s essential qualities, and fueled by the so-called charitable urge, the Olango Island children’s education project came into fruition.

The project is one of the profound, life-affirming outputs of our rowdy yet intelligent, malevolent yet well-informed, socio-political conferences via Yahoo Messenger. The minds in the said conferences are Rosa Rosal, Marjory Smith, AnnQ (who joined towards the end of 2007), and yours truly, Oxana Fedorova.

The brain behind the project was Rosa Rosal – not the frail old woman in the famous television show KKMK (Kapwa Ko, Mahal Ko), but the piping engineer who is currently working in Japan. Rosa Rosal, popularly known as Bernz Corr, is one very enlightened guy and he envisions a world governed by peace and selflessness. He thought that he could contribute to world peace by sharing his fortune in Yen.

Enter Marjory Smith, an economist and a former Miss Universe titleholder who is now based in New York. He too shares Rosa’s vision and he thought that we could help create a more empowered Filipino citizenry by investing on the education of the children.

Oxana Fedorova could carry out the wishes of Marjory and Rosa. Oxana, or simply Jessie, is a Cebu-based employee of a social development organization. He enumerated some workable strategies that were well received by Marjory and Rosa. The plans were already laid down when AnnQ became the fourth corner of the group. Her expressions of support to the project were indirect but nevertheless very meaningful – she provided the usual encouragement and the steady supply of men who willingly strips and does their thingies on cam. These men, subsequently, propel the surge of creativity.

After months of planning and deliberation, Rosa and Marjory’s gifts reached 100 Grades 1 and 2 school children in Pangan-an Elementary School, Olango Island. Olango is located five kilometers off Mactan Island in Cebu. Although Olango is a haven for migratory birds that travel from as far as China, Japan and Siberia, poverty is everywhere because of many reasons, among them is the intense degradation of its marine resources due to years of irresponsible fishing and household practices. Because of poverty, the children of Olango are most affected since they don’t have access to many basic things – nutritious food, health services, potable water, good education, and so much more. The school supplies and books given to the children may not necessarily remove the day-to-day misery in their homes. But perhaps, these little gifts could teach them the value of education and somehow tell them that help will always be available if they persevere.

What we give to others, we also give to ourselves.

P.S. Special thanks to my two officemates, Riva and Rey for bringing us to Pangan-an in Olango. And also to Ozzieboi, also a Palautog, for braving and surviving the heavy rain, among other trials and tribulations last January 7!

What is politics?

2008-01-06T18:04:00.000+08:00

According to a forwarded email:

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, 'What is Politics?'

Dad says, 'Well son, let me try to explain it this way:

I am the head of the family, so call me The President.

Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the Government.

We are here to take care of your needs, so we will call you the People.

The nanny, we will consider her the Working Class.

And your baby brother, we will call him the Future.

Now think about that and see if it makes sense.'

So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said.

Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him.

He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper.

So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother asleep.

Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room.

Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny.

He gives up and goes back to bed.

The next morning, the little boy say's to his father, 'Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.'

The father says, 'Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about.'

The little boy replies, 'The President is screwing the Working Class while the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit.'

Jessie in the Year of the Rat

2008-01-01T22:38:00.000+08:00

Monkey Ratings

The Monkey, of the 12 signs, is the one most likely to have the best year. Fortune smiles upon you with your big Rat friend in charge. If you are a typical, mentally quick and multi-talented Monkey, opportunities there will be aplenty. There is only one, major concern: The Achilles heal of both the Monkey and Rat is overconfidence. This could make you forget that the Tiger rules the first month and won't do you any favors. As good as the year is, therefore, a slow start is advisable.

Monkey Career

Go with your heart and follow your instincts with your projects at hand. It is likely that your ideas will be rewarded this year so do your best to see each idea through in its entirety. Be careful to avoid hopping around with too many ideas, as lack of focus will derail even the best laid plans. You will see rewards when working closely with coworkers who exhibit similar ideas. Don't be afraid to trust their instincts as well.

Monkey Relationships

Your social life should be very active this year. If you're married, you'll find yourself, more than ever, wanting to be with your spouse in a more active, social environment. This enhanced activity could lead to an addition in the family so if you're not ready, be careful! The single Monkey should expect to find an abundance of opportunities. This could be the year to play more so than settle down. Networking is at a peak so look for new groups to join where you can build both your knowledge and your network.

Monkey Health

Your chi levels should be persistently higher throughout the course of the year. This means a year of generally good health. You should see progress on any existing long-term illness as well. Take this as an opportunity to increase your care and further your progress. With increased activity and social life, just make sure you get some rest along the way and do not get too caught up in the party scene!

Monkey Wealth

Finances should be generally good this year. Expect to see positive changes from 2007, as the year of the Earth Rat should be more stable for you. Keep in mind, though, it is not a great year for speculative investment so stick with what you know best and be ready to grind out some good work. This is one of those years that bodes well for savings and those savings could pay off big in the years to come.

Rah rah rah sis bomba

2008-01-01T06:22:00.000+08:00

This is my first post for 2008. It's already past six in the morning, almost seven actually, the first of January, and I am supposed to be still asleep right now. But I am still awake although I am already kinda sleepy. I must linger a bit because the rest of the year would have begun when I am once again awake.

I had already written something a few moments ago when for some reason, I accidentally pressed some keys and all my thoughts and lamentations were gone. Perhaps this is a good sign. I must look forward to this new year and somehow loosen my grasp on the things that I missed, things that transpired over those many years that already passed me by. Those years had given me lessons, had provided me with fond memories. But it's pointless to get stucked. And it's even more foolish if one intentionally lets himself get stucked.

There are no regrets. I am completely happy about the Jessie that I am right now. Regret is the most useless human emotion because we don't have any power to undo the things that already happened.

I think 2008 will be a great year for me. It rained gently a few moments ago and I think that is a sign that good things will come my way.

I would still acknowledge though that I am person who whines and complains a lot. But that is part of living and growing. Somewhere in my heart and mind, I always know when to be at peace and content. Otherwise I would still rah rah rah sis bomba!

Legacies of 2007

2007-12-31T20:25:00.000+08:00

In no particular order:

1. The guy that I love. Love is really not all that amazing. But Jeffrey is. Until he pisses me off. Then I would go berserk. Then we would settle things and life is beautiful again. I think that's love. Relationship would never ever be perfect. But the characters in love would always find reasons to hold on.

2. One of my best friends, Jean, who is now in Canada to be with Ilana, the woman she passionately loves. She passed the bar, but she abandoned it anyway in favor of love. Most people would find that foolish. I think it is romantic. Hollywood could still happen. This world would be a much much better place if we have couples like Jean and Ilana.

3. The job which I love but makes me insane even when I am asleep. I might resign soon. I might not. I love my job, there is still a semblance of happiness in the things that I engage into. But the rest is still uncertain.

4. The business which I tried to start with my two close friends. It failed. The moral of the story: don't do something unless you are completely passionate about it, unless you have the full concentration and the bravado to learn its ropes.

5. The new found friends - the MPs. I already have good friends that I would keep for a lifetime. But this bunch is something else. It doesn't matter that I won't ever know the real names of some of them because they have real identities to protect. It's all about respecting choices anyway. They like boys in the same way that I do. They look like regular boys in the same way that I am. We would go out together, but that doesn't mean that we have to do each other. They know the nuts and bolts of our special world. I may be 27 but I still have lots to learn from them.

6. My internet connection at home and my two favorite sites - Lifeout.com and Limewire. With Lifeout, I don't have to go to Colon street to have a dose of porn. I don't have to suffocate my hard disk with porn downloads. Lifeout offers porn for free at such vast quantities 24/7. With Limewire Pro, I now have some hard to find records. Never mind that downloading music is considered illegal. The records available in local record bars are just so limited that newborns might as well believe that music history began when Britney was first slapped in the butt in the delivery room.

7. I visited Lamitan, Basilan. Two weeks later, the marines that guided us were beheaded.

8. The christmas decors that I don't want keep in their boxes this January. Truly, a thing of beauty is a joy forever.

9. The arts exhibit that we organized for the office to raise funds. It reminded me that before I took up political science, I originally wanted to be a fine arts graduate. I might revisit this passion this 2008.

10. The wrong things that I did. No need to enumerate because I don't want my list to reach 100. Hahahaha.

Happy New Year! Welcome 2008! Please be good to me! :-)

JessieRomanticManiac's Film Review

2007-12-31T02:02:00.000+08:00

I am a bona fide movie buff. Always has been for years. Given this fact of my life, I am pleasantly compelled to make a review of the movies I have watched. Let me begin with the 12 movies I killed this December. I don't want to go gaga over the historical or technical values of a film as bases for my review. Movies have numerous purposes in our lives and our continually evolving culture. Perfect movies may not necessarily have perfect details, and yet they remain perfect for whatever impact they have on our lives. As such, I drafted my own rating system, as follows:

4 Pink Flowers I would watch this movie over and over and over again!
3 Pink Flowers I might just forget this movie, but hey there are slices of life in here.
2 Pink Flowers Hmmm, yeah. It's okay. And i think the critics and award-giving bodies quite liked this movie, so who am I to disagree?
Flowerless A total waste of my time.

Enjoy my December offering!

A subtler version of The Godfather or The Departed. This one centers on a Russian organized crime family in London. Naomi Watts, as a midwife who delivered a baby supposedly fathered by the organized crime leader, is brilliant as always, while Viggo Mortensen, as the mysterious driver of the family, is viciously amazing that I almost forgot that he used to be Aragorn. The climactic bath house fight sequence should be gruesome, but Viggo, who carried on with the scene without a single square-inch of clothing, made it so bearable to watch. I give this one 3 Pink Flowers.

Cate Blanchett is one of my four all-time favorite actresses alongside Meryl Streep, Kate Winslet and Jodie Foster. As such, even if the screenplay or editing is flawed, a movie could never go wrong if at its center is a very brilliant performer like Cate. This may not be as brilliant as Cate's first tour as the Virgin Queen, but this is still a movie to behold with other icings aside from Cate's talent such as the beautiful costumes and the ruggedly beautiful Clive Owen as Sir Walter Raleigh. This one deserves 3 Pink Flowers.

This Chinese pride of a movie traces the lives of two opera actors whose friendship and professional relationship was greatly disturbed when one of the actors got involved and eventually married a strong and imposing "prostitute," performed by the very beautiful Gong Li. I think this movie is important for two reasons: it provides us with information on modern Chinese history from the years prior to the Japanese occupation to Mao's cultural revolution until the decline of communism; and it also illustrates the existence and subsequent social repression of gay love. However, the movie is so indulgent and overloooong. I hate to do this, but i think this film deserves only 2 Pink Flowers.

I love Kate Winslet. I love Johnny Depp. I love Peter Pan. I love this movie. 4 Pink Flowers. No question about it. By the way, this movie is about the circumstances that inspired playwright James Barry to write Peter Pan.

The first two Harry Potter installments, Sorcerer's Stone and Chamber of Secrets, are definitely much much better than the Prisoner of Azkaban, Goblet of Fire, and this one, Order of the Phoenix. Because I've read the book and there were so many details that were unfortunately omitted in the screenplay. Because the original Albus Dumbledore, Richard Harris, is a much much better actor. And because I have greater affections for Harry, Hermione and Ron as kids than as young adults. But Order of the Phoenix is not really bad, it is still entertaining, and if there is one thing that is very memorable about this movie, it is the young Evanna Lynch who brilliantly portrayed the weirdo Luna Lovegood. Years from now, I would like to watch Evanna tackle roles usually played by Cate, Jodie or Naomi Watts. 2 Pink Flowers would be enough for this movie.

Ratatouille is what great entertainment is all about. And this new Walt Disney / Pixar gem, about a rat who dreams of being a chef, once again fuses all elements of a timeless animated film - live action that breathes with very human life, comedy and drama and suspense, fantastic music and heartwarming fairy tale ending. 4 Pink Flowers. 4 Pink Flowers. 4 Pink Flowers.

Any movie, no matter how flawed in terms of the story, could still be good if blessed with good performances especially by the central character. The Brave One is one those movies and Jodie Foster is one of those actors. Jodie is Erica Bain, a radio program host who had the fortune to be part of a very happy and fulfilled relationship. New York is her home and its environ provide her with the stories that she recreate in her radio program. However, her peace was shattered when she and her boyfriend were senselessly attacked that cost her boyfriend's life and left her emotionally wounded. Justice seems so elusive hence Foster took matters in her own hand. Some praised the unknown vigilante for cleaning the streets of New York while the many who still holds on to the value of due process condemned her acts. The Brave One is a strong morality tale and dissenting opinions may crop up especially from those who don't quite agree with the film's Machiavellian philosophy. Nevertheless, Jodie Foster is a powerhouse and that's reason enough for Jessie to give this movie 3 Pink Flowers.

