My Past Writings

Blood to Dust

Oh my mangled body as it juts through the transparent surface of my drenched clothing! My threads, drenched with the blood of my parents, my ancestors and my forefathers. My pallid skin, drenched in salty sweat as it fills all the crevasse and curvatures of my body. My sallow countenance, moist from tears that fell from my now unseeing eyes, crackled like a dry leaf blown to pieces by the wind. Unseeing eyes, that can no longer convey turmoil or ecstasy, will never enjoy the cornucopia of colors in the wind and shall never bare witness to the myriad vignettes of life, stares blankly forward, to the non-existent future. My hair, strewn, spread amidst the concrete where my head is juxtaposed to; lay stiff like dark ropes, rough ropes that could never hold anything together.

Oh cold wind! Bring along with you the memory of what it once was. In malicious mirth, slice into the deep angry red cuts of my wounds. Laugh unconscionably! Snigger with all your might! Howl with intense hilarity like a vicious animal! As loud as you might think it is, it will never stir me up for your ululation will fall into unhearing ears.

Oh gray dust! You materialized out from nowhere! As you kiss my eyes, feel the slowly drying tears that once dwelled in my eyelids. As you enter my nostrils, feel free to reach my heart; fill my hushed lungs with your presence. From outside, embrace me tightly until you hear my bones crackle with your magnitude.

Oh moonlight! Sing me a lullaby in perpetuity. Cradle me to sleep.

Starry Night

Last night, I plucked a couple of stars in the evening sky and stuffed them in my pocket. Who knows, time may come when I will need the company of the stars to join me in the celebration of my melancholy. They will be my guiding light if I decide to walk along the cobblestones towards the gazebo where I store my innermost desires. They will shine the same path if I decide to go back home. During the wakefulness of my nights, I worry sometimes. What if I run out of stars to pluck? Who will accompany me in paying tribute to my solitary existence? Are stars like trees, can they be made to grow in replacement of the others that I took? I just hope that I won’t live for a million years; I would prefer the paucity of happiness than the scarcity of stars.

As I lament the celebration of my seclusion, I felt the stillness of the night weep in silent resonance. Its sob was the hushed wind that blew my tears away. My tears together with the night’s was the mist fogging my vision as I stare forward, looking on as the story of my life slowly unfolds.

From the sky above, the stars shone brightly and from its corner, one drops from the precipice into the horizon.

Entreaty to the Sun

As the burning coals of my hatred bare witness to my fervent supplications in summoning the heavens to open their gates and listen to my plea, I raise up my hands while I kneel before you Oh Most Powerful Lord of the Sun! Take away my eye sight with the intensity of your luminescence! Let me hear nothing but your persistent clamor for singeing hearts that were frozen with apathy and non-existentialism! Rip off my tender limbs as you set the dark macabre labyrinths of my soul ablaze! Breathe in my ashes as I soar up to be one with you; let me be your penumbra when you wish to rest.

Allow my tears to flow freely; let the valley of despair be washed away, further away until they can’t inflict themselves to anyone, besmudging otherwise virginal spirits. Allow the deafening intensity of my weeping to rumble unto vast plains and break through adamant mountains. Send in your great blasts of fireballs and pulverize granites into embers; let them be conveyed by the wind.

Oh Great Wind! Carry me in your immense shoulders towards the Sun. May the parched lips of my countenance be the receptacle for the never-ending inferno of your visage. Let my widespread arms catch your inevitable blaze for the entire world to see.

Oh Most Powerful Lord of the Sun I entreat you my deepest supplications. Take me with you!

Reverberations

Tap… Tap… Tap…
You here the resonance of leather as it touched wood. Or was it rubber as it touched cement? Whatever!, you say. You can hear it clearly as you hear the rumblings of your heart.

