Tuesday, May 31, 2005


You can call it an incidental coming out.

Two days before our team-building, my stars spoke: "LIBRA ... " it said. "We're all in the closet in one way or another. Every one of us feels that there's some part of ourselves we've got to hide, that if we reveal the totality of who we really are, we will suffer. For example, U.S. Army Sergeant Robert Stout, who was wounded and got a Purple Heart for his service in Iraq, ultimately decided he was tired of being secret about his homosexuality. As a result, he can't re-enlist, even though he'd like to. My psychotherapist friend Alicia has always used astrology in her practice, but only recently chose to be open about it. Some of her colleagues broke off relations when she told them. According to my reading of the omens, Libra, it's an ideal time to carefully come out of whatever closet you've been in. I'm not saying there'll be no repercussions, just that you'll have clarity and strength as you deal with them. And the freedom you create with your brave revelation will change everything for the better. "

I didn't think of it as significant thinking I am already (at least to my closer friends). Boy, was I mistaken, big time.

At the start of the two-day team building, this HRD girl said in her introduction something to this effect: be comfortable. Be yourself. Okay lang na maglantad.

As if on cue, everyone in the room (at least that's what I think what happened. I was overwhelmed, needless to say) looked towards my direction. I was taken aback, in a good way.

"Hmmm, that's a nice start," I thought to myself.

And that wasn't the end of it.

Somehow, the topic of my being gay kept cropping up in conversations and little chit-chats until that one session when I had to be a little categorical about it.

In the exercise, we were paired with an officemate at random. Since the number of the participants was odd, there was someone who was left without a partner. That was me. Was it fate? Or was it just bad luck?

Two of my immediate bosses volunteered to be my partner. We were given two minutes to talk and find out something more about each other.

Outside the venue, over cigarettes, Ma'am G asked, "So sino s'ya?". I feigned ignorance in an effort to avoid the subject. But we both knew what she meant by that.

Later on I realised that it would be futile to evade the subject. I thought too that it was a perfect time to confront them with my fears. I don't remember anymore the questions but I found myself telling them that acceptance of my sexual preference was incremental. That denying it would be an act of denying myself. My being gay is part and parcel of who I am.

I told them that if there's one fear that I harbor it is the fear of being stereotyped; that my capabilities would be dictated by my sexuality.

"It's really up to you to prove otherwise," Ma'am G. told me.

When the session resumed, Ma'am T volunteered to share with the group our discoveries.

"May nakumpirma (or something to that effect) kami kay Joseph. And binigyan lang namin siya ng assurance na okay lang 'yun," Ma'am T said.

The group grew curious so they had to ask me to share what it was that Ma'am T was talking about.

I must admit that I was a little scared to reveal it. We have different levels of awareness when it comes to homosexuality and I was afraid that people will react to it differently.

So in coded language I said: "Sa trabaho natin na ang layunin ay magpalaya sa pamamagitan ng impormasyon para makagawa sila ng pinag-isipang desisyon, importante rin marahil na una sa lahat malaya tayo."

I think the majority got the message.

In another session, when we had to write our impressions of our officeamates I got this: "OUT," "You're _ _ _, okay ka!"

That was enough to assure me that I had made the right decision. It was nice to discover that it's not a big deal after all, that I'm in the right environment, where I can be myself.

Liberation, sometimes does not come easy for some. For me, it was sponsored by my office.

If You Get Scared

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"... if you get scared, will you come knocking on my door
i'll come and rescue you." - d'sound

Wednesday, May 25, 2005


I imagine that fucking teddy bear burning. Its white fur turn into angry red-orange before turning black. Before it is turned to ashes, it will crumple, like paper, and its soul will escape as smoke. I will leave it burning before my doorstep, perhaps take a photo to freeze the moment (a keepsake or a tombstone to mark that time and place where I finally decided to move on.)

I rehearse that scene in my mind over and over again, so that soon I will be able to do it, finally.

That bear, the simple send-off gift I gave you when you left for abroad. "Something to remember me by. Something to keep you warm in your lonely nights," I told you.

Now I am the one left with it. (Something to remember you by). You must have slipped it in that box when you went over to my house, one time. I discovered it a couple of days after you left. A fitting tribute to a love that once was; an umbilical cord that connects birth and death.

"Throw everything that is connected with him," a friend advised once.

I know I should. I'm just too afraid to do it now. Someday soon, I know, I will muster enough courage to do what is long overdue: to love one's self, by moving forward.

God Speaks In Riddles

Last night, after a solo cry moment (there, I admitted it, hehehe), I asked God (again) to chase this pain away, to give me a sign whether I should move on or what.

Today, in my inbox, an email from P*, asking if his disposable camera is still at the house (and asked how things are over here).

It dawned on me, that no matter what sign God gives me, I will still be confused and the answers will always be the ones I want to hear.

"Stop analyzing. Just let things be," Ruth said.

Let things be. Maybe that's God's answer.

Monday, May 23, 2005

Crash And Burn, Then Crash

John Legend

"Maybe you stay, maybe you
leave, maybe you return
Maybe in another find, maybe we won't survive
Maybe we'll grow and never know"

Girl,(Boy) I'm in love with you
The same to honeymoon, pass the infatuation fate
Right in the thick of love
At times we're sick of love
It seems like we argue everyday
I know I misbehaved
And you made your mistake
And we both still got room left to grow
And though love sometimes hurts
I still put you first
And we'll make the things work
But I think we should take it slow

We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
'Cause we're just ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow

The same to movie
No fairytale conclusions are
It gets more confusing everyday
Sometimes it's heaven sent
Then we head back to hell again
We kiss then we make up on the way
I hang up your call
We rise and we fall
And we feel like just walking away
As all love advances, we take second chances
Though it's not fair to see
I still want you to stay

We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
'Cause we're just ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow

Maybe we'll live and learn
Maybe we'll crash and burn
Maybe you stay, maybe you leave, maybe you return
Maybe in another find, maybe we won't survive
Maybe we'll grow and never know
Baby, you and I
We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go, yeah
'Cause we're just ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow
We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
'Cause we're just ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow
Take it slow, slow
This time we'll take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow

I caught this song over the radio on my way back to the office. Was I haunted by the lyrics and the vocals (John Legend). I don't know who he is, I just browsed through the Net and found this lyrics. But I like the song.

