Thursday, December 11, 2014

Where are my Muses?

Each artist has his own Muse. Yung iba friend nila. Yung iba fuck buddy nila. Yung iba talagang nagbabayad pa. Yung iba, tulad ni Italian designer Valentino Garavani, mga aristocrats gaya ni Princess Rosario of Bulgaria at Duchess Naty Abascal.

Low profile ako bilang manunulat. I have imaginary ones. Hindi lang isa. Marami pa sila. Bakit babae kamo? Dahil kung kukunin ko lang naman ang insipiration mula sa isang lalaki eh puro kalibugan lang siguro ang maisusulat ko. So babae because they can make me creative.

These muses were going to be my heroines and villains in the novel I’m working on. But they’re gone. Seriously, they’re gone.

I talk to them. I don’t see them with my physical eyes, but I can speak with them.

San na nga ba sila? O siguro ako lang ang nawala.

Trabaho kasi. Malapit na matapos ang taon hanggang ngayon kahit chapter 1 hindi ko pa mabuo.

I wasn’t loyal to them. Siguro kung babawasan ko ang attention ko sa iba at ibuhos ko na talaga ang energy at focus ko sa pagsusulat, babalik siguro sila....

The Secret in a Hot Pink Suit

There are gays in the government, in the legislative chambers, and even in the Philippine diplomatic bodies. They’ve got trophy wives, brilliant children studying in UP or La Salle or Ateneo, friends in the military and friends who are big-time in jail. But they are all hiding in the closet, and perhaps fucking their gardener, just like *beep*. 

During the last years of that midget of a president Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, a new member of the Philippine diplomatic body was sent to Italy to represent our country and help the Filipino community here in Europe.

Let’s call him Mr. Pink Suit. He was given a very lucrative diplomatic post because he wasn’t only involved in diplomatic missions of the Philippine Embassy in Rome, he’s also appointed to represent Philippines to, I think, three or four other European countries and the World Food Organization

An exclusive welcome party was organized in the villa of an ambitious Italian diplomat, and sure enough, the atrocious-looking local politicians were there- from the influential patriarch of a mafia-partnered family to the epals who head various community organizations. Of course, I was there, being a genuine epal myself and the official gate-crasher (the perks having a friend in political circles, I am always welcomed somewhere even though I’m the uninvited).


Mr. Pink Suit was there. He wasn’t wearing pink. Just like any other government official, he’s wearing one those drab-coloured functional suits politicians always wear. But he was very neat and his shoes were too fabulous to be straight.

During the party, social-climbers and local potentates were gossiping feverishly because of a certain detail that was really bugging the bigots, both rich and poor- Mr. PS was a bachelor at 50.

And we all know that this fact will constitute to an unfolding theory that Mr. PS is probably gay. It’s always like that. The unmarried guy at 50 is always alleged to be gay.

That evening, when all the bigots returned to their homes, the word was out- that there’s a brilliant diplomat BUT he’s gay. That’s the thing about describing power-players in the Philippines who happen to be gay or presumed to be gay- a deprecating conjunction that would render the previous venerating phrase absolutely and cleverly imperfect.

Despite what the community said about his alleged sexuality, Mr. PS performed splendidly, like no other Philippine ambassador nor any other DFA functionary did for this godforsaken community, except for one former labor attaché. Brilliance, efficiency, and charisma- these were the words that best describe his diplomatic work here in Italy.

I asked my friend Ms. Blue Bird if it’s true, if Mr. PS is gay. She couldn’t confirm it. There were mixed signals. And besides, her gaydar wasn’t functioning that perfectly.

Unfortunately, Mr. Pink Suit left the diplomatic mission to Italy and was recalled back to the Philippines. His flaw as a government official was not his alleged sexuality. I mean, it doesn’t really matter who he is sleeping with, as long as he can do his job efficiently. The problem with Mr. Pink Suit was an Arroyo midnight appointee.