Thud… Thud… Thud…
Every beat bounces back and beyond within the empty walls of your chest, echoing within the labyrinths of your soul. You clench your chest with your fists pounding on it like rocks fitfully slammed against a wall, half wishing for the beating to stop, half hoping for the beating to perpetually go on. You gulped mouthfuls of air until your chest aches. Until you hear the resonance of the leather pouncing on wood gradually increase its sound before you realize they were your own.

Whoosh… Whoosh… Whoosh…
The wind mocks you as it laughed in malicious mirth as you ran away from it. No one can ever outrun me!, it says. But you ran nonetheless and the wind chased you slapping your face and slamming itself unto the entirety of your body. The great wind reached its arms and grabbed twigs, branches, and small stones and threw them at you. The sky will never be as blue as your bruises and the autumn soil will never be as red as your blood. And suddenly…

Aaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaa…………..
You dropped to your knees and covered your ears with your soiled hands pleading for anyone who can hear to stop such ululation. You bent over, almost kissing the soil, cradled your head in between your legs and beseeched to anyone to stop such noise but it grew louder. Louder still.. Yet louder until you feel your head about to explode and it stopped… No resonance of leather on wood or rubber on cement… No incessant thudding of the heart… Not even the malicious laughter of the wind… Even the crippling scream ceased to exist…

And you thought solitude was peaceful…

Procrastination

I want to tell you about procrastination...

but..

Tungod May Kinabuhi

(Akong sulayan ang pagsulat ug obra nga Siyento porsyentong Bisaya lamang..)

Nakahuna-huna ko sa pag-mugna ani nga sugilanon kay nakahinumdum lang ko niadtong kabataan nako sa usa sa akong mga ganahang buhaton, kung wala’y sugo si Mama: ang maminaw ug drama sa radyo! Ambot ba, lami man gyud kaayo to nga panahon, makahuna-huna ko sa mga inahan nga magbitbit ug radyo nga kahoy sa suba ug i-uban sa pag kuso-kuso sa mga sinina ang ilang kalagot sa mga kontrabida sa drama nga ilang gipaminaw. Kung sagpa-on ang dina-og daog nga bida, mukusog ang kuso-kuso (dayon pamalikas) ug palu-palo sa ilang mga gilabhan. Kung maubaws ang bida sa kontrabida ug musagpa pud, musyagit dayon ang mga labandera ug “Sige!!! Sagpa-a nang animal!!! Usa sa mga makapahibulong nako niadtong bata pa ko, kung nganong grabe kaayo mu-buwa ang ilang mga labhanan kung sila maglaba. Naka-amgo ko nga tingali, tungod kini sa ilang pagpaminaw ug drama. Kada sagpa, upat ka kuso-kuso. Kada hilak ug pagbakho lima ka kuso-kuso. Ma-o na nga pwerteng humuta sa ilang mga nilabhan maski unsa nga sabon ang ilang gamiton.

Duha ka drama sa radyo nga dili gyud nako makalimtan ay ang Tungod May Kinabuhi (ug unya--- huhuhuhuhu, hilak.. pagbakho… tungod may kinabuhi) ug Kini Ang Akong Suliran (ni Doktora Abogada Prinsesa Doña ug uban pa Lourdes Libres Rosaroso). Sa Tungod May Kinabuhi, himu-an ug drama sa radyo ang mga gipadala nga suwat (nga klaro kaayo nga gikan sa mga maid ug mga manghurno ug pan sa Gal’s Bakery). Ang dili lang ko klaro (pasaylo-a ako kay dili ko kahibalo unsa sa Binisaya ang “sure”) kung ma-o ba ni nga drama ang naay pakapin nga kanta. Ang mga kanta nga i-request sa mga nagpadala ug suwat gihurot na tingali ang tibu-ok album ni Michael Learns to Rock ug April Boy. Sa Kini ang Akong Suliran, si Doktora Abogada Prinsesa Doña Rosaroso, mang hatag ug tambag sa mga magpadala ug suwat. Mao siguro nga siya ang gikuha para maghatag ug mga tambag kay Doktor man siya ug Abogada (maayo nalang kay wala’y mangutana ug mga Math, kay siguro malisang jud si Doktora Abogada daw mu-ingon “Peste dili ko Math Teacher ha”!). Ug ang usa ka kinaiya ni Doktora Abogada nga ganahan jud kaayo ko ka yang iyang pagka “Fair” (pasaylo-a gihapon k okay dili ko kahibalo unsa sa Bisaya ang Fair). Naa’y usa ka higayon, ang nagpadala sa suwat kay usa ka Playboy (sure ko nga kargador ni sa pier ug ang iyang mga chicks kay kanang mga maninda ug kape sa pier gihapon). Ang iyang problema kay minyo na daw siya pero nakapamabdos siya ug laing babaye. Ang tambag ni Doktora Abogada Prinsesa Doña Lourdes Libres Rosaroso, mao ni:

Ikaw lakiha ka, butakal kang dako! Ka baga gud nimo ug nawong nga magpakahigal pa man ka sa laing babaye nga minyo naman ka! Kanang mga sama nimo maayong putlan oy! Ug ikaw sad bayhana ka nga napamabdusan, kahibalo man ka nga naa na nay asawa unya mupatol pa gyud ka? Bigaon gyud kang dako! Mirisi oy nga namabdos ka! Unya unsa-on man na nimo ron? ….. Kini si Doktora Aboga Lourdes Libres Rosaroso ug Kini ang Akong Suliran…

The Third Kind

I won’t consider myself as flagrantly gay. Yes I am loud. Yes I am obnoxious. And yes I love gossiping (but then who doesn’t?). But I always do so when I am in the company of friends. And I never imagine myself wearing make-up or gowns, though I have nothing against people who does it. Being democratic retinues, we are entitled to follow whatever our hearts dictate us (of course, as long as it’s not immoral or criminal). I always am taken aback when people that I meet for the first time ask me if I’m gay. I always say “Yes I am but it is not the most interesting fact about me”. I remember once when I met a friend for the first time. His first question was “Are you gay”? I was shocked, I retorted while chuckling “Why? Are you?” After the cursory laughs he explained that his best friend is gay, so on and so forth. He became one of my close buddies until now. On the other hand, I have had friends who confessed to me that they were really very afraid of me when we first met. I laughed at first because I thought they were literally afraid of me. Imagine my surprise when I learned that they were actually afraid that I will molest them or something to that extent because I am gay. I laughed so bad my snot almost shot out of my nose. I told my ignoramus friends that it does not mean that if someone is gay, all male species will cause them some kind of arousal. In fact I told them it’s just like being straight, it doesn’t mean that a guy will be sexually aroused at ALL girls (unless they’re sex maniacs or something)! And typical of straight dudes, they all nodded in unison like my dog bubblehead on my car dashboard that I used to have. These friends are what I call sexually secure, because no matter what, even if we slept beside each other, no fire will ever burn.

Homophobes are a different spectra altogether. I truly believe that homophobes are what they are because 1, they were molested/raped/dumped by a homo or 2, they are closet fags or 3, both. I was never a victim of homophobia, thankfully, but I’ve read and saw a lot of homophobia victims. Hate, that’s the main culprit not fear. Can you imagine if people will start to remove hate from their system and learn to love people not because they are male, female, or gay? This world will be so livable; our search for aliens will be over since they themselves would want to live here.

As a fact, my being gay does not define me as to who I really am. I am defined by the relationships that I build, and the successes (and failures) that honed me as me.

Cookie Cutter

The past few events that happened just solidified the fact that I may not be cut out for the Corporate World. I’m not being optimistic but evidently I am not so lucky when it comes to job related issues. I remember my first “job failure” when I got my first job rejection right after college. After a series of job rejections and rejected job offers, fast forward to the present time and here I am still reeling in resentment of being at point A when all I want to be is at point B. I don’t necessarily equate giving up as a sign of weakness. In fact, when all odds are against you and there is no way of succeeding without trampling on other people and there is no other option but to give up, is sometimes a courageous thing to do. (I remember listening to Tommy Osmeña once when he was invited to talk in one of my MBA class. He said, one should always strive to be number 1. In fact, he said, the adage “It’s not about winning, it’s how you play the game” is a total bull. Well I say, Tommy O is one big piece of bull and all he said are crap.) Anyway, I guess now is the best time to re-asses what I really want to do career-wise.