Friday, May 20, 2005


... drifting, trying to find my bearing, I found this in an officemate's blog. Has God finally spoken?

Closing Cycles By Paolo Coelho

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through. Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished.

Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents' house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden?

You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won't take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that.

But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.

None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot forever be children, late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back.

Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away. That is why it is so important (however painful it maybe!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home. Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place.

Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.

Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the ideal moment. Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back.

Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person nothing is irreplaceable, a habit is not a need. This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life. Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.

Oh Really?

LIBRA (Sept. 23–Oct. 22): There is no God. God is dead. God is a drug for people who aren't very smart. God is an illusion sold to dupes by exploitative religions. God is a right-wing conspiracy. God is an infantile fantasy clung to by superstitious cowards who can't face life's existential meaninglessness. Just kidding! In fact, anyone who says she knows what God is or isn't, doesn't. That's why I suggest that you confess what you don't know about God. If you do, ironically, you'll get a direct bolt of communication from God Herself. Now read Adolfo Quezada's prayer: "God of the Wild, you are different from what I expected. I cannot predict you. You are too free to be captured for the sake of my understanding. I can't find you in the sentimentalism of religion. You are everywhere I least expect to find you. You are not the force that saves me from the pain of living; you are the force that brings me life even in the midst of pain." (from www.villagevoice.com)

Taking Wings, Plunging Ahead

I'm 24 already and to some this is a ripe-enough age to be independent.

Technically, I am sort of independent, by circumstance I mean. Emotionally I am already since my Dad told me that no one is responsible for myself by me alone. So, one time when I was younger and my Dad sorta told me that my younger bro is my responsibility, I objected. Why the double standard? Up to now, I am sticking to that principle. I barely helped him through his college years and when, in high school, I noticed that he was gravitating towards my interests such as writing and painting (he had gotten into the same school paper and joined the same Arts Club in high school and joined the Glee Club) I told him: "Choose your own path. Decide for yourself what you really want out of this life. Don't use my life as your template. So you will not have to blame me if you will not like what you get."

So he enrolled in a course very different from mine (which is Journalism): Agricultural Engineering. I think he got the message.

It's a pretty selfish philosophy: Mind your own business.

Lately, I've been meaning to uproot myself from my family. Too many familial obligations which I think are unreasonably imposed on me. Fine, I'm like the eldest in the family but do I have to do all the work? I have my father's gravelot to pay and all that. I committed myself to that thinking OTs from my salary will do it but things are not in order recently. So my Mom's been bugging me. And I hate it. I would love a little understanding but nothing's coming my way.

So I've been thinking of severing myself from my family. Live alone here. And never initiate contact with them at all. Leave the country eventually, in like five years when I have enough money to pay for my Master's Degree in Film or Foreign Policy (or whatever I feel like taking during that time). Live in Madrid or Mexico. Write a book. Do a documentary.Fly. Escape. Hide.

Five Hundred

For the past three paydays, that's what I've been getting: P500! Stevedores receive way much more I think. I'm pissed. I attended to my phonebills and submitted the accounting two weeks ago in the hope of stopping the deductions but to no avail. I filed my OT but I think it didn't beat the cut-off date.

Fuck it! Pardon the expletive but I meant it.

Thursday, May 19, 2005


Sometimes, like many other times before, you haunt me. And I almost always know what to do; like reflex.

I light a cigarette.

I imagine you emerging from the smoke. Slowly, you appear: your lips as they break out into a smile; your Egyptian eyes squinting. And then you dissipate as fast you appear.

Another puff.

I hallucinate in your memories. That Alicia Keys song. Joss Stone. The teddy bears. Your neck. Your slim body. Your butt. I try to remember if I ever sang you to sleep. Or whispered how much I love you. Or how I love to look at you when you're asleep. How you wake me in the morning with your kiss. And how I love them. How I love you. Loved you.

One more puff.

I float. That one night while strolling, you held my hands tight. One night, when you kissed me before you got off the cab. One night, when you told me in you dialect what "I love you" was.

I am dizzy from the reminders of our failure. Of my paranoia. Of our mutual cowardice. I loved you as you loved me but we're too frail against our insurmountable difference.

I put out the cigarette. Another three minutes of my life extinguished.

I die every time I remember you.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005


One SMS and the floodgates open.

"Balita?" you texted me last night, like you've always done but not recently. One bleep and a thousand repressed memories escape.

I called.

"Couldn't resist," I confided to Ruth.

We talked about your job and its nightmarish schedule. You brought up that plan about going to this spanking new resort in Lucban ("La pa masyado tao 'dun," you told me. But what's the significance of it being "unexploited/private." But I liked the idea, tempted by the idea.). I said I couldn't possible take off from work this weekend or the next because I will be having a team-building seminar. We talked about my job ("'kala n'yo lang malaki pera pero wala rin," I told you.) I invited you to come over to the city since you've been spending some boring time in the boondocks (You said you would probably in June if you have an important errand to attend to here).

For nearly an hour, we talked about this irrelevant consequences of our being: your job and mine, Pahiyas, the long hours at work, the desire to travel.

But beneath these, I would've wanted to tell you how much I've been missing you. How I want to feel your body next to mine because that makes me comfortable. Or how I want to kiss your lips while I caress your hair. How I want you.

And how I want to tell you I want you.

One text, and against all these desires, I am powerless.

Monday, May 16, 2005

In Theatres Soon

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"Ang Tagapagmana"
Starring (from left to right): Bimbo Cerrudo, Andrea del Rosario, Sarah Geronimo, Maui Taylor at isang unknown na artista.
(basahin) Episode 1- "Ang Simula ng Wakas"
Episode 2 - "Ang Kaputol ng Kahapon"

Cast of Characters

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Bago nawala sa ere ang karir, nakapag-host pa siya ng "K, the 1-Million Videoke Challenge." Bigla na lang sumulpot sa kabilang istasyon at kamakailan lamang ay nagpakita ulit sa inalisang TV Network. Istar sa pelikulang "Uno" pagkatapos manalo sa "30 Days."