One of those heist movies populated by brilliant actors - Denzel Washington, Jodie Foster and Clive Owen. I would give this movie 2 Pink Flowers because of Jodie Foster for her terrific turn as a pleasantly vicious power broker Madeline White.

The Insider is a Samson and Goliath kind of movie based on real-life events. Specifically, Jeffrey Wigan played by Russel Crowe, exposed a tobacco company's manipulation of cigarette substances in order to enhance smokers' addiction to nicotine. Strongly believing in Wigan's cause, CBS producer Lowell Bergman played by Al Pacino, stopped at nothing to bring Wigan's story to the public through the US television show, 60 Minutes. Very absorbing, The Insider reminds me of the Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman classic, All The President's Men, which was about the Watergate Scandal. 3 Pink Flowers for The Insider.

In this movie, Nicole Kidman is Silvia Bloome, a South African working as an interpreter in the United Nation's headquarters in New York. One evening, she overhears an assassination plot against Doctor Zuwanie, a corrupt and tyrannical African leader, who may be indicted by the UN for crimes against humanity. Bloome disclosed this information to the UN Secret Service and subsequently Sean Penn's Tobin Keller is assigned to protect Zuwanie as well as Bloome. Incidentally, Bloome has a shady past - she used to be involved with a rebel group bent on overthrowing Zuwanie. There is nothing new about The Interpreters. This is basically similar to other political crime thrillers. 2 Pink Flowers.

Sofia Coppola's adaptation of Jeffrey Eugenides' bestseller is very simple, straightforward but mesmerizing nevertheless. Thanks to the five beautiful Lisbon sisters especially the enigmatic Lux portrayed by Kirsten Dunst. Thanks to Coppola's screenplay, which unfolds like pages of the book. And thanks to the movie's soundtrack, which echoes with 70s pop, rock and soul. In the year 1974, in the upper middle class suburbs in Michigan, the five Lisbon girls committed suicide. The youngest, Cecilia jumped off of their second floor window and impaled herself in the fence. Lux, the second youngest, poisoned herself with carbon monixide. Therese, the eldest, had sleeping pills overdose while Mary, the second daughter, hanged herself. Bonnie stuck her head in the oven. The Virgin Suicides is made to be a 4 Pink Flower movie. Why? Find out for yourself.

The pleasant realm of the Tulisans

2007-12-22T21:39:00.000+08:00

November 30, 2007. A holiday. And Powerbooks finally opened its doors to Cebuano readers, literature addicts and bibliophiles. Yours truly, included.

I learned about the Powerbooks branch here in Cebu about a year ago. I was paying for my Love in the Time of Cholera when the National Bookstore cashier kindly said that pretty soon I won’t be buying my books from them because Powerbooks would be opening its Cebu branch.

I gladly told my friends about it. I announced it to my office friends. And I waited. And waited. And waited. And finally the wait is over.

Around lunchtime in November 30, I took a taxi to SM City. I thought of just taking the jeep but I deliberated on the merits of hailing a cab instead.

If I ride a jeepney, travel time would be a few minutes longer. If I take the jeepney, I would go through the ordeal of inhaling the dusts, consuming the heat, and interacting with irritating fellow passengers. If I opt for the cheaper jeepney, the traffic along the way would definitely exhaust me.

Yes, I was that excited and I must be in top shape once I cross Powerbooks’ threshold.

There were also many other stores that opened at SM City Cebu’s The Northwing that day. But they didn’t matter at all. Not for that day, at least. I only had eyes and concentration on the blue and yellow-colored sign that I just basically see when I am in Manila.

The books that populate the walls and shelves of Powerbooks were sights to behold. Of course, I immediately noticed that there are no benches and seats and a café like that of Powerbooks Greenbelt 2. But these faults are just minor and forgivable. Perhaps the Powerbooks team did some research about Cebuano culture and they learned that Cebuanos are basically tihik and instead of walking out of the store with a plastic or paper bag in hand, they would just read the books from cover to cover inside the store.

The left side of the store was dedicated to Philippine literature and “serious” materials e.g. biographies, politics, history, business. The right wing is a multitude of books on arts, popular culture, fitness and health and children’s literature. And the central portion of the store is a haven of fiction, poetry, religious readings and the macabre.

That very same day, I splurged on a new copy of Margaret Mitchell’s epic Gone With the Wind because it has been a decade since I last read it and my 1950’s edition of the book is already so fragile and tattered. And I just had to go home with this 2008 planner generously filled with prints of Frida Kahlo paintings and portraits.

In the days and weeks that followed, I found myself spending a bit more: the Booker-prize winning The Life of Pi by Yann Martel; the Pulitzer Prize-winning Gilead by Marilynne Robinson; Amy Tan’s fifth bestseller, Saving Fish from Drowning; an anthology of gay writing appropriately titled New Gay Erotica; and a modern music encyclopedia 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die.

In “wasting” considerable amount on these items, I had to convince myself that I had committed no crime or felony. December is my birthday month and I had to buy some gifts for myself. I had been working so hard, thus I also had to reward myself. And of course, it will Christmas soon and I should also buy some Christmas presents that would satisfy my soul. I also promised that after December, I wouldn’t spend a single peso for a book in, shall we say, six months at least. All these seemingly crazy purchases must be justified, although I am not really very confident about that last justification.

Since Powerbooks opened almost a month ago, I also came to learn that Powerbooks workers, especially cashiers, were not only trained to be excellent in customer service but to be also professional tulisans. Don’t ask me why they are tulisans. Isn’t it obvious enough?

The wisdom of Christmas decors

2007-12-17T22:05:00.000+08:00

It is eight days before Christmas. My 27th Christmas here in this beautiful earth.

For a very long time, I think I had abandoned the usual excitement that most people feel about Christmas. Ever since high school and college and the first few years as a bona fide taxpayer, Christmas was nothing more than the usual parties and exchange gifts and the two-week vacation.

Perhaps during these years I was just basking in this Holden Caulfieldish approach to life. Perhaps I was just so fucked up with work and any form of stress-free diversion was most welcome. Or perhaps the interior of our house was just unpainted and its gray concrete walls were just sooo poverty stricken that no amount of Christmas trimmings could ever save it from steadily falling from grace.

But this year is gonna be different. I had known it for months. Ever since October, when I played Sarah's Wintersong and Celine's These Are Special Times. Ever since the commercialized aspect of Christmas was manifested in the malls... Uhum... What I am really trying to say here is that my renewed passion for Christmas began when I started spending a few hundreds (thousands, I fear) for Christmas trimmings - balls, ribbons, garlands, beads, lights blah blah blah.

Of course, conventional wisdom would dictate that Christmas should be all about spending time with family and loved ones and thanking the Lord for his gift of love and gift of life. This wisdom will always be timeless and will always be true and will always be cherished. On the other hand, it is also extra nice to put up a tree in one lonely corner of the house or hang some wreaths and garlands and adorn them with flowers and balls and ribbons and dancing lights. And you could just imagine how wonderful it is to decorate your home together with your mom and pop!

As they say, "a thing of beauty is a joy forever." That is why I have always been joyful joyful joyful and unsinkable all these weeks. Well, if you think that my Christmas decors are not really that pretty or wonderful, then you shall never ever be welcome in my home! Hahahaha.

I wish I won't have to keep these decors in their boxes by January. I wish I could decorate my walls again soon, like this summer. I wish it's October once again so I could once again splurge a bit on additional trimmings and my dream Nativity scene. I wish your Christmas decors are as pretty as mine so you won't be green with envy.

Merry Christmas!

academic wisdom from college

2007-11-30T21:21:00.000+08:00

things i learned from school,
which i think are somehow applicable
to the events that are happening
in our country today.

1. the culture of corruption in the political system.
corruption is no longer just a disease
which could be cured by some political reforms.
we could replace our presidents every time
they fuck up. but it must also be
acknowledged, with a very open mind,
that corruption is a culture, even bigger
than any person who would sit
in the presidency or other government posts.
sooner or later, he or she would get consumed.

2. the mob is powerful. eventually, it will rule.
during the 1986 edsa revolution,
it was the mob who ruled. in the edsa II,
once again it was the mob who ruled.
the edsa III failed because the mob was
not representative of the entire filipino nation.

3. the philippine political system is a reflection
of the coutry's political party system.
in other states, the citizenry is informed
what the republican, democratic, communist,
socialist or labor parties stand for.
people vote for their leaders because they
believe in the platforms of their future leaders.
in our country, we are unfortunately blessed
with so many political butterflies.
we hear about lakas nucd or the nacionalista
party etc but we do not
necessarily know or understand
what they stand for. our parties
are identified by its candidates,
not by its principles or advocacies.

4. for archipelagic states like our country,
it is worthwhile to consider
a federal form of government.
so that each province or state could
better respond to the needs of its people
without having to depend on the allocations
or decisions or directives
of the national government.
and so that the voices of the many
provinces and ethnic minorities
are better represented. as in the cases
of edsa III, the oakwood rebellion
and the manila peninsula rebellion,
many filipinos are dissatisfied
with the actions undertaken by
influential personalities in the capital.
the people may have felt and condemns
the corruption of the arroyo government,
but the nation, as one, is not necessarily
sympathetic with the courses of action
by trillanes and company.

i am rambling on and on and on. hahahaha.

Wednesday

2007-11-05T21:47:00.000+08:00

“If love turns into obsession, is it still love?” You asked.

It is ten minutes past nine in the evening, and the bar is unusually subdued compared to those other evenings since I’ve frequented this place these past two months or so. Except for a few couples - maybe acquaintances, scattered about in three tables, whose voices were drowned by the loud sound emanating from the television set showing this somewhat new foreign rock group disarmingly reviving Hendrix’s heydays - there were just the two of us over four empty bottles of beer. Tonight could have been a Saturday with the familiar faces and familiar pats at the back and the all too familiar greetings from college buddies. Tonight could have used a few show tunes or guitar riffs to fend off the heavy atmosphere that should excuse me from evading your question. It’s that question that my mind would rather refuse, or if I should answer it now, then positively or with an open-ended maybe for your benefit.

You signaled for another set of beer, without asking me if we are still staying for another more, before moving on to somewhere together, or in our individual places. I remember this local writer who, in one of her semi-popular writings, fondly recalls a Saturday night spent among supposed friends, and how should two bottles of beer create a benign aura in an otherwise solitary face. Your question shouldn’t have come as a surprise the way that it did because what was between us was anything but benign.

“If love turns into obsession, is it still love?” You seem to ask again, although you haven’t, only that your eyes bore into mine the same way that they bared me since the first night I knew you, after I extended my hand to reach yours as a gesture of clean friendship.

“Why do you ask?” I responded, as if asking back should suffice.

“Has it ever happened it you before? In your thirty years?”

“Huh?”

It’s a Wednesday alright, should this explain the unknown sobriety? The waiter approached our table bearing with him four bottles of beer with a bucket of ice cubes that seem to immediately turn to water despite the coldness of the summer evening.

It’s a Wednesday evening alright, the twenty-sixth of May, an evening bathed in a rush of cold air that screamed at my face when I cruised the highway on the way here to meet you after the two weeks that I went out of town for some school related stuff. Just about seven, there was only a soft drizzle left from a whole day of rain, which I just spent lazily at home. I was silently praising the rain that wouldn’t shy away from a brief and slight ray of light that once in a while reaches my forehead and my cheeks through my bedroom window.

The summer is almost gone, the evening’s telling me so, and in so many ways I felt strongly about the opening of the classes this coming June. Maybe not so much about the passion for the chosen profession, although there is solace in accepting the comforts of stability while I am in this line of work. Maybe the unquestioning comfort that sleep could provide after a whole day at school with students and another few hours spent for my master’s education. It’s the routine really that I’ve come to embrace unconditionally, and week nights are as typical as the other evenings the whole year through. So much unlike this Wednesday.

It’s Wednesday alright, I keep on reminding myself, and the supposedly cold evening rush that greeted me in the drive has nothing to do with the heaviness that we are inhaling now. After all it’s that kind of Wednesday that happens during my summer each year, and when the school opens, then my evenings might just be as unrecognizable as the rest of the week.