I have a friend who is currently “soul-searching”, albeit expensively, in Lucca Italy. She abhors the corporate world when it is apparent that she is cut out for it. I on the other hand am currently pushing myself to do well in the corporate well when it is now obvious that I maybe not cut out for it. Dilemma!

I wish when we were born we came from a special template or molding that molds us to be what we really are cut out to be.

Dilemma

Case Number 1: Mixed Breed

Profile: He is half Pakistani and half Filipino (making him a Pakino or Filipistani). He has dark brooding eyes, slim body, and a very sexy bedroom voice. His message is the first thing that wakes you up in the morning and the last one you read before you sleep. He finds you very hot even if you feel like crap. He makes you feel very special. He puts you on a pedestal and regards you very highly. In summary, in his eyes, you are a goddess.

Pros:

You have an automatic lap dog that licks your face when you’re down.

You have your own fan, and you know that a fan will do anything for his idol.

He enjoys simple things like staying at home and watch TV or DVD, and/or canoodling.

Cons:

He is only 20 years old and you on the other hand are, well NOT 20 years old.

Since you are way too older, you feel like you are a molester or a pedophile.

Since he is just a student, you pay for all of your dates, if ever you chose to go out.

He has the sexual appetite of a 20 year old, because he IS 20 years old, and you feel all the years of your age.

Case Number 2: Mr. Architect

Profile: He is tall, intelligent, witty, and surprise surprise, a gentleman. He loves to regularly watch movies with you every Friday. He loves to sneak his hands to envelope yours, making you very giddy like a high school slut. He likes to hear about you all the time, in fact when you don’t text he will always make it a point to send you one before he goes to sleep. But you have been going out with him for almost 2 months already but you never made to 1st base yet. Basing it on your historical data, you normally go to 3rd base on the 3rd date! At first you felt that he may be repulsed by you or your body, but on second thought probably not, since he regularly takes time and effort to meet you regularly (and he lives very far).

Pros:

He is a very welcoming change from the losers that you used to date.

He is an architect (not a surgeon, but it is a far cry from the plethora of call center agents that you used to go out with).

He is very witty and you enjoy a lot of interesting conversations every single date that you share with him.

On dates, you go dutch, or sometimes, he pays for it.

You share the same wavelength with him.

Cons:

You berate yourself witless as to why he hasn’t still kissed you even on your freaking cheek after more than 10 dates already.

Obviously he is a mama’s boy.

Obviously his family comes first. Although, there is no problem with this but since you are one big diva, you should come first before anybody else.

When you start asking him about your status, he smiles then unabashedly changes the topic.

You have never been this confused your entire life.

Case Number 3: Mr. Perfect

Profile: He is tall, very sexy, very hot, very generous, well endowed, intelligent, smart and witty. He obviously loves you very much but not in a stealthy stalker way. Even if you have the body of a hippo, he cherishes and loves every part of you. He is even aroused by your scent alone. He takes you to places in a whim and enjoys romantic dates simple and elaborate. He loves to surprise you every day. He loves to spoil you to death. He learns to like all the things that you love even if he obviously has no inkling to it whatsoever, case in point, shopping and knitting.

Pros:

When God planned for the perfect man for you, he is basically express delivered right to your doorstep.

Cons:

He is a pigment of your imagination.