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Istar siya sa best-selling na (tuna)belly-dancing. Natikman na niya si Vin Diesel.

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Grand winner ng isang singing competition sa telebisyon. Sa kasalukuyan, pinagkakaabalahan niya ang paggawa ng musika sa pamamagitan ng straw ng Jollibee, Yumburger at french fries. Nakipag-date kay Plastikman.

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Dating sexy-star turned Japayuki (three months lang namaaan) turned presidential daughter.

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Mayaman ang kanyang filmography 'yun nga lang hindi n'yo siya napapanood sa mainstream. Ilan lang sa mga critically-acclaimed n'yang pelikula at dula ang "Patayin sa Sindak si Barbie (Season 176), 1998; "Bahay Mo Ba 'to, Lolah?, 2003 at "Shake, Rattle, Body-body dansaaaah! A Musical Tribute to That's Entertainment, 2004".
Dumating sa buhay ng mga Ramos (as in Alicia, Leticia at Ester) si Mirasel (Andrea), isang G.R.O. na galing sa Pegasus na nakita ng Padre de Familia na na-deds na.
Si Ronnie (as in Ronnie Rickettes/Bimbo Cerrudo) ang panganay sa pamilya. Pero sabi ng Padre de Pamilya: "hindi bading ang magmamana na ang aking kayamanan. Kaya kay Monette (Sarah), ang masunuring anak pero ampon pala, raw mapupunta ang mga hacienda.
Pero umalma ang rebeldeng si Sylvia (Maui). "Mas gold ang gown ko sa kanya! Mas mukha akong heredera! Ampon! Ampon! Ampon ka laaaaaaaaaaaaaaang!"
Pero may naibuking na sikreto si Pader. At ang autistic na si Jimbo (isang unknown na artista, na suki sa mga slasher films) lang naikwento ng matanda bago siya mamatay. Pero autistic nga siya di ba?
Kelan, o kelan siya makakawala sa kanyang mundo at maibubunyag ang katotohan. Sino .... o sino.... ang ..... (in cue music: sino ang baliw ni kuh ledesma) ... sino ... sino ... sino ... ang "Tagapag .....maaaaaaa...naaaaaaaahhhhh! (horror film ito?) Hulaan n'yo na lang ang Padre de Familia (clue: FLG ang initials n'ya).
Kumukulog, kumikidlat sa Hacienda Maligaya sa may Tarlac. Bumubulong ang hangin, nagbabadya. Malungkot sa mansion ng Padre de Familiang si FLG as in Fernando Lowaist Gang.
Sa master bedroom, isang kandila lang ang nagsisilbing tanglaw. 1992 noon. Panahon ng krisis sa elektrisidad. Kahit ang mayayaman, hindi nakaligtas. Balik tayo sa kandila. Tumatangis ito. *hikbi* sabi ng kandila, sabay papatak ang natunaw na apoy.
Napapaligiran ang naghihingalong si Don Fernando ng kanyang mga anak: si Monette, si Sylvia at si Jimbo.
Nakaluhod si Monette, animo'y natutulog sa dibdib ng ama. Humihikbi. Nakikipagpaligsahan sa pagandahan ng pag-iyak sa nakatirik na kandila.
"Dad..." sasambitin niya na parang hindi niya kayang sabihin. "... huwag mo akong iwan," sabi ni Monette.
Narinig ito ni Sylvia. "Ako?! As in ikaw lang?" sabi niya sa sarili sabay taas ng kili-kili, at ng braso, akmang sasapakin ang nagda-dramang si Monette. "Imbey itong chorvang ito. Kung ano-ano ang drama," sabi sabay irap, nakapamayawang. "Ampon ka naman," bulong ni Sylvia.
Narinig ata ito ni Monette, natigilan siya sa Maricel Drama Special n'yang pag-iyak.
"Dad, sige na, if you wanna go, we're ready. Don't fight back. Ganyan talaga ang buhay, may katapusan. Nauna ka lang. O Monette, baka gusto mong sumama?!" advise ni Sylvia sa naghihingalong ama.
Bubukas ang pinto. Dahan-dahan. Sabay biglang aalagwa ang pintuan. In cue music: "K! the 1-million peso videoke challenge!" Aapir ang baklitang panganay, si Ronnie.
"O, patay na ba? Tawagin n'yo na lang ako ha? Busy ako sa kabilang kuwarto," sabi ni Ronnie kay Sylvia, sabay nakangiting papahirin ang labi na parang kakakain lang (hindi pa natin kung ano, basta, busy siya). Babalik sa kuwarto si Ronnie.
Matitigilan si Monette. Nangyari na kaya ang kinatatakutan? Ito na ba ang katapusan?
Tatakbo si Jimbo sa ama.
"Dad, laro tayo!" sabay hatak sa braso ng amang maysakit nga. Pero hindi ito alam ni Jimbo, dahil again, autistic nga siya di ba?
Mahihiwalay ang braso ng ama sa katawan nito.
Tuwang-tuwa si Jimbo. Lalabas ng kuwartong inihahampas-hampas ang braso ng ama na parang batuta sa baseball.
Iiyak si Monette. Papalahaw. "Daaaaaaaad! Bakit mo AKO iniwan?" wala talagang konsepto ng kapatid si Monette.
Tatalon sa tuwa si Sylvia. "Hoy, Ronita, deds na si Papa!"
"O sige, kaw na bahala d'yan," sabi lang ni Ronnie, malaki ang pinagkakaabalahan ni Ronnie.
Sa labas ng hacienda, sa gate, 10 kilometro ang layo. May paparadang pulang kotse. Sa ulanan, maaninag ang anino ng sakay nito. Babae, mahaba ang buhok. Nag-retouch ng lipstick ang gelay na sakay ng kotse. Magpapa-pout.
"Humanda kayong lahat sa akin," bulong nito sa sarili.
Sino ang babae? Ano ang mga sikretong mabubunyag sa pagkamatay ni Don Fernando? At ano ang nangyari sa braso n'ya?
Abangan ....