“Ron,” he speaks softly, in that manner that would only allow me to stare at the half-filled beer mug.

“I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“But I did, didn’t I?” Was the most that I could say after spending about an hour pretending to figure out the ultra modern songs that I’ve been hearing, while thoughtlessly mumbling in careless details the routine events that shaped my life these last two weeks. Not that it would matter at all, or if it should matter to you, although I know for sure that you’d listen to anything that I would say because I always see it in your eyes. Of course, I’ve promised us that we would make an effort to know each other more, and you’re doing that exactly now, nodding at the things that I’m saying, completely understanding without fault the dynamics and supposed complexities of my professional life. While you, your eyes digging mine, fully in control of your chain of thoughts, and never leaving me and my details.

“I arrived ahead of you, didn’t I?” And haven’t we talked a lot about me this past hour, over those wasted bottles of beer? Didn’t I interest you enough with the long hours I defied sleep just to finish all these papers, these demands of my job that were way too early for my age anyway but nevertheless important to feed my youth?

“Ron, you shouldn’t have come, you know. When I asked, it is not much of an asking but an invitation, you know that I’ll be around anyhow even if it is not now.” You asked, almost knowing the many reservations I have at the back of my mind. You reached across the table, to my hand, and your touch was too firm and fixed on its grasp. Your hair is loose on your forehead, with a deep sense of foreboding. Your face unshaved, seems roughed after all these weeks, and I could see circles under your eyes. Your jaw was loosened by the many thoughts in your eyes. Your mouth silent as I know that this moment is way beyond words. And your eyes, weighs the heaviness that we both knew while you continue holding my hand, with such intense force of masculinity that I haven’t experienced before, and I, powerless to move back from your grasp.

If I were strong enough, would I rather remove my hand from this union and feign interest to the beer mug to pacify my throat that has dried after I searched your face for the longest time? Should I rather reach out and search your face, not with my eyes this time, but with my hand that still carries with it the force of your touch?

If love turns into obsession, is it still love?

We never knew about the half-empty bottle that was left before you reached your hand to weigh me down. We never knew about the other couples, if they danced away the night, or if they resorted to the safety of their own rooms now that the drizzle has affirmed its longer presence until the morning after. We never knew how often we came back to same bar, the same room, or to be amongst the same subdued crowd. Such was the force of your submission. And such was the force of my fear.

03 June 2004

2004 Eyeball Memories

2007-11-05T21:13:00.000+08:00

Your hands are unclean. You are just learning. You are not everything. You are the so-called chaos. You are. - Mocking Alanis (29 August 2004)

Dear Matt, it’s you that I’ve known longest.
On and off, for over two years,
we’ve sent each other’s anguish and hope –
in the middle of the day,
sometime in the evening
or early in the morning.
It doesn’t matter.
We never hesitated to let our feelings flow,
probably because it was just easy
to be unbiased and subjective to
the single person who could almost destroy you,
almost, but just couldn’t.
Because we don’t know each other.
We don’t know each others face.
And then we met,
and for some unknown reason,
we grew apart.
A few times, I still long for our earlier mystery.
Our lives, maybe, are less complicated now
and there’s less of that immature anguish,
perhaps no more glamorized version of our pain.
Still, it’s you that I’ve known longest,
it’s you that I am supposed to know best.

Dear Neil, you were the more perfect one,
the flawed survivor,
the good listener,
and the two hours I spent with you
over a cup of coffee
at some gas station
somewhere here in our city
was an honest and mature moment
any person should hope for.
In your thirty-one years,
you’ve proceeded to a different ground,
and days after our introduction,
I wore your skin
and stepped into your shoe,
thinking that maybe nine years from now
I would finally understand the flawed
but eternally forgivable constancies of living.
You spoke of calm acceptance of life as it is
whereas I fiercely embrace it
like sands that break away
from the strength of my grip.
But then I am just too young
not to take everything seriously,
too young to be pulled back
from flying dangerously,
too stubborn to follow
your calm acceptance to all things
that could no longer be changed within our lifetime.
You were the one that I hope I could love.

Dear Ray, you were synonymous with my failure.
I jumped into you without grace,
and I swam carelessly almost to my death
the moment that I touched your surface.
You were that turbulent undercurrent,
that brief kiss,
that warm embrace,
but before all that I believed
that you could be that soft place where I could fall.
Yet you were also the fellow
who don’t usually look at me in the eye
and I always feel the need
to press both my palms against your cheeks
so I would have at least ten seconds
of pure honesty with you,
risking the thought of knowing
from your eyes the depressing facts
of the honesty that I crave for
while I have you for a company.
When I was at the edge of my childish insanity,
softly you told me that what matters most in life
are how well I’ve lived,
how deeply I’ve loved,
and how well should I let go
of the things that I simply cannot have.
You were the single person
that I passionately loved, and obsessively,
it amazes me how I can’t also be the water
deep enough for you to also jump into.

Dear Jim, you would be the one nearest to me as a friend.
We’ve met only twice
and managed to communicate
in between and after.
After I gave you a lift,
after you stepped off my taxi,
you left me alone with my wits
though with a knowing smile in it.
Traveling the evening road,
I asked the thin air
why should your calling come in
before whoever, or you, or me, or us.
This is such a dark thought, I know,
but I know too that you wouldn’t be this good guy
that you are now
if not because of your unconditional answer to that call.
And you wouldn’t be that greater guy
that certainly you would become
if not because of that mighty assurance
that you will be taking your vows soon.
I see it all in your eyes,
despite the barrier of the glasses,
despite the dimness of the bar.
Liking you,
although you were someone that I couldn’t possibly have,
had given me peace.

Dear Pierre, you are most beautiful inside and out.
You arrived last,
when I was at the edge of my sadness,
and it was either I’d finally fall,
or I’d pull back my wits
to once again assume
the painless ordinary existence
that was indeed my comfort zone for years.
It was past two then,
and the early morning was too drunk
for our sobriety.
Still you’ve proceeded with your story
which made me want to love you,
though in all its pain and beauty,
it’s most dangerous for me to be in love with you.
Yeah, I want to love you
but I just can’t be in love with you.
I’d say these same words to you now if I could,
but I wouldn’t,
for sure you’d understand me differently.
Not that I would mind you knowing,
but you would,
and I wouldn’t want that to happen to us.
Not now.
Several evenings and weeks had passed by -
evenings spent over food and beer and nice little talks,
and during these times
it’s really quite sad that our comfortability with each other
also had its defenses
that came straight from your mouth.
If only those defenses
had rooted from your heart.
But I wouldn’t like to know
more than what your mouth had to say –
not even if I read you differently
through your eyes,
not even if your tenderness is killing me sweetly.
That parting handshake
during our first night out
was the most that I would like to remember of you.
You arrived last,
and I am still knowing you now.
You were most beautiful then,
you are just beautiful now,
and we could very well become good friends.
Let’s keep it at that.

James, why are you so beautiful?

2007-10-26T01:24:00.000+08:00

Do you have to die so soon?

Do you have to die so young?

Do you have to leave me behind?

Before I was even born?

Taruuussshhhhh.....

Commuters. A short story.

2007-10-21T15:26:00.000+08:00

Commuters is a short short-story I wrote more than three years ago. The story was inspired by a road trip I took with Venus, one of my best friends, to Alcoy – a very rural municipality located in the Southern part of Cebu. In so many ways, Commuters is a representation of my life that year. Being 23 years old and naïve about love and relationships. Being gay my whole life but only fully acknowledging it after meeting a simple man who involuntarily twisted my world. Being young yet so grown-up all a sudden as a consequence of the painful choices I’ve made – choices that taught me the virtues of acceptance and tolerance, choices that gave a semblance of peace amidst my life’s complications, and choices that used to feel like toothache but now seem very fabulous.

Last Sunday, November 19, 2006, I found Commuters in one of the folders of my computer and I read it as I had already forgotten many details of the story. In the process, I discovered three important things that really made me smile. First is the name Jeff – the boyfriend of the story’s first person. Second is Jeff’s common passion for black shirts. And third is the date when I wrote Commuters – June 23, 2004.

The thing is – I met a certain Jeffrey somewhere in cyberspace last March 18, 2005. For days after that, we communicated through text but lost touch of each other as our lives took different directions. For some divine reasons, this certain Jeffrey, a guy who wears black shirts almost all the time, unexpectedly called while I was at the hospital with my injured Lolo. And so we finally met in one of the malls in Manila, started saying a few words to each other in one of the mall’s busy fast foods, had some brew and frap and smoke in a popular coffee shop, and held hands in a quiet garden somewhere within the walled city. That was June 23, 2006.

Commuters
June 23, 2004

For Jeffrey

Saturday. Exactly twenty-five minutes past four in the afternoon. At the bus station, the air hangs dry and its dusts push its way into my pores, while my skin sweats with the saltiness of the day. The dusts crawl uninvited, drinks and bathes at the unseen folds of my skin. My skin has cried and dried, the stickiness never leaving though, and here we are inhaling the exhaust of the bus headed south. We could have been in that ride, squeezing with the other commuters, exchanging sweat and odor. Instead, we are standing here beside this concrete terminal station post like bookends, waiting for that next bus ride to destination nowhere.

This destination nowhere is not exactly a nowhere. It is supposed to be three hours away from the city. But then, I, and my best friend Iris here, have never been there in our less than glorious twenty-three years. We are waiting for the next bus headed south because some lady, an acquaintance of Iris’ uncle, invited us, through a brief telephone call, to her place for the weekend.

But then, what is the bearing of geography for people who are lost all their lives?

We got the next bus around five, swarming amongst men and a few women and some hungry-looking kids. It’s interesting really, these provincial people spending the next three hours either by sleeping from sheer exhaustion or by simply thinking of that homemade meal that would definitely be served as soon as they have crossed the threshold of their homes. Maybe a fiesta is happening somewhere, and an evening of dance is something that they were rooting for the whole year. The thought is so simple, uncomplicated.

It’s a more or less three-hour travel according to the konduktor. Adding or taking a few minutes from his calculation, though, might be of some use if we were traveling in broad daylight with mountain ridges or still waters on either side of the road. If it were some peak, maybe I won’t be scaling it, at least not this time if I am supposed to be back in the city by Monday. If it were a sea, maybe I would think of wading it until the waters would only be knee-high. Or, I might not go back to the shore, but instead, continue wading, with the grasses and all beneath my feet, until a wide expanse of sandbars would allow me to breathe again easily. I haven’t been to a sandbar for a long time anyway, and more than once during those younger years, I usually end up tiptoeing, holding my breath till I am fully certain that yeah, I am at the shore again.

But it’s evening, and my companion has her face against the darkness outside her window. She doesn’t care about her hair that screams with the wind, nor with her forehead and cheeks that are kissing the cold, forceful wind. If I were my mother I would have probably pulled her back or closed the window or exchanged places with her. It’s supposed to be dangerous, looking out of the bus window and things like that. But she’s inhaling her freedom, I know. And though we exchanged stories and even laughed at the naughty things that we say now and then, I know it’s the wind that screams against her face that she’d rather be with now. At this time, at least.

“When did we become so joyless?”

The question was hypothetical, but demands an article of time for an answer that neither one of us could immediately satisfy. She’s that person who knew the answer already before asking. She’s that person who asks because she wants an affirmation. Though, very so often I would think that her unrevealed answers are not usually affirmed after a question has been formed through her mouth. She would ask again, louder, and maybe she would get some affirmation this time.

And lately too, she has this habit of inventing hypothetical questions that neither of us could satisfy. I know at such times she’s grappling with her thoughts to make out the clearest sense as to why she’s throwing a question in the very first place. It’s sad anyhow – forming a very sad question as a consequence of the knowledge that it is coupled with an equally sad experience that would suffice for an answer.

Outside, the rain started to pour and I began to smile at her while she drinks the waters, which blends with the wind, the same wind that seems to be at her command. The other commuters began to close their windows, and we have to close our own after this woman behind our seat asked us to. I wouldn’t care less, really. Somehow it’s vain for a person to feel the discomfort of the rain that drenches. I would wonder what about those fishermen out there, in the middle of the sea with just their small bancas. Those lights that dotted the murky waters. A few times, yeah they have a companion who comes along but more often than not they are usually alone and it seems all the more reasonable that I open our window and join my friend in tasting the wind and the waters.