Sesame Street Generation

I was having dinner at a family food joint somewhere in Makati and across me is a family – mom, dad, three kids – 2 boys and a girl. One of my guilty pleasures is to snoop at strangers (until they catch me snooping on them). So while chomping on some French fries, I notice that both boys were busy playing with their play stations, while the sister was madly texting from her cellphone. All three of them were obviously ignoring their parents. It was so sad. Boo hoo. I suddenly remembered my own very happy childhood, that I share with most kids who grew up in the 80’s. My childhood was a blur of constant outdoor activities ranging from the common to the inane and crazy (looking back, I think I got my adult craziness during those time). My favorite time of the year was always during summer. Like most normal kids, I hated elementary school so I always look forward to the two months of summer April and May. Though my summer days were pretty much routine, I loved most of it. Here are some highlights of my childhood activities in the Summer:

1. I was always the designated picnic organizer. My mother goes berserk everytime I go home as soon as she notices what I brought back home (or rather, what I stole for the picnic): loaf of bread, 2 can of sardines, biscuits, juice, and my white blanket. A few steps outside our house was a vast coconut plantation (its now converted into a posh subdivision, so I now live in a Gillage – Gilid sa Village) so we have the entire 5 hectares of land to ourselves. Now, the idea of having a picnic in a similar setting will not just raise the eyebrows of present parents but will also raise their blood pressures for the following reasons: possibility of heat stroke or possibility of being molested/raped/kidnapped both equally terrifying.

2. I always attended Catechisms. These are summer catholic schools done by the church. In fact I once represented our “school” in a regional competition and I won 3rd place! My “trophy” was a medium sized Santo Niño statuette that I kept for approximately 2 months (it fell off our TV set, I guess).

3. Our favorite pastime was to scavenge for toys! If this activity was done today, the picture in mind will be boys with sticks poking thru piles of garbage and whatnot. Before, we used to marvel at the cheap toys that we find! Toy soldiers, plastic animals, etc. Board games such as Monopoly (that I never got the hang out of), Snakes and Ladders, and Game of the Generals were also the craze back then. Sadly, these items are now considered as historical relics by the kids of today.

4. I used to love physical games such as In-in (Patintero), Buwan-buwan (variation of a patintero but circular with a line across it, normally we use the middle portion of the basketball court as it has that circle thingie already), Tigso-Tigso (Agawan base or Japanese Game), Dakup-dakop (normally, an older brother or sister who brought with him/her a younger sibling has no choice but to force the others to include this younger sibling. Normally, he/she will be called a “flower”, meaning she can’t be “it”-therefore he/she is just a nuisance), Bagol (it’s a slipper game calisthenics, etc. with about 10 stages), Bato Lata (Tumbang Preso, one of my toenail flew once as the slipper that was thrown chopped it off), slipper game (similar rudiments of softball, but instead of having a bat and ball, a slipper is being “served” then kicked), and lastly Shiatong (or Siyato).

5. I also enjoyed my daily dose of Sesame Street. Let’s see if I still can remember the muppets: Ernie and Bert are roommates (today, homo speculations are thrown at them), Prairie Dawn, Big Bird, Snuffalafagus (with his 5 inch eyelashes), Oscar the Grouch (who apparently shared the voice of Big Bird), Kermit the Frog who is the apple of Ms. Piggy’s eyes, Elmo, Count Dracula ha ha ha, Cookie Monster and Guy Smiley. Batibot also had a similar version - Ging-ging and Luningning (Ernie and Bert), Sitsiritsit and Alibangbang (aliens), Pong Pagong (Big Bird), Kiko Matsing (Oscar the Grouch?), and the human characters Ate Sheena and Kuya Bodjie. Today’s “kiddie” shows are fun to watch as an adult. But I will be very apprehensive to let my kid watch today’s supposedly kid friendly cartoons. For example, Spongebob Squarepants is hilarious but I’m afraid my kid will be as dumb as Patrick or as unscrupulous and greedy as Mr. Crabs. This is the Beavis and Butthead of our generation.

These are some memories that I will never ever trade with a million dollars (hypothetically) or with any random kid of today (as they might not be interested anyway). But they will always be ready in a file box in my brain ready to be browsed anytime if I feel like it.