Now we have new diplomats and a new ambassador. And we’re all back again to the same old lacklustre political business, with the most atrocious looking community leaders. Well, there’s not hope for that. They’re straight. 

The Love Must Go On

Kumpleto na sana ang 2014 kung nakapunta ako sa concert ni Lady Gaga. Yun nga lang eh, February pa lang sold out na tickets, kahit yung mga special passes nila. Puñetang mga baklang yon!

Tulad din ng sabi ko noon, hindi ako mahilig sa mga clubs o disco, but I love live band performances at mga concerts. Dun ako nagwawala, at minsan nawawala. Frustrated rockstar/jazz-singer/pole-dancer ako. Hahaha!

Uneventful ang 2014 ko, in terms of music. Biglang may offer sa trabaho na discounted tickets para sa isang benefit concert na gagawin ng isang tribute band na tumutulong sa Ronal Mcdonald’s Foundation.

Duda ako sa tribute bands. Nababaduyan lang kasi ako sa mga impersonators. Somehow nung nakita ko yung Rubbish Band na cover band ng Oasis, ok naman. Pero itong Great Queen Rats na nag impersonate pa kay Freddie Mercury? Ewan ko lang. But since trip ko din ang ilang hits ng Queen eh di bumili nako ng ticket ko for one. Isa lang. Walang date. I don’t know anybody na mahilig sa mga rock classics. Nalaman ko na lang na inobliga ng director naming ang lahat na bumili ng ticket. Masaya nako!

Nagpunta halos lahat ng workforce ng trabaho. Sponsor pala yung may-ari ng company. It was a nice experience dahil hindi nako nag-iisa! Yes!

 Ok yung band. I was surprised dahil kuhang kuha niya yung voice ni Freddie Mercury. Too think pero kamukha na rin pati bigote. Yung ibang songs di ko alam pero nagwala nako nung kinanta na yung mga rock anthems ng Queen- The Show Must Go On, Somebody to Love, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Bohemian Rhapsody, Under Pressure (grabe!), We Will Rock You, Another One Bites The Dust, at above all mas na feel ko ang I Want to Break Free (alam na!). Siyempre tatapusin ang tribute concert ng Queen with the walang kamatayang all-time favourite rock anthem We Are the Champions.

Great Queen Rats rock on! Long live the Queen!

Friday, December 05, 2014

Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered

I am bewitched.

Bewitched by Lady Gaga’s cover of Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered song, which eventually led me to Ella Fitzgerald’s version that was a lot better than Gaga’s, which prompted me to do my own cover, which led me to do more research and found out that the song is a soundtrack of this interesting movie (sort of a gay flick) “History Boys”, and eventually urged me to buy a DVD copy, and finally had me crying like a girl in a hormonal-wreck-kind-of-having-that-menstruation-kind-of-situation condition while watching the movie; an I can’t explain why. In the long run, to let all these things pass away, I watched Nicole Kidman’s flop-movie Bewitched, because she’s awesome.

I am bothered.

It’s December and the climate’s like autumn, and it’s depressing; depressing because it’s the second week of the month and salary and Christmas bonus are nowhere to be found, and the insurance company’s asking why I’m not depositing money in my policy account since March; more than that I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t see a Santa look-alike, but I see an ogre; a fucking big fat ogre, and I’m going back to the Philippines next month, and it’s gonna be travel, travel, food, and food and lot’s pigging around until February, and it’s December, and it’s fucking Christmas, and I’ll be singing the blues again, and please don’t let me be blue while I’m in Zurich!

I am bewildered.

Three weeks in a different workplace, and I'll be staying here until February next year; I’m a man on a mission, and the whole team is an absurd combination of personalities and characters that crash into one another, contradictions, and politics and all those stupid suck-ups, and as usual, I’m a big politician as ever, everybody’s friend and the biggest ass-kisser in the workplace, again; and I am trying to get a date and stop obsessing with my bestfriend; but I really have no time for my love-life because there’s a list of people who will receive gifts from my bounty, and Santa’s not coming to town anymore, taxes fucked up everything that’s why, AND THREE CHRISTMAS PARTIES, THREE! and as usual I am forced to be there, join the sex games (oversexed again?), and the who monito-monita brouhaha, and what the hell am I saying?