“Just exactly how well acquainted are you with this woman who has invited us to spend tonight and tomorrow at her place?” I asked my friend. “I know I asked you this before, it’s just that, you know, we don’t know her at all or you don’t know her at all. Except that she’s your aunt, supposedly, but you practically don’t know her, that’s it, and why, really, didn’t we give it a second or more thoughts before jumping onto this bus.”

“Because we could never stand living another minute in that city.” She said, in that same questioning smile that at most opportunities is rather elusive, though this time her answer is affirming.

“But we are not yet lost, aren’t we? This is the farthest that I’ve been in the last few months.”

She chuckled. “No, we’ve traveled far enough lately, haven’t you noticed?” Again, that questioning smile that weigh me down into submission.

“So we are once again venturing into figurativeness!”

She laughed aloud this time. “That’s a nice way of putting it. I love the sound of it. Venturing into figurativeness. Traveling in mile stretches now, whereas for weeks we were traveling in stretches of time and bizarre experiences.”

And as if reading my observations all the while, “The mountains, those lights dotting the waters, the rain kissing my lips, venturing into figurativeness. We really are, I suppose, venturing into figurativeness. I can’t seem to get this phrase out of mind.” She was staring into the night when she said this.

I said, “Good, the rain has stopped. What time are we supposed to arrive? I am starving, and I am not venturing into figurativeness this time. I am literally starving.”

It’s a three-hour travel and it’s forty past seven in the evening but I am beginning to doubt now if it really is just a three-hour ride. After all, it has rained and we are traveling at such careful speed that this trip would now seem to take forever.

“What do you suppose has happened to Gayle now?” I teased. ”It’s been two weeks you know, you think you might just have to call her sometime, maybe tonight? We still have some signal.”

“What do you suppose has happened to your Jeff now?” She whispered wistfully and all I could do was shrug and look at the ceiling. And I know she’s looking at me now, with the playfulness that I have missed for a very long time.

“What?” I asked.

“What what?”

“Never mind.”

“What would you think if we’ll just spend sometime here, in this nowhere, a few days more and go back to the city later? What do you think?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Maybe. But really, why don’t we?”

“We’ve got work, by the way.”

“We can always request for a leave.”

“We haven’t got money. Or clothes at the very least.”

“We can always worry about that later. Anyway there’s always a bus heading back to the city, so if it is no longer practical for us to stay, then off we go.”

“Were you thinking about this just now, or were you planning this already?”

“Actually, I thought I might want to surprise you. Guess you’re surprised now. More than surprised, perhaps. Thrilled.”

“Thrilled, my ass. We are going back tomorrow, that’s it.”

“We ought not to. How are you and Jeff now by the way?”

“Don’t change the topic ‘coz definitely we are not staying beyond tomorrow. As for that last question, you know my life completely and you know that we’re through.”

“But you’re not through with him.”

“You’re not yet through with Gayle either.”

“I don’t deny that. Two weeks is too short a time to be really through with anyone. Especially if two years of your life were spent with them.”

“And we promised not to indulge in those anymore ‘coz they’re through with us much as want we to believe otherwise.”

“Suppose we meet our potentials somewhere here.”

“Not likely.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Meeting other people is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Because of Jeff?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Okay, okay you got me there. But I just don’t want to spend too much time and energy thinking about that now.”

“The last that I’ve heard of him is that he went south. He might be here somewhere. We might catch up with him, we wouldn’t really know.”

“What are you trying to tell me exactly?”

“Nothing. Just possibilities. I would still insist that we stay on for a few more days, though.”

“You really are stubborn, do you know that.”

“We both are. That’s why we are here now, and not in the city.”

“This trip seems to go on forever.”

“We should be there in a few minutes.”

At around eight thirty, the bus conductor informed us of our stop. The darkness immediately became familiar once we stepped off the bus and the bus moved on with the few passengers remaining. We are facing a school now, and beside it there is supposed to be a trail that would lead to the house where we will be staying until tomorrow, unless Iris would press on with her stubbornness. The house shouldn’t be difficult to find, she’s been told, only a short walk from the road. Beside the house is an old cottage, and beyond it is the beach. Right now, I thought I might want to walk in the sand, with the evening seemingly so fragrant and cool. The place hasn’t been rained upon recently, I thought, and the skies are calm, a sight that has eluded us while we were still on the road.

“Iris, maybe we should explore the beach tonight after we get settled. Or who knows we are no longer invited after all, and we would have no other choice but to stretch out at the beach until we catch the first bus ride to the city tomorrow.”

Iris nodded, as she shone the flashlight along the trail. There’s not much need of it though, we seem to be very accustomed to the darkness. Ahead, we could make out the form of a house, in its yard a small cottage that seems to have known many stories and exchanges among folks who have used this same trail for years.

Something about the night has changed though. Ahead of us, I could now make out the sight of a man, someone important to me. I could see now that he’s wearing the perennial black shirt and the certainty of that stride as he approached us is something that I have always known, yet had taken for granted, failed to appreciate but now.

Iris cut into my thoughts. “Perhaps you now know the reason why you ought to stay here for a few days more.”

Once upon a time sa life sa tatay ug ang iyang anak

2007-10-15T21:14:00.000+08:00

tatay: anak, paliti kog softdrinks
anak: coke o pepsi?
tatay: coke...
anak: diet o regular?
tatay: regular...
anak: bote o can?
tatay: bote...
anak: 8 oz. o litro?
tatay: punyeta....tubig na lang
anak: natural o mineral?
tatay: mineral...
anak: bugnaw o dili?
tatay: lambusan ta man ka aning silhig ron...
anak: lanot o tukog?
tatay: animal man seguro ka!!!
anak: baka o baboy?
tatay: layas!!!...layas! !!...
anak: karon o ugma?
tatay: karon na!!!
anak: imo ko ihatud o dili?
tatay: patyon ta ka karon!!!
anak: tuk-on o pusilon?
tatay: pusilon!!!
anak: sa ulo o tiyan?
tatay: pisteee!!!
anak: ok-ok o ilaga?
tatay: aaaahhhhh... .buang!!!
anak: kinsa...ikaw o ako?

Jessie's institutional targets for fiscal year 2007-08

2007-10-13T03:16:00.000+08:00

1. Go to the gym again. Gotta be beautiful inside and out. And diet. Performance indicator: 30 lbs. weight loss. Probability of success: High.

2. Learn how to dance gracefully. Must learn the basics of standard and latin ballroom dancing. Must ooze with sex and masculinity on the dance floor. This goal is not realistic but miracles always happen in Hollywood. You just wait and see.

3. Read at least one book per month. The last book I've read was Anne Tyler's Back When We Were Grownups and that was way back in July. There was a time that I could manage one book per week, but considering the many tasks that must be squeezed within each seven-day stretch, this target should be appropriate enough.

4. Watch the Miss Universe 2008 beauty pageant in Vietnam. Considering my impending state of joblessness, this goal might not be realized. In this case, I must be able to watch the pageant live within my lifetime.

5. Save. Pursue a taxi-free life, unless the taxi fare may be justifiably charged somewhere else.

6. Engage in great sex more frequently. That which also involves the heart, the mind and the soul.

7. Compile a portfolio of published works, among other outputs of my professional career. Apply for jobs abroad. Do not kiss asses because such part of the human anatomy is reserved only for either spanking or rimming.

8. Draw. Sketch. Write. Watch old movies. Sleep at least eight hours each day. Nurture thy heart and thy body with these simple pleasures.

9. Buy a good camera and capture everything. The extraordinary and the mundane. The colorful and the neutral. The happy and the sad. The ecstasy and the agony. The machines and God's natural gifts.

10. Go to the beach more often. By accomplishing task No.1, going to the beach should no longer be an ordeal but a kinky pleasure.

Mwah!

Jessie's labyrinth

2007-10-12T17:20:00.000+08:00

A long time ago, in the Underground Realm, where there are no lies or pain, there lived a princess who dreamt of the human world. She dreamt of blue skies, soft breeze and sunshine. One day, eluding her keepers, the princess escaped. Once outside, the bright sun blinded her and erased her memory. She forgot who she was and where she came from. Her body suffered cold, sickness and pain. And eventually, she died. However, her father, the king, always knew that the princess’ soul would return, perhaps in another body, in another place, at another time. And he would wait for her, until he drew his final breath, until the world stopped turning…

This fairy tale is the premise of Guillermo del Torro's wondrous and dreamlike Pan's Labyrinth. The story unfolds through the eyes of Ofelia, a young girl who finds solace in the worlds of her fairy tales. In her ordinary world, the world that she inhabits with her pregnant mother and unborn brother, there were pain and discontent. In her mystical world, she is her father's long-lost princess, but there are beasts and monsters that she must face and tasks that she must endure before she could reenter her old serene kingdom.

No work for me today because it's a holiday and finally I had the guts to refuse work. I afforded myself the opportunity to be lazy. And of course, Pan's Labyrinth is one of my lazy day's pleasures, together with the Tori Amos CDs that I had been playing since I woke up around 10 this morning.

I love movies like Pan's Labyrinth - those that showcase dreamplaces and wonderlands that are so much different from the earth that we have come to call our home. That is why it's always dangerous when I pop in a Lord of The Rings disc in the player because I simply abandon the rest of the day in favor of Peter Jackson's amazing 10-hour adaptation of Tolkien's middle earth trilogy. I love all three X-Men movies. All six Star Wars episodes. Even the Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter. Blah blah blah.

So for today, I think of myself as Ofelia. Yes, the 26-year old, gay guy version of Ofelia in Pan's Labyrinth. Just for today, or I could keep the Ofelia character perhaps for the rest of the weekend. Whatever. Hahahaha. For one, I sense some parallelisms between Ofelia's more accessible world and my own real world because mine is also a bit scattered these days, it's everything but organized and serene. There are no fascists who are carrying guns and ammunitions, but there are Nazi's waging their blitzkriegs of workloads (hahaha, don't ever let me further explain what I am saying here).

And then there is my alternate world - one which doesn't have fairies or fauns or giant toads, but that which has kind and funny and committed guys finding their true love in the unlikeliest places at the supposedly most inconvenient time. In Jessie's labyrinth, there are no talismans or hourglasses, instead there are are white and red roses, chocolates, soft candle lights, teddy bears and whatnots. Dream on. Dream some more. Just don't forget to wake up.

The wisdom of the decorative lamp

2007-10-11T02:43:00.000+08:00

It's 2.44a.m. I should already be asleep by now. It is perfectly human to do so. It is biologically required. I should remind myself next time that sleep is a mandatory human behavior and being vampirically awake should never ever an option.

Whatever.

Yesterday was supposed to be an ordinary day. I was hoping that it would be. I was planning for it to be mundane. But something happened. There was a trigger. A soft one. But chilling.

And so I wrote this dreaded letter. For over two hours, I labored to piece together the words that should encapsulate my five-year worth of drama. There was sadness. There was pain. There was anxiety. There was excitement. There was a spark of adventure.

It's 2.50a.m., my clock says. I should get some sleep. but not until I say something good, heartwarming, positive. Yes, I received an email from best friend Jean, that she's already in Toronto with her Ilana, and the spaces around her are everything that we only see on TV or in the movies. I asked Jean to take pictures and write something that I could post here. And all she could say for now is this:

"The sun doesn't work at all! Naa sun but you can't feel the heat. Mura ra sha decorative lamp."

Wahahahaha. So funny, Jean. I feel so good for you. I love you, Jean!

And I am feeling good for myself too. Beautiful adventure, here I come. Weeeeee!

This heinous thing called Love

2007-10-09T22:11:00.000+08:00

Things I have so far observed about this emotional blah blah blah called love. Or things that I have noticed about myself, only that I accuse love as the unwitting culprit. Whatever.

1. Love transforms a person into a fictional hollywood character. The person in love loses sight of reality. He abandons the earthly fact that reliable or believable relationships involve numerous ups and downs and transpire over a certain period of time - weeks, months, years, decades if you wanna be more dramatic, centuries if you are aspiring to be one of the vampires in Anne Rice's mythology.

2. Love moves in mysterious ways. There will always be some kind of mystery tantamount to the conspiracy theories of Fox Mulder when one recalls past actions done in the name of love. Probably because those past actions defied physical laws like the law of gravity. Or simply because the actions were so stupid and oh so scary.

3. Love is a beautiful dream worth sleeping for. I know I am the prince. I know I am the knight in shining armor. And somewhere deep in the forest... somewhere in those mountains, vast lands and kingdoms... wala lang. Char char lang. Ahihihihi.