Sa sala, matutunton ang mga patak ng dugo parang mga mapang sinasabing “this way.” Susundan ng kamera ang patak ng dugo. Magpapaikot-ikot ito sa lamesa, sa plorera, sa kusina, lalabas ng balkonahe, tutulay sa hagdanan, at sampung kilometro maglalakbay ang patak ng dugo, tatawid ng garden, ng mahabang drive way. Si Jimbo hawak-hawak ang putol na braso ng ama. May makikitang gelay si Jimbo sa may gate.

“Hi! What’s your name,” malambing pero malanding sabi ng misteryosang babae. Humahangin, liliparin ang bangs ng gelay ala Palmolive (as in Pahl-mow-lib).

“Huh, ano nga bang pangalan ko?” tanong ni Jimbo sa gelay. Autistic nga pala si Jimbo. Pagpasensiyahan na natin si Jimbo meron din naman siyang parang lucid intervals parang isang sisterete ng mga Ramos tulad ngayon.

“Uh, Jimbo po!” sabay sigaw ng bata na parang isang epiphany ang pagkakaalala sa pangalan.

“Oh, hi Jimbo,” sabi ng gelay. “I’m Mirasel. You can call me Tita Mel.”

“Nice to meet you po!” bati ni Jimbo sabay abot ng putol na kamay ng ama para makipag-shake hands.

“Oh my God!” nagulat si Mel. Pero kinamayan pa rin na parang nahihiya ang putol na kamay ng ama ni Jimbo.

“Oh my God ulit! Whose hand is this?” tanong ni Mel kay Jimbo.

“I don’t know… uh, I think it’s my Dad’s?,” walang muwang na sagot ni Jimbo.

“Your Dad’s ….?” Naluluha na si Mel.

“As in your Dad’s…” nauutot na sa kaba si Mel.

“As in Don Fernando Lowaist Gang?” paniniguro ni Mel.

“As in!” sagot ni Jimbo.

“(For the third time). Oh myyyyy Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddd!” sigaw ni Mel. “Oh my God! Ferdie, bakit mo ako iniwaaaaaan??!!!! Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you like three months ago that I’ll come home. Nagpapa-parlor lang ako sa Paris!” iyak nang iyak si Mel.

“Huwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” bibirit na ng iyak si Mel parang Pinoy Pop Shupppperrstaaaahhhhhhrrr.

Aalingawngaw ang iyak ni Mel sa buong Hacienda Maligaya. Maalimpungatan ang mga nakahapong tandang (shet, napaaga ang gising ko. Istorbo ‘tong babaeng ito, sabi ng Tandang sa kayakap niyang Tandang). Mabubulabog ang mga paniki. Kakahol ang mga aso. Magtatalunan ang mga kabayo sa kuwadra.

Maririnig ang palahaw ni Mel sa loob ng bahay.

“Sino ‘yun?” nagising si Ronnie. Babangon, kukuha ng kumot isasaplot sa katawan na parang gown. Hahalik sa dibdib ng kasiping. Kakagatin ang labi ng isa pang kasiping. Tatanggalin ang yakap ng ikatlong kasiping.

“Huh?” pagtataka ni Monette.

“Shet, sino ba ‘yun?” nagtataray na tanong ni Sylvia.

“Do you know who owns this hand?” tanong ni Jimbo kay Mel.

Pagkatapos maka-recover sa mala-pagputok ng bulkang pag-iyak, iku-compose ang sarili at sasabihing ….

“Of course. I know his hand very well….” Sabi ni Mel kay Jimbo. Titingin si Mel sa malayo, sa buwang bilog na bilog at papatak ang luha sa kaliwang mata na ala-Nora Aunor.

“I know him very well,” sambit ni Mel.

Ang Garter ng Pagpapanggap

Kahapon, sa kasal ni Weng, pinaglaruan ni Lord si Nelson.

Pero pwede ring masisi si Nelson dahil ginusto naman niya 'yun.

Ganito ang nangyari.

'Di ba me sambutan ng bouquet at garter sa kasal? Isang simbolikong pagpapasa ng swerte? (Ganun ba 'un?) Inimbitahan ang mga gerlets at nakasama run si Ruth at si Ian. Pero sinawimpalad sila (kahit sa pagsalo ng bouquet, malas sila?) at ibang gelay ang nakasambot ng bulaklak.

So turn na ng mga boys na sumambot ng garter. Si Nelson sumali. Kumulog kumidlat (sana na lang 'di ba) at siya ang nakasambot ng garter.

So eto na, isusuot ng boy ang garter sa binti ng girl tulad ng nakagawian. At ayon sa salaysay ni Nelson, sabi sa kanya ng gelay, habang humihikab niyang itinataas ang garter sa binti ng gelay: "I'm a certified virgin!"

Duh? San galing 'un? At bakit gan'ung soundbite? Si Nelson pa ang sinabihan? Hehehehe.

"Pakialam ko sa 'yo?" gustong sabihin ni Nelson sa gelay.

Oo nga naman.

"Marry me and you'll die a virgin," sabi ni Nelson habang nasa sosyal na sasakyan kami ni Tex.


Problem with gay guys, at least the straight-acting ones, is that they (still) send off some straight vibes.

That must really be hard to decipher for our prospects.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

We Are Family

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Ito ang resulta ng isang araw na topak na i-immortalize ang aming kabataan. Kuha ito sa studio ng napakagaling at napakabait na photographer na si Dominique James. May 14, 2005, Sabado.

