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!