Ella sing to me darling!

Thursday, November 27, 2014

The Heir, the Only Begotten Gay Son

The men of my family were known to be serial womanizers- some were notorious and some were subtle in keeping their mistresses. And just like any other male species, they are proud of this trait, or sometimes they conceal their pleasure of being notoriously known for their despicable behaviour.

It was said that my grandfather started it. He was tall, dark and handsome. Many girls secretly desired him and aspired to be his wife. With tenacious faith and fervent prayers in the church, my grandma succeeded in stealing away his heart. She thought that she was lucky because she married somebody who was handsome, and above all, somebody who had a land and a big house. Here’s the catch when one marries a handsome and clever guy- he may be fond of forbidden liaisons. And that was the case.

Wits and suave moves were definitely irresistible at the time. And possessing these made my grandfather a shrewd playboy. But grandma wasn’t a drama queen. Whenever she suspects him to have flirted with a woman, she would invite my grandfather in our basement so she could confront him calmly.

I think it was during the Marcos years when my grandmother found out my grandfather’s secret. She found out, through her cousin who worked for the government, that my grandfather sired a child with a young woman who lived in the woods, one of those peasant farmers who worked for tenants like my grandfather. This woman came to the Municipio to register the birth of her son. The woman named my grandfather as the father of the child. I think my grandfather never took responsibility of the boy. When my grandmother confronted him, he was outraged and went away. He took his shot-gun and when to the woods to hunt. Perhaps he thought of shooting the one who spilled the beans. But thank God, when he returned, he wasn’t carrying a human head, but a deer.

After that, my grandmother, like any other pious and subservient Filipina, rest her case and never brought up the issue again, until now, because his man is now buried six feet under.

Then there’s my grandfather’s younger brother. He was the classic pilyo, with his fair skin, wavy hair, and a charismatic smile. He’s the adventurous kind- adventurous in gambling, in local politics, and a classic adventurer in every woman’s cave. He married a woman who gave him three sons and two daughters. And later on in his life he had a young mistress who bore him, I think, two other children. When the secret was found out, it was the most devastating storm that hit his household.

And then there’s my father and my uncle. These two were bestfriends when they were young. My father, being the eldest was the big brother who taught my uncle many things, especially about women.

I used to think that my father was just like any average guy- many girlfriends but would eventually settle with one woman. He did. But I was kind of surprised when my mother told me that she believes my father has a child with another woman before they got married.

Now I believe now why my uncle said that in their generation of the family, it was my father who started it, the way my grandfather paved the way for the men of the family to become douchebags. He said that my father taught him the ways of a ladies’ man.
When my father reached a certain age and maturity, maybe in his thirties, he became a loving and faithful husband. As for his disciple, my uncle, he’s an asshole until now.

Every time I visit my relatives in Milan, he would be there and he would tease me and the other folks that I am such a loser, having no girlfriend at my marriageable age. “Or maybe you’re gay?”, followed by a roaring laughter. He would boast of his conquests and my father’s prowess on being a bolero with the ladies. 

I hated those moments when they were scrutinizing my private life. Because nothing should be private in our big family. Our personal conquests must add to whatever reputation my family has. But now I look at him and see how pathetic he has become- bragging of being a habulin ng babae while his children and wife are slowly distancing themselves from this padre de familia. The only thing positive about his infidelity is that he hasn’t yet fathered a child with one of his many ugly mistresses nor caught any venereal disease.

And this is just my father’s side of the family. You still haven’t heard about my hedonistic uncles in my mother’s side of the family. All three uncles- guilty of infidelity.