Thursday, May 12, 2005


Para kina Weng at Joel

Konti lang ang mga tulad n’yo
Na minsan, sa isang yugto
Natagpuan ang pinakahanap-hanap
Ng Sangkatauhan: pag-ibig

‘Di tulad n’yo
Maraming sinasarili, mga pighati
At ang mga pangarap, parang lobong
Pinalilipad ng solo

‘Di tulad n’yo
Sa gabi, ang ilan sa atin, mapait ang hikbi
Impit na sigaw ng damdamin
Sa mga unan lang, umaalingawngaw

‘Di tulad n’yo
Marahil, ang iba sa atin, mapapagod,
Magsasawa, matutuyo ang luha’t
kailanman ‘di na matatagpuan

Ang pinakahanap-hanap
Ng Sangkatauhan.

Pero para sa mga tulad n’yong
Mas pinalad at nakadaupang palad
Ang kabiyak ng puso’t isipan
Ipaglaban, ang pinakahanap-hanap ng Sangkatauhan

‘Wag mapapagod, ‘wag magsasawa
Dahil konti lang, tulad n’yong biniyayaan
Lunggati ng Sangkatauhan.

Si Lord Na Ang Nagsabi

Kagabi, bumaha ulit ng ala-ala. Pero nagalit na ako.

"Lord, mag-usap nga tayo," opening prayer ko. Uupo ako sa kama, madilim, naka-crosslegs ako.

"Ayoko na ng mga modang ganito. Lord (nagsusumamo), ayoko na. I reject this pain. I don't want this anymore. I'm entitled to love someone," sabi ko sa kanya na kunyari hindi pa niya alam ang angas ko.

Natulog ako, alas-dos ng madaling araw. Niyapos ko ang dalawang unan. Puno ng galit at pangungulila. Kung puwede nga silang mamutla, baka namatay na sila. Death by suffocation, parang si Asst. Sec. Alicia Ramos. Pero mga unan lang sila. Puro laman pero walang pakiramdam. Wala rin silang pakialam.

Isang text, dumating habang tumatawid ang diwa mula sa kasalukuyan patungong neverland. Pero nanaig ang pagod at pagkapagal sa mga bagay na wala namang katapusan.

"Nag-text kaya si Lord?" inisip ko.

Kinabukasan, humahangos ako dahil late na nman akong nagising.

Tiningnan ko ang cellphone. Si *****.

"Pinaglalaruan ako ni Lord. Pinsan ko pa yata ang gusto niya para sa akin," text ko kay Ruth.

Sa isang bookstore, nagsalita ulit si Lord, sa pamamagitan ng isang libro. Ang title, "When God Writes Your Love Story".

Demonyita ako pero lab pa rin ako ni Lord. Minsan, bukod sa libro, nasa TV rin siya.

Kagabi sa replay ng "Oprah" ang topic ay tungkol sa babaeng namatayan ng tatlong anak. Mas tragic ang istorya niya. Pinagpapatay ng kanyang dating asawa ang kanilang mga anak.

Moving on ang topic. Swak na naman si Lord. Sabi nung babaeg namatayan: "You have to find your own inner strength. Think that you were gifted with their love when they were still here. It's in these memories that they become alive," sabi ng gelay na parang isang speech.

Memories. Eh, 'yun nga ang pumapatay sa akin.

Pero balikan natin ang libro. Napaisip ako 'ron. Ano kaya ibig sabihin ni Lord. "Hoy! 'Wag ka nang magpaka-senti. Ako bahala sa 'yo. Allow my hands to shape your (love)life."

Well, sabi nga ni Julia Fordham, Nina at MYMP: "Love moves in mysterious ways."

Sige, papakinggan ko si Lord.

Pero Lord naman, bakit antagal?

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Ground Zero

Letting Love Go
Of course I feel betrayed,
but that's the way it goes, everyone knows.
Trying to make you love me again,
crying at your door ust to hold you once more.
Darling I know it's so hard to let a love go,
it's not easy letting love go,
it's so hard to let a love go.
Darling don't I know, it is never easy letting go
when it's gone on and on and on and on.

Your friends said you looked well,
you promised that you'd write and call them at night.
But if you wake up in another town
and it's loneliness you've found just cause I'm not around,
then darling you'll know it's so hard to let a love go,
it's not easy letting love go,
it's so hard to let a love go.

Darling don't I know it is never easy letting go
when it's gone on and on and on and on.
But I'm not gonna pretend --
I find it hard to forgive and find a new way to live.
And if I had my time again, I'd still have you back,
it's as simple as that.
Darling I know it's so hard to let a love go,
it's not easy letting love go,
it's so hard to let a love go.
Darling don't I know it is never easy letting go
when it's gone on and on and on and on.

Isang gabi, dinalaw mo ako sa isang panaginip at binungkal muli ang ala-alang dala-dala na pilit (matagal nang) ibinabaon.

Malawak ang damuhan. Sa isang dulo: ikaw. Naalala ko ang damuhang iyon. Doon kami nagpapalipad ng saranggola ng mga pinsan ko 'nung maliit pa kami. Tuwing alas-tres ng hapon.

Humangos ako papunta sa 'yo. Unti-unti nabuo ang mukha mo: ang mata mong hawig ng isang taga-Ehipto. Ang mapupula mo at matambok mong labi. Ang buhok mong itim na itim. Ang matangos mong ilong.

"Kumusta? Bumalik ka na pala galing Amerika," sabi ko sa 'yo sa panaginip.

Isang matamis na ngiti ang itinugon mo na lagi mong ginagawa. Kikislap ang magagada mong ngipin.

Sunod na eksena, nakaupo tayo pareho. Nakatalikod ka at ako naman ay nakayapos sa 'yo. Ansarap ng pakiramdam. Nararamdaman ko ang tibok ng puso mo.

"I need you back," bulong ko sa 'yo.

Hindi ka sumagot.

Nagpalit ng eksena. Sa riles ng tren, dun ka raw nakatira. Kasama ang bago mong dyowa. Naawa ako sa 'yo. Maliit ang bahay n'yo. At sa riles pa ng tren.

Sunod na eksena.

Sa bahay, gabi, naghihintay ako sa 'yo. Natatakot dahil malapit nang magbukang-liwayway pero wala ka pa. Antagal. Sobrang tagal hindi imposibleng may iba kang kasama. Balisa ako 'nun.