4. Love is constant. Over time, a person changes because of love. A person changes his attitude towards love. A person reacts differently to the positive or negative impacts of love. In fact, there are several documented cases on persons who just one day refuse to love for widely popular reasons and psychoses. But love shall remain constant. It will forever hover above us with its strange gifts and complicated wisdom. Char again.

5. Love is a strange feeling that only begins when you open up your heart and let somebody in. This must be one of the most heinous thoughts on love. It's so bloody corny. It's so shamefully melodramatic. It's so reminiscent of that Jose Mari Chan-Regine Velasquez song "Please Be Careful With My Heart." It's so ... me.

Gosh.

Computers, relationships and the tops and the bottoms

2007-10-09T08:08:00.000+08:00

Last Saturday, I went home past 9p.m. I had coffee at Bo's SM with a very very close friend, someone that I grew up with. She is leaving for Canada today, taking the 11:00a.m. flight, to be with her girl. I am so happy and excited for Jean and Ilana. But oddly, I was depressed somehow. Depressed for myself. All my friends are going somewhere. All my friends are going to be strangers. Hahahaha.

And so I ended up redecorating, redesigning and refurnishing my blog. Three days later, I am still at it. In fairness to the technology, it somehow killed the depressing thoughts that plagued my beautiful mind. Hihihi. It temporarily annihilated the energies that are usually reserved for ceaseless whinings.

Yesterday, Monday, I spent 9a.m. until past 8a.m. facing the computer monitor, going through the motions of balancing the gazillion figures in the excel spreadsheets, navigating the keyboard as if it were some perfect guy's body. I took a taxi cab instead of the jeep because I had a valid excuse - I was tired and I deserved a comfortable ride. Arrived safely, had dinner but instead of killing the rest of the time by sleeping, there I was again with my computer-related whatnots. When I did finally dose off and woke up seven hours later, I discovered that I failed to turn off my computer, and my screen was oh so filled with YM messages. Then I checked the Yahoo! main page only to be confronted with this devastating news (if this would actually qualify as news, if devastating is really the perfect adjective for this piece of information):

It’s the relationship you spend more time on than any other. It has deepened even during the past few years. When things go wrong, you become enraged and tearful and attack inanimate objects—but you’re willing to spend hours making things right. Obviously, we’re talking about your relationship with your personal computer. Consider this: In a survey earlier this year, 64 percent of Americans say they spend more time with their computer than with their significant other. Meanwhile, 84 percent said they were more dependent on their computer than they were three years ago.

This world is really becoming crazy. And I am becoming crazy. I am already very crazy.

Oh well. I have nice online friends anyhow. And besides, people don't acquire any of those sexually transmitted diseases by engaging in cyber porn, right? Even if our eyes are already very bloodshot because we are feasting on many tops and damn too many bottoms. Ahihihihi.

The Horse Whisperer

2007-10-07T18:27:00.000+08:00

Way back in college, around ten years ago, we were tasked to review Robert Redford’s screen adaptation of Nicholas Evans’ bestselling book, “The Horse Whisperer.” It was for our Humanities class, one of my favorite subjects then although it was just a minor. The film was shown in Ayala Center and I watched it with Jean, one of my best friends, who, by the way, is moving to Canada in two days to be with her beautiful Ilana.

The Horse Whisperer is one of those movies that are very dear to me. I am not about to launch one of those movie reviews, but briefly, the film is about, hmmm, I think – healing. Annie (played by Kristin Scott Thomas), a strong-willed mother, abandons her magazine editor job to bring Pilgrim, her daughter’s horse, to the vast plains of Montana, to a man known to heal psychologically wounded horses. Annie hopes that this would also heal her daughter Grace (played by a very young Scarlett Johanssen), who was emotionally devastated and physically disabled because of the accident. There, Annie met the horse whisperer, Tom Booker (portrayed by handsome Robert Redford)...

The ending of The Horse Whisperer is not happy at all. It is bittersweet. But still inspiring and I guess I may have to affirm, once once once again, that I will always be ultra-hollywood when it comes to love and romance.

Annie: I envy your mother. I do. It must be great to be her age and to be at that point in your life when you have no more guess work. No more impossible decisions to make. And anyway, it doesn't matter because all the worries and all the wrong turns that you made are as valuable and as cherished as the things that you did right. Oh, it must be such a relief. Must be such peace in that.

Tom: Well, i don't think that you have to wait to be her age to find that kind of peace.

Annie: Yeah, but how would you know unless it was all behind you? Do you have it?

Tom: Sometimes. Not all the time. But sometime. Wakin' up in the ranch everyday. Knowing what im supposed to do that day. Knowing im home.

Annie: I wake up in the morning and i don't know a damn thing. And the more i try to fix things, the more everything falls apart.

Tom: Maybe you should let 'em fall.

Annie: No, I can't.

Char!

Knowing is the easy part. Saying it out loud is the hard part.

2007-10-07T18:24:00.000+08:00

Annie and Tom. The Horse Whisperer.

Annie: Is this how it's gonna be now, hmmm? You dont speak to me. We dont speak to each other. Well, Im speaking to you now so say something.

Tom: No.

Annie: Why?

Tom: I cant get in the middle of this.

Annie: Well i am afraid that you are in the middle of this.

Tom: He's a good man, Annie.

Annie: I never said he wasn't. I can't change the way i feel.

Tom: You gotta figure out what you want.

Annie: Do you know what you want?

Tom: I do know what i want. And im trying real hard not to get lost in this. I never expected to feel this way again. Annie, this is where i belong. This is who i am. Is this what you want?

Annie: Yeah.

Tom: Are you sure?

Annie: Yeah.

Tom: Can you tell that to your family? To Robert? To Grace? If you had the chance to go home and change things, would you?

Annie: You can't ask me that. It's not that simple.

Tom: It is.

Liking you is tender

2007-10-06T21:32:00.000+08:00

Liking you is tender

Liking you is tender.
It means that I enjoy drinking the moments spent with you.
It means that the voice of your eyes and the gaze of your smile linger with me long after you go.

Liking you is innocent.
Because I am softly hurled back to my younger self despite my age and my wisdom.
Because it makes me carve hearts and arrows in the aged barks of trees in my playground.

Liking you is romantic.
There are flowers and violin players in the sidewalk cafeteria where we eat.
There are streams and brooks and swans in the noisy roads that we travel.

Liking you is pretty scary.
There is no certainty to the amount of sensible words that might get lost when I get to see you again soon.
There is that nagging and sometimes numbing thought that you’re already seeing me differently from now on.

Liking you is not loving you.
Liking you is making you that beautiful exception among the bright stars in the sky, the mosses in the stones and the moist morning grasses in the vast field.
Liking you is waiting for that season when loving you would already be alright.

September 8, 2007

Bohol Bee Farm, Panglao Island, Bohol

It’s a nice Sunday, my Baby

2007-10-06T21:28:00.000+08:00

It’s a nice Sunday, my Baby

It’s a nice Sunday, my baby.
How about if we take
a nice long walk somewhere?
Some place where
there are lots of trees
and soft grasses
and we could chase each other
like the little boys we once were.
But instead of swapping toys
and sharing sweets and cotton candies,
we would just smile to the sun because
of our many hugs and many kisses.

It’s a nice Sunday, my baby.
How about if we
just spend the day in our couch
and watch some old movies?
You know that I am such a sucker
for those Hollywood romances.
You know that I love
to be teased by you
when I go gaga over those corny lines
and mushy happy endings.
We could call the pizza guy
and in a little while
I would just adore the heaven that is you
as you walk towards our door,
in your boxers and skin,
to fetch our delivery.

It’s a nice Sunday, my baby.
How about if we just don’t leave our bed
as I have in my mind
some pretty interesting stuff
that we could both enjoy
beneath the soft white sheets?
Yeah, I feel a bit lazy today,
and you know how crazy I become
when I am lazy and you are also just inches away.
Let us enjoy this day, my baby.
Let us see the beautiful world from our bed,
through our bedroom window
where the graceful morning light
is shining through.

September 9, 2007

Naval, Biliran

Of Jedi's and Eklavu's

2006-11-07T21:04:00.000+08:00

10 things lesbians, gays, straights, transgendered, and the straights too, should know about George Lucas’ Star Wars Saga

1. Anakin Skywalker and Queen/Senator Padme Amidala’s love is forbidden because Anakin is destined for another groundbreaking relationship – that with mentor and master Obi Wan Kenobi. The midi-chlorians in Anakin’s cells are receptive to the male and female sexes. The Jedi council has foreseen very controversial consequences as results of Anakin’s emotional entanglements during his youth. If Anakin were to fall insanely in love with a female species, he would be converted to the dark side. Only a requited love – a love from another Jedi - would bring balance to the Force. However, the Jedi Council would not also allow this because…

2. …the Jedi knights are closet queens. A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, the Jedi knights were celebrated as protectors of the republic. However, the empire is characterized by widespread homophobia that’s why it was so goddamn difficult for the Jedi’s to be “out.” Hence, the Jedi’s strictly observe a code that forbids them from nurturing emotional relationships. This way, the Jedi’s apparent lack of interest in women would be justified and society would not become suspicious of them.

3. The Force makes itself available only to hardcore gays or lesbians. Heterosexuals, whether human or alien, doesn’t have the ability to feel and experience the Force. Those who embrace the Force, though remaining secretive about it, become Jedi’s. All Jedi’s are good citizens and they continually foster justice, peace, beauty and glamour in the republic. Trivia: do you know that the techno lights, which are so popular in gay places like clubs and disco bars, were actually based on the light sabers used by the Jedi’s?

4. Princess Leia is a lesbian. Leia’s ability to establish connection with twin brother, Luke Skywalker, even though he is gazillion miles or light years away, are indicators that the Force is also strong in her. In fact, her uncanny abilities to combat troops of droids already gave her away. In an amazing fight sequence in Episode VI: The Return of the Jedi, specifically the hot pursuit in the Ewok forest, Leia could very well be a dyke on a bike! And of course, through R2D2, she urgently pleads for the help of no less than the old flame of his father – Obi Wan Kenobi! Though the identity of his father was still unknown to her, the Force was already that strong.

5. There are many, however, who have the ability to feel and communicate with the Force but cannot accept the staggering fact of their homosexuality - they are the homophobics. By using the Force for corrupt and destructive purposes, the homophobics become the Siths. Darth Lord Siddious, the powerful Sith warrior who is bent on destroying the Jedi’s, clouded Anakin’s mind. He was successful, and Anakin and Obi Wan Kenobi’s desire for each other was doomed forever. Trivia: There was a rumor, apparently from the all-male army of the Dark Lord, that Anakin’s lower extremities were badly destroyed following the thrilling swordfight between him and Obi Wan in Episode III, The Revenge of the Sith. Because his organ is irreplaceable, the Dark Lord made Anakin trans-gendered. But then again, this is just a rumor ng mga chismosang bakleta in the armed forces.

6. At present, 2006, the Force is still with us. It is now called Gaydar. Hence, our greetings and fond affections to our fellow gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered, as well as straights, should be this: “May the Gaydar be with you!”

7. Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” was originally written and composed for Star Wars to be played during the closing credits in all six episodes. But George Lucas feared widespread boycott by the homophobic viewing public because the song was just too pop and too flamboyant. Thus, he commissioned the services of John Williams, a musician more inclined towards the classical genre. John Williams, of course, remains as one of the modern masters of classical music. “I Will Survive” on the other hand, is hailed as the ultimate gay anthem in the past three decades.

8. The Star Wars saga is in fact based on J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings – another fantasy saga that has a gay undercurrent. You might argue, “Hey, LOTR was only released in 2002 whereas George Lucas’ Star Wars was already embraced by the world way back in 1977!” In that case, you are a stupid, illiterate and misinformed dork. The introduction of Tolkien’s LOTR trilogy, The Hobbit, was already devoured by the reading public as early as 1937. Even Gone With The Wind was yet to be shown in America at this time. Apparently, George Lucas was so moved by the special relationship between the ring-bearer Frodo Baggins and his willing companion, fellow-hobbit Samwise Gamgee, that he brought their unique love story from the middle earth to space!

9. C-3PO is actually a parlor gay robot! You must understand that Barbie dolls were not yet popular girl and gay toys a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away. The strength of the Force in Anakin, although he was still a child, enabled him to create a droid/plaything that would also help them in their household chores. Alas! C-3PO is a very soft spoken droid. He even sways when he walks. And he speaks six million languages. Of course, you might slap me with hateful words, “You are very stereotypical! You should be burned at the stakes!” But in case you haven’t noticed, soft speech, the swaying of the hips and linguistic inventiveness are characteristics of typical parlorista’s!