In the past they may have bragged about it or carried the reputation as badge of honor. Now, as the whole family has converted to Protestantism, they have all changed their lives and thinking, except for one uncle who is now separated from his wife and childred.

And this made me think, is it possible that God destined me to be gay because there should be someone who would atone for the sins of our forefathers?

I am the eldest on both sides- the apple of the eyes of the family, the great hope who would carry on the thriving name as the legitimate heir apparent, the pride of our fathers. As of now, there are only two of us who are going to carry the family’s name, and I happen to be gay. As much as I want to carry on the legacy, I cannot procreate through natural means with a woman. And the thing is, there are great expectations from the first-born, especially to the Prime First-Born, the legitimate one (yes, this is self-aggrandizement. I speak as if were the royal family of Laguna, or one of the remaining old patrician families of the country).

The alpha-males are all producing girls- virtuous, smart, and the most distinctive attribute of the clan- gallantly proud. But no boy, except for my father and his disciple.

My cousin is showing the symptoms of a chronic babaero. Perhaps there’s hope for our fathers. He may sire ten first-born males. But with me, nada.

It occurred to me this thought of being the sacrificial lamb one day when I was reading the Bible (unbelievable right?).  I read a passage about the death of Solomon’s first born as the result of his adultery, and how God punished sinners up to the third and fourth generations.

Am I the one to atone the adultery of my forefathers? Why is it that these padres de familia, in all their gloriously divinely appointed power and authority over the family, could not redeem themselves? And why should I be the one responsible in cleaning up all their shit? Why am I to become the sore blight that was inflicted upon the family’s pride?

My dear readers (if you actually read this entry) these are just some of the questions I have reserved for God, but if you have the answers, please help me clear my thoughts, because a therapist is too costly, and the Holy Scripture has made me nauseous. 

The Story of a Dark Lord and Some Chinese Merchants

Not so long ago, some merchants from the east built a beautiful palace near the borders of the City of Hopefuls. These Chinese merchants named the palace the Pearl of Dreams. Inside the palace were apartments, big and small, where people could live a happy life with their family.

These merchants were trying to sell these apartments to the Hopeful citizens.

One day, as they were having tea, an ambassador from the nearby Principality of Avarizia came to visit them, carrying with him a letter from the Dark Prince.

The pompous Dark Lord of the other realm proposed to include the land where the Pearl of Dreams stood into his realm. In this manner, the people who live in that palace will enjoy the graces of the Dark Lord and find happiness in the bounty of the prince. On one condition, the merchants must give the best suites and chambers to the Dark Lord.

The merchants refused the proposal, because they felt they were going to be cheated and threatened at the same time. The family of the Dark Prince was known to be born with demonic greed and insatiable thirst for power and riches. Despite the immaculate and shining appearance of his realm, some merchants are never fooled by the perfidious tricks of the Dark Prince and his dark heirs.

The ambassador from the Realm of Avarizia never returned. Trading with the principality became even more difficult as it was frustrated by the evil powers of the Dark Lord. Soon the palace of the Pearl of Dreams started losing its glorious beauty and promises. The Hopeful citizens lost all their hopes. It was never a good idea to refuse the Dark Lord’s demands.

The merchants from East asked themselves if they made the right choice. They shook their heads and left the city, leaving behind the citizens of the City of Hopeful, a realm living near the menacing powers of the Dark Lord.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Rome in a Day...

Para sa mga taong in- denial sa kahit anong issue sa buhay... may restaurant na para sa inyo dito sa Rome... hahahaha!

Friday, November 07, 2014

That Sound in My Head...

I’ve been hit many times by LSS, or the Last Song Syndrome. LSS happens when you hear a random song and it gets stuck in your head, playing on and on for more than an hour. It could last from 4 hours to almost a week.