Tatahol ang aso. Tatalak ang landlady ko. Parang alarm clock na ginising ako sa aking panaginip. Hindi ko alam kung dapat akong magpasalamat o sabay silang patayin. Pinutol nila ang muli nating pagkikita.

Umusbong ang katotohan. Sa aking isipan, sa buo kong pagkatao, nag-iwan ka ng pira-piraso mong ala-ala. Nakakalat sila sa loob. Minsan hindi ko sila mapapansin. Pero minsan naman, tulad ng gabing 'yon, babaha silang lahat, iibabaw.

At malulunod ako. Putangina ka.


Eksena ng pag-come out ng mga anak ni Darna. (Ang kanilang mga identidad ay may konting embellishment para protektahan


PUNKISTA A. MARQUEZ, 20-somethings na manunulat, guro dati sa isang eskwelahan. Nasa isang malawakang beautification project ng sarili.
Sa isang lugar sa Norte. Uuwi siya kasama ang isang bading na kaibigan. Alas-3 ng madaling araw. Nagmalasakit siyang isama sa bahay ang bakla niyang kaibigan dahil hindi niya maaatim na pauwiin ang kaawa-awang nilalang sa Barrio ng loka.
Papasok sila sa bahay. Makikita sila ng kaniyang nanay. At walang patumanggang opening statement ng ina niya.
"Sino ka?! Bakit ka nasa bahay ko? Sino ka?" nagagalit na tanong ng nanay niya.
Nagpakahinanon si Punkista. Buntong hininga, sabay paliwanag sa nanay niyang nagdidilim ang paningin.
"Ako po si Punk, anak n'yo po ako," tugon niya sa nanay niya.
"Hindi kita anak!" bulyaw ng nanay niya.
Nakita ni Punkista ang nakangiting graduation picture niyang nakabitin sa dingding nila. Counter-argument niya sa nanay niya.
"Eh, sino po siya? Ako po si Punk," inulit niya.
"Ang tunay na Punk, ay nasa Amerika! Nasa Amerika siya!" sabi ng nanay niya.
Nang ikwento ito ni Punk sa amin, wala na raw siyang nagawa kundi umalis na lang ng bahay. At umuwi sa malayong barrio ng kaibigan. Umalis at iniwan ang mga tanong kung bakit ganun ang naging reaksyon ng nanay niya. Eh, matagal na siyang nagparamdam dati at parang nasabi na niya ang tunay niyang oryentasyon.
Denial stage? Coping mechanism? Or resentment.
Sa Amerika? Nandun ang tunay na Punk? Parang simbolikong pagtatapon. In-exile ng nanay. Pwede siyang maging bading. Pero hindi sa harap nila.

Naliligo ang ating ikalawang bida, si Jepoy. Kauuwi lang niya sa probinsiya matapos ang matagal-tagal ding pagkawala at hindi pagpaparamdam sa mga magulang.
Nasa kusina ang kanyang nanay, naghuhugas ng plato. Kalapit lang ng kusina ang banyo. Nagkakarinigan silang mag-ina.
"Oy, Jepoy. Bakit di ka na lagi umuuwi?" pambungad na pananalita ng kanyang nanay.
"Ha? Busy sa work kaya," tugon sa nanay habang nagsa-shampoo ng buhok.
"Baka may pamilya ka na dun sa Maynila ha! May anak ka na siguro!" sabi ng nanay niya.
"Hahahahhaha! Anak? E, kulang nga sweldo ko para sa sarili ko. Anak?!" humahagalpak na sagot sa nanay na imbestigador.
Sa loob ng banyo, gustong magbale-balentong ni Jepoy. Iikot, sisirko. Kakain ng sabon. Bubula ang bibig.
"Anak? Hehehehehe. " Humahalakhak ang imahinasyon ni Jepoy.
"Ano ba kayo? Kung ano-ano iniisip n'yo. Imposible kaya 'yun," sabi ni Jepoy sa nanay niya.
Imposible 'yun.
Nagsalita ulit ang nanay niya: "Mambabae ka na lang. Kesa manlalaki ka."
Namatay si Jepoy. Natumbok ng nanay niya. Pero nilamon na siya ng tiles ng banyo. Bumuka ang lupa, kinain siya derecho sa poso negro.
Hindi na siya nakaimik sa madaling salita.
"Alam na kaya ng nanay ko," inisip ni Jepoy.
Pero sabi nga, what they don't know won't hurt them. Pero nakakatuwang isipin, kung naisip lang ng nanay niya ang implikasyon ng sinambit niya. Hindi kwestiyon kung papatol si Jepoy sa kapwa lalaki. Alam na niyang kaya nito. Pero huwag. Huwag.
O magkakabasagan ng pinggan (at mukha) sa banyo. O ibabaon siya sa poso negro.

Monday, May 09, 2005

Eksena Sa Bridal Shower

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Kami 'yan. Hehehe. Gusto ko sana caption-an ng mga names. Kaya lang, bahala na kayo manghula. Hehehehe.

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Halata bang masayang masayang masaya kami? Mga repressed? Hehehehe.

Mga soundbytes sa eksena ng bridal shower ni Weng. Adonis, Timog Ave., Quezon City, May 6, 2005.




O ano, sayawan ko na kayo?
(Sasabihin sa sarili) Huh? Ganun? Ang mechanical.
Siya ang isa-shower! Yiheeee! Weeeeengg! (Sabay magtatawanan)
Aaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy! Huwag mo ako hawakan! Hihihihihihi.
Go Weng! Go Weng!
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(Nahihiya) Thank you!
Thank you?! Hehehehe.
Courteous ako eh, ehehhehe.
Diyos ko! Diyos ko! May boyfriend na ako! Huwag! Aaaaaaaaaayyyyy! (Sigaw, hindi halinghing).
Jayteeeeeeeeee! Ano ba ito?!! Huwag, huwag. Pleaaaaaaseeeee. May asawa na ako! Aaaaaaaaaayyyyyy! (Sigaw ulit, hindi halinghing).