10. Han Solo is NOT gay! If he were, then there is no reason for everybody else to be not gay and all the inhabitants of the republic might as well be Jedi’s. There were two incidents wherein Han Solo saved the life of Luke Skywalker, specifically the rescues from the Death Star explosion and the ice-storm in episodes IV and V, respectively. Because of these, the gay community might just applaud the blossoming relationship of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker. But the idea is preposterous! Han Solo is just a hunk who happens to be a good pilot. That’s all. In fact, his Millennium Falcon is synonymous with the Ferrari’s and Harley’s that are treated by modern men as their babies. The Force or the Gaydar is non-existent in him. The tender jealousy he displays, which was his unconscious reaction to the bond between Luke and Princess Leia, were no less than expressions of sincere love and devotion. Pare, men fall madly in love too, you know. ‘Di lang mga bading ang napa-praning sa pag-ibig noh!

DISCLAIMER: This is just a spoof. This is not intended to mar the fabulous reputation of the Star Wars saga. Kumpareng George naman, friends tayo, di vah? Alam mo namang luuvv na luuvv ko ang Star Wars mo!

Strange Fat Boys.

2006-09-08T19:29:00.000+08:00

She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.

She wonders what her daughter will do.
She wonders what her daughter will be.

Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again.
Whenever it rains you think of her.

Thirty-five years a showgirl that she admits to, and her feet hurt, day in, day out, from the high heels, but she can walk down steps with a forty-pound headdress in high heels, she's walked across a stage with a lion in high heels, she could walk through goddamn Hell in high heels if it came to that.

And then, her business joyfully concluded, she forgets him utterly and forever, and she turns her attention to the next.
One day she won't love you too. It will break your heart.

She rides rollercoasters but never screams when they plummet or twist and upside down.
If you told her the jacket was yours she'd just shrug and give it back to you. It's not like she cares, not one way or the other.

She remains on the edges of time, implacable, unhurt, beyond, and one day you will open your eyes and see her, and after that, the dark.
It is not a reaping. Instead, she will pluck you, gently, like a feather, or a flower for her hair.

This is what they do for a living. They walk in, take what they need, walk out again.
It's not glamorous. It's just business. It may not always be strictly legal.
It's just business.

She found the first body in a stairwell.
That night, after the shower, which could not wash what she had had to do away, not really, she said to her husband, "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"That this job is making me hard. That it's making me someone else. Someone I don't know any more."
He pulled her close, and held her, and they stayed touching, skin to skin, until dawn.

The smell of cordite always makes her think of the fourth of July.
You use the gifts God gave you. That was what her mother had said, which makes their falling out even harder, somehow. Nobody will ever hurt her. She'll just make her faint vague wonderful smile and walk away.
It's not about the money. It's never about the money.

Actually the Gestapo picked her up during a border crossing in 1943, and they left her in a meadow. First she dug her own grave, then a single bullet to the back of the skull.
Her last thought, before that bullet, was that she was four months' pregnant, and that if we do not fight to create a future there will be no future for any of us.

Some of the girls were boys.
The view changes from where you are standing.
Words can wound, and wounds can heal.
All of these things are true.

Written by Neil Gaiman.
Inspired by Tori Amos.

Lives in peril: the oil spill in Guimaras

2006-09-04T13:50:00.000+08:00

Last Saturday, I went to Guimaras together with two officemates, Danny and Raymund. Our assignment were to conduct environmental assessment and produce an initial screening report on the impact of the oil spill to the affected communities in the island province. It was my first time in Guimaras, and probably won't be the last should our foundation (PBSP) implement a livelihood rehabilitation program for the affected families, especially those whose source of income is fishing.

What confronted us were very sad images - stained white beaches, patches and patches of mangroves buried in bunker fuel from the waist down, lifeless fishes in the water's surface, waters perpetually polluted. But just as man is responsible for the destruction of Guimaras' marine ecosystem, there are also so much that man can do so the future of this island paradise would not remain as bleak.

Here are some of the pictures that I took last weekend.

Almost dead from the waist down.

Life amidst death.

This used to be a sea of honey.

If my life were captured in a book

2006-08-25T17:29:00.000+08:00

If my life were captured in a book, I would want a lengthy title for the book, something that would ultimately encompass my life and times, just in case the more than 5 billion people of the world would be too occupied to even read the back cover text of my book. Thus, spake zarathustra, the recommended book titles:

1. How to dismantle an atomic bomb without losing a finger but compromising your sanity: the life and times of Jessie Cubijano

2. How to kill a monster and secure a place in heaven: freeing the human race of Jessie Cubijano

3. Werewolf from the firmament: loving and hating the montrosity that is Jessie Cubijano

4. Tinimbang ka ngunit kulang: ang mga pakikipagsapalaran ni Jessie Cubijano sa buhay at sa pag-ibig

I Want You To Know

2006-08-14T11:01:00.000+08:00

I Want You To Know

I
I want you to know
that I love you.
Though this I’ve said
a hundred times before.

Still, saying these words now matters-
this hour, this minute,
because here in this place that you built for me,
I never wanna stop loving you.

II
I want you to believe
in my trust for you.
Though my fears are like open wounds-
dripping with blood.

These wounds are gaping holes that flinch
with your cotton touch drenched in liquid medicine.
Still I wanna kiss your sting because it will heal me-
always, I know, completely.

III
I need you to understand
the strength of my loneliness.
Though your own shouldn’t make you
a stranger to this feeling.

I create my imaginary company, some of which are angels
while many are monsters and demons.
Yet, you were a warm body who rose above the fiction
that seemed never-ending.

IV
You may not feel it at times,
but I’m with you always.
Heart, mind, body, spirit-
Your presence within me, around me, yes, always so fierce.

12 August 2006

The boogieman on happiness, peace

2006-07-27T14:21:00.000+08:00

Peace, happiness - they don't happen or occur forever. One just can't live 24/7 and have happiness and peace in his backpack or drawers. The happiness, or the peace - it just happens and you meet it head on, and later on you will realize that you've done the right thing when you seized it when it was there.

The boogieman on truth

2006-07-27T14:17:00.000+08:00

Most often, truth advertises itself as the key to redemption. It is. But truth itself has multi-personalities, different contexts, objective and subjective presentations of itself. Once in a while, the litmus test of truth's virtue is this - is it going to enshrine peace in your heart and mind?

Of beauty queens and men in trunks

2006-07-24T12:56:00.000+08:00

bi131_5: wat's funny?
bi131_5: akong email? hehehehe
TYLER TYLER: i arrived sa office
bi131_5: and then?
bi131_5: jess?
TYLER TYLER: im back
bi131_5: ok
TYLER TYLER: i arrived around 9.30
TYLER TYLER: mostly ang mga people sa office are girls
TYLER TYLER: they arrived between 7.30-9
TYLER TYLER: but it was yours truly who invited them to watch miss universe sa tv sa conference room
bi131_5: hahahaha
TYLER TYLER: that fact - they pointed out to me - over lunch
bi131_5: pero its not gay if a man watched ms universe, in fact murag boys jud cguro mo invite to watch, i think
bi131_5: cguro ako if motanaw ko lain ang motive jsut like guys heheheh
TYLER TYLER: hello, the evening gown competition is my favorite part of the show!
bi131_5: hahahhahah, okay projecting in other words heheh
bi131_5: akoang iwatch kay swim suit hehehe, not that i wana wear them heheh, just ogling lang hehehehe
TYLER TYLER: in swimsuit - they all look the same
TYLER TYLER: but boys in swimwear - thats another story
bi131_5: bitaw pero ud know kinsa lami irainbow over who's lifeless in swimsuit, hehe, bitaw, nahan sad ko men in trunks
bi131_5: like sa katong bench email ni ody hehehe
TYLER TYLER: naa ko i-send nga file ha
TYLER TYLER: ay bad its no longer here, i brought it home
TYLER TYLER: yummy guy in white tapis
TYLER TYLER: and angel wings
bi131_5: i think i saw na, murag u sent me na. mga goodlooking guys with very bug angel wings
bi131_5: big
TYLER TYLER: no, singular, one guy only
TYLER TYLER: though his sex appeal is very much PLURAL
bi131_5: heheheheh, i hear ya!

For my baby Part 2.1

2006-07-20T16:57:00.000+08:00

The Goddess of SinSuality

Years go by will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand. Years go by if I'm stripped of my beauty and the orange clouds raining in my head. Years go by will I choke on my tears till finally there is nothing left. One more casualty you know we're to EASY easy easy. Silent All These Years

Maybe I ain't used to maybes. Smashing in a cold room. Cutting my hands up every time I touch you. Maybe maybe it's time to wave goodbye now, time to wave goodbye now. Tear In Your Hand

Can't reach you. Can't reach you. Give me life. Give me pain. Give me myself again. Oh these little earthquakes, here we go again. These little earthquakes doesn't take much to rip us into pieces. Little Earthquakes

He says when you gonna make up your mind. When you gonna love you as much as i do. When you gonna make up your mind, cause things are gonna CHANGE so fast. All the white horses are still in bed. I tell you that I'll always want you near. You say that things change my dear. Winter

Look i'm standing naked before you, don't you want more than my sex. I can scream as loud as your last one but I can't claim innocence. I could just pretend that you love me, the night would lose all sense of fear. But why do i need you to love me when you can't hold what i hold dear. Leather

All songs by Tori Amos from Little Earthquakes.

For my baby Part 2.2

2006-07-20T16:32:00.000+08:00

The Goddess of SinSuality

Clouds descending, I'm not policing what you think. And dream
i run into your thought from across the room. Just another trick, can i weather this? I've got a fever above my waist, you got a squeeze box on your knee. I know the truth is in between the 1st and the 40th drink. Concertina, concertina, a chill that bends. This i swear, you're the fiercest calm I've been in. Concertina

You say you don't want it again and again but you don't really mean it. You say you don't want it, this circus we're in but you don't you don't really mean it. You don't really mean it. How many fates turn around in the overtime. Ballerinas that have fins that you'll never find. You thought that you were the bomb yeah well so did i. Say you don't want it. Say you don't want it. Spark

Hey Jupiter, nothings been the same. So are you gay? Are you blue? Thought we both could use a friend to run to. And I thought I wouldn't have to be
with you something new. Sometimes I breathe you in, and I know you know. And sometimes you take a swim. Found your writing on my wall, if my hearts soaking wet,
boy your boots can leave a mess. Hey Jupiter

To the line. Through the dawn. To the light. To the turn. When you said -- You could drive all night. Drive all night. So I let Crazy take a spin. Then I let Crazy settle in. Kicked off my shoes. Shut reason out. He said "first let's just unzip your religion down" Crazy

Where the river cross, crosses the lake. Where the words jump off my pen and into your pages. Do you think just like that you can divide - This You as yours, Me as mine to before we were Us. If the rain has to separate from itself, does it say "pick out your cloud?" Your Cloud

Thought I knew you well. Thought I had read the sky. Thought I had read a change in your eyes. So strange, woke up to a world that I am not a part
except when I can play it's stranger. After all, what were you really looking for and I wonder when will I learn. Blue isn't red, everybody knows this. And I wonder
when will I learn, when will I learn. Guess I was in Deeper than I thought I was
if I have enough love for the both of us. Strange

Had a northern lad, well not exactly had. He moved like the sunset,
god who painted that. First he loved my accent, how his knees could bend. I thought we'd be ok, me and my molasses. But I feel something is wrong, but I feel this cake just isn't done. Don't say that you don't and if you could see me now, said if you could see me now. Girls you've got to know when it's time to turn the page. When you're only wet because of the rain, you know it's time to change. Northern Lad

I guess i'm an underwater thing, I'm liquid running. There's a sea secret in me, it's plain to see it is rising. But i must be flowing liquid diamonds,
calling for my soul at the corners of the world. Liquid Diamonds

Rolling and unrolling, coiling emerging running free, running through the underworld into your room. Is he real or a ghost-lie. She feels she isn't heard. And the veil tears and rages, til her voices are remembered and his secrets can be told. Lust

These tears i've cried, i've cried 1000 oceans. And if it seems I'm
floating. In the darkness. Well, I can't believe that I would keep keep you from flying. And I would cry 1000 more if that's what it takes to sail you home. Sail you home. Sail you home. 1000 Oceans

All songs by Tori Amos.