I did some research and I found out that there’s actually another term
for this. It is generally known as earworm. According to the most reliable info generator, Wikipedia (hehehehe….), earworm is from the German word Ohrwurm. It’s a portion of a song or other music that repeats compulsively within one's mind, put colloquially as "music being stuck in one's head."

This happens to me a lot of times.

I have listed down some of the weirdest songs which strangely got stuck in my head. Most of them are songs which I never thought that I would listen to in my entire life….

  1. Pokerface by Lady Gaga- the song eventually converted me into becoming a Gaga fan. One month torture. Ruined me for good.
  1. Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure- I love listening to this song while I’m driving. Dunno why.
  2. Bohemian Like You by Dandy Warhols- kept playing in my head for two days.
  1. Across the Universe by The Beatles- makes me feel like I’m always high. Kept playing in my head only in the mornings for one week.
  1. Killamangiro by Pete Doherty- one day lang.
  1. Bizarre Love Triangle by Frente!- yeah, the cheesy romanticism of the 90’s, the good ol’ days. Two or three days in my head but it was okay.
  1. Piece of my Heart by Janis Joplin- my ever beloved queen of rock. One day in my head
  1. First Day High by Kamikazee- played in my head during first day at work, kahit hindi sa school.
  1. Torete by Moonstar88- causes you to be gloomy and sentimental. Darn it! Every now and then it comes back to torture me.
  1. Dreams by Richard Sanderson- overheard this from a commercial and the rest is history. Thank God it doesn’t come back anymore!
  1. Secretly by Skunk Anansie- for some reasons the song hit me right into the core.
  1. Kapayapaan by Tropical Depression- one summer I remembered this song while thinking of killing someone. Seriously. And it kept on going in my brain.
  1. This Time The Dream’s On Me by Ella Fitzgerald- it was one of those nights….
  1. What’s in a Kiss? by Gilbert O’Sullivan- and to be honest, I still listen to this 70’s hit song.
  1. Sukiyaki by Kyu Sakamoto- the original one. I was reading books by Haruki Murakami, and probably the main reason why this song got stuck in my head for more than two weeks.
  1. Io Che Non Vivo by Pepino di Capri- heard it from the radio when I was working in a shoe shop. The owner was an old guy who listened to Italian old songs. It was contagious!

  1. Anything You Want by Roy Orbison- got this after watching the movie Boys on the Side. Three days of torture.
  1. Words Don’t Come Easy by F.R. David- eto na yata todo sa kabaduyan na tumama sa akin ng LSS! It was so lethal it caused me to write the lyrics of the song on the wall of my room!
  1. What’s Up by 4 Non Blondes
  1. Ave Maria sung by Maria Callas- after watching the documentary on her.

Yes, I know. I do have a very strange mental process.

There are songs which are really malignant (Lady Gaga’s song) and no cure is yet found to stop them. Other remedies are downloading the song to your mp3 and listen to it until you get sick and tired (literally) listening to it or like what I did one time, write down the lyrics on the wall or on a piece of paper.

But I’m sure, most of the time you’ll be hit by LSS with some of the best songs that will make you feel blissful and inspired. Others may turn you into a complete moronic emo. Or others might just infuriate you while you’re working or studying.

And here’s one thing that you should know: the moment Lady Gaga’s song begins to play in your head, there is no turning back. What? Oh my? You can hear….. in your head…. Do what you want with my body! …. Welcome you little monster! Harharhar….

Thursday, November 06, 2014

And Speaking of Save the Dates- Weddings!

Next year it’s going to be the year of weddings in our family. My trip back to the Philippines was said to be a vacation but the whole family is actually organizing everything for my sister’s wedding and a bulungan. For those who do not know what a bulungan is, it’s a huddle of the groom-to-be’s family and the bride-to-be’s family to settle arguments and disputes regarding the wedding ceremony (if there are any), the expenses, and the polishing of traditions upheld by both families.

They’re actually fast-tracking this because our family’s remaining matriarch, my beloved grandmother, is still alive and her blessing and consent is badly needed.