Huwag ako, may asawa na ako. Araw-araw may ganyan ako!


(pa-mhin) Pare, wag mo kong hamunin. Hahawakan ko talaga yan.

(Ituturo si Ma'am Grace) Huwag 'yan. Madre 'yan.

Huwag ako, buntis ako!!!

Oy! Gaganyan ganyan ka tapos tatawagin mo akong Ate!

(papalag, dispensa). Hindi ko sinabing ate a!

Ano yun? Dear?


Nasiyahan ba kayo?


Excuse ha!


In fairness, maliit siya.


Same Ground

"...'cause what i don't understand
Is why i'm feeling so bad now
When i know it was my idea
I could've just denied the truth and lied
Now why am i the only one standing stranded
On the same ground."

- "SAME GROUND" Kitchie Nadal

My love
It's been a long time since i cried
And left you out of the blue
It's hard
Leaving you the way
When i never really wanted to

Self denial
Is a game so strange i never really should've wanted
Til there was you
Cause i have learned that love was beyond
What human can imagine
More it clears
The more i gotta let you go

'cause what i don't understand
Is why i'm feeling so bad now
When i know it was my idea
I could've just denied the truth and lied
Now why am i the only one standing stranded
On the same ground

My love
It's been a long time since i cried
And left you out of the blue
It's hard
Leaving you the way
When i never really wanted to

Self denial
Is a game so strange i never really should've wanted
Til there was you
Cause i have learned that love
Is a word just thrown
A little bit too much of this
Excuse to fill this infinite of desire
And never ever have to fade

Cause what i don't understand
Is why i'm feeling so bad now
When i know it was my idea
I could've just denied the truth and lied
Now why am i the only one standing stranded
On the same ground

If all else fail
Would you be there to love me?
When all else fails
Would you be brave to see right through me?

This song spoke to me like no other song could have after Maroon 5's "Sweetest Goodbye". I love it for speaking so truthfully. I hate it for the same reason.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Mechanics of Love

"What's wrong with me?" you texted, after finding out that your prospect is dating another girl.

"E ako ang lagi 'nung kinakausap!" you protested.

I was caught up with work today so I wasn't able to answer.

But it did get me to thinking about myself as well.

Not that I want a new relationship now, although the thought is becoming more tempting, but yeah, let's answer that question.

Supposing I can (and want) accommodate a new person right now, how will I do it?

The discussion below answers your question indirectly.

First, I think I should know who I want. Physically and emotionally.

This, is the easy part, as it entails dipping into our well of fantasies.

Mine for example: moreno, nice built, not muscular but slender. But not too thin. I like nice eyes. Sometimes, it is my only requirement. It is my paramount requirement. I used to like Spanish-y eyes, you know the large ones with full eyelashes. But it shifted to chinitos. Like Paul's. Egyptian eyes, I described them once. Lips? Uh, I like slightly full lips. Pinkish lips, like babies'. I like chiseled noses.

Emotionally. I want them mature. And intelligent. Someone who can handle my almost daily ramblings. My pseudo-philosophizing (if there's such a word). Someone who I can think up with solutions to poverty, or to injustice. Hehehehe. Someone who plans his life. Someone who has direction.

Finding someone physically interesting is the easier part. For me there's B*, G*, R*, and a lot of other guys.

You, there's toooooot.

But after finding a target. What do we do next?

Me? I've never gone as far as ogle. I did it once, with Paul. It worked but he has to be blamed too for initiating, inviting. I was just a willing victim.

With you, you've never gone as far as fantazising. Meaning, you tell me stories, you wish you could have done this or that. Or belaboring on your next possible move which you never do, anyway.

So on this aspect, I think, that's where there's something wrong with us.

We have a target but we don't close in on them.

"Ang landi ko," you told me once. But I have no moral ascendency to argue otherwise. I'm your friend, so I indulge you.

Flirtations, in small doses, wouldn't hurt. But in large doses, they could be wonderful.

We're scared and that's kind of limiting.

What else is wrong with us?

We think too much, I think. Although I know you'd protest and say, I do that more often. But submit just a little and understand.

When we think ahead, that's somewhat self-destructive.

Look at our thought process: "Will he like me? Wait, does he like me because he's texting these crazy little things."

Or "maybe he doesn't like me because he's not reciprocating. He doesn't look at my direction. Mukhang suplado."

But truth is, we're just second guessing. Maybe the reason he couldn't look at my direction was because he was shy. I could appear suplado to a prospect. It's a shield sometimes that I wear. I camouflage my being pathetic.

What else is wrong?

Maybe our concept of love is.

Is it a goal that you desire and strategically get? Or is it a function of fate? Of serendipity. Paul once called our meeting, serendipitious.

I used to think that if you want love you have to get it. You devise a plan. And then you execute it.

But my perspective is shifting. Love is a product of fate. It comes when you are ready.

Didn't they say, love is like a butterfly. You don't chase it. To catch it, all you have to do is to open your palm and it will land.

I believe that but at the same time, somehow, I've lost interest in love and falling in love. I'm trying to think of it as a non-priority. I will meet it again accidentally, some time, some where.

And I will recognize it. Because that love will be strong enough to shatter my walls. And make me believe in the ultimate make-believe of our lives: that someone is meant for somebody.

Richard Goma

Hangga't buhay si Richard Gomez, may bangungot ako.

Isang madugong pagsusulat ang istorya ng tax evasion ni Richard Gomez. Tuwing Huwebes, nasa Department of Justice (DOJ) ang Bureau of Internal Revenue (BIR). Dati sinampahan na nila ng kasong tax evasion si Richard.

At ngayon, kaninang umaga, andun ulit sila para sana sa preliminary investigation sa kaso ni Richard. But no! Meron pa palang bagong kaso ang BIR at ito naman ay laban sa manager ni Richard na si Douglas Quijano.

Si Douglas ang tumatayong manager ng "Harte Beest Entertainment Corporation" na isang kumpanyang tinayo ni Richard noong 1994. Pero inilipat na ni Richard kay Douglas ang pamamahala sa kumpanya.