For my baby

2006-07-11T15:02:00.000+08:00

“My husband - my loving, dear, patient husband who put up with me through all this insanity - I thought I’d better do something really nice for him. So I wrote him a love song. And for the first time in my career, I’ve managed to write a happy one. So here’s my apology.” – Sarah McLachlan

Push

Every time I look at you the world just melts away
All my troubles all my fears dissolve in your affections
You've seen me at my weakest but you take me as I am
And when I fall you offer me a softer place to land

You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all together
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me
You're the one true thing I know I can believe

I get mad so easy but you give me room to breathe
No matter what I say or do 'cause you're to good to fight about it
Even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go
You wont stoop down to battle but you never turn to go

Your love is just the antidote when nothing else will cure me
There are times I cant decide when I cant tell up from down
You make me feel less crazy when otherwise I'd drown
But you pick me up and brush me off and tell me I'm OK
Sometimes thats just what we need to get us through the day

Listening, watching (welcome to my nook part 1)

2006-07-10T18:00:00.000+08:00

Reading (welcome to my nook part 2.1)

2006-07-10T17:00:00.000+08:00

Reading (welcome to my nook part 2.2)

2006-07-10T15:00:00.000+08:00

Thank you, Myra Ellen

2006-07-03T12:30:00.000+08:00

Thank you, Myra Ellen

The window in the Yahoo Messenger room suddenly sparked to life with the entrance of your words- lines and metaphors that only Tori Amos could ever gracefully compose.

You knew that nobody would spend one second of their mundane life to be curious of the raw poetry. You could have said they were your own and still nobody would be alarmed by your supposed crime.

It was the gay men’s room and 99.2% of the populace was looking for hook-ups based on penis sizes and top-bottom preferences.

Incidentally, I was also somewhere in the room and your lines and metaphors were much too familiar to be ignored. We messed the whole place. We objected to the room’s foul breath.

And then we started our bliss.

In between that weekday morning and the evening when we finally saw each other at the crowded lobby of the cinema, sixteen months had unfolded, and many important things have transpired in our separate islands – merciless yet brave events that have altered our separate lives.

Yet, you held on. You knew that whatever good things that happened within that span of time should be brought to a better place. You were wise beyond your years. In such profound simplicity, you said that you’ve found love and you’re not letting it pass you by.

Thus, lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe the sixteen months when we sporadically gained then lost and once gained but subsequently lost touch of each other was a battleground so we may become these present versions of ourselves.

This bliss, perhaps, is going to be a fierce one and we were being prepared for it.

So we had the bright lights around us and we talked, though you were still much too shy to look at me in the eye.

So we walked the streets and alleys of the walled city and the mixture of the cold evening air and our burning muscles allowed us to be cozy with each other.

So I had my usual brew and from across the table you had your cold frapuccino. Smoke rings entangled with our words, and in my jeans pocket my phone vibrated because of a message from you. You said you were having your greatest view, and staring at you in the eye, I told myself that before this night ends, I must kiss you.

So we held hands in the garden, you rested your head in the glass-topped table, smiled at me and wistfully whispered the lines of Lamb’s Gorecki.

A few hours later, after the garden and its kiss, we took that one-hour bus ride to Bulacan and both our lives have changed within the walls of our special place – the 436, under the pink, beneath the blue.

I swear you’re the fiercest calm I’ve been in.

Moving On

2006-06-28T17:00:00.001+08:00

Moving On

Almost one month earlier, I treated my tired soles to the most expensive pair of shoes that I’ve ever bought – a Merrell footwear that the according to the price tag costs P4,590. For a poor bloke, it’s pricey, considering that it was something I bought impulsively. I just woke up one Saturday morning with this thirst for a better perspective of the world. I was Mrs. Dalloway, and instead of flowers, I told myself that Yes, I will buy a good pair of shoes today! I will explore my city, and I need a new pair of shoes to take me to the source of the stink, to the heart of the heat. What a lark! What a plunge!

And so the shoes have traveled to places and now refuse to be kept in its box – his box. In his place, instead, are letters, email printouts, cards, pictures, post-its and mementos of a love that all of a sudden seems so long ago – a pair of blue boxers, an orange shirt, LBC pouches in different sizes, torn gift wrappers, a hand puppet, a hand woven wallet, a PDI clipping on Sagada, a toothbrush that for a time had a conjugal role, and plastics and papers that, for sentimental reasons, were never discarded.

In another box, a sleeping white bear stuffed toy that snores when its paws are squeezed occupies the space. The cute thing might give some homey comfort in any spot in my little room. Ironically though, it also suffers the fate of its kind – that of dust gathering and seeping in its softness.

The next to go were the books, a DVD of Before Sunset, and the CD’s. No, they won’t be kept out of sight. Rather, they will just be among the stacks and piles that populate my space – Cummings, Dickinson, Neruda and the poets and love letter writers in the company of Garcia Marquez, Proulx, Salinger and Tolkien; and the Filipino sounds in harmony with Bach, Debussy, Rachamaninov, Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlan. They will continue serving their purpose, they will remain timeless. But they have stepped down from their little towers because they are humbled.

And the framed, handwritten Walt Whitman poetry? Something more recent is encased in glass this time – the lyrics of the song “Gorecki” by Lamb. Although this is a fairly recent song that gathered a cult following sometime in the 90’s and even until the present, it speaks of a love so fierce, its sound has a Gothic tranquility, and it’s homage to a late Polish composer.

That was almost a month ago when I paid the pleasant cashier and thanked the sales clerk, and my brown rubber shoes have since proven himself to be a good companion. He took me everywhere, then to a familiar place. It’s a different place though – new, special, beautiful.

And so I have once again cleared my table, shelves and spare shoeboxes for the letters and keepsakes that will be born out of this new acquaintance. I took a dive, a plunge, a freefall without security nets. I am young but I have learned early. I am mighty sure that I would land on my feet and not flat on my face. And I’ve got my good shoes on!

The entire world is a stranger.

2006-06-13T12:12:00.000+08:00

The entire world is a stranger.

A few times, though, anything within its sphere could be a friend - a lady, a woman, some guy, a man that holds a secret in his jeans, a boy showing off his kindness, a movie, a song, a good book, lines from a poetry, a photograph, a painted picture, freshly brewed coffee, smoke rising from the mouth and the nostrils, a glass filled to the rim with beer, bubbles and ice, a box of chocolates, a keyboard, a blue ballpoint pen and a clean paper, a bottle of water, iced tea, cold evening breeze, soft large-sized pillows.

On many different occasions, they step down from their little towers to offer their alliances and their loyalties. But what is this is madness, this monstrosity that prevents one from becoming all too grateful of their acts of kindness?

Perhaps one remembers the magnitude of his loneliness after turning off his lights at night and nothing from his day could accompany him through his hours of sleep – nobody to share the heat under the white sheets, nobody to accept the tenderness and strength of his embrace, no other sound except his own breathing, no beautiful reason why he should linger in bed in the morning.

But one will always live a new string of hours and the previous night’s sad passions will always momentarily melt with the heat of the day.

In this brand new day, the world will, once again, give birth to new acquaintances – a piece of literature sold at a bargain price, a hard to find CD, a pirated DVD copy of an old movie, the undying passions of Neruda, Cummings or Dickinson, funny and sometimes corny vignettes gathered from spending moments with the ladies and the women, a text message from some guy, a meaningful look from a man with a secret, a new box of Marlboro lights, a tall serving of brewed coffee, scoops of ice cream, an email from an old flame, a pen or a keyboard that helps weave words to become phrases, sentences, thoughts.

The world is a kind stranger, a compassionate stranger, and within its sphere is a man and many others – lonely hunters and willing friends who embrace the day but cry silently in the night.

June 11, 2006

For Leah

2006-06-13T09:00:00.000+08:00

For Leah

You would know that the room is about to be filled with her presence. Not because there are drum rolls or musical preludes. There is just a progression of thud, thud, and more thuds from a certain weight, actually high heels, hitting the wooden or concrete floor. Yes, these sounds introduce her. Yes she is approaching and pretty soon you’ll warmly welcome her high-pitched voice and infectious laugh. Oh, she’s wearing her spaghetti-strapped tops today. Wait, is it March or April already? Are we done with Easter Sunday? Hey Leah, how was your Holy Week? And how was your latest performance as the Virgin Mary?

Leah is one of my newest (and closest) friends, having known her only in 2002 when we both joined PBSP (the Philippine Business for Social Progress is a non-profit corporate-led foundation dedicated to the promotion of blah blah blah) around the same time (she was two months ahead of me). In the four years that she was with PBSP, she mutated from being a finance staff to a program officer (wherein she had to hurdle both fortuitous conditions and suspiciously man-made challenges in order to perfect the mutation).

She neither smokes nor drinks anything with caffeine or alcohol, thus good friendship can actually be nurtured in places aside from bars and supposedly hip places. We both love to eat thus friendship can actually grow over slices of meat, cups of rice, slices of cake and bars and mouthfuls of chocolates. Thanks to the food, I have become heavier while she remains frustratingly slim (the world is so unfair, but surprisingly, I am not vindictive).

There were hilarious days including the V-hire fiasco that resulted to the departure of the dreaded zinger (resolved, that what transpired was simply a private matter among close friends). There are also confidences and chikas (factual or speculative in nature) over lunch and snack breaks (including unconstitutional nutrition breaks bound to occur anytime within the day), while exploring the malls, or while riding in the jeepney bound for Consolacion (my stop is Mandaue City).

And then, there was the affirmation of love (the beautiful that is a cause for celebration; the mysterious that is always nice to dissect and analyze piece by piece; the irrational that paralyzes the brain and momentarily maims the heart).

Hey Leah, why do we fall for people not within our daily reach? What’s the glory of missing? Why travel miles just to see them for a few days (he traveled or you, I traveled for him)? Why do we spend hundreds, even thousands, on phone bills and concrete little thoughts (for your guy: a greeting card, a tropical shirt, your studio shot; for my sweet baby: CD’s and books) that have to be transported by air? What is it about local boys that is/are so… uninteresting?

There are answers. There are more answers.

And there are actions - brave actions. The willingness to freely fall. In Henry James’ words, “to dig deep into the actual and get something out of that.” For you Leah, it’s that one-way ticket that would take you to New York and to a new life this coming June 16, 2006. It's that sixteen-hour threshold. Thus, my respect and admiration. My beautiful visions of love. My prayers and best wishes. Break a leg and always be in touch!

Leah is enraptured by the descent of an erotic spirit (she was just expressing her gratitude for the PBSP people who gave her an ice cream and junk foods party.

Some of the staff of the social development foundation who threw the party. There were speeches. There were wishes. And hungry mouths were fed.

A final treat at Sbarro in Ayala. One of Leah's last lunches as a virgin - splurging on Chicago pizza, pasta with tomato sauce and meatballs, macaroni salad, edible oils, olive oils, vegetable oils, and facial oils.

The writer himself and the subject (in one of her last pictures as a virgin).

Live Poem

2006-06-07T09:09:00.000+08:00

In posting this intellectual property in my infamous blog, I neither have the proper permission nor the blessing of the author, publisher and copyright owner. My act, conscious and intelligent, self-serving however noble, may be felonious. Let me, instead, advertise the source of this work: One Hundred Love Poems: Philippine Love Poetry Since 1905 published by the University of the Philippine Press (2004). This is the mitigating circumstance of my crime.

Live Poem
By Anna Bernaldo

"Love is always a choice," my mother always says,
But this time her spatula did not point
Pragmatically in my direction.
It stirred silence on the boiling broth,
Ripples matching the excited rhythm
Of the TV sports anchor's voice
In a basketball game my father is watching.

Now that I'm older, I'm forced to reconsider
You and my fixation on the Addams couple
As our role models forever.
One always hungry for the other.

I never listened to my mother,
But everyday I see her.
And I'm older and love must be domestic,
Responsible, sensible as a haircut in summer.

Is it possible for us to make something more
Out of what we are about to have?
Of course, you do not know.
Even I do not know.
Why did I even begin asking questions?
I just wanted to write you a love poem
But I can only live one for you.

The Tale of the Socialite

2006-06-06T14:00:00.000+08:00

To be labeled a socialite is definitely not something that I would be proud of. One shouldn’t expect my expression of gratitude if he or she happens to bestow upon me such a supposedly generous compliment because the world, i think, is already crowded, unnecessarily crammed with first ladies and their respective victims. Thus, I feel most positive in perceiving a world populated with the excrements of J.D. Salinger and other dead artists and dreamers. One can’t really be too optimistic these days, but one may be driven to imagine better years ahead if confronted by their conviction, strength and tenacity.