We sound like we are some sort of a patrician Chinese-Filipino family. I’d like to think of it that way, but no. They just want everything to be smooth because the future husband and wife have no clear ideas. In my opinion, it’s bound to be stressful and will be full of bickering.

That’s why I decided not to join the bandwagon and go fuck myself somewhere else. On January I’m going to my cousin’s wedding in Ilocos, and it’s quite a dilemma for me- it’s a beach wedding. What am I supposed to wear? Barong-tagalog and a swimming suit? Bahala na!

Since two members of our family are getting married, people are asking why I am still single?

And there you go. I asked God for patience and to remind me the 6th Commandment, because otherwise, there will be merciless genocide.

And then there are those people of our church who believe that the Almighty never authored singlehood, thus it is the devil’s curse, and therefore should be exorcised. These are people who do not believe in the impossible because in God everything is possible, but they are always desperate to pair up people like me. Well, thank you for being concerned, here’s my middle finger and fuck yourself with it.

It’s really annoying whenever they say that they are just concerned. So they’ll put me up in some occasions so I can meet these girls. Beautiful and fabulous girls.

Then these church people would ask me, “What do you think of that girl?”. And I’d say “Fabulous!”. Now the word fabulous coming out of a guy’s mouth- that shouts cock-sucker. But they really don’t get it sometimes.

I can’t get married. Not here in Italy where the government is full of bigots. Not in the Philippines where people are more concerned with Binay’s farm, the honour of serial womanizers in the Senate, than our dream of walking down the aisle in a white suit like a virginal angel with an untouched asshole.

And besides for now, I need money. It’s always cheaper to indulge in the pleasures of my own palm than spend money on clothes and drinks and spend lots and lots of time working out and looking good just to get a random fuck for the night, hoping that it’s true love, only to realize it the following day that you won’t find love in bars and that it’s really absurd to prepare breakfast for some random asshole.

Save the Date

November 1 will be quite unforgettable. That’s the day I ruined the lives of four people in just one day. Yes, I am the ultimate curse for anybody who are going out on a date, and if I ever happen to be in your orbit, then shit’s gonna happen to you; unless we were destined to be at odds.

I was late for work and because of that, my colleague couldn’t leave and go out with her date. She had to call our director who was out on a dinner date with her fiancé (it was their anniversary). Four people were so fucking angry with me.

And I can do that. It’s not skill or talent. It’s a fucking gift goddamn it!

So that was the first day of November for me.

I really can’t help it. Being late is part of my genetic build up.

The following day our director came up to me and said that next time it happens it’s suspension for me. I just shut my mouth and said, ok. After all, I ruined her anniversary (seriously, November 1?) and I almost got a couple to break up.

So what’s next? I hope it will not involve my superiors or colleagues. Universe, how about messing up the lives of other assholes, eh?

Monday, September 29, 2014

Usapang Pekpek: Vagina Monologues (Filipina Flavor)

Though I am not a vagitarian (God knows I often crave for hotdogs and sausages), still the vajayjay fascinates me. Its complexities, its colour, its power to inspire, and its power to drive all men crazy. It is the ultimate secret weapon of women to dominate all men (except for those who are of a different persuasion or those who have no sexual urge at all).

Long time ago I’ve heard about the Vagina Monologues, an episodic play by Eve Ensler. A series of play that has various themes about the vagina, sex, womanhood, and many other social issues in which the vagina is involved.

Now what if some segments of the monologues feature some of the most influential and famous Filipinas? What do you think they’d talk about?   

Inspired by commedian Mario Cantone, here’s the Philippine edition of the Vagina Monologues. Have fun with my political incorrectness!

(for those who are born humourless or brainless, the fucktards who likes to face the public though they are onion-skinned, the following statements are not true)

Anne Curtis- My vagina can swallow you, your friends and this club, and it can even shriek with a soprano voice like a pig while it is being slaughtered.