Nung file-an ng tax evasion si Richard, binusisi na rin ng BIR ang tax record ng Harte Beest, at lo and behold, hindi nagbabayad ng tax raw ang kumpanya. Ang Harte Beest ang parang agent ni Goma dito nagbabayad ng TF ang mga kumukuha ng serbisyo ni Goma.

Noong 2000-2001, nagdeklara silang "no operation" pero sa rekords raw ng BIR, tumanggap sila ng kulang kulang P17-milyong piso na talent fee ni Richard galing sa ABS-CBN. Imagine, P17-milyon, sa dalawang taon. Eh, parang habambuhay kong kikitain ang lahat ng ito.

Anyway, nadiskubre rin ng BIR na hindi nag-file ng income tax return ang Harte Beest kahit pa nakatanggap ito ng P7-milyong pisong TF na galing sa ABS at VIVA.

Tinawagan ko si Douglas Quijano. "Sir, reaksyon lang sana dahil fafaylan kayo ng kaso ng BIR," sabi ko sa kanya sa telepono.

"Oo nga e," sabi niya. "Sa abogado ko na lang. Si Atty. Puno," sabi ni Douglas.

"Sir, ano po ang pangalan ni Atty. Puno?" tanong ko.

"Hindi ko alam e. Pero baka mamya nasa hearing siya," tugon niya.

"Sino ba kinasuhan?" tanong naman niya sa akin.

"Sir, sabi raw ho kasi sa tax code, pag corporation, ang sinasampahan ng kaso, President, Treasurer at General Manager. E wala naman raw 'hong ibang nasa record kundi name n'yo. Kayo lang ho," sabi ko.

"Aray ko!" sagot niya.

Nakakatuwa siyang kausap. Pero hindi iyan ang topic ng entry na ito.

Ang topic: ang madugong pinagdaraanan ng mga istorya ni Goma.

Bumalik ako sa opis pagkatapos mag-alas tres (maga-alas kuwatro na ata) para sulatin ng maaga.

Drinafy ko siya. Kinwenta ang mga hindi nabayarang tax chuva. Sinulat.

Binigay sa desk. Tsinek ni Ma'am Tex. Go nya.

Nasilip ni Ma'am Jess.

Binusisi ang script. Ni-rephrase. Ni-rephrase. Tinuruan ako ng mga graphics ek. Graphics pa ulit.

Go na nya.

Nag-time code. Antagal mag-time code kasi ayaw ibigay sa akin ang tape dahil ginagamit pa raw sa isang istorya. Take 1 ang istorya. Alas singko pasado na. O siya, bahala na.

Naibigay na rin ang tape. Nakapag-TC na rin ako.

"Nasan na ang mga file videos!!!"

"Douglas, penge pa kami file!"

"15 minutes to air!"

Sigawan sa office. Kulang ang video ni Douglas. "O siya tapalan ng document!"

"3 minutes to air!"

"Bloke mo na!"

Hindi ko na maalala kung sino ang mga nagsasalita. Kung sino ang sumisigaw. Sino ang nagkulang ng bigay ng video.

Itinakbo ang edited tape. Inere.

"San si Morong?" tawag ni Ma'am Jess (Soho).

"Ma'am!" tugon ko mula sa di-kalayuan.

"Bantayan mo ang graphics mo," sabi n'ya.

Takbo kami pareho sa control booth.

Humihingal na pinanood ang istorya ng hindi pagbabayad ng tax ng kumpanya ni Goma.

Tama naman ang timing ng graphics.

Nakahinga ako ng maluwag. Natapos rin. Nairaos rin.

Tuwing Huwebes, ganito ang istorya ko. Hindi ko alam kung sino ang sisihin ko. Ang BIR dahil iniisa-isa pa nila ang filing sa halip na isang buhos na lang. O ang mga taong hindi nagbabayad ng tax tulad ni Richard dahil binibigyan nila ng trabaho ang BIR na maghabol sa kanila. Ang laki na ng sweldo, nandadaya pa.

Kami, kakalatsan ang kakarampot na sweldo.

Noong last pay day, P500 lang sinuweldo ko. Ayaw kong i-tsek ngayon. Baka himatayin lang ako. Sa pagod at sa sama ng loob.

Monday, May 02, 2005


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Dan: When I get back, please tell me the truth.
Alice: Why?
Dan: Because I'm addicted to it. Because without it, we're animals. Trust me.

~ o0o ~
Alice: I don't want to lie. I can't tell the truth. So it's over.

- From the movie "Closer" ,2004

Truth. Is it such a heavy requirement?

I'm in one of those post-mortem moments again. I'm re-dissecting, re-examining the cadaver that was my past immediate romantic relationship which is officially five-months dead.

Truth was where we fundamentally differed. Paul and I.

To him, he had the right to keep things from me. Issues with his ex, or whatever he was doing towards his ex. Whether he was emotionally injured by his ex was not any of my concern.

I disagreed. It rendered me useless, meaningless, irrevelant, if I couldn't help you move on, heal from your past wounds.

I wanted him to reveal himself to me, warts and all, and I should be ready with what I was going to see and prepared not to judge.

I was anticipating. But he was scared.

He was surrounded by layers of lies and half-truths.

Looking back, I don't know now, who was the Paul I loved.

"Napanood mo na 'yung 'Closer'?" he asked, when he went to my house to pick-up a couple of his stuffs.

"Well, yeah," I said and pointed at the pirated CD of the movie on the floor.

Interesting, I thought, that he liked the movie. "It was about being honest, you know," I wanted to tell him. "Which character did you identify most with?" I wanted to ask him.

I was the Jude Law (Dan). And he was my Natalie (Alice).

First Time

This is the first time when I actually couldn't think of anything to write about to update my blog with. A milestone, considering, there was a time when I would blog three times in a day. Now, there's nothing. Nada. Zero.

When I stare at my un-updated blog, I feel a little guilty, like I'm neglecting it or something. So I'm blogging because of pity. Hehehehe.