So there, I am done with my little, hopefully profound introduction. Actually, what really triggered this little fuss about being a socialite vis-à-vis the virtues of J.D. Salinger and his contemporaries is my submission, once again, to the lure of this mildly popular online conspiracy – the Tickle Test.

According to the innovators, creators, psychos and artists who are behind and in control of this online conspiracy, Mr. Jessie Cubijano is a Socialite! Yes, I hate to admit it but I am a socialite. But – a socialite – in the REAL sense of the word.

Now let’s take a look back at the path that led me to this present day grandiosity. The phrase ‘present day’ may be vague, often misleading because I have been, and always has been, a socialite.

Basically, I just cruised along a fifty-item instrument that inquired about the intensity of my agreement or disagreement to life-affirming and life-altering situations. The immediate result of the five-minute exercise was both breathtaking and staggering. Breathtaking because I have lived my twenty-five years in such perversity to be anything but a socialite. Staggering because my being a socialite, apparently, is a vindication of my comfort zone.

But read on, Green Creation, Romantic Kisser, because the words ahead are positioned to distort, even shatter, your conventional beliefs:

You, Socialite, are unusually warm, generous and caring. Your natural friendliness and charm mean you're great at meeting people. People sense that you won't desert them or their causes, and that kind of loyalty already places you leaps ahead of many. You've got an exceptionally active imagination, which allows you to come up with innovative ideas. Your piercing social insight probably attracts people to you naturally. The world is a better place because of you.

So what makes the Romantic Kisser a Socialite?

Socialite, your two sub-types are Golden and Thinker. You have relatively high self-esteem and very conscientious. You tend to be someone others rely on since you're responsible, dependable, and dutiful. You like to go about life with a positive attitude — both about yourself and the world around you. You're known intellectually as a careful, deliberating thinker. You are the rare being who wants nothing more than to have a positive effect on the world. Not only are you are driven to make the world smooth and efficient so that everyone can live in harmony, but you actively look for ways you can make this dream a reality.

Intellectually, Thinkers like to dig deep into a problem to solve it — even when others grow impatient and move on to other subjects. As consumers of entertainment, Thinkers enjoy media that is sentimental, peaceful, and like heartwarming stories. They are interested in books, inspirational media, self-improvement, and arts and crafts.

Uhmmm…

In faraway Bohemia

2006-05-26T12:26:00.000+08:00

In the faraway galaxy of Bohemia, 15 light years away from the more popular Milky Way, a planet reigned in peace and magnificence during the past 20 millenniums. That planet is Natasha, most astonishing in all of Bohemia because it is blessed by 18 moons, 2 harmless balls of fire, and 35,000 shooting stars.

The Order of the Pretty Immortals, Natasha’s most high life forms, has never ceased in maintaining happiness and grace in the planet. They will continue to be responsible in shaping the never ending future of Bohemia’s economic, entertainment and political capital.

The Order is composed of one supreme chief and five associate immortals. The Royal Cupcake, Natasha’s supreme immortal, remains instrumental in maintaining intergalactic, interplanetary and interkingdom business cooperation. One of the tremendous results of the cooperation is the advocacy to the principle of interplanetary social responsibility, which has helped preserve Bohemia’s marine, upland and urban ecosystems.

The Royal Cupcake in an intimate moment with the Royal Hubby

The Bloody Mary works closely with the Metabolism Master. The former creates, pilots and replicates responsive education system while the latter strengthens Natasha’s workforce composed of elves, mutants, humanoids, gremlins, fairies and groupers.

Bloody Mary and the Physical Fitness Guru in a photo taken at Natasha's Grouper Preservation Camp.

The Level-Headed Fashionista is the overall in-charge of the planet’s administration, most especially in ensuring the steady supply of laser beams that fuel Natasha’s industries and corporations. Meanwhile, the Physical Fitness Guru perseveres in developing and strengthening the galaxy-wide web.

The Level-Headed Fashionista is cooling.

Finally, the Romantic Kisser is relentless in promoting arts all over Natasha and in many zones and regions in Bohemia. He is ceaseless in his quest at discovering films that inspire and uplift, music that sings to the heart, and literary pieces that are truly slices of life.

The Romantic Kisser is wallowing in romanticism.

But alas! A new millennium is fast approaching and Bohemia’s Executive Committee issued a memorandum that challenges the galaxies’ attitude towards Food and Health. Upon receiving the information, the chief and associates of the Order of the Pretty Immortals unanimously asked: is there a potential in the aforementioned development challenge?

How would major players and other stakeholders, e.g. Krua Thai, Sbarro, Kublai Khan, McDonalds, KFC, Shawarma, Chowking, AA, Larsian and Ice Castle, react to such kind of pronouncement?

But The Order, who has been unfailingly consistent in promoting mechanisms and strategies that ensure the growth and long-term sustainability of Natasha, ruled affirmatively. Yes, the challenge has been accepted!

Thus The Order embarked on a series of engagements that will ensure the physical well being of all its planet’s inhabitants:

The Royal Cupcake focuses on the science of physical therapy and the preparation of food varieties that are mostly boiled and lacks oil and other cholesterol-inducing substances.

The Bloody Mary is very religious in culturing white pearls that melt fats.

Bloody Mary and the Royal Cupcake are having a very focused and emotional discussion about he future of Natasha's fairies and gremlins. Photo taken during the training workshop for Natasha's garment workers.

The Metabolism Master is consistent in discouraging the intake of beverages that trigger hyperacidity.

The Metabolism Master is happy and refreshed.

The Level-Headed Fashionista is relentless in building a database of laxatives and substances that can cause stomach pain and heart failure, among other ailments.

The Physical Fitness Guru illumines the virtues of regular exercise, proper breathing and intimate evening acrobatics that are good for the heart.

The Physical Fitness Guru is being shy and modest.

And the Romantic Kisser concocts mixtures of fibers and acticol, which are plant sterols that reduces cholesterol.

Choose wellness!

The Level-Headed Fashionista, the Romantic Kisser and the Metabolism Master are cooling in the quarters of Natasha's highest governing institution.

The Super Supreme Chair of Bohemia's Executive Committee is celebrating the survival of 10,000,000 forest and fruit tree species planted in Natasha's Watershed Forest Reserve.

Ahem Ahem: The Prequel

2006-05-22T19:23:00.000+08:00

Before the Boogieman was declared a Romantic Kisser, the black Physical Fitness Magnate cracked the online personality quiz conspiracy that caused a hoard of social development mama’s and wannabe’s mesmerized by the regular doses of revelations.

The New Wave Extrovert, donned in shawl, became glorious in orange, her magnificence captured during the sunset.

For Bloody Mary, the red mantra is an early glimpse of her current hedonistic pulsation.

The color black was a judgment to the Physical Fitness Magnate and the Level-Headed Fashionista. Flowing in their veins is a benevolent mission – the task of administering the countless and urgent daily demands of a leading foundation’s mama’s and wannabe’s.

And of course, the Romantic Kisser was hailed a green creation. Neither for his mind’s naughty exploits nor for his life’s few yet lingering, highly emotional dramas, but for his supposed humanity that would make Sabertooth run for his dear polar life and Snow White green with envy.

Believe me, you would force me to walk down the aisle to ensure your lifelong security!

JESSIE, YOUR TRUE COLOR IS GREEN! You're green, the color of growth and vigor. Good-hearted and giving, you have a knack for finding and bringing out the best in people. Green is the most down-to-earth color in the spectrum — reliable and trustworthy.

People know they can count on you to be around in times of need, since your concern for people is genuine and sincere. You take pride in being a good friend. For you, success is measured in terms of personal achievement and growth, not by status or position. Rare as emeralds, greens are wonderful, natural people. It truly is your color!

To the staff and crew of Tickle Inc., the Romantic Kisser would like to extend these Virginia Woolf and Rhett Buttler quotes for you. Respectively:

“You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be.”

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

Ahem Ahem

2006-05-22T13:01:00.000+08:00

12:50 P.M. Lunchtime.

Bloody Mary forwarded one of those perennial personality-defining, personality-affirming, ego-boosting online quizzes.

The Boogieman just had his dose of fiber, good cholesterol and canned fat, somewhat energized for some official social development goals that can no longer wait 'til the clock strikes one.

Bloody Mary, the red hedonist, who seemed too intent in whatever engagement she is planning through the boob tube, announced her diagnosis - she's a playful kisser!

So the Boogieman just had to put some work on hold for a few minutes for his free no-psychiatric-license-required psychoanalysis. And the verdict: JESSIE, YOU ARE A ROMANTIC KISSER!

Whew, is it warm in here or is that just you? When it comes to kissing, you get your drive from the lure of romance. For you, it's more than a meeting of the lips. You appreciate kissing for the rush and for what it symbolizes. Long-stemmed roses, candlelight dinners, and weekend retreats to bed and breakfasts. Sound about your speed?

You're a kissing partner who can go beyond the sweet surrender of locking lips to discuss the meaning of relationships. To really express yourself, you're probably one who's concerned with setting the proper mood. You might light a fire or take your date to a beautiful lookout before cuddling and kissing. You probably like to make a lot of eye contact, gently hug and touch your date, and talk tenderly about your feelings.

Hallelujah Tickle Inc.!!!

Beautiful Universe

2006-05-12T12:32:00.000+08:00

Here is a love poem. Its magnificent spectrum of emotions – tenderness, longing, wanting, love – is to the recipient greater, more profound and decisive than the lines and stanzas Cummings, Dickinson, Neruda or Whitman have ever woven. Here is a love letter that is no longer just an intimate correspondence between two souls bewitched by each other, but an affirmation that love exists, breathing ceaselessly within the time of its unfolding, gravitating and pulsating endlessly thereafter.

BEAUTIFUL UNIVERSE
By: The guy with glasses driving a silver gray Toyota

I see the small window
of my cellphone light up with a message from you:
“What are you doing now?”
I send you these words: “Back home, in my room, in bed,
looking at photographs
in an astronomy magazine: so called images of heavens,
breathtaking views of planets,
comets, galaxies, constellations.” Something like that.

Something more, actually.
for the truth is, the magazine is Sky & Telescope,
and this I’m holding now
is its yearend special edition titled Beautiful Universe,
which I found this afternoon
while killing time, lost in stacks and shelves and boxes
of second-hand glossies
cramped in one of those Book Sale black holes.

The truth is, I bask in this
infinity of swirling, swaggering supernovas,
nebulas sensuous and subtle,
the emerald rain of aurora borealis, Saturn’s rings ridged
and radiating beyond the page,
sunflares, moonblooms, grandeur defying gravity,
the soul and span of stars,
all of boundless space for a basement bargain price.

In another time and place,
I would have seen something else in these wisps
of cotton-candy gas and dust,
this blue heart of the Iris Nebula, these two galaxies
collectively called the Antennae
in Corvus ripping each other apart, or Mars’
water-gouged channel
Reull Vallis and rift-gashed craters of that red planet.

In another time and place,
I would have mourned these muddled wounded skies,
these scarred tissues, the stillborn
and solitary adrift in amniotic fluid, curdling, festering,
bearing the chaos and clutters
of celestial debris, arbitrary explosions, cracks and webs
bereft of meaning or magic,
meandering specks and pricks in a world dim and mute.

Ah, but the small window
where you string words and wishes for me shows exactly
the latitudes of love, here
and now in this orbit where you and I, despite
our separate islands, pulsate
and persist as one, our every heartbeat a pinpoint
brighter than Orion’s belt,
deeper than the Ring Nebula or Big Dipper’s bowl.

For the truth is, what I’m doing
now is thinking how you navigate my body, how you
cast light and song upon my soul,
how your spirit overflows into mine, bridging time
and distance and uncertainty,
the pages I hold and the messages you send
opening our windows wider
and wider into this beautiful universe I share with you.

Love

2006-05-10T12:51:00.000+08:00

Love

Love wants
to break free, asks
to be revealed
because it is in its nature
to give happiness
and peace.

It cries,
it grieves
when
it is unrequited,
but in time
it accepts
because it is in its nature
to forgive.

But
it is neither to be silenced
nor kept hidden
because
fear of failure is not
its virtue.

30 April 2006

If You Forget Me

2006-05-10T12:47:00.000+08:00

If You Forget Me
Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

i carry your heart with me

2006-05-10T11:32:00.000+08:00

i carry your heart with me

e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)