Paula Jamie Salvosa- So ya think my vagina’z alayer? No! It’s now a preacher!

Sharon Cuneta- My vagina is just as big as a mega star.

Nora Aunor- My vagina could’ve been a National Artist, pero walang himala! Walang himala!

Marian Rivera- My vagina is the most beautiful in this country because it’s psychology.

Claudine Barretto- My vagina is not a badass bitch. It can kick an old man’s ass or my husband’s, but it’s not a badass bitch.

Imelda Marcos- When they searched my vagina, they didn’t see skeletons, just my 3000 pairs of shoes.

Sen. Pia Cayetano- My vagina has beauty and brains and it can run anywhere- marathons, senatorial, it could even run for the vice presidency.

Charice Pempengco- My vagina likes other vaginas. It’s not a big loss for me. Is yours a biritera like mine? No. Because mine’s a pure fucking talent man! I hit high notes and bring my girl to orgasm!

Kristina Halili- My vagina was a one week topic in a Senate hearing because it unwillingly swivelled to the tune of Careless Whisper with some dickhead.

Heart Evangelista- My vagina likes an ugly bamboo-like dick, and everybody’s asking why.

Annabelle Rama- Don’t you dare threat my vagina! It’s not afraid of your vagina!

Mommy D- My pikpik is still ready for gimik.

Vilma Santos- My vagina wants to thank that tactless bitch. She is so bless…

Kris Aquino- My vagina is the ultimate tactless bitch queen of all media. Wait, lemme tweet that and post it in my FB. Daaaahrrrlllaaaaah? Where na you? We will talk about my shit and my vagina. Nownah!

Jessica Soho- My vagina does not find rape amusing.

Deniece Cornejo- My vagina is a joke. It’s a crime scene where anything can happen in a minute. Even rape.

Congresswoman Gloria Arroyo- Hello Garci? I just want you to know that my vagina will not step down. I am sorry.

Sen. Miriam Defensor-Santiago- My vagina is allergic to stupid and old. It is specifically adverse to Revilla, Estrada, and above all, to that old dick Enrile.

Ombudsman Conchita Carpio-Morales- Are you assailing the constitutionality of my vagina?

Atty. Gigi Reyes- My vagina likes antique phallic things.

Janet Napoles- My vagina likes to suck humongous pork barrels. That’s probably the reason why it’s bleeding a lot here in the hospital.

Sen. Nancy Binay- My vagina has nothing to do with those shady businesses in Makati. It’s always squeaky clean and immaculate. In fact, it will be a hospital and take care of sick politicians accused of corruption and other crimes.

And last but not the least….

Piolo Pascual- My vagina is just a rumor.

Friday, September 19, 2014

Overdrive Italia 2014- Seventh Day: Milan, or Whatever Happened to that Love Letter

On the seventh day, the penniless dreamer drove all the way to Milan, together with his friends. Restless, carrying a burden in his heart.

In a previous entry, nasabi ko noon kung gaano ka-intense ang levels ng anxiety at frustration ko noong nagsulat ako ng love letter para sa aking minamahal.

Madaming nag-react. May mga nag advise na nakakadiri daw, huwag ko na ituloy. May nagsabi ituloy ko daw kung wala daw akong lakas ng loob na sabihin ng harapan sa minamahal ang lihim na pag-ibig.

Well, hindi ko na naibigay yung letter. At hindi ko na rin nasabi ang katotohanan. Di bale na lang. Kaya dito ko na lang siguro i-post. Mukhang hindi naman love-letter ang kinalabasan. Parang apologia pa ang kinalabasan. Anyway, dahil trip ko to, eh enjoy reading the letter. Ma amuse kayo. O mandiri kayo. Wapakels lang. Hehehe…


I love you. I always have, and I always will.

Before the end claims me, I just want to tell you how much you mean to me, and that you were everything to me. You were always my dream and fantasy. And I clearly understand that, as God stands against me, and Truth is raw and cruel, I will never ever claim that heart of yours for my keeping. But I love you, no matter what. I can’t help it. It’s like what wise men say, only fools rush in when falling in love.

I never thought that I’d fall for someone like you. From the very beginning you were not the kind of guy I’d fall for. But then I’m not really surprised to love every aspect of you. You’re that kind of person who is easy to love- always smiling; sympathetic, easy to be with, full of life. You have the brightest smile and the gentlest face I’ve ever seen. It seems that God was in a good mood when you were born. Of course, I’m drunk with romanticism; love has altered my vision.

I can never establish an explanation on how friendship between us came into being. You’re the incarnation of a good-hearted light spirit. On the other hand, I’m a mercurial creature, hard to know, and harder to love; constantly consumed in his fiery rage against everything.

I never understood the cosmic relevance of how our lives were intertwined. And I will never appreciate God’s sense of humour of having you cross my path when I promised Him to walk in the way of righteousness, even if it means the need to embrace celibacy and solitude. Was it God’s way of having a good time? A cosmic and comical divine joke? I will never know. No one will know for His ways are not my ways and His thoughts are not my thoughts. And his joke is really in bad taste. In the community of our faith, some would say that it is part of God’s grand design, that everything has a purpose in life, and perhaps knowing you has a big part in my life.

I am kin to sorrow since childhood, bound to it by fear of being banished by my own family and the fear of being denounced by the Church I loved and served. It’s been almost three decades of terrible winters- a life crafted with various fabrics of falsehoods and hundred shades and colours of deception.

And now that the truth is here, I have no place anymore in your life. Haven’t you heard? It is not fitting for Christ’s servants to be seated next to the immoral- yes, an immoral like me- one who has never known any flesh other than his. It’s unthinkable that any member of the brotherhood should share everything with the incarnation of the word abomination. I’ve heard it preached from the pulpit by apostles and prophets, by the very people whom I loved and served. And from the pulpit, I preached and taught the same tirade to the youth, as if I was sealing my own death warrant and reading my own death sentence. The things we do for the love of God, for the approval of a family, and the salvation of one’s soul.

But now I choose to give up this so-called eternal life so I can live in truth and sincerity. I choose the abomination so that I will not live a life of hypocrisy. Sometimes I ask myself if I’m the one who’s really fucked up or God intentionally fucked up everything in my life.

Sorry for such pompous writing and my profuse verbosity. You know me when it comes to letters.

The thing is I really can’t stop thinking about you. You are my blessing. You’ve been very patient with me, very understanding and supportive. You were my best friend. Your smile gives me a glimpse of paradise and your voice soothes the wars within my soul. You can make me smile. You can give me peace. You are one of the few people I trust. And at the same time you are also my curse.

As for your true beloved, I seek nothing but her well-being. She makes you happy and she loves you. And I ask God that may she live a long life with you, a future filled with hope and love. And it makes me happy to see and know that you have a great future with her and with all the happiness in the world. I just hope she can love you as much as you love her.

When the truth comes out, I’ll be waiting for my fathers to bring down their judgement and my eventual ruin from the ecclesiastical pedestal which I pompously built in time. I see no purpose anymore to work in the ministry and advance the cause for mankind’s redemption when the very culture of our Church requires me to live in hypocrisy. I can’t live like that any longer.

Let us end it here- our friendship and brotherhood- for no follower of Christ must be associated with someone like me, and that the gates of paradise are closed for sodomites like me. Though I am worse than a beast, don’t I still have the right to love and live happily?

I am really sorry if you will be upset. I am sorry if malicious comments and gossips would trouble you and the others. But I will never ever be sorry for falling in love with you, and for loving you more than anything and anybody else in this world.

I will move on in life. I might meet men and fall in love again. But you will always have a special place in my heart. Wala eh. Lakas ng tama. Tang’na talaga oh.

Hopelessly devoted you,